#weird that I have to specify huh

[schizononagesimus]

so clearly i arrived fine and the start to my "trip" is going great! now it's 2am and im feeling the gravity of my situation 😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄

[kresnikcest]

not tales but i'll stick it here. naonaomo on twitter is taking OC commissions on skeb so i requested one of my OCs from 2019. i'm really happy with how it turned out and highly recommend sending in a request if you've got any original characters~

[selunefae]

Just the tip (+18) - Caleb (Love and Deepspace)

Caleb lets out a breathless chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "So... Just the tip, huh?" You groan, face heating, and without thinking, you grab the nearest pillow and smack him with it. "Shut up."

masterlist

rating: +18, MDNI

word count: 2,781

tags: caleb (lads) x reader, smut, fem!reader, afab!reader, is not specified if the reader is MC or not (up to interpretation)

content warnings: shameless smut, a tiny bit of dubcon and somno at the start, dryhumping, PnV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, a tiny bit of spanking, dom/sub undertones, use of petnames (baby, princess), tinges of taboo sex but it's not specified why (up to interpretation)

notes: Hii!! I just had this idea in my head and I thought it fit Caleb so much. But this is actually my first smut so I don't know how it turned out! Hope you like it. Also, English isn't my first language and this is my first time writing in present tense (I read so many smuts in present tense and wanted to try it), so I'm sorry if anything sounds weird or cringy. ^^

Caleb has been resisting all day.

Resisting the urge to touch you, to give in to the way you get under his skin with every glance and every fleeting brush of your fingers like it’s nothing. Like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. Yet nothing tests his restraint more than seeing you right now—sprawled out in his bed, lying on your stomach with the thin covers kicked to your feet. The heat of the apartment leaves a thin layer of sweat on your skin, making your clothes cling to your curves in ways that have his throat going dry. The outline of your puffy lips presses against the soft cotton of your panties, the same panties that hug your ass just so right. Your loose tank top had shifted while you were sleeping, one of your tits slipping free, your nipple perking up from the exposure.

Fuck. 

His fingers twitch at his sides. Images of you, mouth parted and legs spread for him, flood his mind. The way your body would arch, hungry and desperate, as he forces his fingers between the lips of your pussy. How your legs would tremble when he finally thrusts his cock inside you, stretching you open. He sees it clearly. And damn, the sounds you’d make...

His jaw clenches.

No. He shouldn’t. He should turn around and get himself under control, breathe through it, think about something else—anything else. But just when he’s about to leave and take a cold shower, you shift. Your hips press harder into the mattress as a soft, sleepy sigh slips past your lips. He runs a hand over his face like it’ll do anything to cool the heat rushing straight to his dick. He tells himself to walk away, but it’s useless. His body moves before his brain can argue.

The bed shifts under his weight when he hovers over you, his frame caging you in. He presses his clothed cock against the curve of your ass, small drops of precum already dampening his briefs and pants. Slowly, he rolls his hips forward and back. Every slide between your cheeks makes him painfully harder. He doesn’t know how much longer he can resist before giving in and taking you then and there.

A small moan slips from your lips, muffled against the pillow. Your brows furrow, and you stir, woken up by the warm pressure between your thighs. It takes you a few seconds to fully return to reality. Caleb is behind you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks himself over your underwear. It doesn’t take him long to realize you’re finally awake.

"Caleb?"

Caleb leans in. His fingers find your waist, digging in just enough to keep you still. He presses a kiss on your skin, barely more than a brush of his lips, but it makes your breath hitch all the same. Then another, this time lingering, pressing harder. His nose grazes your jaw line before he tilts his head and whispers against your ear.

"Tell me to stop."

His lips part, and a moment later, you feel the slow drag of his hot tongue over the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue flicks out before he nips, just enough to make your body jerk. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine. He wants you to stop him, but his hips keep moving. Your body responds to every slow grind; you can feel yourself getting wetter. You don't want him to stop. "Please, don't stop..."

A low groan rumbles in Caleb’s chest, vibrating against your skin. His hands tighten on your waist, fingers digging in like he’s barely holding himself together. He has been waiting for you to say those words.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice strained. “You don't have any fucking idea what you're doing to me.”

This time, his hips roll forward harder. You can feel his hard cock through the thin layers of fabric separating you. The friction is enough to send more heat pooling at your cunt, enough to make your fingers curl into the sheets. Caleb moves one hand from your waist and trails his fingers down your spine. His hand glades over the swell of your ass, his touch warm, teasing. And then—smack. A sharp slap against the soft flesh. The sudden sting sends a jolt through your body, and you whine. You barely have time to process it before his palm soothes over the spot, rubbing slow circles.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, edged with amusement. He chuckles, the sound rough and teasing. “You like that?”

You moan.

"Please... I need more, I want to feel you" you plea, your voice full with need.

Caleb grits his teeth, his grip on your ass tightening. His movements are rougher now, hips snapping forward with more urgency, like he could fuck you with your clothes still on. Every roll of his hips sends a fresh wave of heat crashing over him, his restraint unraveling thread by thread. His fingers flex over the soft skin of your ass, kneading, grasping, pulling you back against him. His other hand remains firm on your waist, holding you in place as he continues grinding.

"God..." he groans, forehead pressing against your shoulder. He was trying—trying so damn hard not to give in completely. "You know we can't, baby."

"Please, Caleb," you whimper, pressing your hips back into him. You start to move in sync with his rhythm, as if trying to convince him. "Please, please, please. Just the tip, I promise..." 

A sharp breath hisses through his teeth. That definitely did something to him. You can feel the way his body tensed and his cock throbs agaisnt you. "You can't say it like that," he whispers.

Caleb’s hands pull away from your body. But before you can protest, you feel the slight pull of gravity bending to his will. You gasp as your body is lifted from the bed. And then, in one smooth move, he rolls you over, sending you sprawling on your back. The sheets rustle beneath you, and even before you hit the mattress, Caleb is hovering over you again. The room is dark, but the faint glow from the street outside filters through the window, casting a soft glow on his face.

And God, does he look breathtaking.

His dark brown hair is a mess, strands clinging to his forehead, damp with sweat. His pupils are blown wide, dark with lust. His cheeks are flushed, and his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. He looks wrecked. And all because of you.

For a moment, he just stares at you. Lips parted, gaze flickering over your face, down to where your chest rises and falls in time with his. But he quickly regains his composure when you seductively bite your lip. His fingers move before he can stop himself, undoing the buckle of his belt with a slow, measured pull. He pulls his pants and briefs down just enough to free his dick. He is swollen and large. Your thighs press together with anticipation. He pins your legs open with one hand and strokes over your underwear with the other. You're so wet he even doubts you need to be prepped. 

"Fuck, Caleb! Just put it in!"

His breath stutters. He spreads your legs wider and positions himself between them. His fingers hook under the waistband of your panties and pull them down. He gets an eyeful of your perfect pussy, ready to be filled and squeezing arounf nothing, begging for his attention. If he had known he had such an effect on you, by now, you both would have been on your third round. "You did really miss me, huh?"

Caleb taps his cock agaisnt your cunt a few times, then drags the tip between your lips, coating himself in your arousal. The way you desperately whimper his name and buck your hips away for the sudden pressure has his mind going blank. "My god...," his voice is hoarse. He doesn't know how much longer he can hold back before he ruins your insides. He shouldn't be doing this. But you feel too good, sound too good. And when your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer and begging him to just fucking put it in, he knows he's done for.

"Yes, yes!" You moan as he finally pushes in, the tip of his length pressing against your tightness. Even with how wet you are, the stretch of his cock breaching your entrance makes your breath hitch. He pulls out—slow—only to push back in, making sure it's only the tip. You whimper, hips tilting up, trying to take more. But his grip on your hips holds you in place

"I thought you said just the tip?" He teases, even if he wants the same thing as you. But, oh, it was hard. You were so wet, so tight. 

Caleb sinks just the tip of his cock inside you again, only to pull back right after. It's just the tip, but you can still feel how big he is. The slick slide of his length against your entrance makes you shudder. You can't take it anymore. You need all of his cock inside you, you want him to fuck you full with his cum.

"Caleb, just fuck me already," you try to sound calm, but the frustrarion in your voice is evident. His eyes darken, and a playful smirk appeared on his face.

"Just the tip, remember?"

A ragged moan escapes you as he pushes in again. The stretch is barely enough to satisfy the ache building inside you. Your walls flutter around him, trying to suck him deeper, but he pulls back, keeping the stupid promise. He pins you down with one arm, holding you still, and slides the tip back inside. This time, he doesn’t move. He just stays there, his cock twitching inside you, while his free hand wraps around the base of his length, stroking it. With a sharp breath, you move. Your legs hook around his waist, locking him in place. At the same time, your hands grab at the fabric of his t-shirt, fingers curling into it as you yank him down towards you. He gasps at your sudden attack, chest pressing against your own. The shift pushes him in deeper, making him groan against your neck. But it’s not enough. You need him deeper.

"Princess—" Caleb groans, but you don’t let him finish. You tilt your head, burying your face against the crook of his neck. You whisper over his skin, voice trembling with need.

"I don't care," you plead. "Fuck me."

His restraint snaps. He grabs your tighs with both his hands and pushes your legs higher, folding you beneth him. He presses a sloppy kiss to your calf before pressing his hips forward and sinking into you completely. You go light-headed at the feeling of finally having his cock deep inside you.

"You're so big," you moan. Caleb leans in, stealing a kiss while pressing more of himself into you. He takes pride in how your eyes widen and your jaw drops as he stretches your insides.  He waits a few seconds, letting you adjust to his size, savoring the way your walls flutter around him—God, you just feel so fucking good around him. Then, he pulls back, only to thrust back in and fill you all over again.

Caleb moves with slow, deep, measured thrusts that make your body shiver beneath him. He’s savoring every second, relishing the way your walls pulse around his cock. His hands hold onto the fat of your thighs, holding them in place as he rocks into you at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Fuck, baby... You're so tight," he groans, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

Your nails dig into his back. It feels too good, but it’s not enough. You need more. You need him to fuck you harder. Fuck you until you can't think of anything but his cock. You whimper, rolling your hips up to meet his movements, trying to get him to go faster, but his grip on you is firm. He’s making you take it slow—making you feel every inch of him. It's driving you insane.

“Uh-uh,” he warns. “You wanted me to fuck you—so you take it how I give it.” Smack. A sharp slap lands on your ass before roughly gripping your hips, holding you steady and angling himself a certain way. Then—fuck—he slams hard into your gushing hole, hitting your G-spot with ruthless precision. Your cunt clenches around him, a choked moan slipping past your lips. 

" Right there, huh ?" Caleb chuckles, and then he does it again. And again, and again... He continues the hard and slow pace a few more times just to torture you. Your cunt is drooling and begging him to use it, thighs shaking with anticipation. Your nails dig harder into his back with every pinch, slam and grind of his cock.

He stops for a moment. One of his hands slides under your top, fingertips tracing the underside of your boob. "You look so fucking good like this," he mutters. His thumb brushes over your nipple, teasing it into an even tighter peak. He rolls it between his fingers and then pinches, smirking at your reaction.

"Caleb..." You whimper, pushing your chest up into his chest.

"Hm?" He pinches your nipple again. "What is it, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want—" You gasp. You can barely form words from all the pleasure and frustration you're feeling at this moment.

"You want what?" His tone is all teasing arrogance,  but his pupils are blown wide with desire. "Use your big girl words, princess."

"I want your cock deep inside me, I want to feel you cum."

Caleb growls low in his throat. He holds your tighs again and folds you completely. His body presses you into the mattress, your knees nearly touching your shoulders, leaving you spread open and vulnerable for him. Then, without warning, slams into you. The force knocks the air from your lungs. His cock is buried deep inside you, stretching you wide, and the position makes him feel impossibly big, hitting all the right spots at once.

"Fuuuuuuck," his head drops backwards, finally having your tight pussy wrapped around him.

He doesn't give you a second to adjust. He pulls back and slams in again. The force of his thrusts has the bedframe slamming against the wall. He isn't holding back anymore. He's fucking you hard and fast. He pounds into you mercilessly, like he's trying to break you and mold your cunt into the shape of his cock.

"Caleb!" You cry out. 

He groans at the sound of his name escaping your lips, eyes dark and hungry as he watches the way your face contorts with pleasure. His hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles in rhythm with his thrusts. "Take it. Take all of it like a good girl."

Your breath hitches. The pleasure is too much— "C-Caleb... I'm gonna—"

He shuts you up with a wet kiss. You can feel his body tense up above you,  his muscles tightening as he picks up the pace. His thrusts grow shallower but faster. His teeth graze your bottom lip before he sucks it between his own, swallowing the moan that escapes your throat.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me?" His hips stutter for a split second before he pounds into you faster while he fingering your clit, chasing both of your releases.

"Y-Yes! Oh my god, YES—" You chant. Your cunt clenches around him, squeezing him tighter. Your vision blurs, your toes curl, and then you go silent. Your entire body trembles as the pleasure wracks through you. 

He makes no effort to stop, his high just hanging by a thread. He fucks you through your orgasm, his rhythm faltering as his hips jerk forward once, twice—he groans, burying himself to the hilt and cumming deep inside you. You moan at the feeling of his seed fullying your insides, milking him dry. He pulls a few more thrusts as he rides out his release.

The two of you stay like that for a moment. Your bodies tangled, his cock still inside you and sweaty. The only sounds in the room are your ragged breaths.

Caleb lets out a breathless chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "So... Just the tip, huh?"

You groan, face heating, and without thinking, you grab the nearest pillow and smack him with it.

"Shut up."

[pazziescapism]

Break Our Ice - Chapter 1

pairing: paige x azzi

wc: 7.8k (what?? holy shit)

au fic what??, figureskater!Azzi x icehockeyplayer!Paige

fake dating, just like playful banter teasing relationship to lovers, basically paige and azzi dancing around each other

a/n: okay so!! first post/fic kinda nervy..AHAH all these great writers on here have really inspired me so yeahhh, I haven't written fanfic or really written anything in a REALLLYY long time so um yea im a little rusty ngl. anyway, the motivation needs to keep pumping so i would love to here some live reacts or just any comments and feedback, lwk unedited so like if u see anything just lmk so here goes nothing!! love y'all (wait also im from australia, yep, all the way down under, i tried writing this with like american spelling n what not cuz we use british english) - but if i made any mistakes again let me know <3

Over a decade of figure skating, and Azzi hasn't ever hit anyone with an ice skate.

