#to make it look like ur saying as many things u can fit into one tag. Idk the mental image is funny to me XD

[chlorinecake]

am in love w ur work<3 can u do an enha x reader ff, where they're dating a very feminine y/n who's also insecure? yk like them comforting y/n etc etc?

「 𓍯𓂃 A 𝒢UIDE TO OVERCOMING YOUR INSECURITIES 」

──── 🪽 𓂃 𓈒 step one: date 1 / 7 members of 엔하이픈

🪞 ( . . path to bookshelf ◍ ) 𓄼 be the best version of you .ᐟ g𝓮nre. fluff, comfort, est. dating, fem.r ﹙ 🧺 . . . ﹚. 美しさ skinship & kisses 350 𝒘𝗈𝗋𝖽s each ✩ ✩ ✩

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 for my melanated queens; “God, I look terrible in this picture,” you sighed miserably at the couple photo before you, zooming in closer on your screen to get a better look. “I'm literally lost in the background…”

“Let me see,” your boyfriend offered, bracing himself behind you as he peered over your shoulder. “Baby… you look beautiful here, what’re you talking about?” He practically chuckled, somewhat humored that you thought the picture was bad when it was clearly fine.

“I’m talking about my complexion,” you sighed, shutting off your phone out of frustration, “Maybe we should only go on dates when it’s sunny outside so I don’t look like a shadow next to you by time we take a picture…” That's when Heeseung felt his heart drop at your words, pouty lips partingas he asked, “Why would you say such a thing, ____? I love how healthy your complexion looks…”

“I know, but—”

“No buts,” he interrupted, walking from behind you and guiding your chin towards his. “Did someone say something to make you feel this way, love?” You struggled to meet his sincere doe eyes as your own weak ones were on the verge of tears.

With a crack in your voice, you finally spoke, “No, Heeseung… I’ve always felt this way, I just never said anything til now…”

“And are those insecurities motivated by your own standards or by what society has poisoned you to believe?”

You got quiet at his question, knowing deep down that you never had an issue with your skin color and that it was something the world had made you feel...

“Look at your beautiful hands in mine,” he continued, shattering your inner thoughts as he drew your attention to his hands holding yours. “Please don’t think your skin color is something we need to work around… especially not for a silly picture…”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling your stomach flutter as he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a loving kiss to your wrist. “So,” you started in a soft voice, his gentle eyes looking back up at you, “can I at least delete the picture then?”

“Fine,” Heeseung smiled through a complying breath, wiping the moisture from the corner of your eye with his thumb, “but only because I’m planning a date for us to take more photos later…”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 for the frequent bad hair days; “Gosh, this is why I need to go bald one day,” you sulked, tossing your hairbrush to the ground in a fit of exhaustion, “otherwise, I'll never be able to make my hair look right...”

“It looks pretty to me, baby,” Jay smiled upon meeting you in the bathroom, the frustrated clatter of your hair products having caught his attention. “What style are you going for anyways?” Your boyfriend hugged you from behind, placing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

Reaching for your phone that sat on the bathroom vanity, you showed it to Jay. “Here’s the reference picture,” you sighed, feeling yourself calm down slightly as he held you in his arms, “I just have so many fly-aways today that the gel won’t even hold them in place...”

Jay's eyes scanned your reflection in the mirror, comparing it back and forth to the reference photo, “Easy fix, princess. We’ll just have to buy better products.”

“But it’s not just that… my split ends—”

“Then I’ll schedule you an appointment at the salon today…”

Your shoulders fell at your boyfriend's words. You knew he was only trying to make things better, but you still felt insecure. “Hey, look at me ____,” he whispered, voice light as a feather as he caressed your side, “my girl always deserves the best... especially if it’ll make her feel better about herself… got it?”

A smile spread across your face as Jay's fingers playfully tickled your waist.

In reality, no, you couldn’t get your hair right every time, but the hair you had suited you best, and simply required a little more tender love and care…

“Sooo, no salon date today?” He asked, watching your features.

You scoffed at his question, “No, we’re definitely still going… I’ll just make sure to embrace my natural hair this time.”

“And as you should, baby,” Jay smirked, kissing you one last time before his hands left your side, “I’ll go get the car keys...”

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 for the curvy girls; “Whatchya lookin' for?” Jake asked from the bed, watching as you searched through your shared drawers for anything big enough to swamp your entire body. “I’m too big for all of my clothes now, so I need to find something that's large but still cute...”

“Oh...” your boyfriend's voice trailed off as he got out of bed to meet you on the floor. “That’s why I always let you wear my hoodies, baby. Here,” he offered, pulling the white hoodie over his head and revealing a bit of his toned stomach before he shimmyied the oversized hoodie over your head. “So... can I cuddle with my adorable girlfriend all day like we planned now?”

You blushed slightly at his compliment, taking Jake's hand in yours as he helped you up from the ground, “Yes, but only if you promise not to put your hands on my stomach like you usually do...”

His eyes widened at your odd request, “I thought you liked it when I cuddled your tummy?”

He pulled you against his chest, but the physical contact only made you squirm with discomfort, “Please don’t call it that, baby…” The words left your mouth with such pain, his heart sinking at the sad look that washed over your features…

“I don’t get it ____, what’s going on?” Your boyfriend pressed with concern, releasing you from his hold to simply hold your hands.

“It's not like you'd understand where I’m coming from anyways...”

He frowned at your words, just as you watched with weak eyes while he pulled out a top from your drawer, holding it before your eyes. “You see this? You’re not too big for your clothes, but your clothes are too small for you…”

“Yea, but I used to be able to fit all of those…” You sulked in defense.

“And your body is just going through a normal change and has granted you with gorgeous curves… all we have to do now is accommodate for them..”

You thought on his words for a moment, a feeling of guilt washing over you after you realized you'd snapped on him earlier when he was only trying to help.

He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling you back into his warmth before whispering, “Please, be more kind to your body, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded with a sniffle, tightening your arms around him.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 for the giggles often hidden behind one’s palm; You and Sunghoon were sitting on the couch in your shared apartment living room, legs intertwined in a string of flesh like always as and it was your turn to laugh when your boyfriend retold one of the craziest stories from his prior days as an Italian restaurant waiter.

“And the guy had such a nerve to order 150 bucks worth of steak to then leave a measly fifty cent tip…” his voice trailed off, smiling to himself as he watched you struggle to maintain your laughter, a shy hand flying to cover your mouth.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said while giggling, cheeks hurting a bit from trying to hold back your emotions, “you can continue…”

He looked at you with confusion, his thick, dark brows screwing in the center of his face, “Wait… why’re you apologizing for laughing, baby?”

“Oh…I…” you started, startled by his question, “I guess… I just don’t like hearing my laugh sometimes?�� plus it makes my face scrunch up and look all weird when I smile…”

“Stop, your laugh is gorgeous and so is your smile, what’re you talking about?” He scoffed, leaning back against the arm of the couch and crossing his arms.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” you sighed, untangling your legs from his and bring your knees to your chest.

“Sure, but that’s only part of the reason,” Sunghoon corrected, readjusting himself on the couch so he could be closer to you as he spoke, “it’s true, y’know?” He said before tickling your ankle, making you smile once again, “I bet that makes you feel better already, doesn’t it?”

You looked down before meeting his sincere gaze, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as he squished your face together with his hand.

“Yes… it does,” you giggled through the pouty lips his fingers forced you to make, making him chuckle a bit to himself before leaning in to peck your forehead first, then your nose, before finally, your lips…

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 for the spots makeup can't conceal; “Ugh,” you groaned with frustration, letting out a sigh as you aggressively wiped at your face with a makeup wipe, “this foundation is supposed to be full coverage!... God, now I'm gonna have to leave the house looking like a complete troll...”

“Excuse me?” Sunoo asked from beside you while adjusting his tie, a glint of amusement in his hazel eyes despite the concerned nature of his voice.

“I don't mean to be dramatic, but I swear the mirror hates me...” You exclaimed, tossing the dirty makeup wipe in the trash can while internally dreading the fact that you were having a terrible hormonal breakout today.

Sunoo's delicate hands left his neck tie to grab the package of wipes and pull out a few for you.

“The mirror has no feelings, sweetie... only you do,” your boyfriend chuckled at the pouty look on your face, guiding your head upward as he gently wiped away the remaining smears of makeup from your skin.

“Besides, you don't need to wear all this stuff anyway,” he whispered this time, the most loving look in his eyes as he caressed your cheek, “you're naturally gorgeous to me...”

He let his thumb graze over your lower lip before leaning down a little further from where he stood, pressing a tender kiss to your plush lips.

“You're lucky you didn't turn into a frog after doing that,” you giggled, playfully smacking his shoulder as you both noticed the pink hue rising to your cheeks... a hue that would've otherwise been covered by makeup.

Smiling at your words, he handed you a bar of soap and a towel, “I'm glad we don't have time for you to contour or conceal anything, so lets get the rest of this stuff off your face so we don't end up late for our date...”

You took the soap in your palms, lathering it together under the running faucet water as a new feeling arose in your chest upon looking at yourself in the mirror. No, you didn't have perfect skin, but you were still beautiful and loved, which in this moment, was all that mattered.

“Thank you, Sunny,” you said, massaging the soap into your face as he walked away from you, “I'll be out in a minute...”

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 for the hairy girls; “Shit,” you cursed under your breath while rummaging through your things. “What’s wrong, baby?” Jungwon asked, approaching you from behind with a smile on his face.

“I can’t find my razor,” you stated plainly, not even meeting his eyes as you closed the suitcase you were just searching... “Oh,” he started, cat-like eyes rounding slightly, “you can always use my razor if you want to for now then…”

“Please, I’d need like three of your razors to shave my arms properly,” you huffed, stepping out of the closet and walking toward the window, “why’d I have to be born like this?”

“Baby… don’t say that, body hair is completely normal…”

You caught a glimpse of your unibrow in the bedroom window, turning away with frustration as your sad eyes met his, “So then why doesn’t it feel normal?”

“Because, sweetie… you haven’t embraced it yet,” he continued, taking your hands in his before drawing a feather-light line from your wrist to your elbow, “your arms look fine, okay? And if anyone doesn’t agree with that, they can take it up with my taekwondo skills…”

You smiled cheekily at his words, “So… I guess that means I’m getting kicked first then, right?”

“Never,” he chuckled, pulling you closer to him, “but… I’ll be more than willing to give you a lil kissy kiss instead…”

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you felt Jungwon snuggle his face into the crook of your neck, peppering kiss after kiss along the exposed skin. “Yang Jungwon, I command you to stop this madness right now!” You giggled playfully, stomach already hurting a bit from how much his tickly lips made you laugh…

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 for humble members of the itty bitty titty committee; It was just like any other ordinary night you'd spend with Riki. You two were cuddled up on the couch, sharing a bag of snacks as you browsed through the anime section on Netflix. Y’all had already binge watched just about every single series worth your time, but now, you found yourselves watching any and every trailer in search for your next big obsession.

You watched as your boyfriend flipped through the anime section with the remote in his hand, nothing but ample bosomed female characters flashing before your eyes.

Yes, those sorts of visuals were completely normal in anime, and yes, you and Niki usually loved simping over the provocatively animated characters together...

However, this time when he got to talking, it only made you feel insecure about yourself as you stared down at your own seemingly feeble chest, a tiny pout rising to your face.

“Riki,” you asked shyly while the trailer kept playing, “do you think my boobs are too small?”

He almost immediately whipped his head to face you, “What?”

“N-nothing…” you lied, looking back at the TV as if nothing happened.

That's when your boyfriend paused the show, “No, you definitely said something, ____,” he corrected, putting the remote down and letting his hand find your knee to comfort you.

You let out a sigh, resting your hand over his while looking into his eyes this time, “Would you like me better if I had bigger boobs?… be honest…”

“You're asking me this because of all the busty anime chicks we just saw, aren't you?” he asked back, which only made you sulk even more.

“I know, it's stupid but-”

“No, it's a normal feeling to have, ____... but trust me, your chest is the perfect size, babe... they're like... dainty little cherries, y’know?...”

Even though you knew he was only trying to cheer you up, you couldn’t help but side eye him in his moment. “Wowww, how romantic of you, Nishimura,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“Whatever, I know you like it when I compare you to foods... especially when I call you jellybean,” he smiled, right before smothering your cheek with the biggest kiss he could muster as you giggled beneath him, knowing that somewhere deep down in your heart, he was 100% right...

tysm for reading this quick lil fic !! ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆ and feel free to check out my masterlist for more !!

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚���𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nikisdubblchococake @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s

[bright-side-of-the-moon]

MY MAN reblogging here bc its where ch.1 is YOU CANT LEGALLY KEEP DOING THIS TO ME

fantastic work. you have indeed captivated an audience: all 3 of my braincells XD

Chiron inching towards (stereo)typical centaur behavious is WILD and not at all terrifying. i wonder if hilal- as his intern- would notice it first/ fall first victim to dark shenanigans & what she would do about it (God knows she has enough on her plate without two unhinged immortals to deal with lol)

the claiming sequence? straight fire. absolute masterpiece. the imagery was so good omg. i love the combination of the pomegranate and cerebrus, signifying the underworld in general and not just child of either hades or persephone but both and also a secret third option.

which brings me to this point: Jacks is a legacy of erebus no? wouldnt primordial gods have their own unique sign or do they just use an umbrella claiming thingy for efficiency? In this case the underworld represented by hades and seph

slightly insane will we love to see it. did someone poison the water supply? whats going on im dying to know

poor leo with the bad timing lol. darn rootin tootin has no right being this funny. what ice cream flavours did he pick?

once again im impressed by the originality of and just how far camps resident trouble makers are willing to go to pull elaborate pranks and schemes on each other. If anyone tries anything on cabin 13 or its members hilal promised shed personally feed them to cerebrus :)

The "is this random tissue in my pocket probably from 1953 clean?" dilemma is so real lol

Nico head bonks give me life.

everyone say thank u to the mind gremlins for the installment. looking forward to more! good luck at school and take care >:D

Hey? Wassup?

You know what would be cool?

Chapter two of the Demigod With Many Names >:]

Chapter 2:

I WATCH A DOG EAT A POMEGRANATE

I don't usually cry (which is a lie). But when I did, I accidentally envelope my entire surroundings in a five foot radius of pure darkness (courtesy of my literal, primordial grandpa, Erebus).

'Jacks... are you okay? You've been crying for a good ten minutes,' My wonderful -but terrible at consoling people- boyfriend from the Demeter cabin, Tyler said softly. 'Lou Ellen, and Connor are starting to get worried...' He said as he poked the edge of the darkness.

I created a small window in the Crying Void, patent pending, so I can look at him. 'Why aren't they hanging out with Will?- Or Nico. Whichever. Take a pick.'

'Funny you say that actually.' He said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

I poke my head through the hole and look around the Demeter cabin. Sure enough, Nico, Lou Ellen, Connor, and Tyler are standing around me. Nico was playing with the shadows -which, of course he was- while Tyler was trying to hide Connor and Lou Ellen's current argument.

'No! I'm not disguising you in the Mist so that way you can trick the Poseidon cabin into thinking a Siren broke in.' Lou Ellen said sternly.

'Come on! It'll be fun! Think about it, Percy's gonna freak out, then he's gonna be all super soaker mode and stuff!' Connor pleaded on the floor, slowly crawling to Lou Ellen's leg and grabbing onto it. 'Ple-e-e-e-ase?'

Nico hits him on the head. 'Enough Connor. Stop messing around. We're here for Jacks, remember?'

'Fine!' Connor sighs, holding the spot where Nico bonked him. 'But this isn't over "Louie." And you didn't need to hit me on the head so hard! For a scrawny, emo boy, you're freakishly strong.'

'Thank you.'

'That wasn't a compliment.'

Nico shrugs.

'Ahem!?' Tyler cleared his throat loudly to get their attention. 'Focusing on the wrong emo!'

'Rude,' I add in. 'But not far off. Nice job, honey.'

'Thank you.'

I sniffled, wiping my eyes and my nose with a tissue I had in my pocket. Why did I have a tissue in my pocket? Not sure. When did I get it? Again, not sure. Was it clean and unused? Surprisingly yes.

'Anyways. What are you three doing here?' I wasn't sure how I said it, but it was probably harsher than I meant it to be. 'I get Tyler being here, but not you guys.'

'Well..." Connor started.

'We heard you got suspended for not being able to deal with a patient that wasn't there,' Nico continued for him. 'I'm not entirely sure why Will would do that though...'

'He's a cool guy and all, but he's been acting strange recently.' Lou Ellen added.

'All the immortals, and some of the Half-Bloods are also acting strange.' Tyler said worriedly. 'Especially Chiron and Mr. D.'

My heart dropped, and skipped a worried beat. The shadows around me faltered, turning into a dark mist and falling to the top of my knee, not coming back up. Nico raised and eyebrow, but I think he decided not to comment on it. 'What do you mean?' I finally managed.

'Well, Chiron has been showing more... Romanic centaur behavior.' Nico replied quickly. As much as the kid (we're technically the same age) freaked me out, he was surprisingly chill. Probably because he mostly didn't care most situations, or because he wasn't sure what to do in most situations. Either way, I'm not inviting him to my funeral if I die.

'Meaning he's becoming a ruthless killing machine and eats meat?' I asked, condescending in tone.

'Shut up.' Nico glared at me, which wasn't very fun. 'But technically yes. He's becoming more erratic, sending untrained kids on extremely dangerous quests. More and more kids are disappearing due to the Harpies-'

'Wait- What?!-'

'Not important,' Nico continued as he started fidgeting with his skull ring, pacing back and forth as the plants around him started dying and took on a more brownish color. 'What's important is what's happening to Mr. D.'

'Well what's happening to Mr. D?' I asked with my hand raised.

'I will tell you how long it will be until you die. Then make it much shorter,' He threatened me calmly. 'Sorry, I didn't mean that... entirely. Just stop interrupting me.'

I put my hand down slowly.

'Anyways,' He continued. 'Mr. D has gone completely off the rails. He's turning kids into animals, mostly dolphins. He's created a camp wide mania surge that's making almost everyone paranoid and on the verge of doing a literal killer mosh pit, all while sending shipments, upon shipments of leopards and releasing them into the forest.'

'Courtesy of the amazing, wonderful Amazon workers,' Connor added, followed to a swift, loud slap to the back of the head by Lou Ellen.

'That's for calling me "Louie", dill hole.' She sneered.

I'm not sure if it was payback for earlier, and she found the perfect time to do ot, or it just registered Connor called her Louie.

'Anyways,' I say while scooting away from Connor and Lou Ellen. 'What should I do about it? There's no way I can help a missing camper, let alone a god and a horse person.'

Nico shifted uncomfortably. 'How about something smaller... Like... Will?' He said in a small voice.

I rolled my eyes, feeling my anger that I subsided for Will slowly rising up as Nico suggested that. 'And why should I?! Will fired me, took away my license, and kicked me out of my own cabin!' My eyes stung. I could feel the tears start to come up again. The shadows at my knees began to stir, becoming spikey waves in a sea of shadows. 'He was my brother! The first person I knew that would understand that I came from a different time, and would need guidance.'

Nico reached out towards me, stepping into the shadows and grabbing my arm. 'Jacks, you know what I-' He winced and pulled away, noticing my eyes were glowing. Their usual two-toned light orange and brown, replaced by a soft, glowing neon green. He got distracted by my eyes that he forgot my skin was literally ice cold to the touch.

You know when you wet your fingers and touch an ice cube you just pulled out of the freezer, and it freezes the liquid on you hand and sticks to your skin? If you haven't, try it, and come back to this chapter. Anyways, that's what it reminded Nico of.

The floor cracked open, and a hand sprung out from the ground. Not even I was expecting that. The shadows sunk into the ground, making the green glow coming from it to dim down. My eyes stopped glowing.

Unfortunately, though, the now golden glowing image of a Lyre above my head, didn't. The zombie kept crawling out of the ground, as the strings to the lyre broke. The lyre broke, the wood turning back into tree. An image of a pomegranate falls from one of the branches, hitting the "ground." A three headed dog eats the pomegranate, sitting down like a guard dog would.

Nico's eyes widen, his whole body faltering. 'You- How-' He takes a few steps back, tripping over the zombie and almost falling into the hole in the floor. Luckily, Tyler managed to make a flower with Lou Ellen making the flower as big and strong as possible using magic, and Connor bending it down so Nico could land safely on it.

'Jacks...' Nico said after complete silence. 'You just got reclaimed by- by-' He stuttered.

'Hades...' I finish his sentence.

A knock is heard on the door, and we all look over. Leo walks in holding two cartons of ice cream and two spoons. 'Hey Jacks, I heard you got fi-' Leo drops the ice cream on the ground as he looks around the cabin in shock, finally noticing what happened. 'Sorry, is this a bad time?'

'Really Leo?' The five of us say in unison. 'Does it look like a bad time?'

Leo looks at the glowing image of Cerberus above my head. 'There's a story here... not sure if I wanna know it, but darn rootin' tootin' I'm staying for it.' He says with a big grin.

And thus ends Chapter 2.

I really hope you guys like it, these are always so fun to make, and I get to deal with my mind gremlins that bug me all the time 'bout this stuff

@kindred-spirit-93

[huellitaa]

why people don't like you ₊˚⊹ 💬🎀

okay this is not as harsh as the title suggests but i wanted to put it literally bcuz this is a problem i've struggled with for the longest time. im gonna be brutally honest here. there are so many reasons why ur not of the social status you want to be or don't have as many friends as you like yadda yadda yadda. SO ,, here's my thoughts on why that's the case , and how to help! 🫶🏻🎀💬

──★ ˙ ̟🎀you're fake

whether its cuz ur trying to "fit in" or because you have a completely different personality stored in the back for everyone you meet, ur fake. its very simple. its not necessarily a bad thing, it just means ur insecure.

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ how do you deal with this?

stop trying so hard girl. it's not that deep. there are 8 billion people on this earth and counting, u really think this person's gonna matter when ur living ur dreams and thriving even more than you ever imagined you could? no. move on. next please!

find out who the fuck you genuinely are. you're never gonna live your life if YOU aren't the one living it. once you get a start on finding who YOU are it's gonna make you more authentic -> more magnetic -> more attractive in every single way, including social.

u arent obligated to fit in. think about the type of people that you see in the street and you stare a while at, the type of people who stand out from a crowd for whatever reason, the people u look up to, ur idols who you could never imagine to meet in a thousand years; do you think they fit in? do you think merging with a crowd is what made them appeal to you so much? no. think abt that.

wake the fuck up and realise u deserve better. why are you neglecting yourself by hiding yourself from the world? would u do that to anyone else? would u get anyone else to change themselves just so they can fit in? girl get a hold of urself!!! you've been through so much and youve made it so far and yet you're still pretending to be someone you aren't?? you deserve SO much better. people who truly deserve you will always love you for you, no one else.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 ur too awkward / anxious

i want to preface this by saying theres nothing wrong w this at all and i completely understand but ur gonna face some problems of people interacting with you. or you interacting w them. or both. i was diagnosed w generalised anxiety disorder when i was 11, so i understand how much this can impact ur life not just socially but in all areas.

⭐𓂃 ࣪˖ how do you deal with this?

first thing im gonna mention to preface is this can be a symptom of an underlying condition u may need to get checked out. if its impacting ur everyday life please seek therapy, i am not a professional and cannot help u w this, even if i'd like to. i love u ♡

find what is making u anxious. what about social interaction is scary to you, and why? why does interacting w others make u nervous? is there a specific thing ur worried about or u find nervewracking? always. find. the root!

have compassion and empathy and patience w yourself. its perfectly okay and normal to some extent to feel like this and of course we're all gonna feel like this sometimes but its important to treat urself with care, especially in these times.

treat urself as u would a child. i recommend treating urself like a friend a lot but when ur in a delicate and emotional state like this its better to treat urself like ur ur own child. take care of urself with the same love and attentiveness as you would your own children and give yourself time and take care of yourself to work through the issue. ♡

break things down and take it slow and simple. break it into steps and PUT. YOURSELF. FIRST until u feel able to go back out into the public again and be That Girl ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 ur straight up mean

this can be anywhere from just being generally disinterested in people, being constantly negative all of the time to being just really shitty and rude. we all have the same potentials and possibilities but sometimes we can fall into the trap of negative patterns when interacting with others, which is okay. everyone messes up sometimes. but the important thing is is that we fall back out of that and become even better for it!

💬𓂃 ࣪˖ how do you deal with this?

try ur best to put ur ego aside and think about yourself from an outside perspective. would you wanna be friends with you? if you were another person, how would you think people feel around you?

(🗒🎀 note: if that's too difficult, create someone in ur head or mentally assign ur traits, the good and bad, to someone you dont really know, and think ab how youd feel around them. insecure? jealous? confident? excited? nervous? think about it.)

i know it sounds weird but literally just sit down and talk to people close to u when you get the chance or the opportunity comes up and ask if anything you do comes off rude or blunt or abrupt or any sort of negative trait you think might be the issue here. or just subtly (or directly, either one works) try and find out their opinions on you so u can figure out if that aligns w what and how u wanna be, and then how you can change that.

just be generally more sweet and polite. people are easily gonna like you more if ur not a total dick. stop being mean to people, say please and thank you, compliment strangers, smile at everyone, put ur ego aside cuz its really not that deep girl.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 ur too nice / people pleaser

okay being nice is not a bad thing. there is a fine line between being THE nice girl and being A nice girl. there is a fine line between being kind and being a pushover. you don't have to sacrifice urself to be nice to people. being nice should go both ways!

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ how do you deal with this?

first things first, like all things and like i've said a billion times before, you need to address the root of what is causing you to act like this. this should always be the first thing you do when addressing any problem, esp w urself. why are you acting like this? what is causing you to endlessly seek approval like this and sacrifice urself in the process? think.

start saying no to people, even to the littlest things. if you want to do it then sure, but start saying no so much more often. it gives you a sense of control and shows you only you have a choice in the things you do in ur life, no one else.

define kindness. is what ur getting in return to this unconditional self sacrifice genuine kindness, or friendship, or respect, or attention, or whatever else you assume you're receiving from all of this? only you can answer that. ask urself what the genuine meaning of all the things ur trying to gain from this are and then see if that aligns w what ur receiving. (🗒🎀 note: also read this post of mine for more on this! ♡)

again, therapy is gonna help a lot w this. if this is making an impact on ur life, social or otherwise, then i am not a professional and cannot help u w this (as much as id like to). ily and i believe in u ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 you seem "unapproachable / intimidating"

people are threatened by talent. people are threatened by beauty. people are threatened by what they aren't. so, congrats! you've achieved your goal! 🩷💭

🫶🏻𓂃 ࣪˖ how do you deal with this?

i told my therapist once that people have told me i seem rude, unapproachable, intimidating, etc. and i felt really upset about it because i dont wanna come off that way. i wanna be nice and approachable and someone people can talk to. and she asked me what i would do if my favourite celebrity or famous person or whatever was my age and was walking through my school. i told her i'd think they were really cool and want to be friends with them, but wouldn't be sure how to go about it bcuz they'd be super intimidating. think about that.

🗒️🎀 note: but if you do find that people say this or act like this around you a lot, then you might need to do some introspection and ask urself if anything ur doing makes people feel like that rather than their own insecurities and mindset. ♡

i just want to quickly add that not everybody is going to like you. everyone feels a general sense of dislike from time to time and this post is what i mean by that, NOT how to make everyone like you bcuz that's literally impossible and something you shouldn't waste ur time and energy on. as harsh as i may have been in this post ur amazing and i love u no matter how much improvement you have to do ♡ i love you and am proud of you and you should be proud of yourself too!

all my love... 💬🎀🫶🏻💗

[candyje11yfish]

ty! \(^_^)/ feelin good so ill try answer in detail for ya!!!! 

most of the time i just do basic cell shading. here ill explain my rendering process after i choose my base colours, ill try keep it short & sweet!! nvm warning buckle up its really super long.

flat colours -> fully shaded!!

⭐️Picking shading colours!

usually it's just the base colour with +saturation OR a hue shift! i dont really lower brightness.

This is what i mean by HSB, i never use the colour wheel i prefer the sliders!!!

i like my art to look super colourful so i do things like shading pink with blue instead of with a darker pink or red, as shown in the above callie piece.

examples ft lumity:

skin: i always keep it very simple & cartoony! over the nose, below the eyes, the neck & sometimes the tips of the ears is where i'll put shading

hair: as u can See, it's not darker than the base colour at all!! for dark hair like luz's, i brighten & saturate the colour, and for light hair like amity's i just shift the hue a little!

⭐️more kewl tips:

colourpick from yourself!!!! instead of making a new colour for everything, try using a colour u already have down!!!! like below: by limiting my colour palette, it looks more harmonious

really messy image but i hope u get what i mean. also the "off white / black" thing is a separate choosing base colours thing!! i can expand on that if anyone's interested 😙

shove halftones in wherever they fit. here are the 2 pngs i use!! there a rlly good alt to gradients, i used a LOT of them in that callie piece!!! clipping mask over where u want it & alpha lock to change colour.

⭐️here's a WHERE i put the shading:

look st the environment ur guy is in!! pick where your light source is coming from & look where that light will hit and where it is blocked by something.

bounce light: the sun's light is also shining on the grass! so powerful the green reflects right back!

this is kinda more realistic lighting now.

i kinda just put a circle wherever theres a corner!

and i put that Beautiful Shape a lot wherever. i change it a little depending on the character, sometimes its triangular or squarey but thats the base shape! i dont even know what its called but i love it.

look at this hello weird shape guy!!!

actually, my grandfest art are probably some of the most detailed art i have! u can see urself where i put shading & stuff - they do have more desaturated colour palettes though:

& here are some additional examples ^_^ flat colour -> shaded -> multiply layer -> lighting

in this one u can see the hand & leg at the back are completely in shadow too :)

anyway i think that's kinda it? i dont really know how to explain it, i just do what feels & looks right to me??? remember that im Not an expert & this is just how i do things :)

i will always repeat my no1 tips tho: keep drawing!!! and copy ur fave artists!!!!!! it really will hell u find what u like!!!!!!!!!!!!

i hope this post helps a little & answers ur question😇 never be shy to ask me anything cuz i love answering & chattin w u guys!!!!

EDIT: just saying these arent set rules or anything!!!! u can see just how many times i Dont follow my own advice LOL. my artstyle is super inconsistent, i rarely draw things the same every time

[obsessedwrhys]

okokokok HEAR ME OUT !… rottmnt brothers x a gn! younger adopted sibling medusa hcs… whose snakes are lowkey protective of them… sometimes they act on their own but if the reader is feeling an emotion strongly they’ll feel that emotion… yeah… (can you also make the reader calm, collected and reserved?)

(Idk if ur reqs are closed or not so u can do this later or delete it if you want)

ROTTMNT X MEDUSA!READER

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ fluff, bit of angst, reader is gn!! (Look at how cute they are)

RAPH

As babies he was always so scared of the snakes on your head. Like what do you mean it's supposed to be your hair? How does that even work?

Every now and then when he's passing by your room, he couldn't help but sneak a glance of you pampering to the snakes. It's just so amusing to see you treat them as if they have a mind of their own.

Which they do in some cases.

Growing up together, he has gotten use to the fact that the snakes happen to also feel whatever emotions you feel. Anger. Despair. Joy.

Never in his life would he ever think to see a hundred snakes smiling at him. But oh well, at least you're happy.

He is honestly very astonished with your ability to turn any living or non-living things to stone.

There was this one time where you guys were fighting and a member of the foot clan managed to sneak up behind you, but due to your enhanced reflexes, you were fast enough to turn him into stone. You simply blew at the sculpture and eventually it loses its balance and falls.

Remind him to never mess with you 'cause being turned into stone does not look fun.

Despite your scary appearance, you were the most chill person in the group. You would always be found either in the living room watching tv or in your room doing your thing.

What I'm trying to say is that you're the least expected sibling to create the huge mess of the day for everyone to deal with.

He doesn't find the snakes on your head too much of a deal, he cares and loves you all the more.

LEO

He finds the snakes on your head so cool!!

Since ya'll were kids, he's been constantly storming up with stupid tricks or ideas to do with you.

And you obliged each time because you didn't feel like it was anything dangerous. Most of the time you guys end up having fun.

He has once asked you to turn Donnie to stone. Obviously you said no.

Even though your ability to turn people to stone is irreversible, it still doesn't give you the excuse to just do it to anyone or anything as you liked. Which is the same thing you've said to Leo multiple times and he always let's out an annoyed groan at your reminder.

He 100% picks fight with the snakes on your head. Always sneakily poking one or pulling one (obvs not that hard) when it's not looking, what he doesn't realise is that you can feel it too. He's been bit many times for doing that but he never learns.

He just enjoys messing with you :(

It's the sibling energy in him.

Did I forget to mention how he managed to convince you to turn him to stone in order to escape Raph's lecture? Yeah that happened.

I've said this before and I'll say this again, he definitely makes terrible dad jokes related to snakes towards you. It always entertains him and him only.

"You know, people always say snakes are so venomous but I think they're just slitherin around"

"That was terrible Leo"

He likes to hug you because he just loves the feeling of the snakes on your head rubbing against his face. It's like the same feeling you feel when a cat rubs it's face against your face. So relaxing.

He loves to especially bury his face into them.

It weirds out the others but you don't mind as long as he doesn't hurt you or the snakes.

He just LOVE LOVE LOVESSSSS it.

Also the way your eyes glows red alongside the snakes whenever you turn something to stone? You look ethereal!!

And the tiny traces of scales across your skin??? Badass!!

He'll literally wear a cheerleader fit and swing around pong pongs to cheer you on.

DONNIE

Since you were kids, he was always drawn towards the snakes on your head. He always wondered how did it even get there.

He once accidentally pulled on one of the snakes as a kid and the bite on his hand is now scarred to life.

He doesn't tell you but he thinks the snakes looks great on you, the green matching the green in your eyes is like the cherry on top. Not to mention your fashion sense is amazing!!

He doesn't mind having you stay in his lab, you're not loud and don't disturb his work which he appreciates it.

I like to think that whenever he's bored, he'll probably approach you to examine on the snakes on your head. You don't really mind and just continue on doing whatever it is that you were doing in the first place.

Though, there was this one time you caught him waving at the snakes and smiled when they all greet him back.

He definitely asks questions about stuff.

Some of the questions that still stuck to you was "If you used a mirror and activated your power, will you be able to turn yourself to stone?" And "Do the snakes on your head grow like hair?"

The last one might be true in a way. The snakes only extends when you want it to. You just do it when it's convenient, whether to toss a bad guy away or to grab a cup of coffee on the table.

He would hyperfixate on Greek Mythology when he sees the obvious similarity. However it just made his brain spin even more. Were you also cursed? He never knew how to ask you about that since he's afraid to trigger your emotions.

The last time he did that the snakes on your head all began hissing at him, not to mention seconds away from attacking him.

But it doesn't matter, you'll tell everyone when you want to. All he knows is that you grew up together and care about each other, that's already enough.

MIKEY

Oooh snakes.

I just have a feeling that since babies, the snakes on your head has always been so affectionate towards Mikey.

Like out of all the brothers, he's the only one they let him do things with. Helping you do different hairstyles, feeding them and even giving them accessories. Anything he can do to make you look glamorous.

He also happen to name each of the snakes. He says he doesn't have a favourite but it's way too obvious that you're his favourite.

He hates it however when you're sad, the way the snakes on your head pretty much drops with a frown breaks his heart.

Everytime Leo decides to mess with you, Mikey is 100% already there and simply standing menacingly behind him, waiting for him to finally notice him.

"He's standing behind me isn't he?"

"😡"

A lot of the days where its sunny, he would definitely take you go swimming. He knows how frustrated you get when it's too hot.

Same goes to when it's winter, this boy will go out of his way to make a comfortable beanie for you to use and for the snakes to nestle in.

Also you have a big appetite but do not fear!! He will prepare you the most delicious meal you'll ever eat!!

You're surprisingly good at communicating with animals. You've befriended some of the rats in the sewer and he can't help but call you the "Rat Whisperer"

He loves hanging out with you, whether if it's doing nothing together or having fun, he likes spending every second with you.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

requesting hand kisses for all my life there you go if ur still taking :) that's one of my favourite ongoing fics in the whole fandom! every time u update I smile so big. - @team-118

@chaosandwolves also requested this one! Thank you so much omg 😳😳😳 Uhhhh sorry this is kind of stream of consciousness half tragic 8x08 reaction…. They’ll kiss for real eventually Eddie’s just going through it. On ao3!

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, backlit by the sun coming in through the window over the sink. Wrong sink, wrong window, so many many miles away from anything Buck knows as home, but also- maybe they’d fit into any kitchen like this. Eddie at the sink by the window, Buck at the table. So we just never leave the kitchen, Buck thinks. They never go back into the wrong living room of this tiny apartment 15 minutes from Christopher and 12 hours from Los Angeles. They never leave because Buck doesn’t know how to exist outside of this context, Eddie at the sink and Buck at the table. They just stay right here. They move kitchen to kitchen, it’ll all be okay.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says again. He looks tired. It’s January. He left before Thanksgiving and Buck couldn’t eat anything the whole day, pushed around turkey and mashed potatoes he helped Bobby make on the nice dishes Maddie got down from storage. It’s January but it's Texas, and it can get cold sometimes but it isn’t right now, so he’s in shorts and a worn out t-shirt, holes in the collar. His arms are crossed. Holding himself together. Buck knows the feeling.

“Buck,” Eddie says, stunned, broken open, dripping with guilt. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.” One hand wanders out from the knot he’s tied himself in and then quickly tangles itself back up again. “I don’t… know-” he laughs, this is stunned too. “You were there- you were always just there. I didn’t need to ask- there was nothing to ask. It’s just the way it was.” He looks up, guilty guilty. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. Leaving you.” All the air sighs out of Buck’s lungs, and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s never been hard to talk to Eddie, who’s always waited out his stumbled words and winding sentences easily and without judgment, but the only thing he has to say now is: I did. You were looking at homes and you said they’re in El Paso and I knew exactly what it would feel like for you to rip yourself out of me. I forgive you for not knowing — I didn’t understand either, until that moment — but I did know.

“And now I- Buck, I don’t want to live like that- like this- I don’t want a life without you in it. A-and I don’t know what that looks like.” Eddie’s face is helpless, begging. “I know you- I don’t know that I-” one hand reaches again, pulls back again. “You like men and I- I don’t know that I-” a furrow between his brows and he looks as scared as he only ever was telling Buck about people who died in a helicopter crash years after it went down. “I’d try. To be that for you. To- to do that with you. I’ll- we can-”

“Eddie,” Buck says.

“Can’t I just want to hold you?” Eddie demands it. “Can’t I- can’t you sleep next to me? Can’t I take care of you?” He looks near angry. “What do you- I don’t need anything else. I don’t need anything else. Just- can’t I have you?” Buck thinks it’s probably unnecessary to say you already do. In any way. Held and slept beside and cared for. What else is there? He’d live off far less.

“I’d marry you,” Eddie says. “I’ll marry you. You can- if you need- there can be other people but you can come home to me. I’ll- Chris- it’s getting better. We’ll come home soon, we’ll move home soon, and- and we’ll work together again and you come home to me-” hands uncrossed, hovering, shaking. “You can do anything, you can see other people, just- come home to me.”

“There’s only you,” Buck whispers.

“Buck,” Eddie says, a cry. He comes closer. “Please.” When his hands touch Buck’s face, warm, he almost flinches. It’s just that they’re so real, solid, impossible to dismiss as imagination or hallucination or dream or wishful thinking. Eddie’s hands, on his face, scratching into his hair, scrabbling over his back as the man collapses onto him smelling like deodorant and coffee and sweat, t-shirt cotton soft over the fat and muscle that presses into Buck’s face. Buck’s arms drift up to hold him back. This is a new place Buck could learn the context for. Kitchen sink and table, held in Eddie’s arms. The only two places in the world that make any goddamn sense. Eddie’s curled over him, a shelter, his body a home. But Buck already knew that, too.

“Sorry,” Eddie croaks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I’m like this.” Buck holds tighter so Eddie doesn't shake so much. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry you- I’m sorry I hurt you. God- Buck, it hurts, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-” Buck shakes his head, face dragging across Eddie’s chest. He could fall asleep here. Rest until they go meet Christopher this afternoon. Rest until he has to get up at 4 to get to the airport and catch the red-eye and tear himself in two again. Visiting was a bad idea, maybe. He’s not sure he can survive that a second time. But Eddie said soon, he said he’ll come home soon, he and Chris. Buck and Eddie and Chris, who all come home at the end of the day, kitchen table kitchen sink Eddie’s arms sleeping and cared for.

“I love you,” Buck says. Why not. Why not.

“Buck,” a gasp, though surely Eddie can’t be surprised. He pulls back, face red and wet. His hands slide across Buck’s shoulders, down his arms, pull Buck’s hands up and press his knuckles to his mouth. Closes his eyes. Buck feels warm puffs of air against his fingers. Two lungs messy breathing loud in the small room. “Buck,” he says, and Buck knows what he means, knows the reply for what it is. He was wrong, the flight will be easy. The wait will be easy.

Eddie opens his eyes.

[afyrian]

Hii!!!! I love ur writing and little stories so much i was wondering if you could write a long cute story where kuroo wants to surprise you with a dinner date at home (makes u get all dressed up and hes cooking like hibachi and doing all the cute things w the food for u to watch + COMPLIMENTS TO THE CHEF 💕) i thought that ur writing would be so fitting for this short but longish story!!!

Thank you so much if you end up writing this!!!🫶🫶🫶

hibachi surprise kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 900 | synopsis: kuroo isn’t the best at surprises, but he pulls it off regardless

    "how much longer do you think it'll be?" you shout into your bedroom door, pressing your ear against the wood as you listen for his hopefully positive answer.

  the sound of crackling oil on a hot pan just barely passing through the wood. a light mix of music dances in the background and almost drowns out any chance for kuroo to hear your question. however, you can hear him set something down, yelling back to you, "just one more minute, i promise!"

  stepping back from your bedroom door, you look towards your mirror, noticing your dress that reaches to the floor. you hadn't bought it that long ago for a wedding, kuroo taking this opportunity to convince you to wear it again. the dark green color cascades from the short sleeves down to your ankles, your white socks contrasting. the overhead light shimmers off of it, appearing beautifully under the artificial light. 

  the only thing turning your attention is the sound of the doorknob creaking. turning around, you spot kuroo standing in the door, a chef's hat and apron on that you have never seen. a mischievous smile graces his face as his hand reaches for your elbow. "welcome to kuroo's hibachi, bar and grill," hooking his arm through yours, he keeps his eyes on you.

  "oh, i didn't know we could even get a reservation here," you reach your free hand up to your heart, taking in a mostly pretend dreamy breath, knowing he could always send your heart racing. 

  walking through the living room, you make your way to the kitchen. inside he has ingredients filling the kitchen’s many surfaces. from the small hibachi grill in the middle of a serving cart you bought on a whim, to the many side ingredients resting on the dining table. even a couple bottles of wine grace a small wine rack. guiding you to the table, he pulls out your seat.

  “may i interest you in a table side dinner show?” kuroo raises his eyebrows, unfurling a napkin and resting it on your thighs. 

  looking up at him, you fold your hands together on the tablecloth, giving him a short smile. “i would love to see a show, especially from my favorite cook,” you narrow your eyes, watching as he wheels the hibachi grill over to you. 

  the wood inside burns slowly, a light red color flickering inside. holding a few pieces of meat over the grill grate, letting the heat within bring it to the required temperature. grabbing a few extra ingredients for your plate, you look up at your cook, “so, chef tetsuro, when did you start working here?”

  “just a year ago, although i wanted to for a few months beforehand, told all my friends,” kuroo flips one of the pieces of beef over, grabbing a couple peppers and setting them down on the opposite end, “now, would you like stir fried rice on the stove as a side? i’ve learned from the very best.”

  you knew that he had been running by onigiri miya more often, claiming that kenma ‘fell in love’ with the place. you had never believed him, but with each passing hint and surprise, you came to expect some sort of surprise. “of course i would, chef. may i just say that you are dashingly handsome, tetsuro?” you rest your chin against your knuckle, elbow resting on the edge of the table.

  “taking compliments to the chef a little seriously, aren’t we? but i wouldn’t want to deny someone of such beauty from sending a few my way,” kuroo walks into the kitchen, messing with a wok that is already cooking up what you could only expect to be the fried rice

  watching him, you notice the way his sleeves are rolled up above his elbows. the way his eyes glance back at you because he knows you’ve always been enamored with him and his sense of humor. how he somehow always brings a smile to your face, and despite his terrible ability to keep anything a secret, he makes up for it with a grand sense of mental adventure. 

  watching as he turns back towards the table with the wok, you wait patiently for him to pour some onto your plate and one that sits across from you. returning to the hibachi, he flips the meat again, the brown coloring nearly to the perfect tone. kuroo looks back down at you in your seat, your dress that he believes you look gorgeous in, “i love you.”

  “i love you too, i hope you know that this is the best surprise anyone has ever created for me,” you take a bit of food up, nearly stuffing it into your mouth, savoring the umami flavor.

  “well maybe you could even plan this sort of thing for my birthday,” kuroo keeps his eyes on yours, holding a sarcastic smile as he thinks of all the times you nearly burnt down the kitchen.

  rolling your eyes, you finish chewing. holding out your hand to grab his, feeling the callouses on his fingers from the volleyball pick up games and the warmth of his fingers, you give him a soft smile. “i could definitely try, but for now, i’d like to thank you with something a little more personal,” guiding his head down with your free hand, you kiss his lips softly, letting him taste the fruit of his labor. 

a/n: sorry this took forever!! but i finally got some inspo + it’s kuroo’s birthday! and thank you for the kind words <33 gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy

[chaussetteblanche]

Luv ur writing 🫶 I was wondering if u could do a Kit Conner imagine or headcanon where Kit takes reader to the gym for the first time, teaching & encouraging the reader how to use the equipment and it's rlly fluffy 🤭

hi !! thank you so much for requesting !! hope you like it :)

pairing : kit connor x gn!reader summary : kit shows you around his gym word count : 1.1k warnings : none

It had to be clear : you did not go to the gym. You had never gone to the gym, nor would you ever go. You had other ways of keeping your body moving and healthy. The gym was not one of them. You didn't hate the gym, per say, it just wasn't for you. But when Kit came over one evening, ran a hand through his hair and offered for you to come with him to his gym and try it out, you couldn't refuse. It had been out of the question for two reasons : you would be spending time with Kit and you would get to see his muscles. In that order specifically.

So you'd packed your things the week after that and you guys had driven down to his gym. You felt slightly nervous, of course, because Kit was ripped and you were- well, you were just you. And you hadn't been to the gym in so long. You gripped his hand before getting out the car. "You'll show me how everything works, right ? What to do and what not to do ? I don't wanna embarrass myself," you bit your lip. Kit chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. "Yes, I'll explain everything and, even though you couldn't embarrass yourself if you tried, I'll make sure you don't." He pressed a short kiss against your lips, soothing your worries for a while. "Don't worry, luv, everything will be fine!"

After changing in the locker rooms and grabbing your towel, you phone, your water-bottle and your headphones, you met Kit in the actual gym. You didn't know much about gyms, but this one certainly looked expensive. It had large windows, smelled clean and had so many different machines. Kit beamed at you, happy so see his favourite person in one of his favourite places. His eyes roamed over you and your tight-fitting sport's attire. God, you looked good. He bent down and gave you a small kiss when you reached him. "I, uh, I thought I'd just show you around," he spoke uncertainly. Now that you were here, he felt kind of stupid for asking you to come with him. You brushed those thoughts away with a smile. "Show me around, darling."

You started with the lat pull-down machine, which you quite liked. It was easy to use and Kit explained it well. "Do you want to try heavier ?" he asked after you did three reps of ten with a weight you were comfortable with. "Yeah, I can give it a try," you smiled. He smiled proudly down at you and reached over you to change the weight. "Good girl," he hummed. You inhaled shakily, licking your lips before sucking your teeth. You blame your bad performance on the first pull-down on that praise. Kit knew this, of course, cheeky bastard, he just loved watching you get flustered.

You struggled through the next reps, but managed with Kit's encouragement. "C'mon, my love, you can do it." "I believe in you, you can take it." "Just one more, dove, then it's over !" Then Kit asked you if you wanted to go heavier. You said yes, of course. You could never say no to him. This time, though, when you went to pull the bar down, it stayed at the top. Your body, on the other hand, lifted up from the seat. Kit muffled his laughter in his fist while you giggled. "Stick your legs beneath the cylinders, luv,"

Now, as much as you loved having Kit explain everything to you and look incredibly good while doing it, what you loved even more was watching him work out. You couldn't think too long and hard about it, not in a place like the gym, but he looked nothing short of godly. His hair, slightly darker because of the sweat would fall into his eyes a bit, and sometimes he'd blow it away. His muscles would swell and go down. And you lived for those times when he'd let out a small huff of effort. It made you think of other times when he let out similar sounds. If you ever joined a gym, it would be this one, and you would know exactly why (spoiler : it wouldn't be to work out).

The next thing was RDLs. Kit had really gifted himself that one. Bottom lip stuck between his teeth, he watched you closely from behind as you bent down slowly before standing back up, keeping your back nice and straight. "Am I doing this right ?" you asked after a rep, "Kit ?" You turned around to find Kit almost entranced, staring at where your ass had been a second ago. His face reddened as you stared expectantly at him. "I, uh, no, that- that looked real good to me, y'know ?" He scratched the back of his neck. You nodded, running your tongue over your teeth as you laughed. "I'm sure it did look real good." Kit rolled his eyes and bumped your shoulder, going to get heavier weights.

You spotted a couple at the other side of the gym doing sit-ups facing each other, only they kissed each time they reached the top. You giggled, discreetly pointing them out to Kit, who bit back a laugh. "That's a bit much, innit ?" he asked quietly, preparing the station for your next and last exercise : hip thrusts. "Nooo," you shook your head, whispering, "you think ?" Kit laughed before slapping the ground next to a small bench. "Sit here," he instructed. He proceeded to explain in detail how to do a hip thrust, how to not hurt yourself while doing one and what its benefits were. He had you at "bigger ass", or "really works the gluteus maximus" as he has said.

You found that exercise pretty easy so Kit was adding weight on pretty soon. Turns out you were really good at hip thrusts. Even Kit was surprised at how much weight you could thrust. You liked doing them, too, they were fun. Kit had his turn after you and, your eyes trained on the section where the bar rested against his body, you were reminded of other situations where he got a similar workout. You fanned yourself, suddenly very warm. Kit finished his set and stood up, coming over to you.

"Y'alright, love ?" he asked, brows slightly furrowed as he stared down at you. He was close and nearly towered over you. "Y-yeah, just a bit hot," you grinned. Kit chuckled and pressed a kiss to your sweaty temple. "Let's go, I want you out of these clothes."

And out of your clothes he got you.

[thatdeadaquarius]

That language SAGAU but the Reader can only communicate writing on paper.

Either the Reader is mute and they (characters) don't know/understand sign language or they somehow lost their voices on their transmigration to Teyvat and can only write now. But the characters are left trying to decipher what the Reader wrote.

Examples:

Kaeya: "I may say, that was very unexpected your grace. One such as yourself should be more aware of who you are."

Reader: "wat, y u sayin dat?"

×

Gorou: "Oh, your grace! Careful now. I am most certain that you stepped on something unsightly right now. Let me clean your feet, your grace."

Reader: "r u srs rn? Fml"

Ooooo, this is nice, this is niiccceeee /ref

this would be the energy⬇️

Man I love this show, I gotta finish it (it’s Komi Can’t Communicate for those who want to see it) where she basically is too shy/introverted to speak (non-verbal neurospicy it seems like to me actually lol) and really wants to make friends and do normal things despite not speaking, her main way of communicating is writing (and her first guy friend who can just read her facial/body language really well lmao)!!

☆

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them)

Planet: Headcanons-ish?

Stars: dashes/mention of most characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Reader/”you” are mute/lost their voice, & Trigger Warnings: None Known.

☆

This kinda falls into that post I made abt texting lingo, abt us being nigh incomprehensible when using texting lang. (its basically a code lol)

but i think it’s always neat to see nonverbal rep so here we are (also i think imma go ahead and say it is both selectively mute but also enforced by video game laws!)

u know a good explanation would be for this is actually abt how we technically are only allowed to freely communicate when we’re in chats,

so I could see that still being the only way we can commnicate in Teyvat (look am i little excited abt taking “video game world” a little too literally in every genshin AU ever- maybe.)

tbh i could see so many allogenes having to either learn to make room for you in convos and u also having to get wayyy more expressive in body language/facial expressions

tbh i think itd be pretty easy to get ur meaning, like in a battle or smth fast-paced where u couldnt write, like how Tinker Bell can?

if u dont know what i mean just search “tinkerbell scenes peter pan” on youtube and u can see ppl just having a full conversation with no words with her, which i think would deffo happen with ppl like Kaeya, Lisa, Lumine, Venti, Heizou, Ayato, Yae Miko, Thoma, Beidou and Itto surprisingly i could see it (ppl in the distance just think theyre all talking to themselves sometimes when ur not as visible hehe)

OMG they get u nice gifts for writing all the time, like the newest compact pens from Fontaine, the finest small, medium, and large notebooks from Inazuma,

like a little compact pocketbook so u can easily fit it in pockets!

u know Im absolutely sure you could literally start the texting appreviation trend in Tevyat like this-

like just so it’s easier to communicate with you, a lot of people are willing to adapt/take on abbreviations like “ttyl, gtg, wth, lol, lmao” even stuff like “etc”

lol u start a whole trend in the writing letters business, hehe silly medieval Teyvat is silly and medieval

yknow I think the quieter vision users would definitely find you to be peaceful to be around and easy to understand just with writing (also deffo most likely to adore the soft moments together of just ur pen scribbling and the sounds of nature or a cafe or something around them),

tbh i also think these ppl would be motivated to talk to you alone, or get you away to just talk the two of you for all the reasons above, like Xiao, Aether, Kazuha, Ayaka, Chongyun, Zhongli, Diluc, Sayu, Ei, Sucrose, Eula, Ganyu, Ningguang, Tighnari, Alhaitham omg he might literally be able to take his headphones off around u bc youd be in such quiet spaces all the time, and bc u dont talk he doesn’t have to worry abt u getting loud either lmao

…and then ofc, there’s the bitches that try and guess what ur writing ahead of timeeee 😭

bein all like, “Uh… you.. would like.. to go to… a restaurant… to get some- OH OH I got this one this time! Some pita pockets! …Oh. A drink. Right. Sorry, again.”

definitely Itto, Cyno, Heizou, Xingqiu, Fischl, Amber, Collei, Dehya, Wanderer, Childe, Venti, Keqing (she just used to being fast ok), Kaveh lmao

☆

I hope my reply was a little fun!! THANK U FOR SENDING THIS I LOVE THIS SM!! Man it’s so hard to make you feel my appreciation for this idea thru the damn screen

like how do i send a virtual hug

ANYWAY, if you or anybody else had an idea for celebrating 1000 followers lmk bc i am STRUGGLING with this same issue for that,

like how to make u guys feel my love 😩 ❤️‍🔥

☆

Safe travels ignihideous,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonderss / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi

[luxaofhesperides]

those who serve.

CHAPTER SEVEN: a wound.

previous chapter. full fic on ao3.

14k.... finish what ure doing first before u read this. this is ur only warning.

cw for this chapter: violence, injuries, nongraphic medical procedures

. . .

Danny gets one week to adjust to the reveal of the Wayne family’s night activities, on top of getting learning more and more each day to help Alfred. Then everything upends itself in the face of a gala taking place in the manor in ten days.

Most of the preparations have been taken care of by Alfred months in advance; renting out extra tables, chairs, and tablecloths, hiring catering, getting together press passes for attending reporters, and so much more. He kindly goes over each thing for Danny, reviewing the specifics of each group so Danny can have an idea of what to look for in the future. The amount of information he gets makes his head spin, and the prices of everything make him break out into a cold sweat.

Technically, Danny is joining the ranks of the rich with his new paycheck, but no amount of time will make him comfortable with such large numbers being attached to his bank account.

Ten days to the gala, Alfred shows Danny how to get blood out of white and light colored clothes. Tim, apparently, pulled some stitches after getting stabbed the night before, and bled through his shirt. 

Hydrogen peroxide is a life saver. It definitely would have been useful to have while he still lived in Amity Park.

He also discovers a love of ironing; watching the wrinkles in the fabric disappear is deeply satisfying in ways he can’t put to words. 

“I’d certainly be happy to pass on all ironing duties to you,” Alfred says, when Danny mentions this. “Just be careful not to burn yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that clumsy!” he replies, moving the iron across another shirt. Looking at Alfred, Danny miscalculates how far he’s moved the iron, and the edge of the hot metal touches his palm, pressing the shirt flat against the ironing board. He yelps, yanking his hand back, then gives Alfred a sheepish smile. “That doesn’t count.”

Alfred shakes his head with a fond smile, holding out a hand. “Let me see.”

Danny holds up his hand for Alfred to inspect. There’s no burn, barely any redness in the skin, but Danny draws some ice across the area anyways to keep Alfred from worrying.

“You could always iron using oven mitts,” Alfred suggests. “I believe we have some spare Batman themed ones in the kitchen.” His tone is so dry and even that it takes Danny a second to realize he’s joking.

“I would have accepted that if it wasn’t Batman themed,” he jokes back. “Anyone but him.”

“He’ll be heartbroken to hear that, I’m sure.”

Danny snickers and goes back to ironing, carefully keeping it away from his hand this time.

He’s not laughing when Alfred teaches him about formal suits that night, showing him each piece to the suit and how to properly wash, fold, and iron them, as well as how to put them on. And then he drops the bombshell of, “You’ll be getting your suit fitted tomorrow as well,” in the most casual tone possible for him.

Danny chokes on nothing and has to spend a minute clearing his throat before he can say, “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“You need to get fitted for a suit. Tomorrow. I have already made the appointment with a tailor I’ve worked with for many decades.”

“Cool, that’s what I thought you said. Is this required?”

“Yes, as you’ll be attending the gala as well. We are the two permanent members of the Wayne Manor staff. There will be eyes on us as we keep the event running smoothly, so it’s important to be well dressed.”

It makes sense when Alfred puts it like that, but Danny still has to smother his instinctive refusal. He’s only rented suits before for school dances, and those were never super comfortable. He avoids events that require suits, like formal conferences his parents are invited to, with an extended invite for family. Suits and wealth will always make him think first of Vlad. 

Maybe in time, he’ll associate those things more with the Waynes, but for now, Vlad is the face that comes to mind and Danny has to shove away the urge to run and hide.

“Not to worry,” Alfred adds, as Danny struggles to smooth out his expression from the pained grimace it twisted into, “You will not be going to this appointment alone.”

That’s not the part that Danny’s concerned about, but he still appreciates it. He’s definitely not ready to be alone in the city again, considering how his first time out with the Waynes ended with a hostage situation and a mall full of violent gangsters.

There’s not much anyone here can do for his own hangups, especially when they originate in another dimension. 

So Danny pastes on an unconvincing smile and gets back to work.

Nine days before the gala, Danny finds himself in a car with Bruce and Cass. Alfred had offered to drive them, but Bruce grabbed the keys before anyone else could and cheerily waved Alfred away. He was then told to not get another speeding ticket and to try to be a good role model for Danny.

Danny, whose only good role model is Jazz, looked away nonchalantly and acted like he didn’t hear that. 

It’s not like he needs good role models anyways. He’s doing just fine on his own!

Alfred doesn’t count because Alfred isn’t a role model as much as he’s an ideal Danny is striving for. Alfred is who Danny wants to be when he grows up. Now that he has a chance to grow up (relatively) safe, that is.

Cass had snickered at the three of them, then bodily shoved Danny into the backseat before climbing in after him.

Now, they’re going down the streets of Gotham, driving over a bridge, through neighborhoods, through run down districts that slowly get bigger and cleaner and visibly more suited for people with money. Bruce doesn’t drive recklessly, thankfully, despite Alfred’s warnings. 

Even so, Danny still clings to the car door, ready to throw himself out at a moment’s notice. He’s learned to bail quickly with his parents’ dangerous driving. 

“You alright back there?” Bruce asks, meeting Danny’s eyes briefly in the rearview mirror.

“Yep!” Danny chokes out. “Doing great!”