She was currently considering it, but she figured that the fact she hadn’t was mostly a sign that she was a good person, on the account that she thought of it and was actively refraining. Surely, that made her a better person than someone who never had to resist the temptation.

“Thank you for that fascinating look inside your brain,” Caroline says when Azzi voices this thought. “I hope you see a therapist about these disturbing violent urges.”

“Nobody likes a backseat psychologist,” Azzi tells her, and twists away before Caroline can tell her she’s misusing the phrase or something unwaveringly supportive.

It’s easy to lose herself in the motions of this routine, which is a beginner practice she chose for a cooldown. And the quieter her mind gets, the less homicidal she feels, which is probably better for everyone all around.

“Oi,” someone calls from the spectator stands, and Azzi’s mind splashes red very briefly. “I just said we booked this rink.”

Paige, the potential victim of ice-skate homicide, is looking over the stands, her jawline clenched in a way that looks very lickable (but she very quickly buried that thought).

“Didn’t you hear?” Azzi says brightly, spinning away, one foot crossing gracefully over the other. “You aren’t allowed to book the rink on the first Saturday of the month! It’s free use!” She calls over her shoulder.

She spins back around in time to see Jana, the giant Egyptian on their team, straighten up to a full height of probably 6’2. “Oh, okay! Sorry to bother you!”

She turns to leave and is stopped by Paige’s hand gripping her shoulder.

“Jana,” Paige says, her eyes shutting briefly as if praying for patience. “Wisen up, huh?”

Azzi snickers, sliding nearer to see that angry jawline up close, but her fun is quickly spoiled by the sight of the hockey team coach approaching the rink, evidently coming to see what the hold-up was.

“Ah, well,” she says hastily, crossing to the other edge to exit the rink. “I tried!” She yells across the ice to where the team is, and she swears on her life she can see Paige try to hide a smile.

She meets up with Caroline in the locker room, because of course Caroline had left at the specified time instead of sticking with Azzi to piss off the hockey team.

It wasn’t that Azzi enjoyed it, really. She was just generally opposed to getting walked over. If the end result was that the delicious-looking vein in Paige’s neck began to show, that was only a side benefit.

(And if Azzi and Kaitlyn occasionally go to their games, Azzi will maintain to her dying day that it is actually to throw them off their game and not an attempt at manifestation.)

“A poked bear may stumble in its sleep but eventually its eyes will open,” Caroline tells her.

“Caroline, you really are a weird girl,” Azzi says. “Repeat that with real-life words, please.”

Caroline thinks this over. “One of those guys is going to snap and hit you one of these days,” she offers instead.

Azzi scrunches her nose in disdain. “You should be more worried about me snapping.”

“I am,” Caroline says. “I’m worried that them snapping will make you snap and then we’ll get banned from this rink.”

“Out of curiosity,” Azzi asks, swinging her bag of practice clothes over her shoulder. “Why are you getting banned in this scenario?”

“I wouldn’t cooperate with law enforcement when they came to arrest you,” Caroline says solemnly.

Azzi stares at her, strangely touched. “Thank you. I’ll try not to get arrested.”

This resolution is tested immediately after leaving the rink, which had admittedly not been in Azzi’s plans.

“Azzi!” Jayden yells at her, jogging over from where he had been standing by his car parked outside the rink. “Hey, Azzi, listen-”

“I’ll piss on your grave and listen to your corpse roll,” Azzi says, but only quietly and only to herself.

“I got two tickets to a hockey game a week from now,” Jayden says, catching up to her, smiling that horrible smile that makes Azzi want to knock his teeth out. “I got a lot of girls asking me to come, but I thought I’d take you out.”

“Oh, did you?” Azzi asks, as flatly as possible. She’s already walked to the bus stop, and now she’s stuck waiting there while Jayden talks at her.

“C’mon, we can make a whole thing out of it,” Jayden says, oblivious to the murderous vibes Azzi is projecting.

“Not interested,” Azzi says. “Take one of the girls.”

“Aw, but I want to take you,” Jayden says, almost whining. “Besides,” oh god here it comes, “you do kind of owe me, for the whole free rink access.”

There it is. There is how Azzi has been roped into accepting nearly every invitation this stupid bastard has thrown her way over the last few months out of some desperate attempt to try and buy his way into her pants.

“I owe your dad,” Azzi reminds him, though she knows it won’t work. “Who owns the rink. Not you.”

“You know my dad wouldn’t want you to turn this down,” Jayden responds, like he always does. “He wants us to get closer.”

Azzi, in no small way, owed Geno her career, a debt that mattered more to her than any other chain she was attached to. And, no, Geno would not want Azzi strong-armed into going on pseudo-dates with his son, but it would make him upset if Azzi started fighting with the bastard, which was bound to happen soon because Jayden did not like to be told no.

“I can’t,” Azzi says, more out of spite than anything else.

“Why not?”

“I-” Azzi licks her lips and stares at the pimple sprouting on Jayden’s chin as maliciously as possible. She hopes it explodes. “I have a girlfriend who wouldn’t like that.”

Even as she says it, she regrets it. She isn’t even sure why she said it.

“A girlfriend,” Jayden echoes, his tone incredulous.

“A girlfriend,” Azzi maintains, desperately committed to her sinking ship. “She’s kind of overprotective, really.”

God, she’s fucked the second Jayden asks to see a picture. Or by next week, when Jayden inevitably asks why her so-called girlfriend has yet to drop by when Azzi practices. And then she’ll have to explain that she lied, and then Geno will look at her all confused and disappointed like the time Azzi had basically melted the entire rink by accidentally turning off a master switch that killed all the power in the building, and then her career and all her professional relationships will be burned down and it’ll all be Azzi’s own fault because she can’t keep her mouth shut and deal with a couple hours with Jayden. And apparently she likes to self-sabotage.

Azzi feels like she’s going to vomit. She feels like the sidewalk she’s standing on is starting to cave in beneath her, like the sky is suddenly bearing down on her shoulders, too heavy to carry, so close to pushing her to her knees.

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls from behind her. “You forgot your skates!” Azzi manages to turn on shaky legs to see Paige jogging towards her in sweatpants and her hockey jersey. She’s carrying a pink bag that had been a present from Kaitlyn, which Azzi uses to store her skates when she’s taking the bus.

“Ah, Paige” she manages to say through the depths of her spiralling thoughts.

She’s got a light sheen of sweat on her forehead- she’s probably been practicing, Azzi thinks dizzily- and her shoulders seem especially broad with that jersey on.

“Here,” Paige says, holding the bag out. When Azzi doesn’t make a move to take it, she clicks her tongue and, in a shockingly gentle movement, pulls Azzi’s hand up herself, so that she can place the bag on her palm. Then Azzi takes it, clumsily adjusting her grip so she’s holding it properly by the handles. Her breath is still coming too fast, her lungs burning in his chest.

A heavy hand settles on her shoulder, fingers settling near the nape of her neck shaking her lightly so that Paige can peer up into her eyes. “Hey,” she says, in a voice so soft it could have given Azzi an instant warmth in her con other, much different, circumstances. “What’s wrong with you?”

Paige’s hair is in its usual braided style, always neat, yet effortless like someone hadn't even wasted a second of their time putting it up like that. She’s got nice eyes, Azzi's noticed them before. A sort of blue that pierces into your soul and stays there. Her eyebrows are currently pulled down low, making the skin of her forehead wrinkle. 

Jayden, who had been blissfully silent, up until now, decides to chime in. “Is this the girl?”

Paige steps forward, frowning. “Who’s this?” She asks, and she’s talking to Azzi but she’s looking at Jayden, and Azzi’s never been quite this grateful for Paige’s slight resting bitch face before. 

“Just a friend,” she says smoothly. “Azzi, properly introduce us sometime, okay?”

“Sure thing!” Azzi says, as nicely as possible, which makes Paige head turn towards him again. It doesn’t matter because Jayden is already slithering back into his car that cost way too much money, not to mention insurance premiums, making excuses about why he has to leave.

It’s only once Azzi can’t even see the fumes created by that hideous fucking car that she lets her shoulders drop, her forehead drooping to rest on Paige’s shoulders. A little voice in her brain pops up to tell her that, in normal circumstances, she would rather die than be this vulnerable in front of this girl. But right now, in these circumstances, Azzi has just barely avoided having a panic attack in public and Paige’s jersey smells sweaty but not dirty, and her shoulders are such a steady place to rest her tired head.

“Um.” Paige says, and then a hesitant hand is rubbing her back, up and down in comforting strokes.

“Thank god you’re so scary, p,” Azzi mumbles, fisting his hands into jersey material on both sides of Paige’s chest, unwilling to pull away just yet. Fortunately, Paige doesn’t try to move, just keeps running her hand down Azzi back. It’s oddly comforting, Azzi’s breath starting to level out again.

“Don’t tell me you were letting that guy bully you,” Paige says, disbelieving. “You? I once saw you make Nika cry. Actual tears!”

Azzi laughs, despite herself, and finally stands up straight. She reluctantly releases the jersey she had clenched in her fists, and watches the material stay gathered where she had grabbed it.

“It’s hard to explain,” she says. “And I think your teammates are looking for you.”

KK has, in fact, wandered out, her hockey stick held out in front of her chest like a protective barrier.

“They were probably worried we’d killed each other,” Paige says, and makes a gesture Azzi can’t see at KK, who beams and gives her a thumbs up before running back inside.

“She did look glad to be out of the crossfire,” Azzi says, amused.

“Ah, you scare her,” Paige says dismissively, and then looks at her carefully. “Hey, uh-”

Azzi’s not sure what she expected, but it wasn’t for Paige to step forward and chuck her under the chin. “Cheer up, alright?“

“You’re ridiculous,” Azzi says exasperatedly. She doesn’t say thank you, but she hopes Paige can see it in her eyes. Maybe not. Either way, Azzi thinks, watching the girl lope away, she had been a temporary solution to a much bigger problem.

“It’s not a problem,” Kaitlyn tells her that evening. Azzi thinks she might be rolling her eyes, but she can’t tell because her face is smashed into her couch cushion, so all she can see is the thin cracks beginning to line the fabric. Kaitlyn is prone to rolling her eyes when Azzi complains to her, so it’s a strong possibility.

“It is a problem,” Azzi says into the couch, not budging from her comatose position. “I’m never leaving my apartment again. My body will atrophy, and my flesh will rot, and you’ll find it here, on this couch, being eaten by flies.”

“You sure have a talent for dramatics,” Kaitlyn says, blatantly unsympathetic. “If figure skating doesn’t work out, I’m sure you have a career waiting for you in monologuing.”

“I think you would make a great Hamlet,” Caroline adds helpfully, perched on Azzi’s armchair like an overgrown crow, brown hair cascading how her shoulders. 

“Or the evil witches in Macbeth,” Kaitlyn says.

“I wish you guys were dead,” Azzi says, and rolls over onto her back so she’s looking at the ceiling instead. God, her ceiling is so fucking ugly, and she can’t even get it fixed because she’s never going to the Olympics, and she’s going to be poor and useless and tragically beautiful for the rest of her life-

“What is wrong with you?” Caroline says, and Azzi realizes belatedly that she’d been saying all of that out loud.

“I’m so fucked,” Azzi says, and her voice shakes more than she had meant it to. “What do I do?”

“You could confess you lied,” Kaitlyn suggests. “And say it was a spur of the moment thing, whoopsie.”

“And then what?” Azzi says glumly. “I’m stuck following Jayden anywhere he wants to go for the rest of his life, and being polite to him even when he starts acting like I’m some kind of Oliver Twist orphan his father took in and nurtured and I owe him my first born child”

“Christ,” Caroline says. “Just get your little hockey player to pretend she’s your girlfriend.”

Azzi sits up at that, tousled strands of hair falling out of her braids. “Are you completely insane?”

“I think it’s a good plan,” Kaitlyn says, unerringly loyal to the end. “You’re so smart, carol.”

“It’s an awful plan,” Azzi hisses. “What am I supposed to say? Sorry I’ve been actively antagonizing you and your team for a bit, please pretend to be my girlfriend to keep my career alive, and also if you notice I can’t stop blushing when you’re near me, don’t pay it any mind, I just think you’re really pretty?”

“Not exactly like that,” Caroline says. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

Azzi stares at her for a minute, trying to will Kaitlyn to show some sort of outward contradiction. When it doesn’t work, she collapses with a huff back onto the couch. “I’m fucked,” she repeats.

KK the first one to notice her the next day, hovering awkwardly around the entrance as the team wraps up. Azzi remembers what Paige had said about KK being scared of her, so she tries her nicest smile, giving a small wave with her right hand.

“Hey!” KK says easily, coming up to her. She’s still in her hockey gear, but her ice skates are off. “Are you looking for Paige?”

“I am, yeah,” Azzi says slowly. “How did you know that?”

KK blinks at her, her head tilting slightly to the side in silent question. “You’re always looking for Paige.”

“Am not,” Azzi says, too defensively but she’s saved from hearing whatever KK has to say about that when Nika comes up to them, slinging an arm over KK’s shoulders, and making a mean face at Azzi.

“Don’t bully KK, her nerves can’t handle it,” Nika says and then takes a closer look at her face, and stops, eyes narrowing. “Woah, what’s wrong with you today?”

Azzi can’t imagine what she looks like right now. She has trouble sleeping at the best of times, and last night had been one of the worst. She had spent most of it lying on her back and picturing herself penniless and destitute, until the swirling darkness had seemed to take on a physical shape and that shape had started to laugh at her. By the time she’d gotten up, she hadn’t even had time to fix her hair, or cover up the dark circles that had formed under her eyes.

She pictures herself, her hair tangled and her skin greasy, and a new zit starting to pop-up over her cheekbone and just about turns herself around and walks out of the building all together.

“Azzi,” Nika says, “Azzi, Azzi, Azzi.” She’s waving a hand in front of Azzi’s face, concerned eyebrows visible through the gaps in her fingers.

Azzi flinches and smacks her hand away. “Listen,” she says. “I’m not in the mood to argue today. Is Paige here?”

Nika and KK have matching flabbergasted expressions, which is less than flattering. “You’re not in the mood?” Nika asks, like Azzi has just told her the Earth is going to get flattened by an asteroid in thirty seconds.

“I’m just-” It’s occurring to Azzi that this is possibly a really terrible plan and she should go home and think it over some more, without Kaitlyn’s cackling laugh in her ear, or at least come back with her hair brushed properly. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, I’m gonna go, honestly-”

“No, don’t go!” KK says quickly, her hand lashing out to wrap around Azzi’s arm. Azzi stares at her dead-eyed, and she winces and repeats, quieter. “Don’t go, Paige’s just changing out. She took a hard hit today, so we let her off without helping clean up. She should be here any second.”

“Azzi?”

“Speak of the devil!” KK says, sounding relieved and steps fully away from Azzi so she can see Paige approaching them, a long bag slung over her back. Her jacket is nice, Azzi notices, an expensive brand Azzi sees at competitions sometimes. It’s zipped up fully, the black fabric clinging tight to every defined muscle in her arms and chest.

“You don’t practice here today,” Paige says. She looks concerned too. Azzi is getting a little tired of these hockey players looking concernedly at her.

Azzi can think of fifty million different things to say here. Maybe a ‘how did you know that?’ or a ‘what do you care?’ or ‘hey can I talk to you?’

What comes out of her mouth is, “are you okay?”

Because Paige’s got a red, swelling mark on her jaw, sure to darken into a bruise over the next hour. She seems a little surprised by the question, her eyebrows lifting. “Yeah, just took a hit this practice. It happens.”

“Right,” Azzi says, because she knows that, because she’s seen a hockey game before. She shifts from foot to foot carefully. She’s become horribly aware of how her tongue is sitting in her own mouth. “Happens.”

“Yeah,” Paige says slowly. She looks like she wants to check Aziz’s temperature. “Do you want to sit down?”

“No,” Azzi snaps immediately, her shoulders rising to her chin. “Do I look tired to you?”

The answer is yes, probably, and it would be right. Azzi is exhausted, and she does want very badly to sit down. Still, something in her eyes must show that Azzi is running low on straws to grab at, because Paige doesn’t say yes immediately, just pauses and shakes her head slowly.

KK and Nika are both still there, Nika draped over KK’s back, watching the two of them like she’s seeing a particularly rough tennis match.

“What are you guys still doing here?” Azzi says, irritated.

Nika only smiles insufferably, lips curling up. “There she is. All back to normal. C’mon KK, let’s leave them alone.”

Azzi watches them traipse off, her irritation rising inexplicably when she sees they’re holding hands.

“I actually fell when I got hit,” Paige says apologetically, distracting her. “So if you’re here to see me, I’m going to need to sit down. For my leg. Which hurts.”

Azzi fixes her in place with a hard glare, her feet firmly planted where they are.

Paige’s eyebrow twitches, just a little. She grabs her leg, completely unconvincing. “Ouch.”

The glare is getting a little hard to keep up.

“Fuck,” Azzi says, after a moment, feeling the burning frustration in her throat subside. It hits her suddenly, as her mind clears, what she must look like to Paige, and her lips twitch. Paige’s eyes widen in alarm and Azzi breaks into laughter, a genuine laugh, rising up from her chest, her shoulders dropping back down, her body relaxing like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Sorry,” she says to Paige, who is staring at her. “That wasn’t hysteria. Sorry. I just realized I was being stupid. Also, you suck at lying. Let’s go sit down.”

Azzi kicks absent-mindedly at the legs of Paige’s chair, too nervous to look up and meet her eyes. “So, that’s the situation,” she says. It sounds more insane when she says it out loud than it had when she’d practiced it.

“Sure,” Paige says. They’ve sat down in a dingy little fast food place next to the ice rink, empty at this time of day, which is good for professional athletes who need to discuss crazy people schemes in relative privacy. A packet of limp fries sits between them, grease saturating the packet, spreading in blobs across the thin paper.

“Sure,” Azzi mimics. Her kicking grows faster, the chair legs squeaking as she hits them harder and harder.

A hand wraps around her ankle the next time it flies to kick the seat and Azzi finally looks up to meet Paige’s eyes.

“If you break it, I’m not paying for it,” Paige says warningly, and then releases Azzi’s leg.

Azzi kicks the chair one more time for good measure and then sweeps her legs under her own chair. “Can you just say something?” She asks, trying to cover the flush rising to her face. “And if the answer is no, that’s okay, but just so you know I’m trusting you to not tell anyone else that I asked you-”

Paige runs her hands over her face, groaning, and for the first time Azzi notices that her ears are bright red.

Knowing they’re in the same boat makes her inclined to be kinder, and Azzi settles down in her seat, determined to wait her out.

“Alright,” Paige says. “We need to talk about this somewhere else. People could walk in here any time and the last thing I need right now is to become tabloid fodder.”

“Ah,” Azzi says knowingly, both of them standing up. “Olympics selection is coming up.”

“Yeah,” Paige says, scrubbing a hand through her hair, making it even more frizzy. “Also, I generally don’t like seeing my face on newsstands.”

Azzi considers that, as someone who also does not love to see their face on newsstands and even more so on tabloids yet somehow always ends up on them. Azzi used to really struggle with all the added media requirements but it seems that it just seems so come with the whole ice skating package. “seems reasonable..”

“Oh, that’s right,” Paige says, leading them out into the parking lot. “You’re always doing all those modelling campaigns. I guess you see yourself a lot, huh?”

Azzi smiles. “I took two medals at last year’s Grand Prix,” she says. “I’m in high demand, p”

Paige looks skeptical. “Oh really? Ask one of your model friends to date you for real.”

“Why do that, when I could hang out with you?” Azzi asks, cheerful once again. They’ve reached Paige’s car, which is apparently the more private place Paige had been talking about.

“The windows are tinted,” Paige explains, as they both climb into the vehicle. It’s a nice car, Azzi thinks jealously, trying not to stare too obviously at the smooth, expensive-looking interior.

“Do you think any of the players from your team are going to get selected?” Azzi asks, leaning against the passenger side window to look at Paige.

“Well,” Paige says, slanting a crooked grin in Azzi’s direction. “Me, obviously.”

As the smirk turns into a soft laugh Azzi feels her heart constrict and tries to remember how to breathe properly. “Obviously,” she says, and if it doesn’t sound half as sarcastic as she meant it to, Paige doesn’t mention it.

“Nika, too,” Paige continues, thoughtfully. 

“I guess I’ll see you there,” Azzi says, and watches the crinkle around her eyes make a reappearance.

“Why can’t you just use another rink?” Paige asks. “If you won two medals already, you can probably afford it.”

Azzi tips her head back and tries to think of the best way to explain this. “Figure skating isn’t like hockey, or football, or basketball. We don’t get contracts for the season. We get paid if we win, and the costs of equipment and training add up. A lot of professional figure skaters rely on their families, or work side jobs. Plus, we retire early, so I need to save up while I’m ahead.”

Paige is watching her steadily, blue eyes giving Azzi her full attention. Somehow, Azzi hadn’t expected her to be this good of a listener.

“And this rink is private, so no fans show up to watch you practice, and it’s near my house.”

“It’s near mine too,” Paige shares and Azzi stores that information away in a small folder of her brain with a picture of Paige’s face taped over it.

“That’s not even it, though,” Azzi continues. “Figure skating’s hard to get into, if you don’t have any connections. When me and my family moved here- our last city didn’t even have an ice rink. I learned to skate on a frozen over pond. When we moved, I used to practice before school, after school, weekends, whenever we could afford it. Geno set everything up for me, he got me a good coach, he made all the right introductions. I do owe him, whatever he might think about it. I don’t want to make him upset.”

Paige is silent for a moment and then slumps forward over the steering wheel, making a noise like a dog throwing up, her forehead hitting the top of the wheel.

“Paige?” Azzi says, immediately concerned. “What the fuck?”

Paige doesn’t lift her head up, just mumbles to the floor. “Have you just been secretly cool this whole time and I didn’t know it?”

It’s enough to startle a laugh out of Azzi, the second time today.

“I feel like there’s definitely a less insane solution,” Paige says, straightening up. “But I can’t think of it, so I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do it?!”

“Just said I would.”

“Oh my god,” Azzi says, beaming so hard her cheeks are starting to ache. “Paige, you are a lifesaver. I will never say anything about your hockey team again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Do you want a ride home?”

Azzi nods, so incandescently happy, she thinks she might be glowing, practically bouncing in her seat as she turns to buckle her seatbelt.

When she looks back at Paige again, Paige is already looking at her.

Azzi blinks. “What?”

“Nothing,” Paige grinds out through gritted teeth as she starts the car. “Nothing.”

“By the way,” Paige says, as the two of them inch through the weekday traffic. “Why do you take the bus anyway? Aren’t you worried you’ll be recognized?”

“No one is looking for a figure skater on public transport, Paige,” Azzi says. “Besides, I never learned how to drive, I much prefer being a passenger princess.”

Paige looks over at her, incredulous. “You never learned how?”

“I was busy,” Azzi says defensively. “I’m only twenty-two, you know. And there’s lots going on in my life.”

“I wasn’t judging,” Paige says, “just surprised. I failed mine like three times.”

Azzi sits up straight in her seat. “Three times? How do I get out of this car?”

Paige tsks disapprovingly. “Relax, it’s fine. I passed in the end, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, on the fourth try,” Azzi mutters. “I’d probably pass the bar exam if I took it on the fourth try.”

“You are not funny” Paige says, but she’s smiling as she says it. “Better to try and fail than never try, right?”

“Personally,” Azzi says, as haughty as she can manage. “I’d rather try and succeed.”

When they pull up in front of Azzi’s apartment complex, Azzi is nervous again, fidgeting with the hems of her sleeves as Paige parks.

“Should we like,” she winces even as the words leave her mouth, “come up with rules, or a plan or something.”

“We could,” Paige says dubiously. “But if you say some corny shit like ‘rule one is don’t fall in love with me’ I’m gonna break up with you.”

“I wasn’t going to say that!” Azzi snaps. Then because she can’t help herself, she adds, “Anyway, that would be the last rule. For dramatic effect.”

“I can’t believe people think you’re scary,” Paige says. 

“Shut up,” Azzi says, ineffectively, as she pulls out her phone. She opens up her Notes app, and types in ‘Rules’ into the header.

“Nerd.”

“Hush.” Azzi types in ‘Rule 1’ and then stares at it.

“Well?” Paige prompts.

Azzi scowls at her. “Rule number one is don’t be mean to me.”

“Rejected,” Paige says, and unbuckles her seatbelt to settle a little more comfortably into her seat.

“Fine,” Azzi says. “Rule one is, we have to keep going for about two months. That’ll be enough time to convince Jayden the relationship is real, and for him to get off my case.”

Paige agrees, so Azzi moves on. “Rule two is you have to go with me to weekly dinners at Geno’s house.”

Paige sits up at that, alarmingly straight. “Every week?”

“Well, not if you’re super busy,” Azzi says, a little taken aback. “I can try to get you out of the first few, but we’ll definitely have to go to a few.”

“It’s just,” Paige pauses, and then looks at Azzi, seeming incredibly pained. “I’m like, a really bad liar.”

The earnest worry on her face is too much to bear, and Azzi turns her head to stifle her laughter into her shoulder.

“I can still see you laughing,” Paige says heatedly. “I’m serious!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Azzi says, still giggling a little. She holds up her hands. “Not laughing at you, I swear. I’ll do most of the talking, you can just sit back and nod along. I’ll tell them you’re shy.”

“Of course you will,” Paige says, shaking her head. “Fine, yeah, that’s alright then.”

“Rule number three is,” Azzi hesitates, trying to think of something that’ll annoy Paige to just the appropriate level. “Rule number three is you have to drive me home from practice everyday.”

She looks at Paige expectantly, hoping to see that thrilling neck vein start to stick out, but the other man just looks thoughtful. “I probably can’t everyday,” She says.

“Paige” Azzi says, staring at her, wide-eyed. “I was just kidding, I obviously don’t expect you to just drive me around.”

“I guess it depends on how our practice schedules line up,” Paige continues, like Azzi hadn’t spoken at all. “Send me yours, and I’ll see, alright?”

“Paige-” Azzi says, bewildered by how quickly this conversation has gotten away from her, but Paige keeps speaking.

“Rule four,” she says. “Since we’re already doing this, I have a family function to go to about two months from now too. If I do this, you have to come pretend to be my date for that.”

“Ooh,” Azzi says. “The Paige Bueckers can’t get a hot date on her own?”

“You’re one to talk,” Azzi says, impassive.

Azzi sticks out her tongue, but adds it down into her notes. She isn’t sure what to do with rule number three, so she leaves it on there, and then shows the list to Paige.

“Sure,” Paige says affably. “There we go.”

Azzi hesitates. “Just like that?”

“Do you want us to spit and shake?” Paige says, amused.

“Definitely not.” Azzi looks at the list of rules in her phone again, chewing on her lower lip. “Just like, should we sign something?”

Paige sighs heavily, and then holds out her fist, pinky finger extended. When Azzi doesn’t move, just looks at her, she wiggles the finger impatiently. “C’mon.”

“Just checking- Are you seven years old, by any chance?” Azzi asks, but holds out her pinky anyway.

Paige doesn’t respond, but her eyebrows furrow slightly in focus as she loops their pinkies and then touches their thumbs together. “There. Now we’ve pinky promised.”

Azzi wants to pull on this girl’s cheeks. She wants to chew on her cheekbones. She wants to take Paige’s face between her two hands, and pepper little kisses over her nose. “Yeah,” she says helplessly. “Pinky promise.”

Azzi shows up at the rink again the next day, late in the evening after practice, and Paige waves her over from a bench where she’s wrapping up her gear and stuffing it into a bag. She’s wearing the same expensive jacket Azzi had seen yesterday, and for the first time, Azzi wonders just how much Paige earns in a year. Their team is good, she knows that, so she imagines it’s a lot. Definitely more than she earns, Azzi thinks bitterly. Nobody so much as questions her approach as she makes her way over, making Azzi wonder what Paige told her team. They had never really discussed it, so she guesses it’s fine if they know that Azzi needed a fake girlfriend.

“What’s that face for?” Paige asks as she gets closer, so Azzi makes an even worse face, scrunching up all her features and sticking out her tongue.

“Gross,” Paige says, and she looks like she’s going to say more but Jana and Ice are both coming over, the two of them together creating an almost overwhelming whirlwind of energy. They don’t question Azzi’s presence at all, looking vaguely eager as they approach.

“Hi Azzi, Paige,” Ice says. “Are you coming out with us for drinks next week, Azzi?”

Azzi turns to Paige, who shrugs as if to say up to you. 

“I might,” Azzi says, uncertainly, and in an effort to be nice, she adds, “sounds like a real party.”

“The last time I was at a party was when my sister got kidnapped,” Jana says thoughtfully and Azzi isn’t sure which part of that statement should be addressed first.

“What?” She settles on.