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to regulate his breathing, counting slowly in an attempt to settle the wild beating of his heart. 

He wasn’t this bad in cars before. Even with his parents. He’s not sure what changed, but being in Gotham, after everything that’s happened, makes the small space of a car feel suffocating. The rocking of the car as it goes down bumpy roads would have once lulled him to sleep, but now makes his stomach roll and his chest go tight with panic. None of this is made better by having two observant and dangerous people watching his every reaction, no matter how small.

The radio is playing softly, simple background noise as Bruce drives them through Gotham. Danny tries to pay attention to it, to listen to the songs that come on, but his focus is completely shot. The noise keeps fading in and out of his ears.

“It’s okay,” Cass says softly. Her fingers skate over the back of his hand, making him jump. He blinks his eyes open to look at her. 

At some point, she’s taken off her seatbelt. Which isn’t safe! She needs to put it back on! 

Danny’s gone through the lessons and powerpoints back in Amity Park, when teachers tried to make sure he and his sister would be better drivers than their parents. Seatbelts help prevent severe injuries in car crashes, and there’s a reason they’re required by law.

Weakly, he shoves her back against the seat. Then he leans forward to reach past her, taking hold of the discarded seatbelt, and fastening it around her again.

“Keep that on,” he says around a gasp, his breath catching in his chest. His voice sounds weak and thready even to his ears, which means its bound to be even more concerning to her and Bruce.

“Do you need me to pull over?” Bruce asks, glancing back at him. “If you’re feeling sick, I can stop until you feel better.”

“No, just keep driving. The sooner we get to wherever it is we’re going, the better.”

Cass is frowning at him when he looks at her, ensuring the seatbelt is still on. “Why?” she asks, pointing at him.

That’s such a vague question! What is he supposed to answer! 

‘Why is he like this?’ ‘Why is he worked up about a seatbelt?’ ‘Why is he a mess?’

The answer to all those questions are the same: he doesn’t know!

The most he can do is offer Cass a weak shrug, so that’s what he does. Cass squints her eyes at him, then grabs his hands and lifts them up to start a clumsy game of patty cake. It quickly becomes apparent that she doesn’t actually know how to play patty cake and is instead clapping their hands together randomly with a look of confusion on her face, so Danny takes over, humming the song under his breath.

It helps distract him from the unreasonable panic of being trapped inside a car. That was probably her intention, but Cass is so focused on keeping up with their steadily quickening game of patty cake that it doesn’t feel like he’s being coddled. It just feels like this is normal, like they’re two kids passing time on a car ride.

Like they could be anyone else. People who are safe. People who haven’t been so hurt.

It’s almost a surprise when the car comes to a stop, Bruce smoothly pulling into a parking space with a reserved sign in front of it.

Danny opens his mouth to ask if it’s really alright that they park there, but can’t say a word before Cass smacks his hands down. When he looks at her, she rubs her fingers together in the universal sign for money and gives him an impish grin.

That’s right, Bruce is rich enough that he can get away with anything. Who cares who that reserved sign is for? Bruce can just buy them a new parking lot. 

That won’t stop the whole thing from leaving a bad taste in his mouth, but at least it’ll be easier to ignore.

Cass hops out the car and skips around the open the door on his side, holding out a hand to help him out. 

He takes it and lets her yank him out of the car. She doesn’t bother waiting for Bruce before dragging Danny into a fancy looking store, the outside all black brick and large, reflective windows. He doesn’t get a chance to see the name of the store, pulled in too fast by Cass’s enthusiasm.

She all but throws open the door, the bell above them ringing merrily, and leads him inside. The dark wood floor and fancy lights immediately make Danny feel out of place. The racks of fancy clothing on display and the mannequins all dressed up in suits of various dark colors only make him feel more like he doesn’t belong in there. 

“Hello, hello, welcome!” calls out an employee. She wears a dark green apron with a notepad tucked into the front pocket and a pin cushion on her wrist. “Are you just browsing today, or do you have an appointment?”

“We have an appointment for Danny,” Bruce answers, somehow appearing behind them. Danny squeezes Cass’s hand to hold back his flinch; he’d really love if the man would make some noise when he moves. 

Did the bell over the door even ring when Bruce came in?

“Great! Follow me, I’ll get you into a fitting room and then let Mr. Brownstein know you’re here.” She leads them through a door near the back of the store, leading to a short hallway with three numbered doors in them. 

They’re given room one, which looks more like a lounge than a fitting room. Beyond the couch and armchairs is a round platform with floor length mirrors surrounding it on three sides. Past that is an area that looks like a large dressing room with only a curtain to separate it from the rest of the room. 

Bruce wastes no time in sitting down on the couch with a low grunt. Apparently not even vigilantism and constant training can save him from old man joints. 

Cass lets go of Danny’s hand to flit around the room, then grabs a few magazines and sits next to Bruce, flipping through them quickly. 

Left on his own, Danny stands near the door awkwardly before he forces himself to join them, sitting on one of the armchairs to keep some space between them. 

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks as soon as Danny’s gotten comfortable.

Danny shrugs. “Fine. Just… not used to this.” He gestures vaguely to everything around them and Bruce nods as if this makes sense.

“I understand that this can be a lot,” he says, “But we’ll do all we can to make things go smoothly for you.”

“Will be normal… time?” Cass adds, looking to Bruce for help.

She signs something and Bruce helpfully supplies, “Eventually.”

“Yes! Even-tu-ally.”

“I don’t know if anyone ever gets used to this. The being rich thing and your hobbies.”

“Plenty of us in the know have had to adjust to this life, you’re not alone in that.”

Danny squints at Bruce. “I highly doubt any of you were normal before doing what you do.”

Bruce opens his mouth to refute that, thinks about it, then closes his mouth and slowly nods. “That is a fair point. What’s normal for Gotham is hardly normal for anyone else.”

“No, no, this is not a Gotham specific thing. This is a Wayne and associates specific thing.”

“You are in that,” Cass says. “Not normal.”

“I think I’ve made it very clear that I am not normal. But I wasn’t insanely rich! That changes things!”

“No,” Cass says firmly, agreeing. “Not normal. Better that way.”

A knock on the door sounds through the room before they can get into it anymore. The door opens just a second later and an old man with heavyset wrinkles, white hair, and a fancy looking black cane with the handle done in gold, enters with a smile.

“Ah, Mr. Wayne, how lovely to see you again.” He’s got the same accent as Alfred, the same even, unflappable tone.

“Davey!” Bruce stands with a grin, his voice turning loud and energetic. It’s such a change from how Danny’s used to seeing him that he can’t do anything but stare at the man in shock. Bruce shakes Davey’s hand in big up and down sweeps, full of cheer.

Gone is the calm, steady, intimidating presence Danny is used to. In its place is some guy with a good attitude and not much else in his head.

“So good to see you again,” Bruce continues, dropping the handshake in favor of patting him on the back. 

“I do hope you haven’t wrecked any of your suits recently. I was hoping to go more than a few months between tailoring new suits for you.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll be happy to know all my suits are in perfect condition! We’re here for someone new, anyways.” 

Taking his cue, Danny stands up and gives a small wave. “Hi,” he says rather weakly.

Davey lights up, striding across the room to take Danny’s hand in his, giving it a vigorous shake. “You must be the boy Alfred’s taken in! Such a pleasure to meet you lad, I’ve heard only good things about you.”

“You know Alfred?”

“Know him? I grew up in the same neighborhood as him in England, and he’s the one who helped me set up shop here in Gotham back in the 80s. I’ve gotten ahead of myself.” He shakes his head and steps back, giving Danny some breathing room. “David Brownstein, at your service.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Brownstein. I’m Danny.”

“Call me David. Any friend of Alfred is a friend of mine. Now, I hear you’re in need of a suit?”

“Yeah, there’s a gala soon and I don’t have anything formal or like… professional to wear to it.”

“Make him pretty!” Cass demands, clapping her hands together in delight. 

David nods to her. “I intend to, Miss Cassandra. Let’s begin, shall we?”

In no time at all, Danny is standing on the round platform in a black suit, trying his best to be as still as possible. He’s stopped breathing completely so he doesn’t accidentally disturb David where he’s pinning his left pant leg to better fit him. The fabric is soft and smooth, higher quality than literally anything else he’s ever worn in his life. 

When he glances into one of the many mirrors around him, he has to admit that he looks good.

To be fair, though, everyone looks good in a suit. 

It’s just so far beyond his normal that it feels like he’s looking at someone else in the mirror. To think that just a few weeks ago, he as a homeless teenager living on the streets with only the clothes on his back. Now he’s getting fitted for a designer suit that probably costs more than his entire college fund.

Bruce left the room at some point and Danny has no idea where he could be. Cass is still around, though she disappears every so often, then pops back in wearing a beautiful dress that she presents to him for his opinion.

Danny gives her a thumbs up every time while also trying to keep his arms still. 

Near the end of his appointment, she walks into the room with a bunch of silk ties in different colors and patterns draped over one arm. She holds up each one in front of her face, looks between the ties and Danny, then either tosses them onto the couch or puts them back on her arm. The ones she keeps on her arms, she yanks at each one, then wraps them around her neck and tries to choke herself with them.

This, apparently, is part of the selection process, and she tosses a few more to the couch. 

He’s… not sure he wants to know why she’s considering which tie would be best to strangle someone with. That’s not a problem Danny has to deal with. It’s not in his job description.

Bruce conveniently reappears once Danny carefully changes back out of the suit. The thought of trying not to disturb the pins or chalk lines is so stressful that Danny just phased out of them once the curtain was drawn, so they’re all as untouched as they can be. 

He passes the suit to David, who leaves quickly with a goodbye tossed over his shoulder to the three of them. Cass hands three ties to Bruce, who stops by the register to get them paid for and packed up before they leave the store. 

They head back to the manor soon after. Danny’s grateful to be done, even as he spends the entire drive with his head between his knees, trying to pretend he’s anywhere else.

“How was it?” Alfred asks once Danny’s joined him in the kitchen to help with dinner. 

“Fine. David was nice. Also, I’m not sure if Cass wants to strangle me or not.”

“She’s like that sometimes,” Alfred says, then smoothly pivots the conversation into a new direction and they both silently decide to move on and pretend everything’s fine.

Eight days before the gala, Damian pops up while Danny’s removing dead leaves from the indoor plants. He hovers over Danny’s shoulder completely silent while Danny works, unaware, until Damian says, “Stop what you’re doing.”

“Shit!” Danny jumps, throwing dead leaves into the air, and goes intangible. His feet sink into the floor before he catches himself and flies up, floating in the air with a hand on his chest to keep his half-dead heart from escaping.

Damian stares at him, unimpressed. He looks at the dead leaves on the ground, then at Danny, and sighs.

“What?” Danny says, flustered. “You scared me! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“It’s hardly my fault you lack awareness of your surroundings.”

“Yeah, whatever. Did you need something?” Danny floats back down to the floor, tangible once again, and kneels down to clean up his mess.

After a moment of brief hesitation, Damian joins him, carefully gathering up the dead leaves closest to him.

Any annoyance Danny has at being scared like that fizzles away instantly with that little gesture. 

Damian is blunt and full of jagged edges, but he’s not unkind. 

“Has anyone shown you the emergency supply caches or escapes routes?”

Danny vaguely recalls Damian mentioning the caches but nothing else. And Danny hasn’t exactly been going out of his way to spend time with anyone but Alfred, who is busy enough teaching him how to handle all his new butler duties. 

He shakes his head, gathering up the very last leaves, the smallest of the bunch, then stands up. Damian follows suit with a disapproving click of his tongue. “I suppose I will have to do it then. Come, let us begin.”

“Woah, wait, we gotta throw these away first!” Danny tries to take the bundle of dead leaves in Damian’s hands from him, but he turns, keeping his hands out of reach with a scowl.

“Fine. You don’t need to do it for me. I’m not incapable of basic tasks.”

That was not at all what he meant by that, but okay! Danny decides to move on from that and dumps the dead leaves into the small trash bag he’s been carrying around for this task. Then he holds it out for Damian to do the same. 

Having taken care of that, Danny has no more excuses and is quickly taken on a trip around the Manor with Damian, who points out all the hidden emergency caches. 

There are so many. If Danny didn’t know about they’re vigilante activities, he would have been convinced that the Waynes were secretly doomsday preppers. 

Some are hidden in panels in the walls. Others beneath floorboards. Some behind large paintings. 

“You must carefully memorize which paintings are emergency caches. There are some paintings within the Manor that lead to secret passageways or panic rooms,” Damian says. 

“How the hell did this place get built that you guys have so many secret, hidden things in it?”

“Very carefully.”

Damian puts a hand on a panel in the wall in the next hallway and pushes against it. The wood falls back and opens silently, revealing a small space with a first aid kit, six gas masks of various sizes, and three tasers. Danny carefully takes note of the location and tries to memorize a few details around the cache so he can find it again later. 

They go through the entire manor, even unused rooms and halls, the attic, and areas that the Wayne family allows outsiders to access when they open their doors. 

Escape routes follow next, but take much less time when Danny reminds Damian that he can just fly out of the Manor whenever he wants. Danny himself is an escape route. Still, he memorizes some that go from the ballroom to the back of the manor in case he needs to evacuate people. 

“Now,” Damian says as they come to a stop in front of the grand staircase in the foyer, “Walk to every emergency cache you can remember.”

“Oh, come on,” Danny groans. “There’s no way I’m going to remember any correctly.”

“Which is why we’re doing this. If we put it off, then you won’t learn until it’s far too late.”

That doesn’t sound too bad, since Danny’s been learning on the fly since the Accident. Half the reason he managed to do what he did as Phantom was because he had no choice but to learn as he went, thrown into fights he wasn’t prepared for. It’s never gone too badly before, and he’s always been able to get out of things relatively fine. 

Then again, Gotham is much more dangerous than Amity Park. It’s not ghosts that are causing the problems here, but living people who have no qualms about killing. Danny rarely ever had to hold back his strength with ghosts; they were already dead, they could take a hit.

But here?

If Danny isn’t careful, he could kill people here. Even if he doesn’t mean too. 

He remembers how strong he felt when stopping that mugger from hurting Alfred. How fragile and small the gangster who attacked him and Dick in the mall felt trapped beneath his foot. 

In Amity Park, Danny was just another ghost.

Here in Gotham, Danny is a monster. 

Damian’s right. It’s better he be prepared so he can act more carefully, have more options at his disposal instead of just working off panicked instinct.

“Alright,” he sighs. “Just don’t be too upset when I can’t find more than one.”

Damian stares him down with hard, serious eyes, but something about the downturn of his lips makes him look more awkward than intimidating. “You are a civilian who has only just begun to learn everything about the Manor. I’m not expecting much from you.”

The words, by themselves, are harsh, but Danny can hear what he really means: You don’t have to get it perfect, you just need to know enough to be safe.

“Okay. Should we start from here?”

Damian nods, and so the roles reverse and Danny leads them around the Manor, trying to remember as many emergency cache locations as possible. He gets more than he expected, around seven correctly and six more with some hesitation and poking around in areas he knows something is hidden, but he’s not 100% sure where.

He expects that to be the end of it, but Damian just nods thoughtfully and takes the lead again, showing Danny all the caches he missed. It takes up the rest of the day, but Alfred didn’t mind when he rushed to the kitchen afterwards to help finish dinner.

The next five days are spent deep cleaning the Manor, mostly in areas where there will be high traffic, and making sure anything Bat related or generally suspicious is hidden away. He doesn’t see the Waynes much at all outside of meals, and even then it’s only Bruce, Damian, and Cass that show up regularly. Everyone else appears at random, no rhyme or reason as to when they decide to sit down to eat with the rest of the family. 

He overhears stern reminders to be careful on patrols, for the Waynes joining Bruce to make sure their clothes are ready and any needed cover stories are made and memorized. The others tease the poor souls forced to host the gala with Bruce, flaunting the fact that they get to go out and patrol like normal instead of pandering to the crowd of deeply annoying elite folk. 

None of what they say make Danny feel any better about having to work the gala.

He tries to channel his nerves into work, always finding something to do in order to keep his mind from wondering about all the things that could go wrong at the gala and spiraling. The giant crystal chandelier in the ballroom is sparkling from how thoroughly Danny’s cleaned it. 

Alfred handles all the logistical tasks, smoothing out last minute hiccups and answering questions from caterers and hired security. The ease with which he works through things has Danny in awe, hoping to one day be as capable as he is. 

Two days before the gala, his suit is delivered to the Manor. Cass somehow gets a hold of it first and ambushes Danny as he walks into the kitchen, holding a basket full of bell peppers and tomatoes. 

“Your suit!” she announces, suddenly in his face as he turns around from closing the door. One of her hands darts out and holds the basket up from the bottom, keeping any of his garden harvest from falling onto the floor as Danny freezes and tries not to jump back and bang his head into the door.

Once she’s sure he’s got his balance back, Cass steps back, presents his suit on a hanger to him, and says again, “Your suit.”

“Thanks, Cass. This couldn’t wait until I wasn’t holding stuff?”

“Nope. Go put it on!”

She smoothly takes the basket from his hands and replaces it with the suit. Then she uses her shoulder to push Danny away from the door and out of the kitchen, ending with a light, playful kick to his back.

Well. He’s no longer making spaghetti, apparently. 

With nothing else to do and no reason to deny Cass, Danny heads off to his room to get changed. He doesn’t quite remember all of Alfred’s instructions on how to put on a suit properly, so he has to look it up on his phone. It’s a long process to lay out the suit in all its pieces and then put them on in order, looking between his phone and the mirror to make sure he’s doing it right.

The only thing he doesn’t have is some sort of necktie. He’s pretty sure butlers wear little black bowties, but that could just be a movie thing. He’s pretty sure it’s what James Bond wears, anyways, which isn’t quite the look he’s going for. 

Once he’s got the suit on as well as he can manage, Danny takes a look at himself in the mirror.

He’s still pretty thin despite his appetite growing and his stomach being able to handle larger, richer meals. There’s a paleness to his skin that will probably always be there, making him look washed out and slightly drowned. His hair is a mess, as it always is, but in the suit, it looks more like a style choice than a consequence of his refusal to touch a hair brush in the mornings when he makes breakfast for himself and Alfred. 

He doesn’t look half bad. 

And the suit is fitted to him perfectly. Nothing is too tight or too loose. Everything falls where it should comfortably. 

Satisfied with his efforts to dress himself properly, Danny gets back to the kitchen to let Cass see him. It’s easier to fly through the walls than make his way down the winding hallways, so that’s what he does, passing by a startled Tim who must have just come up from the Batcave. 

Cass is sitting on the counter when he returns, kicking out her legs idly. She lights up when she spots him and claps her hands together in delight. “Nice!” she says, giving him a thumbs up.

“Thanks. I don’t have a tie or anything, so it’s not really a complete look.”

“We got ties,” she says.

“Uh, when?”

She waves a hand vaguely. “At the store. With your suit.”

Well. Bruce did buy some ties, but Danny hasn’t seen them since so he assumed they weren’t for him. For all he knows, they’re for Cass. She was the one checking them to see how well they could strangle people. He’s not really sure he wants those ties, if they’re going to be used as improvised weapons.

“I didn’t know any of those were mine. I definitely haven’t seen them since we got back.”

“Oh. I forgot.” Cass hops off the counter and says, “Stay here!” Then she’s gone, disappearing back into the depths of the manor.

“Sure, I guess,” Danny replies to no one. He stares forlornly at the basket of bell peppers and tomatoes on the counter. He would get started on the sauce if he could, but he doesn’t trust himself to keep his new and expensive suit clean while he cooks, so all he can do is look longingly at the work he should be doing.

He doesn’t wait as long as he expected to. Cass must have made use of those hidden passageways scattered all along the Manor to get back to him so quickly, three ties in hand. Or she’s just fast. One or the other.

“Here!” she says, presenting them to him. 

Danny looks them over, reaching out to feel them. They must be made of silk for how soft and smooth they are. 

One of the ties is a deep blue color with gold thread providing some embellishments. Another is a simple red, one solid color. 

It’s the last tie that holds Danny’s attention. Black with silver thread stars and planets and celestial bodies, carefully placed on the length of the tie. He’s never thought much about ties, much less about their designs, but he’s obsessed with this one. It’s perfect for him.

Cass must clock his interest in the last tie. She tosses the other two over her shoulder, then reaches out to flip his collar up. The tie goes around his neck and she ties it loosely, clearly unsure of how to properly tie it, but doing her best anyways.

Once done, she looks it over before she nods, satisfied. “Good.”

Danny looks down to lift up one lopsided end of the knot she’s made with the tie. “Thanks, Cass. This one’s great. Can I ask why you tested these three for strangling capabilities?”

She shakes her head. “Not for harming,” she explains. 

“Uh… strangling is very harmful. And that’s definitely what it looked like to me.”

She shakes her head again, stronger. With one hand, she takes one of the ties on her shoulder and loops it around her neck. “Picked the ones that won’t be bad. Hard to hurt with these. Try.” And Cass offers one end of her makeshift tie noose to Danny.

He stares. “No, thanks.”

“I’ll do it then.”

“Don’t!”

Cass grins at him, all teeth and challenge. “Stop me.”

And she yanks with all her strength, harder than she did at the tailor’s, genuinely trying to strangle herself with this silk tie. Danny chokes on his breath and scrambles to stop her, grabbing her wrist and struggling to pry the tie out of her fist. She doesn’t let him stop her, pulling harder, her grip iron and unmovable.

Danny, in a moment of panic, shoves his fingers between the tie and her throat, creating space, then makes the tie go intangible, finally freeing it from her grasp. 

“Please,” he begs, “Do not try to kill yourself in front of me.”

“Woah, what?” Tim asks, having chosen the absolute worst time to walk into the kitchen.

Cass waves at him. “Testing,” she says, pointing at the tie, the wraps her hands around her neck and mimes being strangled to death.

“Oh. I see.” Based on the way Tim is blinking at them, befuddled, he definitely doesn’t see. “Why silk ties? Those are the worst for strangulation. They slip too much.”

Danny stares down at the tie he liberated from Cass’s grasp. Slowly, he wraps on end around his wrist, ties it off, then pulls with what’s left of the tail. 

Sure enough, the tie slips along his wrist and against itself. It still pulls tight, but not as strongly as he thought it would.

So this is what Cass meant when she said these were safe. The ties she chose must be what she decided were least capable of strangling him.

It’s actually kind of sweet that she went out of her way to find something specifically so it wouldn’t be used to hurt him too much. As strange as the whole process was, he can’t deny that he’s touched by the effort she put into this.

“Unless that’s the point,” Tim continues, looking between the two of them. “Nice suit, Danny, you look great. Have you figured out where to hide weapons in it yet?”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“In case you get attacked. Always a risk at galas.”

“Are the rich people going to attack me or something?”

“No, no! Probably. But that many rich people in once place, especially in Wayne Manor, makes the gala a huge target for anyone wanting to rob us or take someone for ransom. But maybe be wary of the rich people too, there’s some really creepy old guys that are somehow still kicking.”

“Great,” Danny says weakly, “That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be able to keep you safe. So, weapons?”

“I don’t think I need any. I have powers, remember?”

“And you can fight with them?” Tim presses.

“Fighting’s all I’ve ever really done with them, so yes.”

“I’ll take your word for it then. But remember, plenty of us will be there in case anything goes wrong, and we’ll have plenty of security around. I’m sure the gala will go fine.”

Cass points an accusing finger at Tim. “Jinx!”

He winces. “Ah. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said that. My bad.”

“Well, as long as I don’t have to fight rich people,” Danny tries to joke, only to blanch when Tim moves his hand in a ‘maybe-so’ back and forth motion. “I don’t have to fight rich people, right? I thought we already agreed on that!”

“You probably don’t have to fight rich people,” Tim corrects, “But there was a cult situation years ago. Like, when I was in elementary school, but B took care of it so it’s not a problem anymore. Not that it would stop them from making more cults, but we haven’t seen any recently. So.”

Danny stares at him, a little horrified. “Man, what the hell is Gotham?”

Tim and Cass snicker, as if this isn’t the reality they grew up in. “Don’t worry,” Tim says, “You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

“Ancients help me when that day comes,” Danny mutters.

He leaves them to steal snacks from the kitchen as he changes back out of the suit and is graced with their company as he makes two pots worth of spaghetti, smacking their hands with a wooden spoon when they try to sneak a taste of the sauce. 

And then, suddenly, the day of the gala of here. Danny can only hope it doesn’t end too terribly.

. . .

“The first guests will likely arrive around seven in the evening,” Alfred says as they make their final rounds to ensure the ballrooms and sitting rooms are all ready for the elite of Gotham. “Preparations will begin at noon. Security will arrive first. They have all received instructions onto where they should be. Be on the look out for anyone going to places closed to the private; we have had many people in the past be bribed to steal from us while had them employed for an event.”

“What should I do if I do find someone out of place?”

“First, try to escort them back to where they should be. If they resist, then do whatever you deem necessary.”

“And when you say ‘anything necessary,’ does that include…”

Alfred stops to look Danny directly in the eyes as he firmly says, “Anything.” And then continues walking as if that didn’t just happen. Danny hurries to follow, putting into practice his newest, most important skill of moving right on past that shit.

“Tables and chairs for the ballroom will arrive at one. I’ve printed out the layout they need to be placed in. The rental company has a copy of these instructions, so all you need to do is oversee the set up. Catering will arrive at five to set up, cook, and have food out and ready for guests.”

“Do I have to greet any of the guests?”

“Not at all. Master Bruce has that responsibility. I will be taking care of coats and bags for guests. I will need you to direct cars to the drop off point in front of the ballroom entrance.”

“Everyone’s being dropped off?”

“That is correct. You don’t need to worry about arranging rides for anyone, as that is something they have to do themselves.”

Okay. Cool. It’s still stressful, still a lot that Danny has to be in charge of, but it’s not as overwhelming as he thought it would be. Alfred hasn’t given him too much to do, and all of it is easy enough for him to take care of with his current skill levels. As long as no guests come up to him demanding he do stuff for them, he should be fine.

They split up after they leave the ballroom to put up the velvet ropes that will hopefully keep people from wandering into places they aren’t allowed to be. From what he’s heard, it shouldn’t be a problem except with particularly drunk guests. The Wayne family is big and important in Gotham, enough so that any and all guests will be careful to be respectful while attending the gala. 

Danny double checks the list he was given of where to place the rope barriers, double checking that he got all of them. 

After that, it’s a flurry of tasks to be completed, last minute details to fix, and preparing lunch for everyone so no one goes hungry until the gala begins.

In no time at all, security arrives and Danny is tasked with directing them to their positions, helping them review their routes to keep the venue safe. It’s off putting to be the one listened to when he’s so much younger than everyone, but none of the hired security guards act like anything’s out of the ordinary while with him. It’s probably just in his own head, but it still feels wrong.

Tables and chairs arrive after that, and Danny helps them get to where they need to be placed. He helps with moving some of the tables as well, putting his enhanced strength to good use so the other workers don’t have to struggle so much. Tablecloths are set out, carefully smoothed of wrinkles. Floral centerpieces follow.

There’s only one near miss with two workers crashing into each other and the centerpiece—with its glass vase—goes flying amid the horrified gasps of the others. Danny had just managed to catch it in time, moving on instinct honed from years of ghost fights.

The relief on everyone’s faces helped him feel more at ease working with them.

By the time they’re done and everything is where it should be, properly put together, the catering arrives, bringing with them another flurry of movement and energy.

Danny lets himself get swept up in it, helping where he can. He almost doesn’t notice how late it’s gotten until Alfred appears at the entrance to the ballroom and looks at him expectantly. 

Everything is as set up as it could be. The rest of the staff are now to act as waiters, basically, carting around drinks and finger foods for the elite. Danny will just get underfoot if he stays.

He leaves with a quick goodbye and is waved off by more people than he expected. 

Alfred falls into step with him as they make their way to the servant’s quarters to get changed into the gala suits. Before they part ways to go into their own rooms, Alfred gently claps a hand against Danny’s back.

“Well done,” he says warmly when Danny looks at him. He looks proud of Danny, so proud that it makes Danny’s eyes well up with tears he hurries to dash away. 

“Thanks!” he returns with a bright smile, and ducks into his room to try to get his emotions under control before he has to meet a bunch of rich people with red eyes and tear tracks on his face.

To think he can be undone so easily with just two words.

Jazz would probably have a whole lot to say about that. He misses her psychoanalyzing annoying big sister attitude so badly it hurts, a wound that will never heal. He hopes she’s doing alright wherever she is now. He’s ruined enough of her life, he’d like it if his disappearance doesn’t hurt her too much.

Taking in a deep breath, Danny shoves away all thoughts of home and family. He needs to focus. He’s here to do a job. He needs to make sure the gala goes smoothly.

Step one of that plan is to put on his suit and fix his hair so he looks more put together and less on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

He completes step one more or less successful. The only thing he can’t do is knot his tie nicely, and no video tutorials he watches really helps. With the time limit he’s on, Danny just gives up and decides to ask Alfred for help.

Alfred is already in the hallway waiting for him when Danny opens his door. He holds up his tie with a sheepish smile. “So, I don’t actually know what to do with this…?”

Alfred’s eyes soften and he waves Danny over. “Allow me.” 

He takes the tie from Danny’s hands and flips up his collar. With clean, precise movements, he has the tie around Danny’s neck and neatly knotted into what is probably a fancy shape that Danny will never be able to recreate. Then his collar is smoothed down again by Alfred’s hands, which quickly move to straighten out the lapels of his suit. 

“There we are,” he says. “And look at you now: a proper butler of the Wayne family.”

A warmth settles deep in his chest. There’s joy, rising on strong wings, that sweeps through him. 

He’s still an apprentice.  He still has so much to learn. But tonight, he will go out as the future butler of the Wayne family. That is how this world will know him. Alfred has carved out a place in this foreign dimension just for him, and finally Danny feels like he can take it, settle in, finally belong here beyond just a charity case taken in from the streets.

“Are you ready to work your first official event?”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Danny replies, standing taller. 

“I’m glad to hear it. And Danny, if you ever need a break, you can hide away in the kitchen for as long as you need. I’ll be sure to join you in there eventually.”

“Got it!” And then, softer, “Thanks, Alfred.”

“But of course, Danny. Tonight will be busy. It may even be overwhelming. But I will be there for you should you ever need me.”

Danny nods, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t start crying. He had been doing so good too! But Alfred’s honest words always throw him off balance. 

He has no defense against Alfred’s kindness. That’s how he ended up here in the first place. Pulling himself together with nothing but stubbornness and sheer will power, Danny lets out a steady breath, then starts walking. Alfred joins him as they return to the ballroom and gives him one more pat on the back before splitting off to tend to his own gala duties.

Left alone in the ballroom, surrounded by the bustle of staff finishing up their last minute tasks, Danny takes in the glittering opulence of the place; this isn’t the warm, lived in Wayne Manor full of history and family and comfort. This is cold and sharp, all gold and bright lights, a stage for false personalities and masks to take the spotlight for the night.

A group of musicians in the back of the ballroom fill the air with the sound of strings and flutes as they tune their instruments and prepare to play for hours on end. 

Food is set up and serving stations all have someone behind them, standing with their hands behind their back as they wait for the first guests to trickle in.

It’s nearly seven. Danny hurries outside, ready to wave drivers towards him, directing them down the gravel path that branches off from the main driveway that goes to the front door of Wayne Manor. It takes barely a few minutes before he sees the first headlights make their way down the makeshift road. 

Danny waves a hand in the air and the driver stops right in front of him. An old couple dressed lavishly get out of the car and stand together, arm in arm.

“Oh, who’s this?” the old woman coos, looking at him. 

Danny gives her a tight smile. “Hello, and welcome! I’m Danny, the apprentice butler to the Wayne family.”

“How darling,” she says, pressing a hand against her chest. “It’s been too long since I’ve met a young man like you learning the art of butling. Why, my own family had an apprentice back when I was in college, and he went off to serve a family in Spain that was closely related to the Spanish royal family.”

“That’s cool,” Danny replies, trying to hide how awkward he feels. “I think I’m going to stay with the Wayne family, though. I’m not that ambitious.”

“Waynes are close to royals in Gotham. They’re the most important family in the city. Why, I remember when Martha and Thomas were killed in Park Row. It was a dark day for us all…”

Woah, what? That’s the first time he’s heard of any murders happening in the Wayne family.

Some of his shock must shown on his face, as the old couple suddenly look more engage, more eager to talk to him.

“Why don’t you escort us in, son,” the old man says, “And we’ll tell you about it was we walk.” 

The couple begin to slowly walk to the Manor, slow with age though they still hold themselves tall. Danny falls in step with them and the man begins to weave a tale about a much younger Bruce Wayne and the parents who loved him so dearly, and how the sudden, tragic loss of them rocked the world.

Danny doubts he ever would have found out about this on his own. And he certainly won’t have known the impact the Waynes have had on Gotham. The fact that their lives and deaths mold the city is a heavy realization.

The couple keep him at the door to the ballroom for a few minutes to wrap up their story. Danny glances out over the grounds every so often to make sure there aren’t any headlights in the distance coming his way until they thank him for the escort and go inside, leaving him to wait for more guests.

He never really thought about why the Waynes go out each night as vigilantes. It’s dangerous, thankless work and no one would do it without a reason.

He can see, suddenly, a young Bruce, just a child, suddenly lost and adrift in a world that murdered his parents. He can see that child decide to fight back in any way he can. He can see Batman rise from the heart of that child and swear to prevent anyone else from experiencing the pain he had to survive. 

And he can see Alfred standing behind that boy, carrying his own grief as he takes care of a child who grows up ready to throw his life away for a cause far greater than himself. 

How they can bear it?

Danny is both the one who left and the one left behind, running from his parents just as they turned their backs on him, and it destroyed him. He’s only just now building himself back up again, feeling more stable and steady despite the hole in his heart that will never close. At least he got the privilege of starting fresh in this dimension. Bruce and Alfred had to grow around the loss that is embedded into the city.

He really doesn’t know much about them, he realizes. This is the first time he’s really considered their histories. 

Maybe Alfred will be willing to talk to him about it later. 

With those thoughts heavy on his mind, it’s hard from him to be fully focused as he directs cars to stop before him one by one. More guests in fancy suits and elegant dresses step out and walk into the ballroom, only a few bothering to greet him as they go. His mind keeps drifting as he pastes on a smile and waves to drivers as they leave.

He stays outside for another hour before the last of the cars leave. The gala is in full swing when he ducks inside, sticking to the walls as Gotham’s richest mingle together in the ballroom. The low murmur of voices fill the air alongside the music, high strings playing a soft melody to fill the background as people wander around with glasses of champagne in hand, nibbling on finger foods.

Bruce is the center of attention, smiling jovially in a dark blue suit, the first two buttons of his silk shirt undone. 

It’s hard to see him as a once grieving child, full of rage and determination, ready to take on the world. Bruce as he is now looks like a perfect socialite, surrounded by a small crowd of people all vying for his attention as he talks loudly, gesturing with broad movements, keeping their attention. 

Tim is hanging off to the side near the musician, talking to a small group of people his age. They all look more relaxed and down to earth than any of the older people, so perhaps there’s hope for the next generation of Gotham’s high society.

Danny wanders a bit to make sure everything’s going well, checking in with the other staff members to see if there’s anything he can help with. But they have everything under control, so he can do nothing but try not to mess with the sleeves of his suit as he keeps circling the ballroom.

On his third circuit, Tim breaks away from his group and weaves around other guests to smoothly reach him.

“Is Damian here?” he asks, eyes darting around the ballroom.

Danny frowns. “I haven’t seen him. Did he come in with you?”

“He did, and then he left us as soon as we had greeted most of the guests. He’s supposed to stay out here for a few more hours, and I told him to just stick with me.”

“Where do you think he’s gone?”

Tim sighs, lowering his voice a bit. “He could be anywhere, honestly. He hates galas, which I get, but we needed him here because he’s Bruce’s bio kid. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if Damian went downstairs to get away.”

If Damian ditched the gala to go punch criminals, that would be bad, to say the least.

“I’ll go look for him,” Danny says. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I can get him back up here.”

“Thanks, Danny. I gotta get back to it. Also,” Tim adds in a whisper, “Don’t worry if Bruce seems like a different person or super drunk. He’s really good at acting.”

“Okay…?” 

Danny’s not really sure what that has to do with him, but he appreciates the heads up anyways. He’s been excusing all of Bruce’s weirdness as either ‘Batman-related’ or ‘none of his business’, so he’s fine ignoring whatever Bruce gets up to tonight as well.

Now that he has a task to complete, Danny gladly leaves the ballroom to find Damian. 

He starts off checking the sitting rooms, which already have a few of the guests lounging in, drinking wine and gossiping. The other areas that guests can access are all Damian-free, which is about what he expected. 

Danny moves on past the rope barriers, nodding to some of the security guards walk by on their patrol, ensuring no guests, invited or otherwise, go deeper into the Manor. 

The kitchen is empty. As are the living rooms on the ground floor. 

Maybe Damian’s in his bedroom? Or his art studio. Those are the only two other places Danny would think to find Damian that’s not the Batcave. 

He just really doesn’t want to go down there again. Especially not on his own.

Just as he reaches the top of the stairs to the second floor, Danny sees someone walking down the hall. It’s not Damian, far too tall to be a teenage boy, and they’re moving slowly, looking around as if searching for something.

“Hey!” Danny calls out to them, striding towards them quickly. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”

They turn, and Danny recognizes the uniform for the security guards that are meant to be at their positions around the ballroom. This man has taken off his jacket, leaving him in a simple button down shirt and dark pants, a gun tucked into a hostler by his hip. 

“Oh, sorry, I thought I heard something up here and went to check it out.”

“This is pretty far from the ballroom. It would be hard to hear anything here from where you were supposed to be. Wanna try that one again?”

The easygoing smile on the guard’s face disappears, replaced by a dark scowl and a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Listen kid, this will be easier for all of us if you just walk away now. Don’t make me do anything you’ll regret.” He puts his hand on the holster. The threat is clear.

But Danny’s had guns pointed at him from years. He’s dodged shots from his own parents. One guy isn’t going to scare him.

“It would be easier if you just went back to you post and did the job you were paid to do.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m doing exactly what I was paid to do.” He grins, sharp and mean, and pulls out his gun.

Okay! Great!

Danny’s not nice anymore. And Alfred already gave him permission to do anything he deems necessary.

In a blink, Danny’s closed the distance between them and tosses the man over his shoulder. He kicks the gun out of his hand and is about to try to flip him over so he can put the guard in a shoulder pin, but a knee slams into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

Danny wheezes and is kicked back, stumbling to keep his balance. The guard rises to his feet and lunges forward, throwing a straight punch. It’s easy enough to dodge it, ducking to the side and stepping closer to try to knock the guard down again, but he pulls his arm back a bit, bends it, and slams his elbow into Danny’s face.

Pain races through his skull as he falls back, hands flying up to his nose. It’s probably broken, already gushing blood, and it stains his teeth as he bares them in a snarl and grabs hold of his ghost powers.

Teeth sharpen into fangs. His eyesight gets sharper, the iron taste of blood stronger in his mouth, and icy fog wafts out of his mouth. 

“The fuck—” is all the guard is able to say before Danny tackles him. The force of it knocks them both to the ground, the guard’s head hitting the floor hard. He tries to force Danny off of him again, but Danny holds tight, blood still dripping off his face. “No one said the Waynes has a fucking meta with them!”

“Bad luck,” Danny says, a growl turning his voice into a low rumble, staticky even to his own ears, and the guard pales. 

All it takes is one hand to lift him but his shirt, the fabric of it held tight in his hands. And then Danny slams him back against the ground, making his head bounce, and the guard is out cold. 

He means to drag the guard someplace where he can be locked away until someone can deal with him, but screams rise up from the ballroom, stealing away his attention.

Shit, something must have happened!

As much as he wants to go racing back to help, his priority is Damian. 

The other guests will be protected by the guards (hopefully) and Bruce and Tim. But Damian is unaccounted for, and the longer Danny can’t find him, the more danger he’ll be in.

There’s no point in being discrete or quiet now. Danny runs down the hallway, shouting Damian’s name. 

He doesn’t get any response.

His nose throbs with dull pain each step he takes. His suit is a lost cause, covered in his blood and rumpled from the fight. None of that matters at all as he races down the halls, trying to find Damian.

Distantly, he hears gunshots and more screaming from the ballroom. 

Danny grits his teeth and gives up on running entirely to fly recklessly through walls, dreading every second that passes. 

The second floor is empty, save for the prone figure of the guard lying in the hallway near the stairs. He doesn’t have time to search any higher floors, so Danny goes back down to the ground floor, hoping that the noise from the ballroom would have drawn Damian out. He’s bound to have heard it, wherever he is in the Manor.

He drops back down to this feet and pushes his ghostliness away as he draws closer to the ballroom, wary of running into someone. It doesn’t seem like any of the guests had been able to get out of the ballroom. 

Every so often, there’s a single gun shot. The sound chills him to the bone.

Just as he’s getting closer to the open areas of the Manor, within the rope boundaries he set up with Alfred earlier, he hears a noise in a sitting room that makes him slow to a stop, listening intently. It’s a soft noise, at first. Just a few clinks of objects being moved. Then there are heavy footsteps moving slowly. 

Whoever it is can’t be Damian. He would never be so loud when he walks. 

The door is partially open, so Danny peeks in to see who it is.

It’s not a guard. It’s not any member of the staff that arrive to work the gala. 

In front of a broken window is a large man with a dark orange bandana tied around his nose and mouth, obscuring the bottom half of his face. He’s twitchy, pacing back and forth unsteadily, mumbling to himself. When he turns, the light catches on a glint in his eyes, the same drugged sheen that’s been present with other people who have attacked members of the Wayne household. 

Danny plans to creep in and knock him out so there’s one less person to worry about when a large hand grabs the back of his suit and lifts him up like he weighs nothing. A startled noise slips out of his mouth, making the man in the room whirl around, glaring at him.

“Caught a peeper!” announces the man holding up Danny. He’s large, bigger than a bodybuilding, like the one Danny fought in the mall. “Think Boss will give us more Venom if we drag this thing in?”

The other guy looks over Danny consideringly. “Nah. Bring him here. We can deal with him on our own.”

The not-body building walks into the room, unbothered by how Danny struggles in his hold, kicking out at the air. 

Danny’s thrown unceremoniously onto the floor, where he turns into a roll and gets back up to his feet, carefully keeping both of them in his line sight.

“Oooh, he thinks he’s a fighter,” not-body builder cackles. 

Danny glances at the door. 

“Don’t even think about running,” the first man says. “You work here, don’t you? Why don’t you tell us all about the goodies we can steal from this place. Make us rich and I’ll let you walk away alive.”

All this just for a robbery?

The guns, the break in, the violence, just for a robbery?

That’s fucking insulting. 

Danny checks the open door one more time to make sure no one’s coming their way, then launches himself at not-body builder. His ghost strength comes rushing back into him just as he hits, sending the not-body builder stumbling back with a surprised shout. He wobbles, trying to keep his balance, then falls.

He doesn’t waste a second before kicking his head and knocking him out. 

That’s one down.

Danny takes a deep breath, trying to wrestle down his strength so he doesn’t accidentally do serious damage to the other man, who is much smaller, only to gasp, breath punched out of him. A sharp pain tears through his back, which was left open to the other intruder.

Stupid, stupid! he berates himself, trying to get away. 

But the man holds him still with a hand on his shoulder, and Danny, in his panic, goes intangible.

The knife and the man’s arm go right through his torso.

Danny looks down at the knife. Looks at the arm. Both of them are frozen from this sudden turn of events.

His mind goes blank and he desperately tries to think of what to do when an idea parades itself to the front of him mind, to say: IMPROV.

“What the hell did you do to me?!” Danny cries out, putting as much terror into his voice as possible. 

“What did I  do?” the intruder sputters, pulling back. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes you did!” Danny argues. “I’m fucking air! You made me not-solid!”

“That wasn’t me!”

Taking a chance, Danny recalls what the guard upstairs said, and says, “You’re a meta?!”

“I’m not!” the intruder denies, “I didn’t do this to you!”

Danny spins around to face him, trying not to wince when the movement pulls at his back. “Fix this!”

“I can’t! I told you, I didn’t do it! This must be your doing!”

“I think I would know if I could turn into air,” Danny refutes, channelling Paulina to give him a withering look that will, hopefully, make him feel small and stupid. She always was great at digging her heels in and driving people mad with her stubbornness while tearing down their self esteem. He tosses his head back to glare at the intruder, meeting his eyes. “This is clearly your fault so fix it!”

They’re just going back and forth, thrown off their rhythm and scrambling to work though the situation Danny created for them. He doesn’t know how to put a stop to it. He really doesn’t want to be stabbed again.

“I really didn’t do it!” the intruder insists. He looks down at his own hands, faltering. “Right? There’s no way that could have been me…”

He doesn’t get any more time to contemplate whether or not he has powers because his body abruptly tenses, twitches sporadically, and then his eyes roll up and he passes out.

Behind him, holding a taser and wearing a deep scowl, is Damian.

Danny is so relieved to see him that he feels weak in the knees. The blood loss is not helping with that matter. “Damian!” he says, “Where were you? I’ve been looking for you!”

“I felt that something was off so I went to investigate. I found some of the guards marking areas around the ballroom as entries for the gang that’s taken over the ballroom. I was trying to take them out before this happened, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

“What is going on right now?”

“From what I heard when I traversed the vents above the ballroom, the leader of a recently established gang has taken over to take the valuables of all the guests. He is recreating Venom and trying to replace Bane.” Damian shakes his head. “That fool is just going to get himself killed. Bane will stop at nothing to have his head now.”

“I take it this Bane person is a big deal?”

Danny purses his lips, then looks away. “We’ll catch you up on the villains around here later. Come with me, there are others still around.”

“Are we going to the ballroom?”

“No. Black Bat and Nightwing are already here to take care of it. They’re just waiting for an opening. We will be taking out the intruders outside the ballroom, then going to the Batcave to join Pennyworth.”

Damian tries to take hold of Danny’s wrist, but his hand goes right through. He stares down at it in shock, as though he was betrayed.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Danny drops his intangibility and pats Damian’s hand to let him know he’s solid again.

Damian looks up at him and squints. “Are you alright? You’re bleeding.”

Danny brings a hand up to his face. It’s clean of blood. He must have let it all fall off of him when he went intangible, but his nose is still bleeding and it’s quickly rolling down his face again. He can feel his back get more wet, too, the stab wound steadily pulsing with pain, blood spreading through his suit.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Danny says. He’s survived way worse than a broken nose and a small stab wound. There are people in danger and people trying to hurt them. That takes priority over him, any day.

“Your nose?”

Danny shrugs. “Probably not broken?”

Damian reaches out and prods at his nose, checking it. It brings up flares of dull pain, but it’s not enough that Danny can’t stay still during this. In a matter of seconds, Damian nods and pulls his hands away, so the damage to his face probably isn’t anything to worry about. Danny’s going to trust Damian on this one.

“Very well. Let’s go then. And take this.” Damian holds out his taser to Danny.

“Um. Don’t you need it?”

“I am more than capable of taking people down without weapons. You need this more than I do.”

That’s fair. Danny gingerly takes the taser, keeping his thumb above the switch that will flip it on and have it buzzing with electricity. He follows Damian’s lead as they creep down the hall, staying low and quiet on their feet. Damian keeps in the lead, checking that it’s safe to move before signaling for Danny to follow. 

They take out three more intruders before the lights in the Manor flicker and then go out. Noise swells up in the ballroom before another gunshot silences it.

Danny tenses, fearing the worst, but Damian reaches back to squeeze his hand and whisper, “It’s alright. That was the moment Black Bat and Nightwing were waiting for. They’ll take care of it.”

When he strains his hearing, he can just pick out the shattering of glass and muffled cries of pain. He doesn’t hear anyone’s voices, but as long as no one is screaming, it’s fine. Probably. He hopes, anyways.

They circle around the ballroom, checking room and hallways, but it seems that most of the intruders didn’t bother hanging around out here when all their targets were conveniently in one large room. Having cleared out all the intruders they could, Damian leads them to Bruce’s office.

“What are we doing here?” Danny asks, keeping his voice low as he keeps one eye on the door to ensure no one comes in.

“We’re going to the Batcave,” Damian answers absentmindedly as he fiddles with a grandfather clock behind a desk.

Danny blinks. “Wait, we go in from here?”

“Look.” Danny looks to where Damian has opened up the grandfather clock to reveal a dark staircase that leads down, deep beneath the Manor.

“Huh,” is all Danny can say to that. It’s definitely safer than just falling through the floor like Danny did, but somehow it feels a little anticlimactic. It’s just stairs. It’s very hard to make stairs cool.

They could have at least put in a fire pole. 

A giant underground vigilante cave and not a single fire pole to slide down on? What’s the point then?

Danny holds back a sigh, then grimaces at the heavy taste of blood in his mouth. His nose isn’t hurting as much anymore, just a dull throb, and it’s easily ignored when his back flares with pain with each minute movement. He looks down at the stairs as Damian begins his descent, already wincing at how much it’s going to stuck going down them with a stab wound. 

He could really use that fire pole right now.

Or, actually, why bother taking the stairs? Danny’s half-ghost. It needs to be good for something.

Danny promptly goes ghost, flies down into the cave completely invisible and intangible, then drops back to the ground in a quick flash of light, human again. He intends to stand up and wait where there’s more light, but his head suddenly spins as his vision goes dark. There’s a buzzing in his ears and he gets a strange, floating feeling, as if he’s no longer in his body, just drifting out into open air. 

The floor is cold against his cheek. The floor is…

The floor?

Danny blinks his eyes open, wondering when he closed them. It takes a moment to realize that he’s lying down, somehow, on his back in some dark corner of the cave. There’s a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

He tries to say something but his voice dies halfway out of his throat. A few more blinks has his eyes clearing enough that he can see Damian crouched in front of him, looking over his head, mouth moving as he speaks, though Danny can’t hear anything. His ears are still ringing. 

The world sways around him.

He closes his eyes trying to count his breaths so the world will feel more solid around him. Wayne Manor just got attacked. Now is not the time to be lying around.

But he can’t force himself to get up. His body refuses to respond to him. All he can do is lie on the floor of the cave, trying to get his head to stop spinning, feeling the heat of the wound in his back as it presses against cold stone. 

Arms wind around him, lifting him up, and Danny whines as it jostles him. More blood spills out of his stab wound, soaking his suit even more. Distantly, he hears someone curse as he’s moved into a more brightly lit area. It’s too bright, even with his eyes closed, and Danny turns his face, trying to hide from it. 

A hand runs through his hair, soothing him. He’s carefully set down on something—a bed?

So they can have soft, high quality beds in their vigilante cave, but no fire poles. The Waynes need to get their priorities straight.

He tries to say something about that, but just mumbles out some slurred, nonsense sounds.

Someone hushes him kindly. The hand keeps brushing his hair back soothingly.

And then—

His shirt.

They’re opening his shirt.

They’re taking off his jacket.

Danny is laid out, helpless, held down, and they’re stripping him of his clothes. Terror slams into him like a train, ice in his veins chilling him from the inside out. His eyes snap open and his  blurry vision catches sight of two heads bend down over him, features dark and unrecognizable, backlit by the light shining too brightly right above his face.

His breath stutters in his chest as he stares at them, horrified and betrayed.

What are they doing to him?!

Panicked, Danny beings to thrash, adrenaline surging through it. It dulls his pain, lifts the lead from his limbs, makes him gather enough strength to try to push them away. More hands appear, trying to hold him down and a hoarse scream tears out of his throat. It doesn’t have any power, can’t throw them away from him, and stutters to a stop a few seconds later. 

“No!” he cries, tears leaking out of his eyes. “No, stop! Don’t, please don’t do this to me…”

A sob catches in his chest so hard is hurts. 

The people above him speak over each other, their words melding together. He doesn’t know what they’re saying, just that they’re speaking, but it does nothing to calm him down.

How can he be calm?

They’re trying to cut him open.

He tries to go ghost and his entire body lights up in pain, back arching off the bed as he screams again. 

The lights go out. The hands disappear. 

The world goes still.

Danny heaves for breath, shivering. 

It takes a long time before he feels solid again. Less likely to shake out of his own body. He doesn’t know what just happened. He should be able to go full ghost, but he entire body refused. It hurt and hurt and hurt and he doesn’t understand why.

It’s not just a failure of his powers, but a betrayal.

Slowly, he begins to breathe evenly. His entire body still hurts, but it’s the pain of a bruise, not an electric current running through the whole of him. The world steadies itself and his vision clears up properly.

Something cold touches his hand.

Danny flinches back, then looks up to see Alfred. 

Alfred, who’s aged face is lined with deep concern. Who stands just close enough to hold out the water bottle to Danny. Who doesn’t crowd him or demand answers. 

Alfred, who is safe.

Without thinking about it, Danny sags towards him. Alfred has to step closer, steady him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Danny, my boy,” he says, “Can you hear me now?”

Now? Was Alfred speaking earlier? 

Danny nods, blinking up at him.

“Wonderful. Do you think you could drink some water?”

Another nod. He looks down at the water bottle and its unsealed cap, then his own trembling hands. He doesn’t think he can open it.

Before he can ask Alfred for help, another hand appears in his line of sight, from the other side of the bed. Damian grabs the water bottle and twists it open, then shoves it into Danny’s hands with a click of his tongue.

He doesn’t let go until he’s sure Danny has a solid grip on it.

Danny tries to thank him, but his throat clicks from how sore and dry it is. He drinks half the bottle in one go, clears his throat, and is able to say, “Sorry about that.”

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Alfred says, just as Damian says, “If you’re sorry, then take off your shirt so we can tend to you. You’re injured.”

Alfred turns to Damian with a severe look on his face and Danny hurries to intervene before things can get messy. Or, messier. 

“Right. Sorry. Again. It’s not a big deal, it’s just a small stab wound.”

“A stab wound?” Alfred repeats. “Danny, please let me tend to it. It may need stitches.”

“It doesn’t—”

“You don’t know that,” Damian hisses. “Let Pennyworth help you, or I’ll do it myself. And you won’t like it if I do it myself.”

Danny is ready to refuse again, but the clear concern in Alfred’s eyes stops him. 

He does need help. He doesn’t want to cause trouble for Alfred.

“Fine,” he bites out. “But don’t—don’t touch me if you can avoid it and don’t ask any question.” He doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess, just pulls at his shirt and suit coat, going intangible to get it off him without lifting his arms. Strangely, that doesn’t hurt the way trying to go full ghost did. 

Something to consider later.

The silence that follows is heavy. Danny can’t stand it; he wants to hide away, to rewind the last hour so he can undo what he’s just done, pretend he’s still fine. All his scars are on display. The arcs of electricity from the Accident that have embedded themselves into his skin, close calls from ghost fights that were bad enough to leave a mark in his human form, the burns from his parents inventions locking onto him before he was able to deactivate them.

Alfred lets out a slow breath. Then he says, “Master Damian, if you could get—”

“Of course.” And Damian is up and moving, the light above him turning on. It’s much dimmer than it was before.

“If you could please turn around, Danny. I need to see what I’m working with.”

Danny forces himself to turn, showing his back to Alfred. He’s tense, every inch of him ready to run. 

It’s Alfred, he tells himself sternly. Alfred won’t hurt him. He’s safe.

Damian returns, handing something off to Alfred. He can hear them move, hear things being prepped behind him, metal against metal, and another sliver of terror runs down his spine.

“Stop,” he says without meaning to. 

The cave goes quiet again, both Damian and Alfred freezing. Danny swallows roughly, then turns back to face them. “I can’t,” he chokes out. “I can’t—I need—I need to be able to see you.”

“Then I’ll do your stitches,” Damian announces. He rounds the bed, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. “I am more than capable. Even before I came to Gotham I had learned how to provide medical aid both in practice and on the field.”

“I’ll be right here,” Alfred reassures him. “Master Damian is very capable. He will do a good job at this.”

Danny nods, taking in a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay. Then, please, Damian.” 

“I’ll apply the local anesthesia now. This will keep you from feeling the stitches go in.” Danny tenses, and then the area around his stab wound goes numb, the pain dulling.

Alfred takes hold of his hands. “Breathe with me,” he instructs. Danny does his best, keeping his eyes on Alfred, matching him with each deep, even breath. 

He tries not to be too tense, to think about when Damian will begin, if he’s already started, all the questions they will ask him about his many scars…

“Done,” Damian announces.

…What?

“What? Already?”

“Yes,” Damian says, a pleased note in his voice. “I told you I knew what I was doing. I’m going to put the bandage on it now. Do not get it wet.”

His back and shoulder are still numb enough that he doesn’t feel the bandage get put on, so he just takes Damian’s word for it. That wasn’t as bad as he expected it to be. In fact, that went really well? Fast, too. Danny would have never been able to stitch himself in that time.

Alfred squeezes his hands, leads him through a few more breaths, then pulls away. He helps Danny lie on his side and pulls the blanket up over him. 

“Get some rest now, Danny. I’ll be here while you sleep.”

“Wait, the gala. Is everyone…?”

“Everyone is alright. The police had been contacted and will be here soon. Nightwing and Black Bat have the situation under control. There is nothing more you need to do.” A hand drops over Danny’s eyes, blocking out the light. “You can rest now, Danny.”

He’s sure that he won’t be able to sleep at all, let alone soundly, after all that. But his body has other ideas and in no time he’s pulled under into that deep darkness that shuts away the rest of the world and lets him drift away. . . .

(The scar map of Danny is being uploaded into the Batcomputer’s archives when Nightwing arrives, carrying a plate full of finger foods pilfered from the gala.

“Where’s Danny?!” he demands, sweeping his gaze across the entirety of the Batcave. He sees Danny curled up in a medical cot before Alfred can answer. “What happened?”

“He was stabbed,” Damian answers nonchalantly from where he’s going through sword katas to work out some of his more volatile emotions.

“Stabbed?!”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

Cass appears behind Nightwing, already shedding parts of her uniform. She steals something from the plate in Nightwing’s hand and is about to eat it when he hisses, “That’s for Danny!” 

She slowly puts it back on the plate. 

Alfred watches her stare at Danny in the medical cot, then turn on her heel to go to the lockers to change out of the rest of her suit. 

“Miss Cassandra, if you could please pick up all your clothes off the floor,” he says as she walks. Cass darts back to pick up everything she dropped behind Nightwing, then disappears into the locker room.

Nightwing finally shakes himself out of his stupor and makes his way over to Alfred, setting the plate down next to him. “Seriously, is Danny alright?”

Alfred places his hands on the desk, palms flat against it, and very calmly says, “Hunting down every person who has ever hurt him will be the last mission I ever go out on.”

“Shit.”

In any other case, he would have reprimanded Nightwing’s language. In this case, it’s the only appropriate response.

“Once the police are gone and the guests seen off, we need to have another family discussion. Danny is a very brave and very strong lad, but he’s gone through far too much. We must do better.”

“I’ll call the war council then.”

“See that you do, Nightwing.”

Alfred nods to him, then pulls the chair away from the Batcomputer to Danny’s medical cot, and sits with him. Looking down at his thin, worn face, Alfred is reminded of Bruce, in the aftermath of his parents’ murder, of Dick’s first nights in the Manor, of Jason and his nightmares, Tim and his loneliness. Now, Danny and his fear will join the expressions he never wants to see on his family again.

He is so young, so fragile, so bright and wonderful despite it all.

Yes, war council is the only appropriate way to move forward. It is the least he can do for Danny, so do it he will.)