“It was a search party, obviously,” Jana amends. “Not like a ‘ha-ha’ party. We were all very worried.”

“Sorry,” Paige says, looking as dazed as Azzi feels. “Did you say your sister got kidnapped?” 

“It was a misunderstanding!” Jana says brightly. “You know, KGB agents and stuff. She was alright in the end.”

“Good for her!” Ice says, evidently not bothered by this story at all. 

As the pair leave, Azzi turns to Paige and mouths kidnapped? Paige shrugs helplessly.

“What did you tell them anyway?” Azzi asks once the two of them are out of earshot. “About like- this whole thing?”

“About you propositioning me?” Paige asks, and Azzi winces at the word choice. “Nothing. I was going to lie and say we were dating if someone asked, but no one’s asked.”

Azzi pauses. “You were going to lie to your teammates for me?” She asks, feeling strangely warm at the thought.

“I would’ve tried,” Paige says, grinning. “I think I overestimated how much attention they pay to their surroundings.”

She pats the spot on the bench next to her. “Are you getting back from practice?”

“Yeah,” Azzi says, sliding onto the bench, so that she’s straddling it, facing Paige, one leg on either side. “Mats today.”

Paige hums a questioning noise, her eyes still focused on the tape she’s wrapping around her stick.

“When you do like jumps and stuff,” Azzi shares, feeling strangely shy. “You have to practice somewhere you won’t get hurt as bad before you try on the ice.”

“Can you get the same effect?” Paige asks, seeming genuinely interested. “Like, isn’t it different on the mats versus the ice?”

Azzi is struck, just then, by how strange it is to be sitting here, talking to Paige like a normal person, explaining the details of figure skating to her like they’re friends.

“Um,” she says out loud. “Yeah, it’s different. But it helps to get the footwork down.”

Azzi keeps talking, feeling like she’s separating a little from his body as Paige keeps working on her equipment, nodding along at all the right places, asking questions when Azzi stops speaking.

When Jayden slams a hand down on her shoulder, it feels like a sharp and unwelcome return to reality.

“I thought I’d drop by, but you weren’t at the bus stop,” Jayden says, in a stupid long coat that makes him look like three children stacked on top of one another. Azzi frowns.

“Paige is driving me home today,” she says, and Jayden turns to look at Paige who’s briefly paused her work to observe their interaction.

“So this is the girlfriend, huh?” Jayden says brightly.

Azzi nods, and stands up, moving to stand behind Paige, nudging her back gently. She feels a little jittery already, and she mostly just wants Jayden to leave, to let Azzi return to the conversation she had been having before he arrived.

“We actually have to leave,” she announces, and she can see Paige start to place her equipment into her bag again, starting to pack up. “Sorry to ditch as soon as we see you.”

“I was just wondering,” Jayden says, ignoring this, “because you guys don’t seem very coupley at all. Not to judge, or anything.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Azzi says sharply. “What does ‘coupley’ even mean?”

Couple things, she thinks desperately, what are couple things?

Her smile beginning to twitch at the corners, she reaches down and very hesitantly places a hand on Paige’s shoulder. Her face immediately begins to burn, blood rushing upwards so fast she’s starting to feel dizzy. That was so fucking stupid.

Straight-faced, Paige reaches up and pats Azzi’s hand. Pats it. Once, twice, and stops, returning to her task.

Azzi isn’t sure whether she wants to laugh or cry. This is where their attempt at public displays of affection ends, apparently. Azzi slowly lowering her hand onto Paige’s shoulder like she’s touching a hot stove, and Paige patting that hand twice.

She looks down to see Paige’s face and Paige looks back up at her, and when their eyes meet, Azzi can see that for once, they’re in complete agreement. We are terrible at this.

Jayden doesn’t seem to miss the terrible awkward exchange (it would be like missing an especially bloody train wreck, in Azzi’s opinion), judging by the narrowed suspicious eyes he’s aiming at the two of them.

“Strange,” Jayden comments, casually, so casually. “Azzo normally goes for brunettes”

That is both underhanded and untrue. She does not go for brunettes. Azzi doesn’t “go for” many people at all at all. People go for her. They might as well just show up at her house and form an orderly queue.

Azzi is currently less worried about the slander of her reputation and more worried about whether Paige would get worked up and hit Jayden over this.

“Really?” Paige asks, tipping her head back to look at Azzi for confirmation.

“I don’t chase,” Azzi says lightly. “I attract.”

Paige rolls her eyes, not meanly- something Azzi could mistake as fond if she didn’t know any better. “Well, there you have it,” she tells Jayden.

“She doesn’t like hockey players much, either,” Jayden says, clearly still on this. This part, at least, is true.

“Are you trying to ask a question?” Azzi asks, her tone biting.

Jayden is not phased by Azzi’s biting tone. “Just seeing if she’s really up to your usual standards,” she says, and Azzi wouldn’t even blame Paige if she hit him for that one. Still, she tightens the hand on Paige’s shoulder in warning.

Azzi shouldn’t have worried because Paige doesn’t even blink, just lifts her eyebrows, slightly sardonic. “Are we having a dick measuring contest? I would've brought my ruler.”

“Not a contest,” Jayden says, that fake smile slipping off his face. “I was just asking some questions.”

Paige snorts, continuing to pack up her gear. “Ask away.”

“Ask away later,” Azzi says hastily. “Because we have to go right now. No time for an interrogation.”

“Not an interrogation, either,” Jayden says, sticking his chin in the air. “Alright, I’ll go. Give you two some privacy.”

He looks at the two of them as though she’s expecting them to tell him to stay. When nothing is forthcoming, he turns on his heel and strides away, hands tucked into the deep pockets of that flaring coat.

“Looks like fucking Vader in that thing,” Paige comments, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Cartoon supervillain.”

They start walking towards the exit, the small musty hallway that leads into the parking lot.

“You handled that surprisingly well,” Azzi says. “I kind of expected you to hit him.”

Paige glances at her out of the corner of her eye, that familiar scowl on her face again. “I’m not that easy to piss off. It takes a little more than that to rile me up. Give me some credit.”

Azzi stares at her, mouth agape. “Are we talking about the same Paige? You’re so easy to rile up. Incredibly easy. It’s thrilling every time.”

Paige comes to a stop, and turns to point a thick finger at her chest. The two of them are standing alone in the dark hallway leading to the exit door, one dusty light bulb flickering on and off above them. The bruise on her face is turning a nasty colour, unlikely to fade for another week.

“You,” Paige says, squinting at her accusingly, “are just a special breed of irritating.”

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving Azzi standing still behind her, watching her retreating back.

“Was that a compliment?” Azzi yells after her, not moving from her spot. The sound of Paige’s answering laugh echoes off the walls, bouncing back towards her, Azzi’s lips pulling up in response, as she runs to catch back up.

“Wait,” Paige says, once they’re in the parking lot. Night has already fallen, early in the wintertime, the pavement around them lit up by tall streetlamps, casting yellow light over their faces. “Here, I’ll get in the passenger seat, and you drive.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Azzi asks, not moving.

Paige shrugs, already moving around to the passenger seat. “Come on, the lot is empty, I’ll teach you how.”

“Do you even know how?” Azzi asks, reluctantly accepting the keys Paige is proffering towards her, “I kind of figured that you just annoyed the test takers with your persistence until they let you pass.”

“Bruh,” Paige says mildly. “Go on, get in.”

Once Azzi’s sitting in the driver’s seat, she just stares at the wheel. There seem to be an awful lot of controls.

She turns to Paige. “What now?”

“Well, first you have to buckle your seatbelt,” Paige says, and Azzi scowls.

“I know that.” She doesn’t move.

Paige sighs. She seems to do that a lot around Azzi. Then Azzi is frozen for a different reason, as Paige leans over her, one hand gripping Azzi’s shoulder as she reaches for Azzi’s seatbelt, smooth muscle shifting under her skin as she brings it over Azzi’s body and buckles it.

“Dear god,” Azzi whispers. Paige smells good.

“Relax,” Paige says, taking her mumblings for nervousness. “You can’t possibly mess up that bad.”

Azzi frowns. “How do you know that? I could be the worst driver you’ve ever met.”

“I doubt it,” Paige tells her. “I crashed the car the first time I took the test.”

Azzi stares at her. Then she starts the car.

“Right pedal is gas, left is brake,” Paige says. “You have to put the car in reverse to get out of the spot, and then press lightly on the gas.”

“Right,” Azzi says, and moves the gear stick accordingly before pressing on the gas. The car lurches forward, coming to a jerky stop right before hitting the curb in front of them, Azzi’s blood draining entirely from her face.

“So, that was actually drive,” Paige says calmly, one hand braced on the window. “Reverse is lower.”

Once Azzi gets used to the controls, they manage to go in large bumpy circles around the parking lot.

“How did you fail the second time?” Azzi asks, carefully executing another terrible turn.

“Try to stay on the right side,” Paige says, unbothered by the possible damage Azzi is inflicting on her car. “I almost hit a stop sign. They got really mad about that one.”

“I would be making so much fun of you over this if I wasn’t so tense right now,” Azzi informs her. "Remind me to do it later."

“Looking forward to it- make sure you’re slowing down before you turn.”

“What about the third time?” Azzi says. She presses too hard on the brake, and the car nearly comes to a full stop in the middle of her next turn.

Paige seems to be pouting, by the sound of her voice. Azzi debates taking her eyes off the road long enough to check. “I waited almost a full year before taking it the third time. I practiced basically everyday. It went so well, the instructor was telling me I was one of the best drivers he’d tested that year.”

Azzi snickers. “And?“

“And on the way into the test center parking lot,” Paige says, “I hit the curb. Automatic fail. They wouldn’t even let me test at that center anymore, I had to go out of the city. Never trusted a driving instructor since.”

Azzi gives up on trying to hold back and bursts out laughing. To her surprise, the car doesn’t immediately crash.

“You’re laughing,” Paige says, and her face is stony, but Azzi can hear the smile in her voice. “I share my deep, personal, insecurities with you, and you’re laughing at me.”

Azzi shakes her head, small giggles still escaping her. “Those poor test administrators, you must have made them miserable.”

She can imagine it very easily, a smaller, angrier Paige, marching into a testing center with the energy of a Marine off to combat. The thought makes her snort with laughter.

“You look pretty when you laugh,” Paige says, and it’s that soft, honest voice, so rare to hear from her. Azzi’s laughter breaks off as she turns to look at her, captivated by that gentle sincerity, so unexpected from this girl, so sweet to hear.

“Az- the brakes!”

The car rolls over a curb and comes to a slamming halt right before a small tree, the branches brushing the windshield, leaves already fallen off in the winter cold.

She called me Az, she thinks, and presses her forehead into the steering wheel and smiles- a small giddy smile, just for herself

[earthsparked]

sorry if this is a really weird ask but I need comfort right now so-

Your transformer partner comforts you during your period- they have no idea what’s happening or what’s wrong with you but they know you’re in pain and want to help you through with it. They freak out at first because YOU ARE BLEEDING?! AND IT HURTS?! AND ITS NORMAL?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS MONTHLY?! and it takes a lot of pained explaining to calm them down. They let themselves overheat to soothe you. Optimus distracts you by telling you stories.

Love, I’m gonna be real with you: I am going to try my best, but I’m closer to menopause than my first period, and they just don’t hold much horror for me anymore. I’m not sure I can write the kind of thing you need right now, but I’ll try. ❤️ I'm sorry if it's not what you needed. I hope you feel better soon.

Content advisory: frank discussions of menstruation and everything involving it. Uses you/your (they/them) for reader. There is a reference to breasts and inner workings related to menstruation, but gender is not specified.

No, it’s okay. I understand why you think it’s weird. Nearly all the mammals on earth don’t do it this way. They have estrus cycles, we have menstrual cycles. It’s just us, other primates, some bats, elephant shrews, uh.

You have to think for a minute as you dump the load of laundry in, add detergent, and close the lid. Cold water, after a hydrogen peroxide rinse. It’s been a while since your period caught you off-guard, but given you’ve been a little busy discovering an alien species, you hope your sheets will forgive you.

You’re trying very hard to forgive your mech bestie for smelling blood, storming into your bedroom guns blazing at 2 a.m., expecting a ‘con attack and finding a very disgruntled you. More annoyed at being woken up, than the blood on your clothes and sheets. By this point you’ve bled on just about everything that can be bled on, and it’s never not going to be gross, but - eh.

There’s a couple others I can’t remember. But it’s just a few dozen on the whole planet, out of all the thousands of mammals. Lucky us, huh? Getting to bleed for five to seven days and not die. Though given the alternate evolutionary route is Omegaverse, I’ll take the bleeding, thanks.

Your joke falls flat. The mech is still watching you warily. You get it, you really do. You sigh and lean against the washing machine.

If I were in your shoes, I’d be freaked out, too. Hell, when I was ten and had sex ed, I was freaked out. Hated it when I finally got my period a couple years later. I felt like it meant I couldn’t be a kid anymore.

You roll your eyes. There’s a bunch of stupid cultural stuff about it like that, depending on where you’re from. But it’s literally just a thing our bodies do, like all the other weird things. Now if I were pregnant - you want to talk weird? Buddy, you haven’t seen anything. Be glad it’s just a period. The other option is way worse.

But the blood is supposed to be. On. The. Inside, the poor mech repeats, one of the few tenets Ratchet had managed to drill into their processors.

My body doesn’t need this blood. It’s done with it. It would hurt me more to retain it than to shed it.

But you’re in pain! he exclaims, distress written in the pinfeather pattern of his plating. I can feel you’re in pain, we all can, and you’re going around like it’s nothing?!

You groan and throw up a hand.

No. Hold on. If we are doing this at two in the god damn morning while I have cramps and want to eat my weight in cheese and gummy bears, then I’m gonna need the cheese and gummy bears.

Five minutes later you’re in your favorite ratty pink pajama pants and a grey butterfly tank top. Thank god for tampons and period undies. And haribo. You’re busily demolishing the bag of shredded sharp cheddar from the fridge, and your emergency stash of candy is wafting sweet fruit-flavored high-fructose corn syrup at you. Fridge cheese just hit different when your innards were becoming your outers.

You plunk yourself down on the couch on the mezzanine and collapse into the giant pile of pillows.

Tell me again why your eating habits and mood changed so quickly, your totally-not-panicking mech says.

It all comes down to chemistry. Mostly hormones. Estrogen, progesterone. And everybody’s favorite little fucker, prostaglandins. Remember I choked down like 800 milligrams of ibuprofen earlier, and First Aid blew a gasket over it? That was to deal with the prostaglandins.

You’re getting bag cheese on the couch. Eh. It’s not like there’s another human around to care.

Feeling like I’m starving is part of the rapid changes in hormones. Along with the rest of it. Bloating, muscle aches, these bad boys get all sensitive. You point at your tits.

And on top of it, you just feel like hot garbage sometimes. Even if you tame the cramps, which you’re not always gonna if you’ve got endometriosis or some shit, you’re just tired. Cranky sometimes. Emotionally all over the place. It’s annoying. But I promise you, it’s not dangerous. Not for me, anyway. Some folks have it way worse.

Ohh, mistake. His systems are running hot, looking for the threat, you can hear his fans kicking into overdrive trying to remove the excess heat. You mean this could get worse?

Actually…

C’mere. Put your hand right here and don’t move it, you tell him, eating more bag cheese. He’s quick to obey, and you sigh as his stress becomes your stress relief. That feels good. I don’t remember where I put my heating pad, but you’ll do.

He scowls, but seems to pick up that you really do feel better with the heat. He even adjusts something in his systems, because it warms up even more. He puts on too much pressure, and you wince. No no, don’t press down. Ow.

He nearly jerks his hand away, but you manage to grab him and he freezes rather than risk hurting you. There, perfect. Something squishing your belly is the last thing you want…

Yeah, so. There can be things that make us bleed more than usual, or stop having a period, or - all kinds of stuff. Some of it’s really bad, like cancer. Some of it’s just your system, uh, throwing an error code? But I’m okay. Sorry I didn’t think to warn you. Lost track of the days a little.

The mech stares at you in disbelief. You don’t control it. You don’t know exactly when it will start. It alters your body chemistry and, I feel this is relevant, it causes blood loss so serious that you have an entire routine for dealing with it. And you’re acting like this is no big deal?!

You tear into the gummy bears. Yeah, pretty much. Look, I really hate the whole “ohhhh no, I got my period, time to nuke China!” thing. It’s uncomfortable, it’s not like, mind control or something. I’m miserable, not a different person.

So you ARE miserable! And trying to downplay it! he accuses, and you groan and pull a pillow over your face.

Yeah. Yeah, I am. It sucks. You fall silent for a moment.

But we’re all just expected to act like we’re not. So. Sorry, bud. You’re not wrong for worrying. I’ve just been dealing with them for so long, maybe I internalized some of that. From the outside perspective, like I said. I get it. It’s weird. But I guess that’s the thing about humans. We can get used to thinking anything is normal. Even if it’s not.

Great 2 a.m. thoughts. You munch on some gummy bears and gesture him to come closer. Hey. Wanna know the real secret about it?

He looks like he’s not sure if he does, but he obligingly leans in close. You reach up and stuff a gummy bear in one of his vents. The resulting indignation leaves you laughing so hard you almost fall off the couch.

Over the next few days, he’s not really any different with you. He’d always been kind, solicitous. But now you sort of think he gets it, as much because of what he doesn’t do, as what he does.

He doesn’t make intrusive comments when you have to go to the bathroom every few hours. He doesn’t make comments about your mood changing, even when it does. He doesn’t complain when you ask him to either help you find your heating pad, or let you borrow him. When you complain about how heavy it is on the second day, when even the pain pills don’t dull it and you’re in peril of ruining every pair of undies you own, he doesn’t act like it’s gross. When you take a shower and the whole room smells of blood as the tub looks like the aftermath of an axe murder, he doesn’t come storming in nor let anyone else storm in. When you go outside, he’s been standing guard so no one disturbed you.

But then you get a visit you’re not expecting. You’d kind of anticipated the medics to come after you, and you have caught First Aid giving you a look, but it seems like your mech has been running defense for you without even asking. If you didn’t already love him, you would, now.

The one mech he wouldn’t be able to tell off, is the boss bot himself. Optimus is on a whole other level. He reminds you of like, King Arthur, if the idealized version of monarchy were actually true and not just fanciful propaganda. He’s noble and thoughtful and deeply good. You kind of want him to be your dad. From the way the other mechs treat him, especially the comparatively younger ones, you’re not alone.

May I come in? the Autobot leader asks from the door, where your mech is clearly fighting the urge to bristle at the intrusion. You close your work laptop and wave to him. Hi, Optimus! Sure, what can I do for you?

I had come to ask you the same thing. Your friend here and Ratchet have explained your condition to us, so we do not have any more unfortunate intrusions of your privacy.

You appreciate that, and tell him so, but also come to your mech’s defense. If he had your back - and he did - you would have his. It’s all right, really. Just a misunderstanding. He thought I was being hurt. He’s not entirely wrong, it’s just my own biology doing it.

He hesitates before taking a small package out of his subspace. He’s so tall, he has to kneel to reach you. An alien king kneeling to a tiny, bleeding organic to offer them comfort and understanding.

I hope this helps your discomfort a small amount. I understand it is traditional among your people?

Optimus Prime has brought you chocolate. (And a new heating pad that Wheeljack cooked up, that he promises will not explode. Even Optimus looks dubious when he says this.)

Yeah, you don’t usually cry a lot, but this gets you. Optimus is alarmed when you start tearing up, but you give him a hand-hug. It’s about the best you can do at your size, showing affection with an embrace of what you can actually embrace. Because god knows they’ve embraced you.

He ends up staying while you take a break. His huge frame sitting on the floor by your couch. Telling you of his ancient job as an archivist, tales of great Cybertronian figures. The old Primes. His voice is so soothing, it even gets your worried mech to chill out. Soon the vibe in the room is calm enough that you fall asleep, getting some much-needed rest.

[joelsbloodyhands]

Enjoy the Silence

SUMMARY: You come home from work and find yourself having sensory overload from everything. Joel comes home and takes care of you.

WARNINGS: no outbreak, no mention of Ellie 😭, established relationship with Joel, soft!Joel, descriptions of loud noises, reader gets big sad and unable to manage themselves, needs Joel for comfort, an overuse of terms of endearment (baby, sweetheart, honey), Joel is here to help with everything, sensory overload of touch, sounds, sensitive smell. Just absolute fluff (I need it so bad rn) 🤧 no use of y/n, gender neutral pronouns used, reader has hair long enough to tie up, reader has no visible disabilities. Reader loves Sarah. WE LOVE SARAH 🥺 but she’s unintentionally overwhelming us, sorry Babygirl 😭

Dividers by @nicodefresas 🎀

A/N: As I’m writing this, I’m currently having the worst sensory overload episode 😔 also I don’t think I should need to specify but everyone has different triggers and symptoms when dealing with overstimulation. A lot of this is based on my own personal experiences.

You don’t have the foggiest clue where it triggered from.

You just know that one minute you were grinding away at work, then you were driving home in the rain becoming all too aware of the blaring lights of other cars bothering your eyes more than they usually did.

If you could’ve worn sunglasses without crashing in the evening darkness, you would have. The sudden outburst of a car horn had you gripping the steering wheel tighter causing you to subconsciously flex your fingers, becoming all too aware of the rough leather of the steering wheel against your dry hands.

Dry hands. My lips are dry too.

You lick your lips.

My mouth tastes weird.

You’re becoming all too aware of your teeth grinding against each other.

Just tired, yeah…that’s all. Just tired. Long day at work. I’ll be fine once I get home.

So you keep driving.

Sarah was home when you got back. Her voice shaking you awake as soon as you passed the threshold of the house while she spoke to you about her day.

You look forward to these moments usually.

Coming back to Sarah and Joel.

Gossiping about the joys of working and all the drama of high school that you definitely don’t miss but enjoy hearing when Sarah gives you her best dramatic retelling of events.

Though as she followed you through the corridor to the kitchen, your ears rang.

Is she talking louder than normal?

You open the refrigerator, a sudden overwhelming scent of Thai green curry catching your senses and not in a good way.

But it’s your favourite?

Joel made it yesterday, putting the leftovers into three Tupperware boxes to eat for dinner today. The pounding of the washing machine and dryer causes you to close the refrigerator uneasily, your eyes glancing to it. Sarah’s voice joining the chorus of sounds echoing off the kitchen walls.

You don’t feel hungry all of a sudden.

“Are you okay?” Sarah voice breaks through and you come to realise you must have been staring at her for an awful long time, your eyes wide.

You nod and Sarah frowns ever so slightly.

“So what do you think?”

Your mind goes blank.

You didn’t even hear anything she said except yes you did but it was so loud, you didn’t take any of it in.

“About what?” You find yourself murmuring, your own voice startling you.

It sounds unfamiliar to you for some reason.

You’re worried you’ve upset her while Sarah takes a minute before a smile breaks out on her lips and she’s laughing and prodding you on the arm playfully. Your eyes drift there instinctively, her laughter making you wince.

You don’t laugh in return.

“Long day at work, huh?” She giggles and rolls her eyes before telling you she needs to go study and that you should eat dinner.

She leaves you then, your body standing in the same position in front of the refrigerator where she left you. The sound of her feet hitting against the staircase filling your head, the floorboards creaking harshly. You exhale a heavy breath.

As you stand there, eyes turning distastefully towards the washing machine and dryer singing their tune far too loud, your skin starts to itch. You tug at the sleeves of your work shirt, unbuckle the belt at your waist, the feeling too tight against your hips. You pull the hair tie from your wrist and put your hair up into a bun, the tickle of the hairs against the back of your neck bothering you.

You know what’s happening.

You’re just trying to refuse to accept that it is, hoping that for once you can just ignore it and go about the rest of your evening like you originally planned.

You just want to hear Joel’s voice, cuddle into him on the couch, eat your curry and go to bed.

Except when you hear the front door open and his voice is carrying through to the kitchen, you retract into yourself, carrying your feet away from the overwhelming sounds of mundane tasks and to the staircase. You want nothing more than to sit on the floor of your bedroom with your legs crossed and the lights off.

So you skip up the stairs, albeit with dramatic wide steps, trying not to trigger the creakiest of the floorboards. When you get to yours and Joel’s bedroom, flooded with darkness, you shut the door and allow yourself to crumble.

Ah you can’t take this. You need your shirt.

Where is it?!

You’re frantic, the tears falling down your cheeks as you continue to feel itchy in your work shirt, longing for the wide airy comfort t-shirt you keep for this very reason.

“Hey,” a whisper sounds behind you and you turn abruptly, eyes wide to see Joel stood, his eyes on you intently as he holds your oversized shirt by the shoulders in both hands.

Lost in all your distress, you hadn’t even heard him come in.

You realise you’re crying then.

“Joel, I-“

He watches you harshly rub at your face.

He knows you hate to be touched at times like this.

It feels like nails on a chalkboard but he ever so gently, puts two fingers to the wrist of your hand practically clawing at your face and you drop it immediately, your eyes meeting his again, pained and bloodshot.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you cry, “I’m just-“ you flail your arms in frustration, the intense sound of your sobs making your eyes twitch.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, moving towards you and taking the hem of your shirt in his fingers, careful not to graze any more skin as he starts to lift it from your body.

“You don’t need to apologise, baby,” he keeps whispering, “let’s get you more comfortable, hm?”

Joel knew all too well about your episodes.

In fact, it’s partly the reason of how he met you at Tommy’s house when you attended a barbecue and got overwhelmed by the music and sounds of neighbours, talking and getting louder the more drunk they got.

Joel had planned to leave early but was surprised when he found you curled in the bottom of a dark closet when he was retrieving his coat.

He froze when he saw you, your watery eyes lifting up at him, your arms wrapped around your knees pulled up against your chest.

Your cheeks had flushed dangerously, embarrassed about being found in this predicament but all Joel saw was a young woman clearly upset so he bent down to your level, his head turning this way and that scoping the corridor to make sure no one was around and asked you what was wrong and if he could help in any way.

You had shook your head so fast, the room span but Joel didn’t back away so easily.

Truth be told, you’d caught his attention all night and Tommy had nudged and smirked at him for noticing his eyes on you, encouraging him to go talk to you but he never did.

He couldn’t find a reason to.

Well, what more of a reason did he need than finding you sat with your back against a coat closet in his brothers house?

You had stood up so shakily that Joel found himself wanting to take you in his arms just to offer you some support to stand but you backed away when his hands instinctively held out to grab you if you fell.

He retracted them just as quick.

You told him you were fine and thanked him, saying you just needed to call an Uber and go home. You made the excuse that you’d had too much to drink and your head was spinning.

Dizzy and nauseous, you just needed somewhere dark to sit.

With the daunting thought in mind of having to sit in a stuffy taxi with a voice trying to make polite conversation with you, you didn’t catch Joel’s offer until you met his eyes again and he realised your blank expression, his back straightening and voice softening with a smile.

“If you need a dark closet, I got one at my place across the street if you need it?”

Somehow you laughed and even though your own voice hurt your ears, you found yourself saying, “if you’d said that to anyone else, you’d sound like a murderer,” and all it took was Joel’s pretty smile to take him up on his offer.

Except rather than a dark closet, he simply closed the curtains in his living room, offered you some chamomile tea, a blanket and sat in silence with you on the couch. And though your voices were silent, your mind was loud, finding it completely baffling that a man you just met and barely knew was being so incredibly sweet as to offer you a safe space. No questions asked.

Then he’d asked you out on a date and you were absolutely dumbfounded.

Later in your relationship, you had admitted what had happened and while he understood what it meant to feel overwhelmed (god did he feel it sometimes), sensory overload was a completely new term for him.

You explained as best you could, your cheeks the same shade of red he had seen when he found you in the closet. Joel took it upon himself when he was awake lying next to you, tangled up asleep in his bedsheets, to take his phone from his bedside and spend a good hour reading about what sensory overload was and how it can be eased.

You couldn’t believe your luck of finding this man. You practically thank that damn closet for it’s existence in Tommy’s house every time you visit.

So now you’re back in that predicament again and Joel is pulling back the covers from the bed, folding it up at the end knowing you just want a nice cool mattress to lay against.

Your heart twists at his care, tears falling from your eyes like rain, except Joel is the sun as warm and inviting as can be even when you want nothing more than to be left alone.

“Okay, honey,” he now whispers, knowing it’s easier to talk to you that way. His heart aches at the sight of you as he turns to face you, slowly walking so that his footsteps don’t make too much noise along the wooden floorboards.

“You wanna lie down? I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I don’t think I can eat, Joel,” you reply, your voice shaky as you lay down on the bed. Joel kneeling beside it, his palms flat on the mattress beside you while you lay on your side looking up at him.

“Usually liquids are best, right? Soup? Or I could make you a smoothie? And a cup of tea? Do you want your noise cancelling earphones, baby?” Your eyes are tearing again at his words and Joel’s face crumples at your glistening cheeks.