[biblio-smia]

“you can’t scare me like that, okay?” w mike schmidt <3? love ur work!

thank u!!! <333 | part of v’s 800 follower celebration!

when mike's call goes to voicemail, he doesn't mind. you're probably busy. maybe you didn't hear the ringing of your phone over the noise of something else.

when you don't call back, mike finds his mind start to wonder. did he do something wrong? do you not like him anymore?

when the clock hits six p.m., mike tries again. he hears the line ring for what seems like hours. this is unusual - the longest you've taken to pick up is three rings at most.

mike knows your schedule better than his. he knows you're sitting in your kitchen right now, thinking of what to put together for dinner. even if you left your phone somewhere, you would still hear the landline. so, mike tries again. one more time.

nothing.

now he worries about being overbearing. he hopes he's not annoying you, but he knows deeps down you're not the type to shy away from a conversation if you did happen to have an issue. it's unlike you.

this is unlike you.

mike is beginning to worry when it's ten p.m. and he still hasn't heard from you. he's found that he hasn't relaxed all afternoon, realized how important your presence (even if it's just the sound of your voice) is to his daily routine. mike feels a little ridiculous, depending on you so much, mind spinning between worried about coming off as clingy and simply worried about you.

he can't stand it by twelve, his heart thumping wildly and his imagination assuming the worst. he's gone through a million possible scenarios in his head, thousands of excuses. none of them fit quite right and mike is beginning to think back to a childhood memory that's haunted him for years.

he's off before he can really think about it, quiet enough not to wake abby but keeping a hasty pace. he's in his car, he's a little too much over the speed limit, he's in front of your door. mike is even more hesitant now that he's here. what if you were just avoiding him? was he making things worse?

mike decides it's worth the risk to knock. it's strong, but no other sounds in the quiet neighborhood follow. mike is about to give up after a few too many moments of silence when he finally hears footsteps.

mike perks up as the door opens and he finally sees you. mike doesn't care if you don't want anything to do with him; he hugs you immediately.

mike's sure you're confused, but you hug him back immediately. at least there's a good sign.

mike feels a little silly as he parts, looking at the clear confusion on your face.

"what's wrong?" you ask innocently, immediately erasing all of mike's worries.

"i thought..." mike shakes his head. "nothing."

"no, tell me," you insist, grabbing mike and dragging him inside. your home is dark; you obviously had gone straight to the door as soon as you'd heard it.

"i just thought... something might've happened." mike's voice shakes a little, his fears suddenly pressing on his chest. mike watches your eyes soften and he wills his emotions not to show so obviously on his face. "you can't scare me like that, okay?"

"i'm sorry," you say sincerely, taking mike's hands in yours. "i was just exhausted after work-"

mike shakes his head. "no, don't apologize for that. i was just kinda worried."

if mike is completely honest, he's a little embarrassed. he'd never thought he'd be the type to need so much reassurance. he didn't want to be clingy.

"i won't take naps like that again," you pull mike into another hug.

"oh, don't do that. just... call me whenever you wake up."

"what if i don't wake up until two in the morning?" you smile.

"then you call me at two in the morning." mike grins, kissing your cheek. "i should go."

"you can stay. it's the least i can do after neglecting you."

"okay," mike scoffs with a smile, shaking his head. "i wasn't totally helpless."

"no, you just missed me," you coo, letting mike cup your face in his hands.

he laughs before he leans in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

"yeah, i really did."

[its-time-to-write]

hi my lovely !!

i’m such a big fan of your jamie work and was wondering if you would consider writing about jamie using bantr ??

like she works at richmond and jamie had like a massive light bulb moment when he realised who he’s chatting to but also that he may be are falling in love

totally get if not on your radar !! x

Here you go!! I haven’t written a fic with Bantr yet, so this was fun!!

not saying you’re in love with me 

Dating apps aren’t really your thing. But to be honest, are they anyone’s thing? Or are they like resumes, where everyone just pretends they’re easy and lies about their qualifications?

It doesn’t matter, because you’re on one anyway. 

Keeley Jones (damn her) had hunted you down and practically begged you to sign up for Bantr. 

“Look, you’re young, sweet, and mad fit. Can’t have a bunch of hot footballers in the app and no ladies!”

You had groaned as you put the chicken for today’s lunch in the oven. It’s not easy being Nelson Road’s on-campus chef. There are diet plans to follow, and a million hungry boys all the time. 

It also means you can’t escape Keeley when you’re in the middle of prepping lunch. As soon as it’s served and cleaned up, you can go home. But for now, you’re at her mercy. 

“Keeley, just because I’m the only twenty-something girl on staff here doesn’t mean that I want to date a footballer. Go bother Samantha. She’s what, thirty and goes on dates every weekend? She’s a perfect candidate.”

Keeley pouts. “I’ll set up your whole profile for you. You don’t even have to tell me if you’re talking to someone, just if you like it, yeah? I’ll help you with meals for a week.”

You point your tongs at her. “You will not even think about touching my food for the rest of eternity,” you warn. 

“So you’ll do it, then?” Keeley asks, giving you the full puppy dog expression. 

You consider for a moment. You’re single at the moment, and have been for a good long while. It wouldn’t hurt to be on Bantr and anyway, it’s not like anyone will know who you are. 

“You’re sure it’s anonymous, then?” you ask. 

Keeley jumps up and claps her hands with a squeal. “Totally! Oh my god, I’m so excited for you. I’ll set it up right now. Give me your phone.”

You point to your bag. “It’s in there. Passcode is-”

“Already know it,” Keeley interrupts. You’re not going to question how or why, you just nod and throw your gloves in the trash. 

“Hairnet looks great on you, Keels,” you say conversationally. 

“Fuck you,” she replies, not looking up from your phone. “And- done! You’re ready to start bantering. Ooh, there are a LOT of men nearby! Wonder how many of them are part of AFC Richmond?”

You shoot her a glare, but she just grins. “Put my phone away,” you tell her. 

She slides it back into your bag. “Just promise me you’ll tell me if you like it. I’ll never ask for anything ever again,” she promises. 

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Sure thing.”

—

STRIKE09 has sent you a message

You grab your phone as soon as it lights up. Keeley’s going to be fucking thrilled that you’re enjoying Bantr this much, and that you’ve been chatting with someone for a week. 

You open your phone to your chat. 

STRIKE09: finally off work

STRIKE09: how’s ur day

STRIKE09: burn anything?

BAKERGURL22: that was a one time thing!!

BAKERGURL22: work was fine. got off early so I could try a new recipe at home

BAKERGURL22: hbu?

STRIKE09: not bad. lads stole all my lynx so im going to boots to get more

BAKERGURL22: u really know how to romance a girl

STRIKE09: ah shit yea should probably try harder to impress u

You chuckle. Whoever STRIKE09 is, he’s been impressing you from the first day. Always asking questions about you, but never too invasive. Flirty, but not over the top. You’d set your age range in 20s-30s, so you were relatively confident this wasn’t some old creep. 

Your phone buzzes so you look down again.

STRIKE09: what did u make today?

BAKERGURL22: lemon cupcakes. not very healthy but super delicious

BAKERGURL22: I have to cook all this healthy stuff at work and sometimes I want to unwind and bake something with too much sugar ya know?

STRIKE09: bet theyre mint

BAKERGURL22: no they’re lemon

STRIKE09: oi, we got a comedian

BAKERGURL22: look, I had to make plain chicken and a salad with fucking olive oil as a dressing today

BAKERGURL22: it was so gross. I apologized 2 the staff but like, it’s what they all requested

BAKERGURL22: worried im gonna be banned from cooking ever again

Across Richmond, Jamie Tartt nearly drops his phone in Boots. He knows exactly who the girl on the other end of this conversation is. The question is, do you know who he is?

He’d assume no, based on the way you’ve been cagey about work. Not private enough though, because he remembers you making a face earlier that afternoon as you said, “Sorry this lunch is such shit, but I guess you all probably don’t care. I swear I’m a better cook than this.”

Jamie had smiled and kept moving, but he’d been thinking about your scrunched nose all day and the sweet way you said sorry.

What are the odds that he matched with someone who worked in the same building as him?

Apparently pretty high.

Jamie’s not really present the entire time it takes him to check out. He’s grateful that the combination of his hoodie plus the tired teen checking him out means he doesn’t have to talk to anyone. 

He kicks off his shoes and flops onto the couch as soon as he gets home, trying to figure out what to say. Should he say anything? What if he does and you decide you don’t like him?

He shrugs it off and puts his phone away for the night.

—

You frown at your phone for the hundredth time this morning.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Keeley asks from her position at the coffee pot.

“Haven’t heard back from my Bantr match. It’s really strange. We were talking last night and then he just stopped responding. He at least sends me a good morning message, but I haven’t even gotten that.”

Keeley gives you a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, babes. Ghosting is an epidemic. Have you looked at any of your other matches?”

You shake your head and say, “Nah, I wasn’t really interested in them. I really fucking liked this guy. He was sweet, funny, and so good at flirting. I dunno, maybe it’s easier to be like that because it’s all through a screen, but it felt like we had an actual connection.”

“Well, you don’t have to message anyone else if you don’t want to. You can delete the app altogether.”

You say, “Thanks, Keels,” then go back to chopping vegetables. One bright spot of the day is that lunch will be less shitty than yesterday.

You slide the vegetables in the salad just in time. You hear the familiar rumble of AFC Richmond coming in from the field so you plaster a smile on your face and get ready to pass them their lunch.

—

The rest of the afternoon slides by in a haze. You put an earbud in as you wash the dishes, say goodbye to the office staff, then head out the front door to your car. Someone calls your name and you jump. “Jesus, Jamie.” You turn around to see him push himself off the wall by the door. It looks like he’s been waiting there.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “You headin’ home?”

You say, “Yeah, I only work for part of the day. What are you doing out here?”

Jamie wraps his hands in the front of his shirt and considers what he’s going to say. He’s been thinking about it all morning, and he’s still not sure what the right approach is.

“Look,” he begins hesitantly, “y’know how Keeley’s promoting Bantr?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I been chatting up this girl, like, and she- I dunno, I really like her. I was thinking we could meet in person but I don’t know if she’ll… fucking… want to.”

Christ, he’s stumbling over his words like a goddamn fool.

You raise an eyebrow and say, “Okay..? Are you looking for advice?”

You’re beyond confused right now. This is the longest Jamie has ever talked to you, and certainly the most awkward he’s ever been. Usually he takes his food with a wink and a “Thank, love.” Sometimes he’ll even through in a compliment.

Jamie untucks his hands just to shove them in his pockets. Fuck it.

“I know it’s you,” he says bluntly. You open your mouth to say something, but he keeps talking. “Figured it out last night when we were talking. You made lemon cupcakes yesterday, yeah? You hated lunch yesterday and said sorry for it like a million fucking times. My username is fucking stupid, just my position and number.”

He stops, unsure where to go from here. Meanwhile, your brain is whirring a mile a minute. 

“You’re Strike09,” you say slowly. Jamie nods and you slap your forehead. “Oh god, I was flirting with you! Shit, this is so fucking awkward. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew who you were.”

“No, that’s the thing.” Jamie takes a few steps, closing the distance between you. “Don’t think we would’ve done it if we fuckin’ knew each other. But we did. And we like each other.”

Your head is still in your hand. This is too much. You’re conscious of the fact that you’re still in your hairnet.

You look at him just long enough to ask, “So what’s your point?”

“We should give it a go.”

You snort. “Yeah, right. What’s your actual point?”

Jamie looks at you incredulously as he says, “That is my actual fucking point! I like talking to you! I think you’re fit! I know I’m fit and you like talking to me. I sneaked out of training to talk to you. Told Roy I weren’t feeling well, and he’s gonna send someone to check on me soon so if you have a real reason why we can’t try dating, I want to hear it.”

“I don’t,” you admit. “It’s just a lot to process.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, alright, yeah, sure. Let me know. Um, I have to get back before someone finds me. I’ll see you around.”

“See ya,” you halfheartedly reply. 

You think about Jamie the entire way home. You head straight to the kitchen and mechanically begin pulling out baking supplies. Cooking is fun, but it’s also your job. Baking is how you unwind. You’re halfway through an orange tart when you realize what you’re making. 

“Damn it!” you cry. Fucking Jamie. You smack down your spatula and grab your phone to text Keeley with a request. She responds almost instantly with Jamie’s phone number. 

He picks up on the second ring. 

“You rejecting me over the phone now?” he quips. 

“How’d you know it was me?” you ask. 

“Keeley,” he replies, and you can’t stop a smile from spreading across your face. 

“Same,” you say. “I wanted to tell you that I thought about it, and I want to go out with you. I don’t know when you’re free, but I’m around after 3pm pretty much every night. God, that sounds super lame.”

Jamie laughs. “So if you sent me your address, I could be at yours in…”

“Fifteen minutes,” you supply. 

“Set a timer, babe,” Jamie says. “Bet I can make it in ten.” 

[scarasimping]

I WAS HOPING U DID NSFW BUT I WASNT SURE

PIRATE SCARA 100% LIKES SEEING U WITH HIS HAT ON WHEN UR ON HIS SHIP, UR HIS ROYAL TREASURE AND HE LOSES IT AT THE SIGHT OF U WITH HIS HAT

He 100% has a think for marking, biting and leaving dark bruises from his mouth on your neck (and places no one else can see) gets him going (this man would go feral)

“Scara i told you to make sure their hidden!”

“Oops ;)” ps: hes not sorry <3

AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON TEASING, THIS MAN WILL DROP SO MANY FLIRTY THINGS TOWARDS YOU WHEN HE SHOULDNT, running from the guards? He’s gonna comment on how he knows you can last longer.. I mean run longer

Hiding behind a tree away from the guards? Oops his fingers slipped up under your shirt better stay silent, you wouldn’t want them to hear would you

ANON ILL KISS U ON THE MOUTH I LOVE U

about the hat thing, you're 100% correct. there's something about seeing you wear his hat that makes him feel possesive over you. it's a hat that everyone knows belongs to him, even other crews (and especially his enemies) so if you're wearing it, they know that you belong to him as well.

he's absolutely fucked you while you wore nothing but said hat as well. his calloused hands holding your thighs while they wrap around his waist as he has you pressed against the wall of his quarters. His hat almost fell off with all movement, but without stopping his relentless pace, he simply adjusts it to fit more snugly on your head.

"make sure this stays on, darling," he would say while all you could do is nod and dig your fingernails deeper into his shoulders and back.

speaking of marking, youre absolutely right that he has a thing for it, both giving and receiving. seeing your pretty body that's been pampered your whole life, not a scar to be seen, adorned with those deep purple and red marks left by him and only him fills him with a sense of pride. he would be there for hours marking you if he could, making sure anyone who happened to see any of them would know how well loved you are. He'd leave them on your chest so that they barely peak out of whatever shirt you're wearing, down your stomach, and especially on your pretty thighs.

pirate! scaramouche is definitely a thigh man btw. big thighs, thighs that are on the smaller side, he does not care he likes whatever as long as they're yours.

anyways, if you get mad at him for leaving a hickey where someone can see, he'd just smile at you cheekily and pretend to look innocent.

"whoops, must've gotten carried away...oh well!" this motherfucker does not care.

but also, he absolutely loves when you leave scratch marks down his back (and hickeys of your own on him but scratches are his favorite) especially if he can feel them throughout the day. yes, they sting a little, but he doesn't care in the slightest and even likes the stinging. your scratch marks are alongside all of his scars along his back and something about that makes him so happy.

(plus whenever he feels them there he just remembers his night with you and wants more so don't be surprised if the next time you see him, he's asking for another round.)

you're so right that he would tease you all the time. as you're hiding around a dark corner from the guards, pinned to the wall by him to make your bodies as small as possible so that you're not spotted, he's just biting back a laugh and staring down at you.

"Isn't this a familiar position?" he would whisper. "almost like last night when I-"

you have to kiss him to shut him up, it's the only thing that works.

that still doesn't stop him from slipping his hand under your shirt or down the hem of your skirt, so that he can test how quiet you can be. make sure you don't get caught ;3

[pinkpigtailsprincess]

HI ANY TIPS ON BEING THE NEW KID AT A NEW SCHOOL

GENERALLY GETTING ANXIETY ATTACKS LOL

ALSO I LOVE YR BLOG SMM

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖ Doll tips! ; Being the New Kid!! 🎀⭐️

Tip #1 ; Taking a Breath now speaking from experience being the new kid at school is very nerve racking ik ive done it so many times and just sitting back and just breathing snd relaxing can definitely help just calm you down!!

Tip #2 ; Making a Good Impression!! now for this one i not saying you have to be the most outgoing person ever bc it can be overwhelming especially if you have social anxiety or you just have trouble with interacting!! but definitely being as polite as possible can definitely help you in the long run!!! ⭐️

Tip #3 ; Don’t be afraid to introduce yourself

now since you are new to the school you may or may not have to introduce yourself and ik how nerve racking this can be but doing a simple “Hi! I’m _” is really good if you don’t wish to speak then a simple smile and wave is also just as good!!!

Tip #4 ; Recruiting Friends!!

if you wanna be friends with a particular person try going up to them and saying hi to them also helping people with something is a way to get to know a person or having desk/table mates is like a gold mine for making friends with people !!!

Tip #5 ; Not Everyone is a nice person

if you can tell someone is a mean person stay away from them have little to no contact with this person its will save you all the energy and time because people like this can be extremely draining trust ik that!

Tip #6 ; Be nice but don’t be a pushover

obviously being nice is ESSENTIAL but never let someone cross your boundaries or disrespect you call them out on it don’t make a huge scene obviously but definitely let them know that you’re setting a boundary and if they cross again then cut this person off because obviously they don’t respect your boundaries!!

Tip #7 ; Don’t be a Bystander!!

if you see someone getting bullied say something about it,defend them or just ask them if they’re okay being a bystander to the problem makes you part of the problem as well!!!

Tip #8 ; Don’t let others bring you down

again with making boundaries never let someone cross you or make snarky remarks call them out on it and remember this person words obviously don’t matter what other people say doesn’t define you

Tip #9 ; Join a Club!!

joining a club can be an amazing way to make friends while also doing something you enjoy and over all its just an amazing activity!!

Tip #10 ; Don’t overshare!!!

unless you genuinely trust a person don’t overshare because people switch up and anything you say can and will be used against you!

Tip #11 ; Have Main Character mindset

even if you have zero confidence fake it till you make it!! walk with good posture and some pep in ur step!!🎀

Tip #12 ; If u have a group assignment don’t do all the work

omg i can’t stress this enough only do your part if someone is failing to do their part don’t do it for them let them fail thats their own fault

Tip #13 ; Being popular isn’t everything!

social hierarchy in high school or middle school (idk what grade ur in im sorry!!) is so bleak okay being popular isn’t everything i mean sure by some chance you’ll be popular but still you don’t HAVE to fit in because ur made to stand out

Tip #14 ; Channel ur inner Elle Woods & Cher Horowitz

* apply ur self in ur academics

* if you need help ask its not a bad thing to need help!!

* Make an Organizer to stay in top of ur work!!

* STUDY!! STUDY!! STUDY!!

* if you have an assignment with a rubric read it carefully to ensure you can get the highest grade possible!!

* if you unhappy with your grade or feel like you should’ve gotten a better one ask your teacher to review!!!

* wear cute clothes and style ur hair neatly not to for the lookism esque obviously but looking ur best and feeling your best are definitely good ways to feel better!!! 🎀⭐️

* have a “what? like its hard?” mindset

* Don’t Judge!!

* Pursue ur dreams!!

* Don’t be afraid of a challenge

* Be yourself!!

Tip #15 ; Don’t Leave people out!!!

say ur in a group setting and you see one particular person being left out and not getting their chance to speak make them feel welcome ask them about what they were gonna say and include them into the conversation!!!

Tip #16 ; Eat what makes you happy and don’t yuck someones yum

if someone has a cultural dish for their lunch DON’T EVER make them feel bad about it don’t care what it is that loser behavior! also eat the kind of food that makes you feel good inside and that nourishes your body i definitely suggest packing a lunch the night before!!!

Tip #17 ; Don’t hang around Slackers!!

be friends with people that actually apply themselves in their academic and working for what they want!!!

I love you anon i hope you do AMAZING at ur new school!!! 🎀⭐️

[eroset]

hello!! hole ur doing well, can i request top!m reader w beel from OM? smth involving lingeries n feminization maybe? tyyy<3

TYYYY FOR REQUESTING THIS I GOT CARRIED AWAY CZ I LUUUUUUV BEEL + LINGERIE + FEMINIZATION IT MAKES ME CRAZY KISSES KISSES u accidentally hit one of my favvvv things so idc that its outrageously long <33333 the typo is so funny i would be doing better with a hole. anyway i am doing well here is a gift just 4 u my love hee hee i hope u like itttt🙈

cw: chest/nipple play (c. receiving), chestjob (r. receiving), oral (r. receiving), feminization, praise. ended up making reader more of a soft dom than just a top so 4give me if you did not want that <33

minors dni!

"what is this?"

on his knees in front of your closet in the aftermath of a failed stashed snack raid, beelzebub holds up a fine strip of fabric; a shimmering piece from a lingerie set that costed more than your life, probably.

"oh, that's from asmo. he said i could break it in."

beel gives you a blank look as you speak. "break it in?" and you see his hands tense toward the literal, flexing in a manner as if he intends to shred the fabric. your hand shoots out to grab his wrist, though you know your own strength won't stop him.

"as in use!" you breathe out a sigh of relief when he stops.

"why couldn't asmo use it? isn't it his?" he holds it up to inspect it properly. it's a white, lacy thing with a delicate trim that catches in the light. it's transparent and gauzy in places, with silk ribbons to hold it all together. it's pretty.

not functional, though. asmo had been given a boxed promotional set in an array of sizes, many of which were much too big for him, and much too expensive to just brazenly throw out. he'd opted instead to pawn gift them to you.

beel frowns when you explain this. runs a thumb over the fabric, thoughtful. "it doesn't look too big."

you grin. "he said the top half was way too big for him. he doesn't like women's lingerie, says it fits weird on him. it'd probably fit you, though." you stand from your crouched position beside him, ruffling his hair. "your chest is like a girl's, anyway. guess you're luckier than he is."

and something clicks.

...

it takes months from then for him to work up to this.

for someone like beelzebub, who is simple in his pleasures, who doesn't bother thinking over what he would and wouldn't theoretically like (what's the point?), who is instead content in sticking to what he knows feels good and basks in it, this is a step in a direction he doesn't know what to make of.

but he doesn't see the point thinking too much about it, because if it feels good, then what does it matter?

and it does feel good. it felt good when you said it so easily with him on his knees: your chest is like a girl's, anyway. and when you joked during levi's boring tabletop roleplaying game on your character's twist royal lineage, when asked who your princess would be, your hand flirtily on his knee under the table: beel, i guess. and after one of his work out sessions, when his shirt rode up and you zeroed in on it like a moth to a flame, smoothed a hand thoughtfully over his waist: like one of those bikini models in mammon's fashion magazines.

and it feels good now, when you have him seated on your lap on your couch like something precious, dressed up for you in white lace and silk.

beel doesn't feel self-conscious, even when he's wearing so little. the lingerie fits him well, as you'd predicted. the bralette of the dress clings to his chest, stretched tight over his pecs and fanning out in a pretty skirt that he can't help but fidget with. the suspender belt and stockings were a fight to get on, but they make his legs feel smooth, and he likes the way your eyes darken when you gaze over his skin pudging out of the tight straps crossing up his thighs.

"no," he says with a shake of his head, and he leans forward a little, into you, still towering over you. it's a wonder how you can make him feel small and cherished when he's so much bigger than you are. his thick thighs splay across your hips, and they tense when you run your hands over them.

"you look like a doll," you say with a smile, and that look is in your eye again. it makes his stomach hot. your finger hooks under one of the straps on his thigh and pull it taut. it pops back against his skin with a snap!, and he jumps. you smile at that, too. it makes his stomach hotter.

he sits still while your hands work over him, smoothing and cupping over his body. sometimes over the lingerie and sometimes under, and the touches are long and hot enough for him to end up with him starting to get hard, tense in the way he always gets when he wants friction but wants even more to behave for you. it feels weird to be stroked like this, like you really are admiring the craftmanship of a doll, or maybe just groping him like a pervert, but it's not unpleasant.

"it fits you so well." you pinch and stoke up his waist, just under the hem of the bralette, and he finally realizes your intent when he sees your eyes fix on his chest. "especially here." oh, but he's always too quick to get worked up when you play around with him like this.

"um, wait," he says, hands flying to circle your arms, but your palms are already cupping the meat of his pecs firmly, and he jerks forward without meaning to. instead of pulling them away, all he can do is cling to your forearms when you make a massaging motion. heat coils in him and he releases a heavy sigh. "i..."

you look back up at him, feigning innocence. "is something wrong?"

"no, i just- ah," he mumbles, suddenly embarrassed. his knees try to knock together but only end up squeezing your hips. "my chest..." his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

beelzebub doesn't continue. your hands continue their motions, kneading his pecs with the firm intent of making him blush and shudder in your lap, and of course it works - his chest has always been sensitive. his arms shake when they circle your head to rest his forearms along the back of the couch, leaning into your touch.

he chokes out a sound when your thumbs finally press over his nipples, and his hips stutter into yours. you rub them in short, firm circles that make him purr, boneless against you, feeling much too hot to really lament getting hard so quickly. you've always liked to exploit this weakness of his.

your hips cant up into his hips and he whines against your neck open-mouthed as you roll them between your thumbs. "that was fast."

"uh-huh," he pants. he rolls his hips firmly and without rhythm, just seeking friction - you haven't reprimanded him for it, so he's not doing anything wrong, right? he continues rocking eagerly.

"i was right about what i said before," you coo into his ear, a distraction from your nips and squeezes at his nipples between your fingers. "your chest is like a girl's." and you press down on them again, hard, and buck your hips up just right, and he melts against you with a sweet moan.

it's a short-lived pleasure. he grumbles a confused sound when you push him back, leaning him back in your lap. his cock is hard and heavy, straining up against his white panties, but they must be enchanted to stay in place. he jerks forward without meaning to when you give his chest one final squeeze, a glint in your eyes.

"i wanna see what else i can do with them."

...

beelzebub sits dutifully between your spread thighs, ignoring the fire in his gut in favor of staring in anticipation at your cock tenting against the zipper of your jeans.

"it tastes weird," he complains as you swipe your thumb under his lower lip, wiping away any wayward pink. but his eyes remain glued to your cock, and he swallows reflexively.

"not about how it tastes. it's supposed to make you look pretty." you cap the lipstick and set it aside. (or was it lip gloss? he doesn't know the difference.)

beel squirms a little and finally tears his gaze from your bulge, hands tentatively squeezing your knees. "do i?" he asks quietly. he looks away when you meet his gaze, bashful. "do i look pretty like a..." you've called him pretty in the past, but this time...

your hand catches on his jaw and force his head back to look at you. "like a girl?" you clarify, and your grip softens with a fond smile when he slowly and bashfully nods. your thumb presses against his lips, despite being so careful in your application of color, and he opens it pliantly. "you look like a very pretty girl, beel."

"oh," he breathes, your thumb pressed firmly on his tongue while your knuckles hold under his chin, keeping his mouth open. he squeezes your knees again and clenches his own together and his eyes once more fall down when your other hand drifts to your zipper.

he should be embarrassed about the way he salivates when your cock springs free, especially since you can feel it when you hold his mouth open. you fist your cock and stroke it slowly, watching as he swallows reflexively around nothing, and his spine tingles when you chuckle lowly.

"sit still, beel." you warn, and pull him toward your cock and angle it properly for him, just enough to almost graze the hot head of it against his tongue. you say something else but just the smell of you so close to him has his brain sparking. all he can do is nod to whatever you said, sharp and jerky, eyes wide and begging.

but you still don't release him. you keep your grip on his chin, holding him in place as you slowly and firmly stroke yourself, head angled toward his tongue, so close, as if you were just going to cum over his tongue and he whines low, now confused. you knew how much he loved you in his mouth- what were you doing?

you smile as beel squirms, this time shifting to angle your hips up a little. but when you pull him forward, you pull him up- away from your cock, and the momentum pulls his chest forward, cushioning it against your stomach. you sigh at the feeling and release his mouth, which is drooling freely.

"like this," you murmur, your hands guiding his to the sides of his chest. he pushes his pecs together as you direct him to, wobbling a little on his knees before he steadies himself.

his eye snap from your cock sandwiched between his pecs to your face a little frantically once he realizes that you aren't, in fact, going to throatfuck him. "but-"

"not yet, baby," you croon, like he's so silly for wanting your cock in his mouth instead of between his tits. "said i wanted to play with your chest more, didn't i? you're doing so good."

one of your hands grips his hair at the back of his head, not enough to hurt, just to steady him. the other wiggles between where you're connected; you fiddle with the ribboned straps of his bralette, feeding your cock underneath it to hug it firmly between his pecs, and he shudders when you rub one of his nipples with a thumb for good measure before you lean back.

like this, you direct, and beel can't help but obey you when you manhandle him in in how to move. it's a much tighter fit than he thought it'd be- the meat of his chest already pops a bit between the ribbons, made all the tighter with the heat of your thick cock pulsing between them. he's clumsy at first, not sure how tight to squeeze or how fast to move, but he gains a slow and steady rhythm after a while, one that makes you coo in approval.

the sight of it is mesmerizing, your fat cockhead thrusting in and out of his pecs with a slick pop every time it reappears. it's hot and sticky from his drool, which makes for an easier glide, and soon he's getting into it too, panting a little every time he goes down.

and with you groaning above him, his own arousal is long forgotten in favor of chasing yours.

you thrust your hips up once when he strokes down and your cock hits his chin, smearing against his lips; he gasps and heat floods him at the taste, the way it always does. his tongue sticks out reflexively, swirling around the head of your cock, and when you don't scold him he moans around it, head bobbing down.

from this position he can't take much, but even just the inch he gets in his mouth is amazing. he sucks it dutifully, reverently, and massages his chest around you, coaxing your cock to spit more delicious precum against his tongue.

"fuck," you wheeze, and beelzebub gargles a moan when you thrust up higher. "your mouth's so fucking hot." your tone makes his hole clench, but before he can really get into it, the grip you have on his hair pulls his head off. he suckles at your head as you pull out, a strand of saliva connecting your pulsing head to his mouth.

he licks his lips greedily, savoring the flavor, and pants open-mouthed when you thrust between his chest. "more," he whines, tongue hanging out to catch your cockhead every time you thrust up. he squeezes his pecs together and bounces them on your cock, eager for your cum, and moans when you hiss in pleasure.

"jus' like that," you slur, rocking your hips with him. "so good, you're doing so good."

he sucks at your head greedily whenever it reaches his mouth, tonguing your slit and laving it with care, all the while pinching and rolling you in his chest. his hips buck against one of your calves clumsily, more of an afterthought to the pleasure of his mouth, and he chokes on his spit when you abruptly shove his head down, feeding your cock in deeper.

"take it," you grunt, and he sucks you into his mouth as deep as he can with his chest in the way. it's wet and sticky from drool and precum, and your balls slap noisily against the underside of his pecs every time he bounces them down. it's lewd but he doesn't care, too caught up in the wet heat of everything to focus on anything else but your voice and your cock throbbing against his chest and the way your free hand thumbs at one of his nipples. "that's it, take it, swallow it all like a good girl."

he does so obediently, moaning all the while, swallowing down the thick load you give him, hot and sticky in his mouth, like a good girl. he can feel everything, every throb of your lipstick-peppered cock between his chest as you thrust into him, every pulse of your heavy balls against the satin ropes crossing his chest as your cock spits rope after rope of sticky cum over his tongue and the back of his throat. he doesn't stop, milking you for as much cum as he can get; swirls his tongue against your head as he sucks, head bobbing, massaging his tits around you. the extra attention makes it last longer than most of your orgasms, and you grunt and roll your hips with him, prolonging it for as much as you can. his eyes roll. he's in heaven.

finally, you eventually pull beel off, this time with more effort- he suckles you all the while, greedy to keep you in, and finally separates with a final yank and a satisfying pop. “tastes so good.” he drools, still panting, rubbing his cheek against your thigh, a slow, satisfied look creeping into his dewy eyes.

he rubs his cheek against your palm happily when you settle it down on him, like a cat, not caring about the smearing of drool or lipstick or cum. the heat in him hasn't quelled, but he's more sated now with a bellyful of your hot cum. his favorite snack. your other hand fidgets with his chest and he squeaks when you tweak his nipples, pulling your cock free from under his lingerie with a lewd, sticky sound.

he almost thinks you're done until you knock your calf up, right against his cock- he moans suddenly and jerks his hips down to meet you, gripping your spit-stained jeans.

"we're not done yet, don't worry." your fist returns to his hair and pulls him up higher and higher, knee firm between his legs, until you can pepper his jaw with kisses. "don't you want me to fuck you like a good girl, too, beel?"

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

found you

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna) [p.s. i tried to keep her features ambiguous asf. i just suck at writing 1st/2nd person, the only features i mentioned r big titties & like a shorter height but PLS envision whoever u want]

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! booksmart! oc (this part of the one-shot takes place in high school but if the ppl want more i have ideas for a mid/late twenties time-jump - update: i've decided to make a miniseries of this now but this part/chapter can be read as a standalone)

warnings: 18+ only babes, profanity, mentions of parental abuse (verbal & physical), stalking/possessive themes, mentions of alcohol & drugs (m0lly, w33d), hypothermia (LOL jus read & find out), drug overdose, pet-names (princess, kitten), dub/non-consented sex, choking (if u squint), nipple play, begging, spitting (f receiving), dry humping, virginity loss, sadism, rough sex, creampie (pls don't b silly & cover ur willy irl)

word count/plot: [18.4k!] ara catches gojo's attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins...

a/n: first time posting something like this in a while. gojo is a huge red-flag, but jus a gentle reminder to y'all to never let no man treat u like this irl pUHLeASE ! ik i wrote this but i hate romanticizing psycho behavior (i hate & love it-its jus oddly fun 2 write)

I never wanted his attention.

In fact, I never wanted anybody’s attention.

Mrs. Finch stood at the front of the classroom. Most of the students were busy-lost in their own conversations as she cleared her throat multiple times before finally losing it when she slammed her hand down on the table before her.

The room went silent.

“There we go.” she said, with a lopsided smile-though the annoyance was clear in her gaze.

“Sorry, Mrs. Finch, didn’t mean to ruffle up your feathers.” Gojo’s smooth voice lilted from the center of the classroom.

The classroom broke out in laughter. It felt almost exaggerated to Ara’s ears, who merely continued to stare straight at Mrs. Finch through half-lidded eyes. Nothing about Gojo Satoru was amusing to her but ever since he moved to our town freshman year of high school, he’s owned the students’ attention ever since. His popularity only grew by leaps and bounds over the years.

Maybe it was his looks, his name, his athletic skill–she didn’t want to know or care. There were enough rich, insolent snobs at this academy so he fit right in.

“Satoru, as much as I love your bird jokes,” Mrs. Finch’s voice dripped with sarcasm, “The time to stop your chirping is now.”

Gojo merely chuckled into his hand.

She held up a piece of paper, “Alright, as your homeroom teacher I am expected to share this with you all. As you are all aware, you are seniors. Next year, most of you will be happily hopping off to whichever college or university you applied to–hopefully somewhere far, far away,” -her eyes lingering on Gojo, who merely smiled brightly in return- “But as your high school careers almost come to an end, there is one more thing I know many students are curious to know about. Your rank.”

“Obviously, since this is the beginning of the school year there is a chance that this rank could change but here is the academic ranking of your graduating class as of today. I’m only going to be reading off twenty students' names on this list because the top twenty students are the only ones who will be specially commemorated on graduation day. As well as the valedictorian and salutatorian–who will also be allowed to say speeches. If you are not on this list and would like to know your rank, please speak to me after.”

She cleared her throat, “Alright, first in rank is–”

Gojo leaned back in his seat, a subtle smirk gracing his lips as he awaited his name.

“Ara Natsuna.”

Suddenly, everyone’s head faced her and she wished she didn’t exist. She stared down at her hands on the desk-countenance neutral-but if anyone was looking closely they would notice that her shoulders were incredibly tense; her elbows were almost digging into the desk from nerves.

A few claps arose, along with a few murmurs before Mrs. Finch continued.

“Second in ranking, Satoru Gojo.”

The classroom erupted in cheer. His best friend, Geto-who was seated right behind him-leaned forward in his seat to playfully tousle Gojo’s platinum hair. But Gojo barely responded, only offering his fellow fans a half-hearted smile while nonchalantly crossing his arms.

As Mrs. Finch continued to list off names, this growing uneasiness nagged at her. She didn’t understand–of course, she was expecting a high rank. Maybe first rank was a bit of a surprise but she knew she’d earned it.

So what is this feeling?

She hadn’t made eye contact with anyone ever since her name was announced, still continuing to diligently stare at her linked hands on the desk as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

But she raised her head to find the source of this sixth sense bugging at her.

Her eyes were met with his crystalline, cerulean blue eyes–staring at her with absolutely no emotion. It was the most serious she had ever seen him. Something about his stare was so intense, she just froze.

If it was possible for eyes to swallow someone up, she was sure she would’ve disintegrated there and then.

Her brows furrowed quizzically before she quickly looked away. She swallowed hard, shaking her head imperceptibly–in attempt to ignore her buzzing nerves.

That was the first time he looked at me.

I wish it was the last.

She closed her locker room door and there he was, leaning against the locker beside her own as if he owned it. She nearly jumped.

He smiled. She wasn’t unfamiliar with his dazzling smile. It was pasted all over the schools’ walls, newspaper and television. She didn’t need to see it all up close but… she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t more handsome in person.

“Hi Ara.”

He was quite bold for using her first name already.

But it was back–that buzzing sensation that whispered along her skin when she’d first locked eyes with him. Now that he was close and peering at her again-with what she couldn’t help but identify as false geniality-she immediately identified what the rapidly growing knot in her stomach was telling her.

It was a sense of foreboding.

Obviously, he was trouble. Anyone with brain cells would know that. He was the kind of trouble that easily drew in girls and only made the guys want to join in on his fun.

But that wasn’t what her instincts were telling her. Her instincts were telling her to stay far, far away from him. That he wasn’t just coming to her for some fun, lighthearted conversation–or whatever he was trying to come across as.

He was here for something else.

And if there was one thing Ara trusted, it was her gut feeling.

Besides, she couldn’t imagine anything useful actually coming out of his glossy lips anyway.

He raised a white eyebrow, his smile only widening as she stared.

Just as he opened his mouth, she bent down and lifted her backpack–hastily throwing it over her shoulder before turning around. She headed towards the school exit, she couldn’t miss her bus.

“What-!” his astonished voice echoed in the empty hallway, “Is it because I called you by your first name?”

She didn’t bother turning around, only sending him a glance when she’d turned into another hall. It seems his friends had caught up to him–or maybe they’d been nearby. Maybe him talking to her was a set-up, she couldn’t know.

His friends didn’t act like it’d been a set up though, they didn’t even look at her. Like everyone else.

Despite his friends being engaged in quite the boisterous conversation, his eyes were locked on her. His smile nowhere to be seen.

I should’ve switched schools then.

She yawned before closing her locker door and nearly going into cardiac arrest when she saw him leaning on the locker next hers again.

His white hair was left ruffled-as usual-and the crisp blue blazer that was the school’s boy uniform suited him a lot more than 99% of the school’s male population.

He smiled, “Good Morning, Natsuna.” he greeted.

She glanced around the hall to see that there were only a few people down the end of the hallway. Most had gone into their homerooms already–although it was technically a little early. There were still five minutes until all the students were required to be in homeroom.

He let out an amused chuckle, “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” he asked, disbelief coating his tone.

She shot him a look before readjusting her backpack strap over shoulder. She was surprised he was still bothering with her.

She turned around and headed towards their homeroom. He followed her.

“Why won’t you talk to me? I haven’t even done anything to you–have I?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Suddenly she stopped before their homeroom door. His tall frame nearly bumped into her.

“What’re you stopping for?” he asked.

She turned around and her eyes widened as she looked up at him. She’d already known he was tall but up close, it was even more obvious. At 5’3, he stood at a considerable height before her–being a foot taller.

He tilted his head, his blazing blue eyes curious as he searched her face.

He raised his hand and right before he could make contact, she quickly jumped back–the door behind her suddenly swinging open and Geto stepped out. She scurried out of his way.

“Satoru, there you are. Get in here.” Geto reached out and grabbed Gojo’s arm, pulling him into homeroom.

Gojo glanced back at her, “Wait–”

“What were you doin’ standing out there by yourself..” Geto’s voice trailed off when the homeroom door shut behind them.

She sighed in relief. There was no way she was going to walk into homeroom with Gojo. She was sure to be barraged with questions or–more likely, get weird looks from the other girls. She didn’t need that attention.

She stepped out of her last class a little later than usual. She had stopped to ask the teacher a question but then had gotten wrapped into a full blown conversation instead. It was one of those elderly teachers that students rarely talked to so she felt bad attempting to cut the conversation short.

But she had to make sure she didn’t miss the bus.

Just as she stepped out of the classroom, Gojo stood outside her class.

How the hel–

“Hi, Natsuna.” he greeted, energetically. His folded arms dropping as she walked right past him.

He followed behind her.

“I found out a lot about you today.”

She glanced around at the handful of students in the hall. A few glanced their way, giving curious looks. A student from the basketball team yelled out Gojo’s name in greeting.

“Yo!” Gojo responded, quickly dapping him up before catching up to her once more.

She continued to religiously ignore him as she walked.

“Don’t you want to hear what I found out?” he pressed before easily walking in stride with her–despite her fast walking.

When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Your birthday is in November—a month before mine. You like the color purple–pastel purple, specifically. Good taste, by the way. I look great in that color–”

She hastily put in her locker code before swinging it open. He was still going on as he leaned against the locker beside hers.

“You’ve lived in this town since forever. You don’t do any extracurriculars. You have one friend, Millie, who’s surprisingly talkative—”

She slammed her locker door shut.

He raised a brow, “Oo, feisty.”

She glanced at him-scowl on her lips until her eyes widened–Fuck, I’m gonna be late for the bus.

She suddenly turned on her heel and ran.

“Wait–”

But she was too far down the hall by the time he called out. Wasn’t like she was going to listen to him anyway.

He sighed before waving his hand and speaking-in a rather cherry voice, “I’ll tell what more I learned tomorrow!”

Is he serious? Can he not take a hint?

She was too annoyed by her tardiness to care much until she ran outside to see the buses leaving one by one. Her heart dropped.

No, no, no.

Her eyes widened as she saw her bus was one of the first in the line up to leave. Her heart dropped to stomach.

No, no, no.

But it was too late. Looks like there was no other choice…

Her hand was shaky as she reached into her pocket to take out her phone. She whispered a quick prayer before holding the phone to her ear. He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Baba..”

It was just as she expected.

“Home, School, Home, School. It’s such a simple fucking routine–why don’t you get it by now? Just get on the damn bus on time!”

He slammed the door shut behind himself. She sobbed as she crawled into a ball on her bed.

“Can’t do anything fucking right!” His yelling audible through the door.

She continued to cry on the bed. Her stomach hurt from where her father had kicked her. Her cheek pounding from his slap. This was why she hated asking for favors. Her Dad never took it well. She was always a nuisance.

Always.

And yet he expected nothing but perfection from her. Getting an A- on an assignment would most likely result in the same.

Can’t do anything fucking right.

His harsh words echoed in her mind. It seemed nothing she did ever made him happy. She’d wanted to tell him that she was ranked first in her grade but the moment she stepped into his car the atmosphere was suffocating. She knew it was gonna be, but she thought… she thought maybe she could dampen the mood by telling him.

But, boy, had she been wrong. The verbal abuse started the second she stepped into the car.

Then the physical abuse when they reached home.

Now he was off back to work–probably going to be back in the evening. Her Mom was still out of the country; visiting her lovely, accolade-ridden family that she tried so hard to impress despite being a housewife.

It wouldn’t have even made a difference had she been here. She took his abuse all the same–turning a blind eye whenever he did the same to her.

Divorce is not an option. Her Mom would constantly say, back in the day when Ara used to beg on her knees for her to leave him.

Her body shook as she sobbed. She grabbed the pillow and screamed into it, until her throat was dry and scratchy. Til the pain made her numb to emotion.

She entered homeroom early, in attempt to avoid the white haired boy that always seemed to find her at her locker somehow. She wasn’t in the mood to have someone talk at her today–or ever, in fact.

But, to her surprise, Geto was in homeroom too. His dark hair up in his typical smooth yet slightly messy knot, with a few strands hovering over his forehead. His broad shoulders always seemed so pronounced in the school uniform. He sat completely relaxed in his seat, phone in hand.

His dark eyes flickered up to her when she entered.

She swallowed, quickly looking away before heading to her seat. She didn’t need to look to know he was watching her.

She sat in her seat, hastily pulling out one of the paperback books that she was supposed to read for an assignment. She’d already finished reading the assigned chapters but she wanted to get ahead.

As she flipped through the book to find where she left off, Geto’s deep voice suddenly rang out, “Satoru is curious about you.”

She froze, her fingers tightening around the page she was about to flip. She’d spoken to Geto before, he’d been in some of her classes so they’d randomly get paired together sometimes. There wasn’t much between them beyond that.

She glanced over at him, “Tell him to leave me alon–”

The door suddenly swung open and Gojo entered, his hands over his knees as he panted.

“Suguru, have you seen–” his piercing blue eyes suddenly landed on her and then at Geto.

He froze when he realized that he’d heard a feminine voice speaking when he’d entered the room. And since Geto was the only other person here…

A frown graced his features, “So you can talk to him but not to me?” he demanded.

Before she felt required to answer his absurd question, people began to pour into the room–including Mrs. Finch.

“Well, well, well, look who’s early.” she grumbled as she eyed Gojo. Ara couldn’t help but feel as though her and Mrs.Finch were the only two people who viewed Gojo the same–a pest.

For once, he didn’t take the bait and instead sat down in his seat with a huff. A pout on his lips as he crossed his arms.

Ara narrowed her eyes at the sight before dutifully turning back to read her book.

Her thoughts wandered as she questioned what his deal was..

It was subtle at first.

Ara walked out of the cafeteria, her tray of food in hand. She never sat in the cafeteria. She didn’t have any friends so what was the point. Well–Millie didn’t have the same lunch time as her this year and even if she did, it was sometimes easier to eat by herself.

Millie’s friends didn’t talk about things she could relate to anyway. Millie was funner to talk to one on one–but that was just her opinion.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice when she’d turned the corner in the hall and bumped into someone.

“Shit.” she muttered, as her tray of food fell straight to the floor.

“Oh fuck.. I’m so sorry.”

She looked up to see Austin. He was in her Anatomy class. They hadn’t spoken too much before but… she would be lying if she said she didn’t find him interesting. He was kinda like her, reserved, but maybe a little more sociable. Puberty had also hit him like a truck.

He’d grown much taller and he seemed to be filling out a bit more. His hair had grown out to his shoulders and it looked good, especially with that low man-bun hairstyle he was sporting nowadays.

She’d never gain the courage to tell him that though.

They both bent down to reach for the tray at the same time. Their hands touched.

“Oh.” he muttered, while they both withdrew their hands.

He glanced at her to see that she looked semi-embarrassed. The moment she caught his eye she gave him a small smile.

“Y-you’re fine.” she reassured him–though she wished she had the courage to tell him that she meant that in more than one way.

He blinked, “You sure? I could buy you lunch if you want? I feel bad.”

She shook her head, “Don’t worry about it.”

She glanced down at the mess on the floor, “I’ll just go get the custodian.”

“Wait, no–I’ll do that. It’s the least I can do after wasting your lunch.” he said.

Just as he turned to head off, he suddenly turned back.

“A-are you sure I can’t buy you anything? Seriously,” he fished out a five dollar bill from his pocket, “Please take this and at least get something from the vending machine.”

She raised her hands slightly and shook them, “Don’t worry about it.”

He outstretched his hand with the bill, “Please, just take it. It’ll make me feel like less of an ass.”

She laughed slightly, “You’re not an ass.”

He waved the five dollar bill in his hand once more and she eyed it wearily–before snatching it.

“Fine.”

There was a tinge of shyness in the attractive smile that spread across his lips, “Thanks, Ara.”

She pocketed the five dollar bill with a shake of her head. He was nicer than she thought. After he joined the Basketball team last year she expected him to adopt the typical jock attitude but it seemed he was still himself.

She watched him jog off to find a custodian.

She turned slightly to brush off any crumbs that may have fallen on her uniform but it seemed she was in the clear.

After giving her uniform one last dust off, she glanced up. A frown on her lips. There it was again. That feeling…

That intense nagging feeling in the back of her mind, as if trying to tell her something in a language that she couldn’t understand. She’d felt it before but… Gosh, it was so uncomfortable. Her stomach flip flopped with anxiety as she glanced around for the source–

Her eyes widened when she looked down the end of the hall to see a familiar tall, white-haired boy staring directly at her. He stood as still as a statue.

The nauseous feeling somehow disappeared the second she locked eyes with him.

She blinked before frowning. Ugh, why’d he have to show up?

She turned and headed towards the library, internally praying that the vending machine in the library still worked.

Austin didn’t come to school the next day.

“A-austin?” she said–the following day when he’d come back to class.

He stopped in the midst of packing his books before slowly looking at her. The bell had just rang moments prior, everyone had quickly exited the classroom but them.

His glance was short-almost hesitant-as he froze.

She eyed the bandage wrapped around his hand before asking, “Are you okay? How’d that happen?”

“Broke my hand during basketball practice.” he mumbled while packing his bag at a rather unwarranted pace.

“Oh–well, um, I hope you get better.”

“Thanks.” he said, curtly, before throwing his backpack over one shoulder and fast-walking out of the classroom.

He never spoke to me again.

Just as she adjusted her backpack straps over her shoulders, a white flower was suddenly placed in the open locker before her.

Her eyes widened before she looked over to see Gojo beside her.

His white hair appeared damp, as if he’d just showered. His indigo blue blazer folded haphazardly over his shoulder while the top few buttons of his dress-shirt were left unbuttoned. His proximity didn’t leave her much choice but to inhale his magnetic cologne.

“White hibiscus flowers, your favorite right?”

She glanced back at the single white flower that now rested atop her books in her locker. It was still attached to its stem. It was her favorite–specifically ones with red in the middle, which was exactly the kind he brought.

She liked the look of the red center against the white because it reminded her how the heart was the center of the soul; how emotions make one’s body impure–so it bleeds through its core to the rest of the flower.

At her dumbfounded expression, he smiled.

“I’ve been learning. Millie’s been telling me all about you.”

Ara’s jaw locked.

His hands slipped into his pockets, “Your favorite classes are physics and art. Your favorite teacher is Mrs. Lindsor—I don’t know how,” his nose scrunched disapprovingly, “You like cats. You’ve never been in a relationship before. You’re parents are kinda strict—“

Suddenly he was shoved into the lockers. Her hands gripping his collar as she stared at him with a stern expression.

Her face twisted with agitation as she spat, “Stop talking to my friend about me.”

His eyes widened as he held his hands up, “She speaks.”

Her expression became more enraged as the corner of his lip curled into an attractive grin. Her hands clenched into fists at his collar.

He tilted his head, “Oh? You want to hit me?”

His tongue deftly ran over his bottom lip, “Go ahead.”

When she didn’t move, he only egged her on further, “C’mon, hit me. Do whatever you want.”

A flicker of confusion flashed along her face. As much as she was tempted to… she didn’t trust him. Not one bit.

Why does he want me to? Her grip on his shirt loosened in hesitance.

Suddenly something malicious flashed within his eccentric eyes and before she knew it, he was cupping her face in his hands–forcing her to keep her eyes on him.

“Do whatever you want so I can do whatever I want.”

His words melted like butter on her skin–but if butter was warm, why did she feel so cold? Why did goosebumps arise on her skin?

Her insides churned as she tore herself away from him.

“Stop doing this bullshit. It’s not cute, a-and leave my friend out of this.”

She hated how he looked at her like that–as if she were the most amusing thing he’d ever laid eyes on, “I wouldn’t have to talk to her if you talked to me, you know.”

She squinted, “Are you okay? Seriously-what are you getting out of this?”

“You.” he said simply, as if that were the most logical answer, “I want you.”

Her eyes narrowed further–this had to be some kind of joke. “You’re not funny.” she murmured.

He bent over slightly as he laughed. His laugh was airy and boyish–the kind of laugh that one could easily be drawn to, if she hadn’t found something heavily off about it.

“I’m not joking, Ara.”

He stood up straight after picking his fallen blazer off of the floor. When she’d shoved him, it had slipped from its haphazard placement over his shoulder.

He looked down at her, his blue eyes incredibly mystifying as he hunched before her to look her eye to eye–his index finger holding the collar of his blazer over his shoulder while his other hand was wedged in his pocket.

“Ara.. I can call you that now, right? Now that we’re talkin’ “

She stumbled backward, “We’re not talking. Just leave me alone.”

He smirked, “You’ll come around.”

The confidence oozing from his tone would’ve infuriated her, if it didn’t make her feel unsettled to the bone.

She didn’t understand. Where was that likable, comedic Gojo that everyone else saw? Why was this version of him the one she had to meet? Even if she told anyone about this–no one, literally no one–would believe her.

It wasn’t like she had any friends to tell anyway. Well–Millie maybe but Millie herself was now talking to him.

She struggled to find her words, “I- I said, leave me alone.”

He leaned back, taking his hand out of his pocket to loosen his tie as he sighed, “Why are you makin’ this so hard for me.”

She ignored him, stepping around him to close her locker door shut but he stuck his arm out–firmly holding the locker door open by its top edge.

“Fine.” he looked down at her, his blue eyes blazing with mischief as she appeared startled.

He was so close to her, it was hard to breathe.

His voice dropped an octave lower as he added, “But I expect something in return.”

His eyes dropped to her neck when he saw her visibly swallow. The playfulness in his demeanor shifted into something more dominating.

He raised a brow as she stepped back.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“There’s nothing for me to give you.”

He smirked, closing her locker door for her, “Lies.”

She’d missed her bus again. It was an accident–truly, a fucking accident. It wasn’t her fault that her art teacher wanted her to stay after to talk to her about future art-related career paths when they merely were supposed to chat about her recent artwork.

She writhed in pain on her bed, clutching her gut. It felt bruised from the amount of times her Father had kicked her.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair.

She was always her father’s punching bag. Every, damn, time.

She was so sick and tired of it. So angry. She did everything right, everything. But one mistake–one simple fucking mistake–would get him so incredibly triggered. It gave her whiplash everytime.

She was finally at her breaking point. She was done. She was done wallowing in this pitiful fucking mess of her toxic-ass family. Done watching her Mom let her Dad treat them both like pieces of garbage. Tired of nothing changing. She was done.

She just wanted to do something she wanted. Just this once.

She’d talked to Millie on the bus this morning–the only time they ever seemed to talk nowadays but she had mentioned something going on tonight. It was Friday so, there had to be something.

Ara cringed as she reached over to grab her phone from her nightstand. She texted Millie.

A: hey can i come over?

M: r u kidding

M: hell yes, are u even allowed to tho?

A: im gonna sneak out

M: omg no way

M: im like hella shocked rn but hold on, imma use my bros car to pick u up

A: wait don’t stop in front of my house

A: i’m gonna wait at the end of the block

M: bet

A: thanks, lmk when ur here

M: omg im excited, does this mean your coming out tn?

A: yep

M: STOP im hype

M: ok, im omw

Ara put the phone down and sat up. She stared at her wrecked room in silence. It hadn’t been messy until her father had dragged her by the hair into her room from the car. He liked to dramatically throw her shit across the room in the midst of his rages.

She’d gotten used to cleaning his messes, but not tonight.

She grabbed her wallet, phone and keys–stuffing them all into her sweatpants pocket before chewing at her bottom lip diligently as she thought.

The front and back door wasn’t an option, her father had cameras. She’d been contemplating the garage but the longer she thought about it the more hesitant she grew. What if my Dad hears it open? She couldn’t risk it.

She glanced at her window. It looked like that would be her best bet.

She swallowed hard-forcing her nerves down-as she went to the window and shoved it open. She physically winced at the strength that simple action had taken her.

She gave her room one last look before hopping out of the window.

Milie ran the straightener over her hair, “I still can’t believe your here-like what the actual fuck.”

Ara laughed, she was already drunk out of her mind. She’d drunk a couple White Claws and that seemed to be all it took–it was her first time drinking after all.

Millie’s eyes caught Ara’s laugh in the mirror before them. Mille set the straightener down before running her hands through Ara’s hair–smoothing it out further.

“You should smile more often. Your smile’s really pretty.”

Ara set down her white claw before wobblily standing up, “Yeah, yeah. So who’s place are we going tonight?”

Millie smirked, “Nanami’s. His house parties are the fucking best so you picked the best night to sneak out. Nina and her man are gonna pick us up and then we all are gonna go.”

“Nanami Kento?” Ara questioned, “He likes to party?”

“Shoko probably convinced him cuz his house has a heated outdoor pool.”

Ara shrugged, bending over to pick up her White claw again and take another sip. Millie sat at the vanity now, leaning close to the mirror as she applied her lip gloss.

She smacked her lips together, “So.. are you planning on getting your first kiss tonight?”

Ara tilted her head back and finished her canned drink in one gulp. She set the drink down with a giggle.

“Maybe,” she said, before locking eyes with Millie through the mirror and they both laughed.

Millie swiveled around in her stool, “About time, girl! What’re you gonna do if some guy wants to go further?”

She shrugged, “I’m down. Honestly, I’m down to lose my virginity tonight for all I care, I just wanna have fun.”

Millie laughed, “Look at you today! I’m-like-shocked. Are you sure you're Ara? Or did you get possessed?”

“I didn’t do my Physics homework yet.” she mumbled distractedly to herself.

Mille chuckled, now applying extra powder to her face, “Girl, it’s Friday. You have the whole weekend. But please make sure you do it and send it to me cuz there’s no way I’m gonna do it.”

They stood on the porch of Nanami’s mansion. Voices and music could be heard blasting within the house from outside. Ara’s gaze was stuck on the perfect landscaping done on Nanami’s front yard. Her eyes lingering on the white hibiscus flower bushes that were planted outside his house.

They looked so pretty under the moonlight.

Millie gently touched Ara’s arm, catching her attention.

Mille grinned before squealing, “I’m so excited for you to experience your first party.”

Roland snorted, “No one’s gonna know that it’s you.”

His dark eyes looked her up and down, “Honestly, I still don’t believe it.”

Nina placed her hand on her boyfriend's chest. Her and Roland had been dating for two years now. He’d driven them all here–and as much as she was grateful for the ride, she didn’t appreciate his leering gaze at her body, especially with Nina right in front of him.

Nina remained oblivious, “Listen, Straight A students need to have some fun too. No one stays boring forever.”

Sober Ara might’ve had different words to say but intoxicated Ara merely laughed, “Sure, exactly that.”

Roland continued to glance at her curiously until the door swung open.

Toji stood in the doorway, “Hey, kids. Sorry to keep you waitin’ “

Toji was older than them by a few years–only because he refused to graduate for some reason. Either he was too dumb or just didn’t care. If there was one thing everyone knew he was good at-it was pulling women-it was football. He was captain of the football team for a reason.

He dapped Roland up as he let him and Nina enter. Roland was also on the football team.

“Who’re you?” he suddenly asked as Ara stepped forward.

His narrow green eyes looked her up and down–even if he was expressionless it felt as though he were eating her up with his eyes.

She knew she looked good–even if none of the clothes were hers. Millie had completely transformed her look with just a few simple pieces.

She wore a light blue, lace-y tube top that showcased quite a bit of her bare hips and navel. The fitted top also outlined the shape of her rather full breasts, which she’d typically kept hidden underneath the blazer of her uniform. She knew what attention they would draw on her smaller frame so she never wore her uniform without the blazer.

Then for bottoms she wore a simple tight black mini-skirt that revealed her smooth legs. Thank god Millie had extra razors so she’d shaved at her house. And for shoes, she wore her typical black Converses–unfortunately Millie and her weren’t the same shoe size. (a/n: i swear i didn't do this to make her basic. she ends up having to walk home so i jus didn't want my girl to suffer :,) & yES ik she's not real but idc idc)

Millie took her hand, “It’s Ara Natsuna, dumbass.”

She saw Toji’s brows draw together in confusion before his eyes widened, “You’re shitting me. Quiet girl?”

Before she had the chance to respond, Millie was suddenly pulling her inside.

Millie spoke as she dragged her through the mass of people, “He was totally gonna try chat you up–”

Millie suddenly stopped, “Wait, did you want him to?”

Ara shook her head. Don’t get her wrong, Toji was attractive as hell, but she’d rather not start her party debut with someone that passed around.

Though, that might just be how she felt right now. Who knows where the night will take her?

Suddenly a few of Millie’s friends called out her name and they both were thrown into a mass of greeting people. People were incredibly astonished to see her–continuously making stupid comments asking if she’d decided to leave the books behind. Joke or not, it was incredibly shallow.

They acted like being hot and smart wasn’t possible at the same time. It was annoying–but she was too drunk to care.