“It’s okay, honey,” he cooes, hand rubbing the mattress, pretending it’s your back.

“I feel bad,” you cry.

“No, no, no, sweetheart,” Joel shushes you, knowing all too well where this is leading and disallowing you to talk badly about yourself.

“But Sarah, she…she was trying to tell me about something and I couldn’t even concentrate on what she was saying-“

“Baby, you know Sarah understands,” Joel leans in closer, his breath on your face as he reassures you of your racing thoughts.

“She told me as soon as I came in that she thought you were having an episode. She knows, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen, your crying stopping momentarily.

“Really?” You ask, your throat dry.

Joel nods, a small smile on his lips, “And she gets it, baby. She doesn’t judge. We’ve talked about it before. Just to make sure she always knew you might have a moment every now and again so if you need space, it doesn’t have anything to do with our relationship or the one you have with her. She loves you, honey and she knows you love her. Okay?”

You nod and Joel’s smile grows, glad to have consoled you.

“Now,” he starts again, “I’ll go get you what you need and you stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

You nod again, “thank you, Joel.”

Joel has to stifle his chuckle only a little, “how many times do I have to tell you? You don’t need to thank me, sweetheart. I’m your partner. It’s important that I take care of you. You do it for us plenty.”

You smile a little and it makes Joel swoon, happy to finally see your lips turn up, your dimples gracing the edges.

True to his word, he disappears but not before scoping the wardrobe and retrieving your earphones. You put them in and try to close your eyes and relax when he leaves. Trying to will your body to loosen up, your muscles to relax rather than freeze rigidly with every sensation. The mattress is cool, your long shirt light and airy and Joel left a cold glass of water with a straw on the bedside for when your mouth was feeling too dry.

He was one in a million and you smiled knowing you won the lottery when he found you that day in the wardrobe and then you became the richest person on the planet when you met Sarah and the connection you had to both of them grew stronger until he eventually asked you to move in.

Five years later and here you were. A family.

The best family you could’ve asked for.

“Hey baby,” you lift your head to see Joel wandering in, taking out one of your buds as he places a shaker bottle he normally uses for his protein shakes on the bedside full of a pink smoothie, joined by a cup of camomile and a bowl of your favourite soup.

“Thank you, baby,” you smile and Joel turns his head giving you a wink, seeing you that you seem to be gradually returning back to your normal self.

And luckily you are feeling a little more comfy now.

The sounds of the evening chores going on downstairs are becoming less aggravating.

You don’t feel like you need to tear your skin off your body. In fact you’re almost longing for a bath, feeling a little sweaty from being worked up so bad earlier.

“Joel?” You sit up, Joel turning to see the way your oversized shirt rides up over your underwear, his face flushing at the sight.

“You need something, baby?” He’s got that flirty smile on his face, the one that tells you he sees something he likes but you’re still not completely past your overwhelming senses.

If anything, you’re now bothered by the smell of sweat emitting from your body.

“You know how you love me so much?” You start and Joel’s eyes crease, his smile growing into a full grin.

He hums in response, awaiting your command.

“Pretty please could you run me a bath? You always make it feel so good.”

Joel kneels at the bottom of the bed, his flirty smirk returning at your words, his hands splaying out over the mattress, smoothing over it as you inch a bit closer to him.

“Is that right, sweetheart? You want a nice warm bath with all your rose petals and bubble bath? Is that what you need, baby?”

You nod with a pout, overplaying it a bit, watching his tongue poke into his cheek amused by your behaviour.

“If that’s what you need, I can do that for you but first I need you to eat some of your soup and drink some of your smoothie. Can you do that for me?”

You nod with a dimpled smile and as much as he longs to reach out and graze your knee with his fingertips, he reframes from doing so, continuing to respect your boundaries while you might still be working through your hypersensitivity.

True to his word, Joel ran the bathtub at just the right temperature, sprinkling rose scented petals and dropping a floral scented bath bomb into it. He’d even gone as far as to light some candles, set a fresh cup of tea on the side and stolen some chocolates from the last Halloween run you’d had with Sarah.

If you thought your lover couldn’t get any sweeter, he’d helped you out of your clothes and respectfully kept his hands away from you until you prompted him with a small smile to offer his hand and help you climb into the tub.

Joel left you to check on Sarah while you laid back, your senses mellowing out and coming back down from the heightened agitation you were experiencing earlier. Now finally you felt like a weight had been lifted. Your skin felt less itchy.

“So pretty…”

Your cheeks redden when Joel walks into the misty bathroom, stopping in his tracks at the doorframe and overlooking your soft skin peppered with fluffy soap.

“Have you washed your hair, honey?”

You shake your head, your smile slipping momentarily.

You would have done it if the room wasn’t a little cold. You were doing what you could to stay buried under the hot water, still feeling slightly sensitive to the temperature of the room. The aspect of lifting your bare wet arms out of the water to massage your scalp made you feel uneasy. You weren’t completely out of this episode yet and even if you were, the twinkle in Joel’s eyes told you he’d still offer up his services.

You watch him with bated breath as he kneels beside the tub, pushing up the sleeves of his favourite green plaid shirt, your eyes following the hardened muscles of his forearms up to his biceps peeking out under the flannel.

Though Joel may have a soft tummy, his arms were a statement to his hard work running a construction company with his brother, Tommy.

You rather adored your man being soft and a little hard around the edges.

“Want me to help you, sweetheart?” His voice captures you again, your eyes on his soft brown orbs.

You nod wordlessly, suddenly longing for his large hands and gentle fingers to work their way through your locks and massage your scalp deliciously.

You anticipate Joel’s touch anxiously when he leans over and reaches for your cherry scented shampoo, squeezing the red shiny liquid over his thick hands and lathering it together.

He offers you a smile, his head tilting in request to proceed in touching you. You nod and he moves behind you, his fingers sinking up into your hair from the back. You fight to suppress a shiver tickling up your spine when Joel works the product through your scalp, massaging and coating the ends of your hair with soft strokes.

It constantly amazed you how Joel’s strong hands that spent most the day throwing around heavy parts, growing calloused from checking wooden palettes during the day, could become so delicate and gentle when touching you.

You smiled to yourself, dropping your chin to your wet chest with a satisfied sigh.

Joel made sure not to massage too hard or tug harshly at your hair. He didn’t want to make you retreat back into your shell by triggering your hypersensitivity again.

He could see just from how your shoulders were gradually easing back down to normal level below your chin that your overstimulation was dissipating as the time passed.

He bites his inner gum when he hears a slight moan leave your lips at his movements.

“That feel okay?”

You hum in response, a short nod of your head.

“Good,” Joel whispers, even daring to lean forward, your damp soapy strands sticking to his cheek when he presses a slow soft kiss to your bare shoulder.

“I love you.”

Your words caress the relaxed atmosphere.

Joel smiles.

Joel wanting nothing more than to strip back and join you, holding you against his chest under the warmth of the water but he continues to hold back.

Instead he greets your quiet intimacy with a whisper.

“I love you too, baby.”

You open your eyes to a light breeze, birds singing and a smoky cup of coffee on your bedside in your favourite mug.

You lay on your side for a good few minutes, blinking away sleep, your hands cradled under your cheek and buried against the pillow.

You don’t remember falling asleep but when you feel a shuffle behind you, large warm hands slipping under your nightshirt and tugging you against his bare body, the memories start flooding back.

You were so relaxed in the bathtub that it made you sleepy. So sleepy in fact that Joel leaned over the tub after emptying it, bundled you up in a fluffy towel and lifted you into his arms.

Your cheeks warm when you vaguely remember the slight groan of protest on Joel’s lips as his aching back retaliated but with you squashed nicely against his chest, Joel couldn’t complain.

He laid you down in your bed carefully and dried you as gently as he could before tucking you in.

You remember being alone in your half-asleep state that you heard the familiar murmur of father-daughter voices, the click of the door and padded footsteps before the mattress dipped.

A kiss pressed against your forehead and all went dark.

Now the world was brighter than ever before, the sounds of the birds and cars passing by doing nothing to disturb your hearing. Your bones no longer stiffening at the natural sounds of life.

More importantly, the sensation of your lovers thumbs brushing your naked hips was very much welcomed. So much so you groaned happily, rolling over to face those perfect brown eyes and plush lips quirked up into a tired smile.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

You lean forward, meeting Joel half way and kissing him softly. You let your hands slip under his arms, cuddling into him while shuffling just below his chin.

Joel presses a lingering kiss against your head.

Distantly, you can hear Sarah’s record player and you sigh happily as the music carries through your home.

All I ever wanted…

All I ever needed is here…

In my arms…

You squeeze Joel tighter.

[yrenesbrainrotss]

There's been a lot of ENA fics out there about the reader appearing in Ena's surreal world, but what if we reversed that? Do you think you could create some headcanons or a fic or something (platonic is preferred, but I don't mind if it's romantic) where the reader somehow accessed a window to Ena's world online?

Like, the reader finds an archive of some ancient website from the 90s on the backwaters of the internet and they download a file expecting it to be a video game, except once they start playing it they can't manually move the camera? There's no menus, no controls, and some NPC(?) with a green hat and red and white face can hear them and interact with them??? What kind of a game is this???

Then we cut to a few weeks later and Ena is chilling in a window off to the side of their PC, giving vaguely business sounding advice about the reader's worklife as the reader downloads jpgs of snacks and placing it randomly in the "game's" files in an attempt to send Ena a cookie. They meet up and do this every week, taking turns on who plays therapist with the other.

My ace heart just REALLY wants to be her friend...

A/N: Hiii!! tysm for your request! I think its a bit rushed but i hope it came out okay!

Enjoy 💘

•summary: you find a old game and befriend a strange npc

•warnings : a bit of stalker or obsessive behavior but nothing extreme

•pronouns : not specified!

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

~archived friendship~

Bored out of your mind you decided to pull out your laptop from your backpack. You had a short break soon so a bit of slacking off wouldn’t do much harm. A site long forgotten caught your attention, filled with old indie games that barely had a review or a few downloads caught your attention. You clicked on it, curious about what ancient relics you might stumble upon. A bright flashy coloured game with a very alluring aura popped up on your screen. “Business guide.. huh.. what a strange name for a game….” Thirsty for some kind of distraction in your tedious work place you decided to click the green download button,without caring about any potential viruses or hackers. You were downloading stuff from a very old website afterall.

A funny but very old fashioned music played when you clicked the icon of the newly installed game. You turned the volume down,afraid of disturbing or possibly making your coworkers aware of your messing around. The melody reminded you of old toys from kindergarten,that one festivity you practiced back then and the smell of forgotten candy.

Suddenly a weird NPC girl revealed herself on your screen, her face was split in the middle, one side red and the other a pale bluish colour. She looked a bit pixelated and had a few lags to her movements but the animation was overall pretty good for those distant times. She tipped her green hat with a mischievous smile on her red side and presented herself as ENA, a hardworking young saleswoman who was looking forward to helping you achieve full potential “Hello young fella! You look like a person who would fit right into my company! Would you be interested in finding out more?”.

The game didn’t have any options other than replying to her dialogues. You were surprised how real she seemed and the game gave you a really creepy vibe. You thought that the dialogue options were extremely varied and clever for a simple old game, with only two reviews as well.

Whenever you took too much time to reply, ENA would tap the screen and look right into your eyes saying “I know you’re there. It would be of poor manners to not reply when someone is talking to you..”. Her dark pupils would pierce your very core, as if she could really see you in real time, talking and typing away your answers.

This became pretty much a routine for you, talking with her about your stupid job, how your lazy boss was slacking around and pressing you to write more and more reports, even going as far as requesting you to stay afterhours to finish leftover paperwork. ENA would sympathize or express her own matching frustration “IF I WERE IN YOUR SHOES I WOULD SLAP THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF THAT BALOON SIZED DIPSHIT!”. You laugh. She’s satisfied that you thank her for her efforts at easing up you building anger.

You begun talking to her at home as well,it felt as if she was your only friend in a worlf where you were often unseen and ignored. Her attentiveness was appreciated by you and your shared feelings and vents formed an irreplaceable bond. You would relate to her overworked self when after too many job listings she would let her own feelings slip from between her lips.

Her face popped up everywhere. On your TV or in the corner of your work presentations, on your phone and social media pages and even in your microwave! You were frightened at first but soon got used to it since she was everything you had left. With no friends or family members that would pay any mind to you, solitude made itself a home inside your soul,making you desperate for any kind of attention or attachment you might receive. ENA felt the same, she told you about the hostility of the entities in her world and how she felt as if her only purpose was to serve others and help them with different errands. You empathized with her.

Figuring out how to give her a small token of appreciation was a bit difficult. She rigged a few sites for you, allowing you to other things you liked without paying. You wanted to reciprocate her kindness with something.. but how? She was a digital being, how could you do something for her? Nevertheless after long hours of pondering you came up with a solution. You remembered a site that allowed you to download “snack files” for computers. They actually served as a memory storage system but you wanted to try it out. First you sent her a “cookie” from the site you downloaded the game to see if she would recieve it, then a slice of pizza serving as a ad blocker for the site. She recieved them both and thanked you for your generosity “My esteemed friend, thank you for these keepsakes you sent me! I do hope our bond will continue to flourish as it did until now.”

In the end, as your relationship grows stronger, you start doing all sorts of things together. Celebrating Easter or Christmas in personally designed lobbies, playing different games and hacking your opponents instagram accounts, watching pirated movies by yourselves and sharing work gossip constantly. You never thought you would get so obsessed over a game but it seemed as if ENA was your only comfort,the one person you could allow to see your true quirky self,the one you wish you would never ever lose.

[killa-cookie]

shadow milk x gn reader fluff??if u have time:>

PATIENCE ....

AGHH FIRST REQUEST !!!

You didn't specify if this was supposed to be a fic or headcanon so I made it a fic ! And sorry for it being short im in class rn lmaoaoao

Shadow milk x Gn!Reader

! No warnings, just pure fluff

;; I cant wait anymore I just want him in my arms— "what was that dear?" — AAAAAAAAA

✦ —

It was absolute torture. You didn't want to wait any longer, you wanted to see him, embrace him, kiss him... But How were you supposed to do that with him stuck in some stupid tree !!!

Oh how you missed the old days, when you two caused mischief, when you two would embrace each other in the moonlight as the voices of terrors surrounded you both... When he would get you with that damn stupid charm of his!

You looked out your balcony, a longing look in your eyes, and that longing look all for him to see.