Millie suddenly ran off and Ara stumbled slightly as she went after her–but then froze in her steps.

Millie had run to Gojo, who was sitting on a couch's armrest. His long limbs easily held him up as he reached over to return Millie’s side hug.

“Millie Mills.” he greeted in a light, singsong tone.

He wore a simple black tee shirt with matching pants. Despite the simpleness of the outfit, his shirt fit just right on his lean frame–tightening around his muscular waist and shoulders when he raised his hand to pat Mille’s head.

Her throat went dry.

Millie and her had already talked about Gojo. She tried to tell her to not talk to him and Millie seemed to half heartedly agree–using lame excuses like he’s fun to talk to or that he’s hot. She didn’t know how to tell her that Gojo talking to her out of the blue wasn’t a coincidence–even if he possibly did like her as a friend or whatnot now, he was not to be trusted.

Millie said she didn't like like him but the way she was pressing her chest against him displayed otherwise.

Millie had tried to tell her to give him a chance–eagerly telling her on their bus rides that Gojo kept asking about her but Ara refused. She didn’t want to hear one-fucking-second of it. She didn’t care if Gojo never asked about a girl before. She didn’t care if Gojo mostly fucked cheerleaders. She didn’t care if he hadn’t been in a relationship in the past four years since he moved here.

He was weird, annoying and obnoxious—and that was that.

The vibe she got off of him was nowhere near safe either. She honestly didn’t even know how Millie felt comfortable hugging him.

Millie went on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear and he bent his head lower to make it easier for her.

I found out what she whispered in his ear later...

Suddenly his head snapped up and their eyes locked.

Despite being a distance away, the ominous feeling within her gut still arose the moment his intricate crystal-like eyes met hers. She had no choice but to freeze under his gaze when he gave her body a slow perusal.

If Toji had been eating her up with his eyes before, Gojo’s eyes were devouring her–his attentive gaze ravaging each piece of her unveiled body with such greed, she couldn’t take it. She felt like she was standing naked under his gaze. There was something so vile and unhinged about the dark look that had slipped across his face; she suddenly felt like she shouldn’t have come here.

His expression hadn’t even changed much, his jaw simply clenching and his hand on Millie’s head suddenly slid down to the back of her neck.

Millie jumped slightly when Gojo’s hand tightened around her nape.

His eyes never left Ara’s as he spoke, “I thought you were lying–tellin’ me what I wanted to hear.”

Millie glanced at him, a bit nervous at the new terseness of his tone, “W-why would I do that?” she said, with a slightly timid, childish laugh.

“I’m not a liar.” Millie added, playfully, before placing a hand on Gojo’s thigh to steady herself.

That was all Ara needed to see to know that Millie still hadn’t cut off contact with him. Her insides twisted with disgust. She’d known that the other girl hadn’t fully agreed to stop talking to him but–Christ, it just looked so low.

Knowing that he was interested in her ‘friend’ and that her ‘friend’ found him creepy and still getting all close to him? What was even the point?

Ara stepped back-keeping the emotions hidden from her face as she subtly waved at Millie–signaling that she was gonna go elsewhere. She hadn’t talked to Gojo in a week and she didn’t plan on changing that now. Millie gave her a thumbs up.

Gojo’s eyes followed her before she disappeared somewhere into the kitchen.

Suddenly, someone nudged his knee.

Gojo turned his head to see Geto looking at him curiously. Geto sat, fully relaxed, in the exorbitant couch that he was sitting on the armrest of.

“What is it?” Geto asked while withdrawing the joint from his mouth.

“She’s here.” Millie responded, her attempt at including herself in the group of lethally attractive men before her.

“Who’s she?” Nanami asked-dryly-from the loveseat beside the couch that Geto and Gojo occupied. He didn’t look up from his phone.

Before Geto could respond, Gojo was suddenly questioning Millie, “You convinced her to come here?” The seriousness in his tone made the other boys go quiet.

Nanami glanced up from his phone.

Millie shook her head, “No, she wanted to come herself.”

“Thought you said her parents were strict.”

She shrugged, “Dunno. She snuck out.”

Gojo released her neck, a look of contemplation passing over his features as he rubbed his chin, “Somethings up.”

“Isn’t there always.” Millie mused, while playing with his fingers.

He raised the hand Millie was fiddling with to her face, his long fingers easily covering its entirety as he pushed her face back.

“Satoru! My lip gloss.” she exclaimed as he stood up. He gave her a wink before disappearing off into the throng of people.

She sat down on the armrest Gojo had just left from with a huff.

Geto didn’t spare her a glance. Instead, he indirectly addressed Nanami by saying, “He’s mad.”

“Satoru?” Nanami questioned, glancing up from his phone again.

Geto nodded.

“How do you know?” Nanami asked, “He looked normal to me.”’

Geto shrugged–not knowing how to expand on it because he wasn’t sure how he himself knew, but he was more than sure of it.

Toji arrived with three beers in his hands. He popped a cap open with his teeth before throwing himself back on the loveseat beside Nanami.

“Jus saw the sexiest chick I’ve seen in a while.. Her tits were-phew.” Toji shook his head before taking a swig.

“If you're talking about Ara, leave her alone.” Millie bit back.

“Oh? That a challenge?” He smirked at Millie. They’d fucked once–okay, maybe more than once—but, like every girl who tried, she couldn’t tie him down.

“Don’t even try it.” Geto warned.

If this was how parties were like, she never wanted it to end.

Loud music pounded through the pristine, wide-ceiling walls of Nanami’s house. The strong scent of weed, alcohol and a plethora of expensive colognes and perfume in the air. Voices—so much chatter, laughter and familiar faces. Everyone seemed so chill and.. happy.

She handed the joint back to the guy beside her with a loud cough—more coughing followed as she continued to breathe.

“Shit, is this your first time?” he asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

She turned her head back to see Noel. She’d always seen him around school but they barely interacted—he wasn’t in the same classes as her. Besides, he hung with a completely different crowd. He was on the swim team. And, gosh, he was hot.

She didn’t know how she managed to grab his attention when she’d merely been walking around the outdoor pool. He was sitting in one of the surrounding lounge chairs and asked if she wanted to ‘cyph’.

She’d agreed—despite having no clue what that meant. It didn’t take her long to realize that it was just another term for smoking w33d. (a/n: idk if tumblr censors words or not so imma jus keep spelling it like that. y'all know what i mean anyway~)

They now sat shoulder to shoulder on the lounge chair. He was laughing beside her.

She frowned once her coughing subsided, “Are you laughing at me?”

He shook his head, pieces of his dark brown hair falling over his forehead in the process.

“Nah, I should’ve figured. I never seen you at one of these parties before.”

She wasn’t sure if it was drugs or alcohol in her system but god, the subtle grin on his lips was so hot. He had one of those smiles that made it hard to look away from his lips.

No wonder Millie hooked up with him sophomore year.

Something about that thought made her pry her eyes away.

His hand came up to her back, “You want another hit?”

She glanced back at him, shaking her head, “I need a minute. My throat feels so..” she didn’t know how to describe it.

He laughed once more, running his hand down her back reassuringly.

“I know. My first time smoking was like that too. I was coughing like a bitch.”

He then asked her, “Do you want a drink?”

“Millie said not to drink the stuff here.”

His subtle grin returned, “She’s probably right… is that who you came with? Millie?”

She nodded.

“How do you know her?”

“I met her on the bus.” They’d always sat next to each other since kindergarten.

“That’s cool.” he dropped his hand from her back, and offered her his joint, “You wanna hold onto this for me while I go get us some drinks?”

She took it from his hand with a nod.

As he stood up he noticed the look of disappointment on her face. Though, he didn’t know the reasoning behind it. She was still thinking about Millie—her one and only friend, who never took her word seriously.

“Aw, don’t look like that,” he bent down to give her a light kiss on the cheek.

He ruffled the top of her hair, “I’ll be right back.”

She offered him a small smile before watching him walk off.

The front door slammed shut—loud enough to be heard over the music. Everyone in the mansion paused for a second as people began to glance around and murmur.

Nanami jumped up from the loveseat, “The hell was that?”

Geto and Toji stood up as well.

Gojo suddenly appeared before them. His white hair more disheveled than usual as he smoothed down his black shirt. There was a hint of a bruise forming on his cheekbone.

Geto stepped towards him, “What happened?” he demanded.

“Oh, I just kicked Noel out.” his tone oddly light.

He shrugged before looking at Nanami, “I caught him tryna steal somethin’ in your Mommy’s room.”

“Noel?” Nanami questioned. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Nanami was captain of the swim team. He’d spent a considerable amount of time with Noel, who was on his team.

Something in Gojo’s eyes shifted as he stared at Nanami—the lightheartedness in his tone moments prior gone, “Are you doubting me?”

Toji’s eyes widened before he took another swig of beer.

Nanami’s brows furrowed until Gojo suddenly threw his head back in laughter. 

He placed a hand on Nanami’s shoulder, giving it a good squeeze before leaning close. Geto’s eyes lingered on the red marks along Gojo’s knuckles.

“Don’t worry, Nanamiiin, I took care of it,” he tilted his head, “You can scold him all you want whenever you see him at practice.”

He released Nanami’s shoulder with a bright smirk on his lips.

Nanami eyed him, “Just don’t slam my door.”

Gojo held his hands up-as if he were instructed to do so by the police-before walking backwards haphazardly.

He wriggled his fingers playfully, “No promises.”

Ara watched the girls play in the pool with a bored expression. They looked like they were having so much fun.

What’s taking him so long?

She looked down at the joint in her hand. She’d taken a couple hits–even if it made her cough quite a bit, but she couldn’t help but wonder where Noel had gone. He should’ve been here by now.

She picked up his joint and lighter with a frown before walking around the pool to head back inside the house. Her drunk self too unaware of her surroundings to notice the many lingering eyes on her as she passed.

She entered the mansion, heading to the kitchen to see if Noel was there.

Her eyes scanned the spacious kitchen in awe. It had to be the biggest kitchen she’d ever seen. Whoever designed it’s interior managed to merge a modern yet home-y feel perfectly. Its red, cream and dark brown color scheme also gave a sort of regal appeal.

She stumbled over to the nearest canvas hung on the wall. It was huge. It showcased a beautiful view of vast hills and a sunset colored sky. Her fingers gently ran over the painting, only for her eyes to widen when she realized it was actually hand-painted, not printed. Her eyes widening further when she saw an elegant black signature at the painting's bottom right corner.

Who knows how much this thing costs.

“Natsuna? No way.”

She turned her head to see Jaemin. He wore a black wife beater, showing off the small tattoos that marked his tan collarbones and toned arms. They never spoke before but she’d be lying if she said his wolf-cut didn’t suit him.

She raised a brow, “You know my name?”

He laughed, “Of course. We’ve been going to the same school since forever.”

She turned around fully, letting her back lean against the wall as she absentmindedly played with a strand of her hair.

“I guess.. I look hot enough for you to speak to me now.” she stated, dryly-the words slipping off her tongue without a second thought. Alcohol was truly something else.

He chuckled as he drew closer, “Pft, you were always hot. I liked your little quiet, mysterious girl look.”

A laugh escaped her lips as she repeated, “Quiet, mysterious girl look?”

She placed her hand on his chest when he stood directly in front of her. He bent his head low to touch her forehead with his. Whatever his cologne was-it was entirely too addicting.

He raised his hand with a red solo cup to her cheek. His knuckles skimming the side of her face as he spoke, “You always look like you wanna be left alone or else I woulda bothered you a long time ago.”

She smirked wryly. “Sure.”

He returned her smirk with one of his own, “Let me prove it–”

Suddenly his phone buzzed, and he froze. He held her gaze a second longer before glancing down between them, at the phone in his hand.

He shook his head subtly, “Gotta get more drinks.”

He patted her hip, “Stay right here.”

She nodded.

He gave her a little smirk before walking off.

“Damn Gojo, don’t you got your lil lackeys around for this?” Jaemin grumbled to himself.

He didn’t mind Gojo at all—in fact, he actually kinda liked the guy-but it wasn’t like they were tight or anything. The only reason why he decided to ‘listen’ was because Gojo never asked him for a favor before. He figured it was a once in a blue moon typa thing. Hell, could’ve even been a drunk text. He didn’t care, he just wanted to see Nanami’s family’s wine cellar.

He walked downstairs, glancing around at the movie theater room before him.

“Fuck, what damn part of the basement am I at now.”

He walked further into the room, past the large screen, towards the drinks bar. He leaned on the counter to glance around, only to spot empty champagne flutes instead of bottles.

He frowned before spotting the open double door beside the mini bar.

He pushed himself off the counter and walked into the wide wine cellar. He whistled.

He walked up to one of the bottles and easily plucked one out.

“Holy shit, 18 year old Scotch?” he gaped, “Shit probably tastes like ass.”

He carefully placed it back.

“Too bad Gojo wants beer.” he muttered, though he wasn’t really complaining.

But where the hell is the be—Oh.

He spotted the mini circular, blue, window that was stuck into a door in the wall. How could he forget? Nanami’s infamous walk-in freezer.

He pulled open the door and walked inside.

Goosebumps immediately rose on his skin the second he stepped within. It was neatly arranged and brightly lit. He walked further inside and spotted the untouched stack of canned beer on the shelf.

“Bless.” he muttered before reaching out to grab a couple.

Just as he juggled a few cans in his hands, the freezer door slammed shut.

His head snapped around, eyes widening before he dropped all the cans in his hands and ran to the door. He tried the handle before slamming his hands onto the door.

“YO! Hello?! Open this shit up!” he hollered, while glancing through the mini window. He saw no one.

At first he’d thought it was a stupid prank from one of his boys who might’ve followed him into the basement but… there was no one.

“HELLO?!!” he yelled once more, looking through the window with more intensity.

He didn’t understand how the door could’ve closed if someone didn’t pull it shut—he assumed it may have been an auto-lock timer on the door or something.

He broke out in a cold sweat when he realized no one could hear him. Not over the loud ass music.

His hand went to pocket to check for his phone. Maybe he could call—

“Fuck!” he hollered as he harshly patted his empty pockets.

He’d set his phone down on one of the shelves in the wine cellar when he’d grabbed that aged Scotch.

His breathing slowed when realization hit him like a truck. No phone. No one to hear him. No one in the basement.

If he didn’t get help soon, he was gonna freeze.

And it didn’t help that he was wearing a wife beater.

Of course I had to wear a fucking wife beater to-fucking-day.

He clenched his teeth, running his hands quickly over his arms. The cold was starting to settle in, alongside a large dose of panic.

His eyes dilated in fear before he slammed his hands against the freezer doors once more.

“SOMEONE!!! HELP!! GET ME OUT— HELP!!”

In the midst of his panic, a shot of hope suddenly zipped up his spine.

Gojo. That’s right—Gojo!

Gojo had been the one to text him ‘Yo yo, get more beer from the basement will ya¿ tyyy ;)’ so there was a chance Gojo would notice that he was gone. That he didn’t come back with drinks.

Gojo would help him—Gojo would remember him.. right?

Jaemin’s teeth began to chatter.

“Fuck!” he hugged himself once more before throwing his whole body against the freezer door. It didn’t budge.

“HELP!! SOMEONE HELP ME OUTTA HERE!!!”

He grabbed the phone from the shelf.

A smirk graced his lips, “Too easy.”

He was counting on the weak internet connection in Nanami’s wine cellar to-at least-delay Jaemin from contacting others. Or his phone to shut down from the freezer’s low temperature by the time he realized he could call someone. Jaemin wasn’t exactly the brightest guy.

But this. This was so much better.

He chuckled to himself as he walked through the dimly lit theater. Tossing the phone back and forth within his hands as he easily made his way back to the main floor from Nanami’s multi-level basement.

Just as he rejoined the boisterous party, he spotted a large fish tank installed within the wall.

He wandered over, bending over to peer at the various koi fish inside. Several of the multi-colored fish bounded over–their eager mouths opening and closing as they bumped into the glass, expecting food.

“Hey guys, miss me?” he mused.

He tapped the corner of the fish tank with his knuckle three times.

The fish tank slowly retracted from the wall. The fish all swam to the top. Their eager mouths bobbing through the water.

He smirked as he dropped the phone within the fish tank’s clear blue waters.

“Keep this safe for me, will ya?”

Ara stood in the kitchen, growing more irritated by the second.

Where is Jaemin? Or Noel?

She crossed her arms. Did I really get ditched by two guys in the same night?

Despite that possibility, for some reason her gut feeling told her that that wasn’t it.

She sighed, glancing down at her hand. She still had Noel’s joint and lighter. She decided to take another hit.

She coughed—having inhaled a little too fast. The woozy feeling that followed made her obnoxious coughing worth it.

She’d never felt so relaxed before. It was almost too relaxed. Relaxed enough that it almost felt wrong.

Everything was so enhanced it was absolutely riveting. The music. The colors. The voices. Maybe it was a good thing she’d never tried w33d until now—she saw exactly why people could get addicted. Even if the smell wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Just as she raised the joint to her lips again, a new crowd of people entered the kitchen. Rambunctious as ever.

She spotted Arman. She knew he was a close friend of Noel’s. They both were on the swim team.

She impulsively stepped up to him, “Hey-“

Before she could get another word in she was interrupted.

Arman’s eyes widened, “Holy shit—Natsuna?”

She immediately reddened. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead she smiled slightly.

“That’s me.”

He glanced at the joint in her hand, “Wait, you smoke too? Damn, girl. Double agent, for real.”

She was too high to care about his little comments. Quite frankly she’d been hearing it so much tonight it was getting boring.

“I don’t smoke. Today was my first time.”

He raised a brow, “Really?”

He eyed her joint, “Then where’d you get that from?”

“Noel. Do you know where he is?”

Arman’s brows furrowed. He seemed completely lost in thought, as if it was taking him a lot of brain cells to think.

“I don’t know, I think he left.” he finally slurred out.

“He left?” she questioned, surprised.

“Yeah, some dude told me he got kicked out but I don’t know. He didn’t respond to my texts.”

“Kicked out? What did he do?”

He didn’t answer, instead he reached into his cargo pants and shuffled out his phone from his pocket.

He handed her his phone—showing her the screen of the several, horribly misspelled texts that he’d sent Noel. It seemed Noel had left him on delivered.

She sighed, handing the phone back to him.

“Thanks.”

Suddenly a moment of clarity seemed to pass over Arman’s eyes.

He clasped her arm, “Wait, was Noel your ride here?”

She blinked, too drunk to recall, “I.. I don’t know.”

“Shit,” he let go of her arm, “Let me know if you need a ride home.”

She laughed, her unfiltered thoughts slipping off her tongue, “There’s no way I’m sitting in the same car as you.”

“What?” a hint of a dashing smile revealed itself, “Why not?”

“Because do you see yourself? You're drunk as shit.”

He threw his head back, laughing a little too loosely. She couldn’t help but laugh while watching him.

He set his eyes back on her, “And you think you’re not?”

Her brows furrowed, “I think.. I’m sober enough.”

“If you’re sober then we’re all sober.”

She rolled her eyes, “Ha ha.”

Arman threw his arm around her shoulder, “You’re staying with me.”

Arman had introduced her to a few of his friends. It took her a millisecond to forget their names and faces.

His hand was in hers as they walked through the swarm of people. Her legs hurt from how much they’d walked around.

It’d been fun though, exploring the mansion with him and his friends. She almost hoped that she would remember it.

The next thing she knew she was being tugged and suddenly she was on someone’s lap.

She glanced over to see Arman sitting on a loveseat. His deeper, tan skin glowed handsomely underneath the colorful lights. It only emphasized his dashing, perfect-toothed smile. She couldn’t help but compare his smile to a Disney Prince.

She’d rarely seen him around at school. He was a junior but he was undoubtedly attractive. His jet black hair was slightly outgrown in that rugged way, with a few strands hovering over his forehead.

She attempted to move his hair off of his forehead only for it to fall right back in place.

She let out a laugh.

“You’re really pretty.” he blurted.

She glanced at him. Into his dark eyes, that were surrounded by-jealousy inducing-lengthy lashes.

She placed her hands on his shoulders.

Her voice wavered, suddenly feeling shy, “Yeah?”

He nodded, his hands sliding around her waist—drawing her closer. Their faces millimeters apart.

“You.. don’t like Noel right?” he asked, sounding almost nervous.

She laughed a bit, “I just met him today.”

Their noses nudged into each other and he smirked, “Then.. he shouldn’t mind, right?”

She smiled a bit, “I don’t think he’ll mind..”

His smirk widened as their lips barely brushed against each others, “He won’t.”

She bit her lower lip, her tone playful, “He won’t?”

“He won’t.” he responded, gruffly before crashing his lips into hers.

Her first kiss.

She was too drunk-high-crossed to know what she was doing. She pressed her lips into his—merely trying to mimic his movements. His lips tasted of alcohol.

His hands were touching her all over. Sliding up the curve of her waist, grabbing her hips and even fondling one of her boobs. His thumb rubbing against one of her nipples through her top.

She moaned against his lips.

His hand slid to her thigh, moving her leg over his hard-on through his jeans. A jolt of nerves suddenly shot up her spine.

She broke the kiss. She was out of breath and her face felt hot.

Suddenly, an ice-cold voice sounded from somewhere near them, “You guys should get a room.”

They both glanced over to see Gojo standing in front of them, drink in hand.

His expression was stone-cold. His bright blue eyes latching onto hers and for some reason, she knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

Suddenly a wildly handsome, playful smile spread across his lips. To others the sight must’ve been nothing short of appealing but it felt nothing but menacing to her.

She swallowed, her throat dry.

“Gojo!” Arman greeted, friendly.

They fist bumped.

“You jealous?” Arman teased.

His blazing blue eyes slid over to Arman, his smile widening. She didn’t miss the way his fingers tightened around his glass.

“More than you know.” he mused, airily. “As much as I’d love to watch you two go at it out here, Nanami would freak. Better take it to his Mom’s room. Maybe you’ll get lucky and find some toys in there.”

Arman snorted humorously, “You’re fucked.”

Suddenly Gojo grasped her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“Not as fucked as she is.”

That amused smile still pasted on his lips. But his eyes—she could feel the darkness swimming within them despite how blazingly blue they were. They were frigid with something so prominent she wondered how no one else saw it.

She immediately felt her body tense under his touch. She shoved his hand off of her.

His smile twisted into a wicked grin. She didn’t miss the hard edge to his curled lips.

She tugged at Arman’s hand, “Lets go.”

She wanted to get away from him. Far, far away from him.

Arman stood up, patting Gojo’s shoulder as he chuckled. Everything seemed to be funny to Arman. She couldn’t help but notice that the boys were also close in height.

“Shhh, bro.” he joked along with him. Not realizing that they were talking about completely different things.

Gojo merely winked before pressing his drink into Arman’s chest.

“One for the road?” he offered.

“Hell yeah.” Arman took the drink out of his hand and tilted his head back—downing it all in one go.

Gojo whistled as Arman handed the empty glass back to him.

Gojo lightly punched his arm, “I knew I liked you. Go have fun.”

Arman grinned, “You know I will.”

They both shared a chuckle before Arman faced her. His arms slipped around her waist.

He placed a couple light kisses on her neck, but she was stiller than stone. Her eyes were latched onto Gojo’s face—whose smile was slowly slipping away by the second.

She quickly turned away from him and faced Arman. A soft, hesitant smile on her lips.

He returned her smile with one of his own, “You wanna go upstairs?”

“S-sure.”

He pecked her cheek once more before slipping his hand through hers. He led them through the swarm of people once more.

She hated that she felt Gojo’s eyes on her back. The feeling made her shiver.

She refused to glance back.

They got lost trying to find the upstairs like twice. Only to realize they’d walked past it multiple times because the stairs were not well lit.

A few people stood at the bottom of the stairwell. Talking and chatting while her and Arman laughed quietly as they walked past them up the steps.

The group eyed them as they walked past.

Her and Arman had passed that group multiple times when they’d gotten lost so she could only imagine how odd they looked to them. Watching them go in circles around the house again and again.

She was a complete ball of giggles as they climbed up the spiral glass staircase.

He flashed her a subtle smile, before poking her.

“Shhh, keep it down, missy.” he teased her.

She almost broke out in another fit of giggles until he suddenly stopped.

He released her hand to hold onto the railing. His eyes were wide.

Her brows furrowed as she peeked up at him. She stood on the same step as him.

“Are you okay?” she asked once she noticed him look somewhat off.

He was sweating bullets.

The next thing she knew he turned his face aside and he was retching all over the steps, liquid pouring out.

Her hands went to her mouth as he stumbled down a couple steps, flimsily holding onto the railing for some balance.

He looked up at her, she stood a few steps atop him.

His eyes were bloodshot, face blotchy, his hair slick with sweat. His shirt was stained with the dark liquid of his vomit. All he’d vomited out was liquor.

He raised his foot, as if attempting to climb up one more step only to release the railing and go staggering backwards. The people at the end of steps yelled and moved out of the way as he crash landed into the floor.

A few people hadn’t moved out in time and managed to get hit by his rather tall frame, but now he lay sprawled on the floor. His red eyes wide open, arms splayed out, completely still.

His head moved slightly, as if trying to turn his face aside—only for white foam to start pouring out from his lips. His body began to convulse.

“Arman!” she screamed, running down the steps.

She dropped to her knees, by his side. She stared at him, worry consuming her as she held her hands out—unsure what to do.

She needed to find Millie. Millie might be sober enough to help her figure out this situation.

She stood up shakily. Her knees wobbly with terror as she looked down at Arman’s convulsing body. People’s shouts and murmurs all white noise to her.

More and more people seemed to gather around him.

She swiftly pushed her way through the crowd only to bump into an incredibly hard chest.

Her body went cold.

She looked up to see Gojo’s eyes already on her. She swore something in his eyes crackled, like blue flames.

His fingers grazed her forearm before grasping her. His large hand easily encapsulated the entirety of her elbow, “Go on. Find another plaything. I can do worse.”

The underlying threat veiled by his darkly charming smirk made goosebumps break across her skin. Her throat went dry in terror.

Her eyes widened as it clicked, “You… it was you..”

Noel. Jaemin. Arman. He’d done something to them.

He tilted his head, strands of his white hair becoming more disheveled in the process.

He raised a white brow as he waited for her to complete her response. His dangerous smile only widening.

The confidence sweeping off of him unsettled her to bone—enough to make her choke on her words.

“What did you do?” she whispered in shock.

“Nothing I regret.”

She stepped back, shoving his hand off of her.

She cupped her elbow-where his hand had been moments ago. Her skin still buzzed from the aftermath of their contact.

“What did you do to them?” she asked, her voice shaky.

His eyes bounced with amusement as she stared at him in absolute horror. The feeling of fear coursing within her only amplified by the drugs and alcohol in her body.

“What did you do to Arman?” she demanded.

His hand slipped out of his pocket, revealing a little zip lock baggie of pills. Some of the pills were crushed, leaving a powdery residue on the sides of the bag.

She eyed the bag. He caught the unsureness in her eyes.

“You know what this is?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Molly.”

Her eyes widened—especially when she remembered Arman had downed the drink Gojo gave him without a second's hesitance.

Who knows how much he put in there.

“Y-you’re sick.”

He chuckled—chuckled.

The faint sound of sirens pierced through the music. It seemed someone had called the ambulance.

“This is nothing.”

I wish he was lying.

“He’s seizing on the floor.” she sputtered.

“And?”

Her heartbeat stopped—her eyes instinctively meeting his once more. The smirk on his lips had dulled some, but his eyes. There was almost an ethereal glow to them—but instead of finding it beautiful, she found it deeply disturbing.

“You aren’t his to touch.”

She was speechless. The uneasy feeling in her gut pulsed through her—urging her-screaming at her to get away from him. As far away as she could.

She staggered backwards, his sharp eyes and fading smile never leaving her as she disappeared into the crowd.

I should’ve never gone to that party.

Ara walked with her phone in her hand. The sky was dark, but the brightly lit mansions along the street kept the streets rather well lit.

Each mansion was more spacious and grandly landscaped than the next—almost as if in competition. Some had fountains and others had marble driveways. It was mind-boggling.

She glanced over her shoulder, looking back at Nanami’s house. The ambulance was parked outside, alongside several police cars.

She’d gone searching for Millie first, the second she’d gotten away from Gojo. But she couldn’t find the other girl anywhere.

She stopped her search the second she heard cops pounding on the mansion doors. She’d escaped through the back door.

She watched the house observantly from over her shoulder. The music and voices could still be heard from down the street.

She saw a paramedic and a few cops dragging a stretcher out to the ambulance.

Her heart lurched as she remembered just the look of distraught that had passed along Arman’s face a second before he stumbled down the stairs. 

An image of his helpless body, lying on the ground at an awkward angle, with foam bubbling out of his mouth.

She flinched. She hadn’t felt that scared in a long time.

And Gojo. 

She was still too drunk to fully process what he’d done. Too inebriated to fully acknowledge it.

She shook her head, raking a hand through her hair as she glanced down at her phone.

An unfamiliar number had texted and called—multiple times.

163-7263-1555: ara its me

163-7263-1555 (2) missed calls

163-7263-1555: pick up

163-7263-1555: silent treatment againnn :///

163-7263-1555: shouldn’t i be the one mad right now

She was more than sure it was Gojo. She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten her number, maybe Millie had given it to him.

She’d rather die before texting him.

She switched from the messenger app to Google maps. She was following the walking directions to her home address. Even if it was 39 minutes away, she didn’t care. She wanted to go home.

She didn’t want to ever party again.

I should’ve never gone home that night.

She stood in the middle of her room. It was still just as messy as her father had left it.

It was like walking back from one nightmare to another.

She sighed, walking over to make sure her bedroom door was still locked. She knew if her dad had wanted to come check on her could’ve, he had a key.

He preferred to kick it down sometimes despite that.

She raked a hand through her hair before deciding to clean one section of the mess. Maybe it would ease her nerves—she was almost sure sleep wasn’t going to come easy to her tonight.

She bent down, picking up the fallen papers beside her desk. Her legs ached from her long walk. Luckily it hadn’t been too cold outside.

Suddenly a slight sound came from her window.

Her head spun and she eyed it warily.

What was that?

Nothing was different—at first glance anyway. She swallowed, unsure what to make of it.

She glanced over when she spotted her phone on the bed light up. It casted an ominous white glow to a corner of her dim room, along the ceiling and wall.

She hadn’t kept any lights on. Using the moonlight pouring from the window as her only source of light.

Her stomach swam with uneasiness. She was too uncertain to move.

Her whole body tensed when she heard faint shuffling noises by her window. Her eyes widened when she saw a hand grasp her window ledge then, before she knew it, a figure appeared.

He was squatting, his legs wide open over the narrow window ledge. The same ledge she used moments ago, to climb back into her room.(a/n: y’all kno that one official art pic of gojo squatting, legs wide & his thumb under his blindfold, yeA that one ;) 

A smirk lit the edge of his lip when he spotted her.

He raised his hand and knocked on the window, as if prompting her.

She didn’t move—merely rooted in spot-in shock.

No fucking way.

When he realized she wasn’t going to open the window his shoulders sagged. His expression darkened as she heard him mutter through the glass-

“Do I have to do everything myself?”

He used the hand that wasn’t pressed flat against the window to grab onto the slim rail. After a bit of shuffling he pushed the window up.

Her heartbeat skyrocketed and she immediately stood up.

He’s going to come inside.

She glanced towards her bedroom door but then stopped. She glanced down at herself.

She hadn’t changed out of her outfit from the party. Her dad was surely going to kill her if he saw her in this outfit. Her dad was sure to kill her for even being up at this hour.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Araa.” his voice was light, almost teasing.

She spun around, eyes wide with panic when she saw Gojo standing within her room. He looked so tall, his head too close to the ceiling.

Her room wasn’t exactly small but the mess made it look so. And his tall, slender frame made it look even smaller.

He stood right underneath the moonlight emitting from the window, it gave the ends of his frosty white hair a glossy hue.

He looked radiant.

Every detail of his pretty blue eyes defined in the dark.

Maybe I should scream..

A croak left her lips.

Her drunk mind raged with indecision. She knew she should scream, wake her father… but she was terrified. Terrified of picking the wrong demon to deal with.

Her father was predictable. He’d hit Gojo then hurt her twice as bad once he kicked Gojo out. She winced at the thought–but Gojo-Gojo was unpredictable. There was no guarantee what he would do…

Maybe I can get him to leave.. She was terrified of rousing her dad. He’d already beat her once today–if he beat her again she wasn’t sure she could handle it. And if she had to explain where she’d been… he’d kill her. She was sure of it.

Gojo tilted his head, “Aren’t you goin’ to talk to me?”

Her body shook slightly, “What-are you doing here.” She meant to sound firm but her voice came out raspy instead.

He took a step towards her while teasingly mocking her tone, “Why-the hell don’t you answer your phone.”

She took several steps back, fighting to keep her voice calm, “Y-you need to leave–”

He continued to slowly walk towards her, his eyes skimming over the mess in her room curiously, “If you picked up my call I could’ve taken you home, y’know. You didn’t have to walk.”

She held out her hand, “Stop.”

She stopped him a second before he could stand directly in front of her. Despite him being a few feet away from her, his tall frame easily blocked her sight from most of the room. His head was bent as he looked down at her.

She scrambled backwards a few steps, nearly tripping over the mess in her room multiple times just to regain more distance between them.

“Don’t come close to me,” she warned, her voice shaky, “Get out, Gojo. I’m serious. Get. Out.”

His eyes twinkled, “But I just got here.” he whined.

Her hand shook as she kept it held up in the air. “Just go.” she whispered, her tone harsh.

The glint of amusement within his eyes was all too demeaning. He tilted his head.

“What’re you gonna do, princess.” 

Her mouth went dry, she struggled to find her words. Her heart pounded in her ears. 

��I’ll scream.”

A dangerously handsome smile split across his lips. He shook his head.

“My dads home.” she warned.

His eyes latched onto hers, “Then why didn’t you scream when I came in.”

She felt something constrict in her throat.

She didn’t know how to tell him that despite him entering her house against her will-her Dad was guaranteed to twist the story and blame her. He might beat Gojo but he’d beat her worse. Because it would be her fault that Gojo got into the house. It would be her fault for not locking her window. It would be her fault for even knowing who Gojo was–

Because everything was always. her. fault.

She swallowed–feeling absolutely sick.

“You want me here.”

Her eyes immediately flitted up to his, “No.”

“Admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit,” she spat.

His eyes blazed as he taunted, “Then scream.”

Her body tensed with indecision–panic. Her throat constricted once more as she tried to think through the fear. She had to pick the lesser of two evils.

Her mind instantly became plagued with terror at the thought of waking her Dad. Just imagining his potential anger made her want to sob. But Gojo–he wasn’t listening.

“Please-” her voice cracked before she clenched her jaw, “Just get out.”

Suddenly he was crossing the distance between them, easily stepping over the mess.

Her eyes widened, instinctively backing up until her back hit her bedroom door.

The second he stood directly in front of her adrenaline took over and she slapped him. Her hand shook slightly from the aftereffects.

“I said. get. the fuck. out.” she bit out through rushed breaths.

She was absolutely terrified of looking up at Gojo–but she did it anyway. His head was still turned aside, facing the direction she’d slapped him. His smooth cheek blossomed with red from her slap.

His crystalline eyes were frozen at first-as if in shock-before something shifted. Her breath caught at the sight.

The next thing she knew she was being tossed onto the bed.

His hand was at her neck, holding her down in a chokehold as he stood between her spread legs. His other hand flat against the blanket beside her head. 

“I’ve been good. so. fucking. good.” His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke roughly into her temple. 

His fingers momentarily tightened around her throat.

“I left you alone,” He dug his nose into her cheekbone, pressing her face aside into the bed. “You think that was easy for me, hmm?” 

His fingers loosened on her throat, his thumb gently rubbing over her racing pulsepoint.

“All I wanted was somethin’ in return, but you know what I got—” he hissed. “I got you showing up to a party, looking like the sluttiest bitch I’ve ever seen.”

His fingers tightened around her neck once more as he growled against her cheek, “I wanted to slut you out right then and there.”

She shivered, her hands went to his wrist at her throat—weakly pushing at him. Her nerves alight with terror.

“Get off–“ she whispered, shifting under him.

“You know what your ‘friend’ told me when she hugged me. She said ‘look what I brought you’.”

Her eyes widened. Millie? Millie said that?

His hand left her throat, suddenly cupping her face—forcing her to look directly at him.

He spoke raggedly, “She knows you’re mine—everyone knows you’re mine. Except you-you want to tease me—“

His lips crashed onto hers, enveloping her lips in a kiss so hard that her jaw ached. Her skin simmered wherever they touched.

The pressure of his lips dug her further into the bed. She gasped when he tugged at her lower lip with his teeth. He immediately took advantage of her open lips—shoving his tongue through the narrow expanse of her mouth.

He groaned.

She grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back.

He budged just enough for the kiss to break–his blue eyes illuminating in the dark. He slowly straightened, licking his lips.

She quickly propped herself up on her elbows. Her chest heaving in and out as she attempted to catch her breath. She placed a hand over her lips, her hand shook.

He stood in between her legs, which hung over the bed’s edge. His face was flushed, and not because of her slap.

“What the hell–” she rasped, before cutting herself off when he grabbed his shirt from the back and easily slipped it off.

Her throat went dry.

Well, him being the best basketball player definitely showed. It genuinely.. wasn’t fair.

His skin was incredibly smooth–nearly glowing in the darkness of her barely lit room. His shoulders bulged; his arms tautly corded with muscle. His already protruding abs tightened before her eyes. He was entirely too compact with muscle—it was clear he’d done some work in the gym.

He looked so strong-so lean-she was almost… terrified.

In fact, she was scared out of her mind.

He ran hand through his tousled white hair before bending over her once-again. He pressed his hands to the bed, around either side of her.

His jaw was locked as he looked down at her. His eyes slowly looking her up and down–his gaze absolutely predatory.

His forehead nearly touched hers as he lowered himself but she immediately fell back into the bed–avoiding his touch.

She scrambled under him–moving without any thought as she attempted to slip away only to yelp outloud when he grabbed her by the waist and shoved her back down against the bed.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear.

His countenance was unreadable–except for the dark look of heat that swam within the endless blue waters that were his eyes. The longer she looked at him she knew what was going to happen—she knew she was going to drown.

“You’re mine now.”

No. no. no.

Suddenly his hand was at her tube top, shoving it down. Her tits spilled over, revealing their luscious size. Her nipples were already hard from the slight breeze that escaped from her window.

His eyes reveled in the sight before he grabbed one and squeezed. She gasped at his grip.

“Mmm,” he palmed her hard nipple, “You been hiding these from me.”

She grabbed at his wrist, failing miserably to tear his firm hand off her chest.

She writhed under him, “Gojo, no—“

Suddenly he grabbed her wrists, easily pinning her hands above her head with one of his own. Her tits only seeming to protrude more at this angle.

His eyes widened, “Fuck.” he muttered, “You never took off our uniform’s jacket for a reason, huh?”

She didn’t get the chance to respond because he was touching her in an instant.

He took his time with each of her tits. He ran his palm against the smooth, untouched area of her underboob. He squeezed a handful, letting her tits fill the entirety of his large hand until it spilled through the gaps of his fingers.

He pinched her nipple and her body bucked.

“So fucking hot.” he gritted out.

“Gojo, please, stop, please—“ she whispered, begging.

She’d never felt this vulnerable in her life–she had to make him stop.

She twisted underneath him, purposely pushing her wrists against his hold only to gasp when his mouth latched onto her nipple. He lapped her perky nipple up, sucking diligently while roughly groping the other.

He broke away from her to look up at her through her tits, his lips glossy with saliva.

“How can I.” he answered, raggedly-before latching his mouth onto her unattended tit.

A choked moan left her lips-not from pleasure. Or so she thought-she couldn’t deny the feeling her nipples being attended to elicited. It was a feeling she’d never experienced before.

There was a heat she was starting to feel within her body—the kind of heat that was starting to burn within her, making her crave something she didn’t even know she wanted.

The feeling only added to her fear. The pulsing fear running underneath her skin threatened to overwhelm her.

“Please, please,” she whined, “My father is downstairs—please—“

His tongue swiped at her erect nipple once more. The tip of his tongue licking a tantalizing circle around her nipple before withdrawing his lips. A subtle smirk grew on his lips before he spit between the center of her tits. The feeling of the fluid against her skin making her squirm.

His fingers smeared his saliva along both of her tits. Her tits were soft and pillowy in his hands, using it as an excuse to squeeze them once more–he had to get them fully wet somehow, didn’t he?

He leaned back, standing upright between her legs. He didn’t let go of her wrists.

His blue eyes ran down her body. He wanted to groan. Her tits looked so good like that–glistening from his spit.

“Daddy’s downstairs, hm?” he mused. “Maybe he should know who his daughter belongs to now, hmm? He’s going to meet me one day anyway.”

“No..” she whispered.

He bent over her once-again, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. She sharply turned her head away–her body twisting underneath him.

“Get off—” she was cut-off when his hand suddenly pressed into her lower stomach, pushing her down further into bed. Her twisting and turning forced to an abrupt halt at the movement.

A low-cry left her lips.

“Why don’t you scream my name as loud as you can, yeah? I want you to.”

His hand was at her skirt, ripping it off with one swift yank of his arm.

He greedily drank in the sight of her in a baby pink lacey thong. Millie had given it to her tonight, as a ‘first night out’ gift.

If she’d known he would see it, she would’ve never worn it.

He slid his hand up her thigh, forcing her leg to spread before him. His teeth skimmed over his bottom lip at the sight. The entirety of her glistening cunt was visible to him since her thong had partly shifted aside.

He groaned through his teeth.

“Fuck, princess.”

He quickly released her wrists to hold up both of her legs, sliding his hands under her knees—spreading her completely wide open for him.

Before she could think of utilizing her free hands, she tensed. His pant covered groin was suddenly pressed against her warmth. His hard-on evident against her sensitive, untouched skin.

Her body buckled at the sensation.

A low chuckle left his lips before he began to grind his clothed cock against her wet cunt. She gasped, the feeling of something moving against her warmth foreign to her. But her body betrayed her mind—her juices spilled out her core, coating her thong and wetting his pants.

“Such a pretty pussy.” he rasped as he began to pick up speed, his hips jutting against her sensitive cunt. He was so hard.

She couldn’t move, her legs were spread wide. Held open by him against her will. Her knees were nearly at her shoulders as he grinded his cock against her. The bed squeaking noisily.

There was a feeling she couldn’t describe starting to brew within her. That heat–it spread along her skin and burned her insides. It seemed to originate from where he was rubbing against her. She couldn’t take it.

“Gojo-stop, Gojo-” she cried out, begging him to stop but he cut her off.

“Yes,” he growled out, “Just like that—want you to scream it next.”

His cock grinded harshly against her now, making her yelp out and her toes curl. Her thong was soaking, a wet spot had formed on his pants.

“So fucking wet,” he stared down at her cunt, continuing to roughly grind his cock against her. The friction felt so good against his cock.

“All mine.”

She writhed. A strangled cry leaving her lips as she attempted to separate her cunt from him by pressing her hips into the bed. The feeling was just too much–

He merely ground his cock further against her–pressing his hips against hers to further push her down into the bed. He used the added pressure to jut the length of his cock faster against her cunt.

She cried out, “P-Please—! Stop, Gojo—nnghh!”

He groaned–forcing himself to stop so he didn’t cum. He didn’t want to cum just yet.

She shivered, a subtle sigh of relief leaving her lips as she felt that hypocritical heat buzzing within her skin die down. She had no words for what that feeling was. A zip of fear coursed through her when she nervously glanced up at Gojo between her spread legs.

He was out of breath, his abs tightening with each inhale. Strands of his white hair curled over his forehead, slick with sweat. The slight mark of her earlier slap still on his cheek.

His gaze was possessive as he muttered, “m’gonna make you mine.”

He let go of one of her legs to unbuckle himself. He was too impatient to step out of his pants, merely unzipping himself and shoving his boxers down to let his thick, veiny cock jump out.

It was so long it made a slight sound when it hit his navel at first. His cock was big—big enough for her to be aware that it was big despite not having seen other cocks before. It was swollen at the tip, pink and leaking a liquid-y white substance.

The liquid leaked down his cock’s veiny sides. The veins protruding against his cock’s pale, pink skin. His cock was so erect, it was almost taunting her.

Her heart jumped to her throat–she was absolutely terrified.

She attempted to close her legs, drawing her knees together, “N-no…”

He easily drew the one leg he held apart and used his other hand to hook his index finger around her thong. He moved it further aside before placing his cockhead right at her entrance.

The tip of his cock pulsed as he felt her juices leak against him–despite not having entered her yet. His hissed–mind blanking with pleasure but before he could act on it, her legs flung out.

She turned to her side, moving to escape—until his hand found her throat, easily pinning her back down to the bed as he shoved his cock right into her core.

A pain-filled cry left her lips, her body buckling wildly underneath him. He’d only managed to seat his tip within her, but it hurt—it hurt so bad.

He bent over her and groaned.

A shiver raked her body at the sound. She went still, eyes squeezing shut, “No-no-nono-”

He peered down at her, his blue eyes dark with lust as he saw her strained expression. He slowly withdrew his cockhead and pushed it back in.

Her body jolted, eyes snapping open, “No—Gojo, stop-please, please—it hurts—“

She grabbed onto his hand at her throat. Her nails scratched at arm–trying-shoving-pushing at him, but they both knew it was futile. She sobbed.

Her cunt was incredibly wet, wet enough for her to feel aware of how warm the juices were making her insides. Despite all of this, she was still a virgin. She’d never had someone inside her before. Her cunt didn’t have any room for someone as big as him—or anyone ever.

He lowered himself over her, careful not to press his cock further into her as he swiped his tongue along her cheek, licking up her salty tear.

“You cryin’ princess?”

The tip of his cock pulsed inside of her.

His fingers around her neck tightened, “Do y’know how fuckin’ good you feel? How tight?”

He nipped at her jaw, before sucking at her neck—leaving dark dark hickeys behind. Darker than the marks he’d left on her tits.

“You think you deserve to run free after the way you were rubbin’ up on those random bitch boys, hm? You let them feel you up-let ‘em talk to you—”

His hips bucked into her, forcing another inch in. She nearly screamed.

“Only I get to do that.”

Her body was arched in pain, the skin above her tits felt warm and blotchy as she outstretched her neck. Her collarbones rising and falling against her skin as she breathed unevenly.

“No-no-no-“ she whimpered, her cunt hurt bad. Having more of him within her felt wrong—despite what the signals in her body were telling her.

Her cunt squeezed around him-heartily willing to accept him despite the pain. His girth was huge, taking up too much space. There was no way-this couldn’t be happening—

He groaned into her neck, his hand slipping down to play with her tits once more.

He squeezed her tit greedily before rubbing her areola till her nipple hardened against his palm. 

“You were such a bad girl today-y’know-you should be grateful..”

He chuckled, huskily, against her skin, “Should be grateful I’m not tearing this pussy open right now.”

She made a low, weak moaning sound. She could only imagine the pain—there was no way. No way she could take all of him. She would break.

Her cunt squeezed around him, hard—the complete opposite of her mind’s reaction.

“Hah,” he breathed out, against her neck.

His hands beside her head fisted the sheets, gripping it hard as his thighs flexed. He fought the animalistic urge to pound his hips into her at the godless pace he wanted to fuck her at.

He had to resist–her pussy was so tight that his cock nearly felt wedged in place, despite the slick of her wetness coating the rest of his balls.

He raised his head over hers, his cerulean blue eyes raking over her face. Her lips were slightly parted-breathless-as the crease in her brow deepened. Her body shook slightly as she tried to twist her face away–revealing that she was in pain.

His lips brushed along her jawline as a rush of lust overcame him at her expression. His balls swelled.

“Your pussy’s beggin’ for me, princess.”

He withdrew his hips slightly, letting his cock slide out before shoving it back in at the depth he was at before. Her body lurched. Her hands instinctively grasped his shoulders to hold onto something as she arched in pain.

Despite the cry she’d let out–she’d still heard the lewd, wet sound that filled the air.

“Hear that,” his lips were at the cusp of her ear, “That’s how wet you are.”

His hand cupped her tit again before squeezing it-harshly. She wanted to yelp but squeezed her eyes shut instead, biting down on her lower lip to quiet herself. If her Dad awoke to seeing her like this…

“You wanted this, didn't you?” Gojo’s ragged voice cut through her thoughts, “Isn’t that what you told Millie?”

His cock snapped in and out again. At the same depth as before. Barely a fourth in.

She gasped through her teeth. Her body trembled as she tried not to be too loud. He hadn’t gone deeper but god-the action was so unfamiliar, her insides felt like a mess.

“You told her you wanted to lose your virginity tonight.”

Her eyes snapped open in horror.

She had told her she was open to that but that was in confidence—and it wasn’t like that was her sole goal for the night.

Suddenly he leaned back, letting himself stand completely upright between her legs. His hands slipped up her thighs, spreading her legs further open—far and wide.

He stared down at her through half-lidded, hungry eyes.

“I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

Her eyes widened before she attempted to lift her hips away from him, but his hands suddenly wound themselves around her calves. His hands slipped under the bend of her knees before shoving her legs apart, forcing her hips back down into the bed.

She felt his tip poke her entrance.

She gasped—fear consuming her as she twisted helplessly. His hold was too strong for her to move. She attempted to pry his fingers off of her legs.

“Gojo-please, please-no, no-I can’t—“

Her little mewls shouldn’t have made his cock stiffer. He leaned over her, spreading her legs further open as his hands pushed her knees up. She felt the tip of his cock poke at her wetness.

His lips brushed against hers as she jolted. She was so sensitive, he loved it.

“Don’t be like that, kitten,” his voice a low murmur against her lips, “I told you I wanted you.. you should’ve came to me first.”

His hips shot forward, burrowing the full length of his cock inside of her all at once.

He caught her scream with his lips, kissing her deep and slow as she trembled underneath him.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. The pain was so blinding she couldn’t think. She felt so full–she felt like a new space had just been forced apart within her.

She writhed underneath him, unable to think until she pried her lips away from his. Her teeth clenched as she turned her head aside, trying so hard not to scream as his cock throbbed inside of her—forcing her pussy to accommodate.

She let out a choked breath, her cunt inadvertently squeezing around him.

“Fuck,” He groaned, the sound muffled as he pressed his face into her hair. “Takin’ me so well, princess.”

He slightly pressed his hips further into her, reveling in the feeling of how the walls of her cunt didn’t let him go, “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

She winced, moaning in pain as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her fingers clasping and unclasping his shoulders.

His blue eyes scanned her face, a look of adoration and pure lust mixing within his gaze as he ran his hand down her temple to move her hair out of her face.

“Your virginity was always mine.” he stated, huskily–with all the confidence in the world.

Her cunt squeezed around him and his hips jutted into her. Just as she cried out he pressed a desperate kiss to her lips. The feeling of his cock completely stuffing her and his lips on hers simultaneously jumbled her body and nerves like no other. She whimpered.

He broke the kiss before leaning back. His gaze darkened as he took in the view before him.

His hands on her thighs spread her legs some more, causing a soft whimper to leave her lips. Her full, perky tits were shiny with sweat. And her legs—they looked so fucking sexy, completely outspread for him like that. He could feel every tremble of her thighs go straight to his cock.

And her cunt—her cunt looked so good, completely stuffed to brim by him. Her warm pussy juices leaked over the edge of his cock. He didn’t miss the line of blood slipping down her cunt to ass.

She looked so ready to be used.

And that’s exactly what he did.

He fucked her hard. He didn’t care how loud the bed was. His dick slammed in and out of her relentlessly—lewd sounds of her wetness filling the room as she cried out with each rough fuck. If she thought the pain was bad before, it was nothing compared to now.

He was just so damn big. She swore she could feel each ridge and vein of his dick against her pussy walls—his cock forced her pussy to fit.

His countenance was focused despite being lost in complete bliss. Her pussy was his. Only his.

He didn’t slow down—continuously ramming his dick into her. The tip of cock hitting her walls each time, making her body jump up and quiver. Her tits bounced satisfyingly with each body breaking fuck.

“Ohh—god, fuck—stop, p-please—“ she was absolutely dumbstruck.

“You can take it.” He spread her legs wider, making her back arch in pain.

He leaned forward, picking up his pace somehow, “I’ll be the first and last dick you have—you hear me? This cunt’s mine.”

She breathed haggardly, her brain lost in a fog of pain as that heat she felt earlier slowly crept back up. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Nngh—!” was all that left her mouth when he continued to fuck her out. He kept spreading her legs open further–his grip on her legs firm as he let his cock hit her at an even deeper angle.

“Hurts!” she cried out, wincing, “Gojo—please—“

He didn’t stop. His cock slamming in and out of her roughly. Her cunt felt so damn good—so tight.

He licked a bead of sweat that shone along her cheekbone, “I know, princess.”

She was a mess. Her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as she let him do whatever he pleased. It hurt so bad she couldn’t think–but there was a small part of her that was reveling in the feeling he was arousing. She couldn’t explain it.

“Gojo, please, stop–” she whined, helplessly, tears slipping down the corner of her eyes once more.

His hand went to her navel, gently pressing into her lower stomach. He growled when he felt the slight bump of his tip hitting his hand. Fuck, her pussy felt too good.

He looked down at her. Her tits swung in hypnotizing circles. Her hair was completely unruly over the sheets and her face shone with tears.

His voice was rough as he muttered, “Such a pretty crier–S’not fair.”

Her cunt tightened at his words and he groaned through clenched teeth. She felt his dick throb inside her and couldn’t help but shiver at the unfamiliar feeling. She felt like wasn’t on this planet. This feeling burning within her skin, the lewd noises filling the room. The odd sensation of gradually building up subtly under the pain.

“You like that, hmm? You like when I compliment you while breaking you open?”

She shook her head, “N-no, please-nnghh, it hurts. Hurts.”

“You can take it, princess.”

He leaned forward, enrapturing her lips in forceful kiss as he pressed his hips into her. Letting the length of his cock fully submerge into her warm wetness. Her body arched underneath him, her tits pressing into his firm chest as he kept her down.

She felt his cock twitch and she gasped, breaking the kiss, “G-gojo—!”

He buried his face into her neck, groaning as he shoved his cock further into her. She winced.

Then suddenly she felt his cock pulsate within her. She felt something warm and thick fill her up—a lot of it. She swore she felt it drip down her ass.

He came… inside me. She went limp in shock.

He slumped over her, catching his breath. His weight nearly crushing her until his dick spasmed within her, shooting out the last loads of cum within her cunt.

He came a lot. He knew he had—it wasn’t usually like this but fuck, he had to see it.

He leaned off of her slowly. He slipped his hands around her legs once more, spreading her open to see his dick still lodged deep within her.

She was just so warm down there… Fuck, he almost didn’t want to pull out.

He noticed streaks of his cum had slipped out, joining the trail of blood and pussy juice that trailed down to her ass. His cock jerked in her pussy at the sight.

He slowly pulled himself out, his cock leaving her pussy with a satisfying ‘pop’ when he finally withdrew himself completely. A string of cum was still attached to her pussy from his tip when he pulled out.

A second later, more cum poured out of her cunt. And more. Streaks of blood were mixed in here and there but Fuck—how much did he cum?

His cum leaked out of her cunt and slipped down her ass onto the sheets. The sight was so erotic he didn’t notice that his cock was fully erect again. His balls throbbing once-more.

He ran a hand over his dick, giving it a few pumps before squeezing the tip to watch one last bead of cum pour out. He swiped at the cum with his fingers, collecting it.

He brought his fingers to her lips. Her eyes were closed but then opened half-way at his touch. Her whole body ached from the aftermath of their sex, she was completely worn out.

“Open your mouth.” he murmured.

She blinked, before opening her mouth compliantly.

He placed his finger in her mouth, “Suck.”

She did. Her little tongue swiped at the substance coating his fingers and squinted at the taste. She didn’t know what to make of it.

He smirked, that typical darkly handsome smirk of his– “Good girl.”

She lay in bed, curled up into a ball under the sheets. She still hadn’t gotten up to shower yet-despite desperately feeling the need to shower after getting railed by Gojo Satoru.

She still couldn’t believe that had just happened.

Her whole body ached, each physical movement causing some sort of strain on her body. Her throat felt dry and her legs still felt sticky despite having pissed already. She was still in a state of shock.

She hadn’t gotten the nerve-or will-to move because Gojo was still here.

He lay on the bed next to her. She couldn’t see him because her back was to him. She needed him to leave.

She felt the bed shift under his weight and suddenly his presence felt closer. His voice arose from somewhere near her shoulder,

“Are you sleeping?”

She jolted slightly, at his closeness—before scooting further away from him on the bed.

“Hm.. you mad at me then?”

Her brows furrowed. Why’d he say it like I shouldn’t be?

She needed him to leave but she refused to talk to him. She’d experienced abuse before this…but this was different. He’d taken her virginity.

She flinched when she felt him press a delicate kiss to her shoulder.

“C’monnn, princess,” he urged—whining slightly, “Talk to me.”

She didn’t want to. When the silence ensued she thought she heard a low sigh.

“You’re not allowed to give me the silent treatment anymore.” he muttered, discontentedly.

Her eyes snapped open at that—unsure what to make of his words. She wasn’t sure if that was a threat or just more of him whining. He was so unpredictable, she had no clue how to safely navigate this situation.

She didn’t trust his current easygoing-ness one bit. She didn’t know what he would do to her if she said something wrong—something he didn’t like. She wanted to be defiant but she was… terrified. She’d never been overpowered like that—completely bent to someone else’s will.

She still felt the imprint of his large hands around her legs, gripping her thighs firmly in place-to keep her spread open for him no matter how much she struggled. He barely budged when she’d twisted and turned-trying to escape. He dominated her easily every time. His strength scared her.

She closed her eyes, willing her heart rate to calm down. She needed to think through the fear but she wasn’t ever any good at acting.

She hesitantly poked her head out from the blanket, turning slightly to face him.

His blue eyes sparkled at the sight of her.

“Do you know what you just did to me?” her voice wavered, resisting the urge to snap at him, “Why would I want to talk to you.”

He was propped up on one elbow, shirtless, as he lay beside her. His white hair was completely ruffled, with strands poking out in different directions. A subtle pout appeared on his lips as he contemplated her question. His white brows furrowing.

She wished he’d put his shirt on.

He sighed, “Me and you were gonna happen regardless so..” he shrugged.

She blinked, staring at him in complete disbelief. There was so many things wrong with that that she didn’t even know where to start.

His fingertips skimmed her cheekbones, tucking her hair behind her ear. She resisted the urge to flinch.

She watched him in complete stunned silence.

He was gazing at her, almost adoringly. She could tell from his line of sight that he could see the hickeys decorating her neck. Now that he’d moved her hair out of her face, they were more visible.

His crystalline eyes flitted to hers, catching her staring. A brief look of surprise flashed over his eyes before a smug smile spread across his lips.

“I’m pretty, right?”

She blinked, speaking impulsively, “You’re insane.”

“Fix me then.”

Her eyes widened before flinching when his hand slipped over her stomach, lightly pressing her down so that she lay flat on her back instead of her side.

She froze. Her body alert with fear as he leaned towards her. He placed his head on her shoulder, letting himself lie comfortably over her.

He threw his long leg over her tiny frame. She was still partly naked under the blanket—but lucky for her, he wasn’t under the sheets.

“Don’t chicks love that shit?” he continued before sighing, “I wish you wanted to fix me.”

She glanced down at him, at his fluffy white head on her shoulder—his hair tickling her chin. He was so big compared to her that despite him being the one trying to ‘cuddle’ on her, his large stature still gave the appearance that he was spooning her.

She shifted slightly under his weight, wondering how he was comfortable. She supposed he didn’t have much to worry about—considering he was laying atop of her and seemed to live life doing whatever the hell he wanted.

Fix him? she wanted to laugh. The only thing that would fix him is jail.

She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to tremble slightly. How am I going to get out of this?

a/n: hi guys-first of all-woAh u made it. ik this was hella long, more of a short story than a one-shot but i hope y'all enjoyeddd. i realized like half-way thru editing that i never explained that some of the bolded, italicized text is spoken/narrated from our oc (ara) from the future. anyway, lmk what y'all think & if a part II is something that would interest u. eitherway, have a good day!! UPDATE: lol so here's the next chapter (pls read @ ur own risk bc it only gets worse from here... dun duN DUN)