"Oh Shadow milk... I don't have any more patience— I want to have you in my arms to caress you, to kiss you—"

Your fantasies went to a halt when you felt a breathing over your shoulder, and a familiar playful hum..

" Hmmm— could you repeat that sweetie~? "

You turned your body around in a swift motion, almost stumbling backwards before you were supported by an arm. You two were in a back stance position.

You were face to face with him— the one who you have longed for.

".....Oh Shadow Milk— " You called out his voice in a soothing tone, wrapping your arms around his neck for more support.

"Well I missed you pookie-"

* scilence.... *

"Still haven't changed that weird nickname habit of yours, huh? And you ruined the mood, hmph."

" H-hEY! it's not silly it's super duper professional for your information— "

He practically screeched out right next to your ear. By earthbread Shadow Milk please stop doing that.

" Just shut up and—!" Before you could even finish your sentence, you had been pulled into a breath taking kiss. It lasted for a long while but you still were processing it. You closed your eyes with a hum, satisfied.

" MMmmmmmmwwwwhhhhaa—!" (Yes I Headcanon that he would exaggerate that kiss noise)

He then pulled back from your flushed face, then pulled out some random camera from the portal he had just created.... When?

* click *

You heard a click and a loud flash, finally getting out of your love drunken daze. He took a picture of your FLUSHED FACE!?!?

"DAMN IT— HEY!" You abruptly stood up trying to get that camera from him, you would rather die than people seeing that flushed face of yours.

He would probably keep it to himself anyway but that's besides the point...

"WHOOPSIES gotta go—!"

He quickly dashed away from you, his usual escape route is teleporting to who knows where— but I guess he wanted a chase.

" COME BACK HERE YOU WORTHLESS IMPUTENT WASTE OF FLESH—"

"Holy sh—"

[wenawenawenawema]

jealousy? (Fred Weasely x reader)

fred weasely x reader, gn reader, reader’s house not specified, MIIILLDDLY MILDLY suggestive MILDLY, romantic ish, he’s jealous 😝

It was winter time at Hogwarts! Fred and George Weasely were outside, throwing snowballs and having a good time. You were just trying to pass through the courtyard on your way to your next class— trying.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake…” You mumbled to yourself under your breath as you saw the twins faffing around in the snow. As long as they’d known you, both of the idiotic boys, Fred especially, had gone out of their way to mess with you, to tease you— There was always a weird tension between you and Fred that you both were aware of, but never commented or acted on.

As if he had heard your thoughts, Fred sprinted over to you with his usual goofy ass smirk, “Hey! Thinking about joining us, love?”

You blinked at him wryly as he moved in front of you, blocking the doorway back into the castle. You spoke drly, “No.”

Fred chuckled, giving you a feigned look of disappointment. Yeah, you were never particularly amused by the pranks or tricks him and George had pulled, but that only made it more fun for them. You were always so prissy and annoyed by them.

"Whyever not, love?" He asked with a grin.

“Because I can already feel the headache coming on from breathing in your cheap cologne.” You huffed and crossed your arms.

He laughed at this, grinning and pretending to be offended by your comment. “Hey now, I'll have you know this is the best cologne money can buy." Fred teased, enjoying the fact that you couldn't resist commenting on his choice of scent.

“I suppose it is when you have so little money.” You retorted quickly. You knew you were being a little harsh, but to be fair, it was too early to be dealing with Frederick Weasely.

He fake gasped at your comment, then smirked— again.

"Oh, you wound me." He responded with a laugh, placing his hand over his heart and feigning as if he were in great pain.

“Right,” You nodded, mostly ignoring what he was saying. “May I get through, please?”

He tilted his head, and sneered, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting to block your path further.

"What, you in a rush or something, love? Where's the fire?"

“Well…I’d like to go to class. Where you should be, hm?” You tilted your head, miffed with his stupid questions.

Fred rolled his eyes, and slowly stepped out of your way, his expression clearly showing he still intended to irritate you. “Alright, off you go then, love. Just remember I'll be expecting to see you later."

“For what?” You snipped in annoyance.

He smirked down at her, and was thoroughly enjoying pissing you off. He shrugged, a gesture that clearly showed his mischievous intentions. “Oh, I'm sure we could find something to do. We always have a lovely time together, yeah?"

You scoffed in disgust and cleared your throat, “Well, I’m not meeting you for a snog if that’s what you’re after. And anyhow, I’m busy tonight, actually.”

"Oh, are you now? What's so important that you can't take a break to see me?" His leer widened at this, clearly wanting to know what you might be getting up to.

You turned up your nose with a humph, “If you must know, Frederick, I’m studying with Cedric tonight.”

The twin raised an eyebrow at that, his smirk turning into a grimace. If he were to admit it, he definitely felt jealousy well up at the mention of Cedric. He quickly pushed it down though— vulnerability wasn’t exactly his thing.

"Cedric Diggory, eh? What might you and him be... Studying for?" He clicked his tongue.

You titled your head the other way, “Anatomy.”

"Anatomy, huh? That's sure to be... interesting to study." He sighed and raised an eyebrow at your response. You were definitely trying to get under his skin now.

“You’d know it actually is rather interesting if you paid attention in the class.” You looked him up and down disapprovingly.

"Me? The king of not paying attention? Perish the thought." He retorted with a scoff, "Besides, studying anatomy sounds so much more... Hands on and fun with a partner."

“Well,” You smirked, finally having the upper hand, “I guess I’ll find out.”

He rolled his eyes at her comment, but clearly was annoyed by it. He hated when you spoke down to him, and even more so when you did just to get back at him. "Oh, sod off. We both know you're not going to be studying anatomy with him."

“Well, you’ll be with Angelina though anyways, right?” You grimaced yourself, your own envy coming out in your tone.

He narrowed his eyes at this, but he could find no valid retort. They both knew his reputation was not... Well, innocent. "Yeah... Probably. You need me to lend you and Diggory a rubber?”

“Oh! Frederick!” You gasped in offense and embarrassment, whacking him with the textbook in your hands. You had no idea where he got off making such comments to you. It was none of his business, after all, right?

He grunted in pain as you whacked him, and he instinctively took a step back, rubbing the spot on his arm where you’d hit him with the textbook.

"Hey, hey, no need to get violent, love. I didn’t know you got so... riled up by me." He sniggered, trying to regain his confidence with a snarky comment. You had definitely found a sensitive spot, even if he wouldn’t let you see that.

“Don’t you worry about what I’ll be doing! I reckon it’s none of your concern anyways, so come off it, Frederick. I’m just shocked you’d have any rubbers to spare, you right scoundrel.” You grumbled and huffed, pushing past him and going on your merry way. Merlin, the nerve of this boy.

Fred mocked you behind your back, crossing his arms over his chest. You were so damn stubborn. He hated that you affected him in this way. Seeing you get under his skin so easily annoyed him more than normal. He watched you go, and couldn’t help but call out.

"Yeah, well, don't get too handsy with Diggory, love!" Fred stood there a moment after you walked off, his expression still a bit frustrated after their exchange. Why was it so easy for you to get to him? You could piss him off with barely any effort at all. He took a deep breath, and muttered to himself.

"Bloody hell..."

[pomefioredove]

"stop saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you!" with Idia please!

idia the kind of guy to talk tough over dms and then stare at you like 0_0 when you meet up

summary: "stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you" type of post: short fic characters: idia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, kissing!??!?!

"stop saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you!!!"

That's how it started.

Just one message on a night where you were both feeling a little too bold for your own good.

"yeah?? I'd like to see you try"

You'd been playing some stupid online game that Idia had been recommended, for much longer than you should've. It was well past two in the morning by now, on a school night no less.

Someone would nag you about it in the morning, but that's a problem for future you.

Current you is hidden under a sea of blankets, trying to hide the light of your phone screen from the room.

"maybe i will, huh???"

You smile at his reply. As if.

The game had been long abandoned, leaving you to your usual banter before you found something else to do together.

But it's almost three, and you're actually starting to get tired.

"im holding u to that. you better not get cold feet tomorrow"

No response. He's probably trying to come up with some witty comeback that'll leave you speechless, as always. But, nothing.

Weird.

You don't see much of him the next day, either. He hasn't been responding to any of your messages, and his status is offline, which is very unlike him. He's almost never not online in some capacity.

You're walking back to your dorm when your phone goes off.

"sending you my location. meet me asap"

Weird, again, weird. Idia being anywhere but his room is strange in and of itself.

Curiosity gets the best of you, and you end up somewhere behind the school, in a shaded grove.

And there's a head of glowing blue hair sitting against one of the trees.

"Idia?" you ask, a little dumbfounded. "What's up?"

He has his hands in his pockets, and a terrified look on his face.

Still, he speaks. "Ready?"

"Ready?" you repeat. "For...?"

You sit down next to him, and he flinches, clearly wanting to scoot away from you but not letting himself.

"Seriously," he sighs, sulking. "And you told me not to get cold feet..."

Then it clicks. Your face lights up, a little amused, a little flustered, but overall, very surprised.

He's going to...

You try to hold back a grin. "Yeah, I'm ready,"

Idia sighs (dramatically), mumbles, "Well, you asked for it," and kisses you on the mouth.

It's... not very good.

Tense would be an understatement, he seems to hold the static kiss for much longer than necessary, as if he's just as afraid of finishing it as he was starting.

After what amounts to a minute of nothing, you pull back.

"Before you say anything-" you say, quickly, noticing the devastated look on his face. "Maybe I should lead. Okay?"

Idia opens his mouth, as if to argue, but the only thing that comes out is a faint, squeaky, "okay".

You move a little closer, cupping his face in your palms, trying to figure out how to lead.

His whole face (and hair) is pink, and he's staring at you like you're about to take a bite out of him instead.

You smile, push his hair out of his face, and kiss him.

It's... a little better. He actually kisses back, and you pull away as soon as you feel him getting nervous again.

"I suck at this," he sighs. "This is so cringe. You should just get it over with and kill me now."

"Have you had enough, then?"

A long silence follows. He stares at you. You stare back.

Idia takes a deep breath, then kinda smiles. "...Third time's a charm, right?"

[dumbgoondog]

Hi there! I was thinking of a weird scenario

How do you think the jjk men would react to their darling getting slapped by another man in front of them?? Like their darling got in a fight with someone and then boom they get hit in the face💀💀

Takeout Takedown(Part 1)

Cw/Tw - non specific discrimination, Violence, blood, and gore(Geto)

Ft. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, and Toji

GN!Reader, Short fic style, dating for about 5-6 months, reader isn’t helpless/it’s not specified, the first few paragraphs are the build up and context for everything else. Next up - Sukuna, Mahito, Choso, and Kenjaku

What was supposed to be a quick pick up was now an awful argument between you and whoever this guy was. You’d ordered food for pick up, coming from after some shopping with your man, he was waiting out front but here you were. The bag of getting cold food, blocked, by this Neanderthal of a man.

Why you might ask, why the hell was he blocking you? Because there’s no way this was your order, that’s clearly not your name either, and that’s too much food for someone like you. Was he fat shaming, assuming you’re poor, all of the above?

Then this guy has the audacity to after making his points continuously interrupt you every time you tried to say anything. “That’s my boyfriend’s na-“ and he starts talking about how this place doesn’t even have good food that it’s just full of posers who can’t appreciate real Japanese food. It takes everything in you to not laugh at that, because what the absolute fuck is he going on about?

So instead while he’s busy, yappin, you lean to reach around him for the bag. Besides your lover was probably getting curious what was taking so long and might come in! Rather than wanting a big fiasco in public you just grab it and are about to turn to go when.

SMACK.

SATORU GOJO

Your passenger Princess was wondering, what had to be taking so long? The app said it was ready for pickup, you’d been in there for almost 10 minutes now too! He’d already gone through the glove box and console so now with nothing else, Gojo would come wait with you!

He was half expecting that when he pushed those doors open you’d bump into him with the food, but not you having just been cracked across the face falling into a nearby table. His cursed energy cracked and spit like hot oil as he rushed to lift you up, your lip busted and nose bleeding. You’re pulled into his strong arms still having to blink coming back from shock.

Gojo on the other hand looks to the guy, takes his phone out and takes his photo. Dave or whatever his name is, tries to puff up his chest to not seem intimidated. Gojo however is just smiling, and tucks his phone away after snapping the pic with a laugh, “Dang, our food is all over the floor, guess I’ll order us some more yeah lovely? I’ll get your favorite!”

Dave scoffs, crossing his arms, and kicks one of the spilled boxes of food, “you must be the supposed boyfriend huh? Honestly really disgusting what this world is coming to, look at you two! Also you can’t take my photo without my consent that’s ille-“

“Zip it. You’re lucky I’m not handling you myself,” Gojo says, his voice smooth and even, “go ahead though, tell me how a photo is illegal versus you harassing and hitting someone.”

You look between the two swallowing, a hand touching at your tender lip and nose feeling the warm blood on your face. Gojo looks down to you with such a sorry look, you knew he’d be blaming himself for this for a while. Dave however doesn’t seem to know when to quit cause he starts marching forward to stick a hand to gojo’s chest- caught by infinity.

Gojo sighs, looking to the other man who’s so surprised his hand isn’t moving and his lip twitches annoyed. Then, Gojo starts walking forward, infinity pushing Dave back and holding him to the wall. Gojo keeps walking forward the pressure crushing Dave against the wall more and more, broken wheezes coming from his blubbering mouth.

“I like to think I’m pretty fair! I gave you a chance to run, told you off, and am letting the proper people handle you. All of this because they wanted to grab our food.” Gojo gives a laugh shaking his head brushing a hand through those beautiful white locks, “C’mmoooooon you’re not even worth my breath! What, you visiting to see a maid cafe? To go hound on Japanese teen girls like in your hentai? Get a life or die.”

Almost in a flash The world is squishing with reality bending, morphing like those bad Ai generated videos. Then you’re outside the doors to Gojo’s apartment, and he’s still carrying you. He looks down with such a big sad puppy dog look and starts kissing you all over whining, “my baaabbbyyyyy! Oohhh I’m so so sorryyy!!!! I promise that won’t ever happen again!”

SUGURU GETO

You know he doesn’t like leaving you alone where there are monkeys. You know he doesn’t like being left alone where there are monkeys. He’s a patient man, very patient, but only to a degree.

He moves pushes open the doors watching the initial crack to your face and then you start to fall. He’s there in an instant catching you, pulling you to him chest an arm wrapping around and hiding the offending man. He’s gently cupping your cheek offering such a sweet smile when the horrid sounds begin.

A sickening crunch, the scuttling of chitin against the floor and other surfaces, something like crunching into a juicy watermelon- the scream. Geto lifts you up, keeping an arm in way of your view of what was happening as he softly smiles asking, “My love, let’s just have Miguel or Larou make something hmm? Miguel just got an order in to make some ugali and beef wet fry. Then Larou is always looking to cook for us.”

You can see the blood starting to pool towards Geto’s feet, and a hand clawing at the tiles. The horrified shriek of the woman behind the counter as she runs into the back again, and the pained groans of the man. You felt sick to your stomach, your face hurts, but Geto still tried to hide the sight of his curses devouring the man.

You curl into his arms and he sighs rubbing your back kissing the top of your head, “There there, let’s get your face cleaned up hmm? Lover, I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

You both begin to move out, backs to the horror behind. You swallow, trying to calm yourself, you’ve seen the horror of being a sorcerer but still it gets you sometimes. Geto always is so sweet, you often forget that in the end he’s considered the worst jujustu terrorist for a reason…

KENTO NANAMI

He’s patient, calm, collected, and- okay he’s worried. Maybe he doesn’t show it often but he’s a bit clingy so when what should’ve been 5 minutes at most turned into a full 10 minutes he’s up.

He’s in that door looking like he’s not worried at all but the moment he sees you trying to catch yourself on the table after being hit? Another resounding CRACK with clattering echos in the restaurant. You jolt and jump up looking around just to see Nanami rolling his wrist and flexing his hand with a huff.

The guy who’d hit you, was now over the cashier counter knocked into the cups that were stacked by the coffee pots. Cups have fallen everywhere and he’s got a busted lip that’s already swollen and bruising hard. Nanami only has slightly red knuckles, he’s crouching, kneeling to you like a prince offering his hand, “Lover of mine, come here. We’re going to mine and I’m running you a bath. I’ll see if Shoko is available to heal you.”

You smile and take his hand, he’s pulling out a handkerchief and wiping at your face with such tenderness and concern. The guy behind the counter is fully knocked out, and girl working the register has no clue what to do other than sigh with defeat and grab a broom. Once standing Nanami takes out his wallet laying down a wad of bills apologizing, “sorry to have caused such a mess, I’m glad you’re alright miss.” With that you two leave.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji is happy to wait in the car, have the hot food brought to him to be sat in his lap so he could snack on it as you drove them back to your place. Except, where were you, and where was the food? He wasn’t particularly paying attention to how long you’d taken but whatever.

He’s pulled down the mirror to pick at something in his teeth, when you open the door. “Heya babe, what took-“ he cuts himself off his brows pulling down when he sees the busted lip, the tears in your puffy eyes. He clicks his tongue and opens the door starting to get out, “one sec, be right back.”

His slippers slap against the pavement as he comes into the shop eyes lazily looking over the food scattered on the floor and the man who’d hit you talking off the ear of the girl behind the counter about how people can be so disrespectful these days to “culture”. He nods to himself looking about and walks slow to stand behind the guy, the girl’s eyes bugging out of her head seeing Toji and he gives her a charming smile. He leans forward putting a hand on the counter blocking on of the guys exits and starts to speak, “damn bud, you love hearin yourself talk huh? Hey sweetheart, this guy jus hit someone?”

The girl stutters while the guy turns around trying to shove Toji off and miserably failing. He’s just got his hands squeezing and shoving against Toji’s fat tits. Toji doesn’t even acknowledge him, still looking at the girl who finally nods.

“Aye atta girl, all I needed to know!” One swift motion, a crunch, a pathetic scream. You stare at the door hearing the scream only to see Toji walking out with a messy bag, he’s smiling at you so proud of himself. You sigh and start the car knowing you better get driving quick, he probably made that guy eat shit…

[gotham-daydreams]

Suspicions

Day 3 {Challenge Masterlist}

Getting close, but not close enough. Something's wrong here. How could they have known? Who did this?

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide (only briefly talked about in dialog), cults, occult like acctivites, weird behavior (?), arson (sort of).] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

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

Unlike the previous two days, this one starts off rather eventful - which is honestly more common and normal than anyone in the Wayne family liked to admit, but really, it wasn’t their fault they all just worked better in chaos. Nevertheless, for those that weren’t up already, the day is smooth sailing until they exit their rooms - or wherever they slept - and are left to find what’s happened in the batcave.

Tim is one of the last to find out, as he just gets his slow morning started - grabbing a cup of tea to help him wake up instead of coffee, rubbing his eyes to get the tiredness out of them, and starting things off officially with a plate of breakfast. Once that’s done and out of the way, he finally gives himself a good, simple stretch before heading down to the batcave. It’s only there, does he see the mess unfolding.

It’s subtle, sure, but with how long Tim has technically been a Wayne, well, he can tell when something’s going on. Bruce is drinking coffee, and Cassandra, while out of the suit, already looks to be itching to put it back on again. Tim noticed that Stephanie had slept over while he was on his way to the kitchen earlier, but didn’t think much about it - though what caught his attention was the fact that not only was Jason here, but that he was awake. Huh.

“What’s going on here?” Tim asks, voice having its usual echo as he takes a sip of his tea, approaching the little crowd by the batcomputer - taking note of Barbara’s presence as well, have any of them slept?

Cassandra seems to take note of him first, and perks up, though just as she goes to supposedly explain what they’re doing, Jason cuts her off. Instead, he straightens himself out, and asks, “Hey, have you or any of your birds seen anyone weird around, lately? Like, extra shady or just new? Like they come from out of the city?”

Tim raises a brow at the question, “This is Gotham? Every other person looks like someone shady- and what does ‘extra shady’ even mean? And besides, Gotham is a big city, newcomers come in and out everyday,” he points out, and though his response only gets an annoyed groan out of Jason, he can’t help but remain curious, “why? What’s going on this time?”

Jason seems to ignore Tim’s own question, and instead asks, “Okay, have you seen anyone with some weird symbol on them? Something simple that represents a sun, maybe on their neck, wrists, arm, or just some exposed part of their body?”

“Uh, no, I haven’t,” Just as Jason looks like he’s going to throw something, or someone, Tim adds, “but I think a few of the birds have, and- hey, some new officers came in from Metropolis, right? What’s up with that?”

Just as Jason goes to open his mouth again, Cassandra gives him a nudge, and gestures for Tim to come over.

From there, he’s given the gist, and he has the reasonable reaction of just, being confused. While he understands what’s going on, what he doesn’t get is the supposed group itself. While they do seem to be working towards this ‘Red Dawn’, is it something they’re working towards, or merely preparing for? Is there something on that specific day that will happen, and will allow… well, whatever they’re hoping for, to happen? There are a lot of things that are undetermined, but Tim is on board with the general goal - they have to learn more about these people, what they want, and put a stop to it since it has to be something bad that people are killing themselves over it. You were right when you said that the only people they were hurting were themselves, but they were still people, and what if their influence spreads? What if they rope in more people, only for them to die-

Duke rushes into the cave, a smile of sorts on his face and he hurries around the space, gathering a few things here and there - mostly his gear, but some other things too - quickly, as if in a hurry. It was hard not to notice, seeing as he was the only real movement going on in the room and it drew the attention of those at the computer. Tim was the first to question it, asking, “What’s the rush?”

“Patrol!” It was an easy enough answer, but something felt off about it, though Tim couldn’t put a finger on it - no one really could, but those that were paying more attention did notice something.

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” Barbara points out, and Duke pauses, chuckling briefly before grabbing his helmet.

“Right- thanks! Anyway, gotta go-!” With that, the young vigilante rushes out of the cave after hurriedly putting on his suit and gear. A few of those in the cave stare, raising a couple of brows or just looking confused before ultimately returning to what they were doing – even if such a sight weirded them out. Cassandra, however, couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the sight as she watched Duke rush out of the cave.

He seemed… really excited to be going on patrol… hm.

Duke could hardly focus on where his feet were going as he rushed out of the house, a warm sort of feeling blooming in his chest as he made his way out of the cave, and through the front door – nearly bumping into someone on the way out. Even if he was able to just barely move out of the way, a quick, “Sorry! I’ve really got to go, Selina!” Leaves him, the words tumbling out of his mouth like how he almost trips over the single step in front of the door. Leaving behind a confused but amused catwoman all the while.

Getting to the city is easy enough, and even more so with a small tug in his chest seemingly guiding Duke somewhere. Does he know where? Not particularly, but he can’t help but have a good feeling about this.

Dropping down in an alley, Duke peaks around a corner to get a glimpse of the city before slipping out – only to bump into someone… somehow.

Shaking it off, he goes to say something – only to stop himself when he sees who it is, what a coincidence. “Oh, [Last Name], what’re you doing here?”

You glance over your shoulder, and raise your brow at the sight of the teenager, “Grabbing breakfast? Why else would I be waiting in line at this breakfast spot?” A small, amused chuckle escapes you as you offer a hand to help him up, and it’s only then that Duke notices he fell at all.

“Oh! Yeah, that… um, makes sense?” Grasping your hand, he pulls himself up and glances to the side awkwardly. This wasn’t very professional, was it? As a vigilante, he was supposed to be better than this – and more, well, vigilant! He had to get it together, he couldn’t embarrass himself in front of you!

Clearing his throat, Duke meets your eyes once again, “Seems like things are busy here, huh?” Just what the hell was he trying to do? Duke couldn’t understand – he had patrol to do, he couldn’t just sit here and make small talk-

“I guess you could say that, it does seem busier than it has been the last few days, but nevermind that- what’re you doing here, Thomas?” Your grip loosens on his hand, but Duke can’t find it in himself to let go. Not after what you just said, and so casually at that – like knowing his secret identity was common knowledge and not, well, secret!

Duke’s mind races, with him staring at you like your face alone will provide all the answers, and in the midst of his disbelief, a breathless, stunned, “What?” Slips past his lips, and your brows seem to furrow.

“Is something wrong, Thomas-?”

“How-” Duke can barely even speak, his eyes blown wide. He wants to pull away, but it’s like your hand is the only thing keeping him grounded – making him almost hate how real it feels, especially as his hold tightens. With him now grasping onto it like he’s both afraid to let go, and desperate to cling onto something, but what? Duke doesn’t know. Hell, he’s almost scared to know, and that confuses him even more. “How do you know who I am?” It’s a simple question, but it’s spoken so quietly and hesitantly that it’s like Duke himself is unsure if he should’ve spoken at all, or if he even said it to begin with. As if, for a moment, he couldn’t tell if he managed to speak at all, or if his eyes and the way his hand shook had asked the question for him.

It’s beyond confusing, and honestly making Duke’s head hurt the more he tries to make sense of everything. The world spins, and yet zeros in on this moment at the same time, and Duke almost feels like he’s about to fall or even collapse all over again-

Then, he sees your smile and how you turn more towards him, and it’s like he can breathe all over again.

“Well, you’re adopted- or at least being taken care of by Mr. Wayne- aren’t you? It’s pretty hard to not know you, Thomas, especially in Gotham. Which- is sort of like Mr. Wayne’s little empire, don’t you think?” You respond easily, words almost playful as you carefully rest your other hand over his – most would pull away or tell him to stop because of how much it hurts, but you don’t. Almost like you can’t feel it, or just see how much the small action means to him – to hold onto something steady, unmoving, and undeniably real in this moment of confusion, dread, and fear. Maybe it’s both, but who’s to say.

Duke struggles to respond, only managing to stutter out an, “I-” a few times before you decide to spare him once more.

“Granted, I’m surprised to see you out and about so early. A growing boy like you needs his rest, doesn’t he?” Your fingers brush against the back of his hand, and it’s only then that Duke realizes that he’s feeling it on his skin, not though his gloves or suit – and he finally looks down. When… did he put on civilian clothes?

Regardless, he can’t help but ease. The tight tension in his shoulders drops, and Duke exhales, relieved. “Right- well, I was just out grabbing a quick bite to eat. Always good to get outta the house, yeah?” He replies easily, the excuse coming easy to him – and as if on cue, his stomach rumbles… Did he eat breakfast this morning? When’s the last time he’s forgotten something like that?

Your expression softens, and you give a small shrug, “‘Suppose you’re right, can’t really argue with that.” You glance down at his stomach before looking back at the teen, and pull your hand back – an action that makes Duke’s hand twitch before he lets it fall back to his side. “How about you join me?”

Duke can’t help but be taken aback by your request, and stammers a little as he straightens up and says, “I couldn’t- I can’t-”

“Oh, c’mon. It’ll just be a little bite, and besides, I’ve already got a table. Breakfast’s on me, yeah?”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“[Last Name]?” A waiter calls out, causing you to perk up.

“Ah, that must be it! Now, c’mon,” you gesture for Duke to follow you inside, “I promise I won’t keep you long. But consider this my thanks for yesterday- I definitely underestimate how big Gotham really is.”

The young vigilante hesitates, unsure if he should follow you or try to decline again. After all, he still had patrol – and with this weird group going around, he couldn’t afford to just go off and push aside his duty for breakfast, could he? In situations like this, it was best to stay on top of things and remain vigilant, wasn’t it?

Duke feels his stomach growl much more insistently this time, and he can practically feel the painful pinch of the void growing inside it… It wouldn’t be good if he did patrol on an empty stomach, would it? After all, he had to be in top shape to properly perform his duties, right? Being on an empty stomach wouldn’t do him any good, and would only hinder him further…

“You comin’, Thomas?” The teen’s feet before he could fully process your words, but he offers a nod and agreement all the same.

Bruce would understand, right?

The waiter leads you and Duke to a booth, and from there, things go smoothly. The silence isn’t as bad as one would think, and for those that didn’t know any better – they’d think you were friends or had some friendly relation since conversation flowed seamlessly and easily. It wasn’t long before your orders were made, with you encouraging Duke to order whatever he liked, and the wait was practically nonexistent. Though, that’s only to be expected when you two got along so well. It may have been weird in any other circumstance, but here, it wasn’t. It was natural, just like everything else was.

Really, only those on the outside looking in could notice anything, and someone eventually did.

Cassandra had felt that something was weird, and with how Duke’s body language had read this morning, she couldn’t help but be curious. Not to mention worried, especially since they had enough things to worry about. So, seeing her brother eating with a cop from Metropolis was… weird to say the least. It felt weirder knowing it was you for some reason, but she couldn’t explain why. You couldn’t have possibly been the reason for Duke’s excitement, could you? No, that didn’t make any sense – unless… you knew each other previously? Would Duke have left something like that out?

Just seeing something like this spawned too many questions, and Cassandra wasn’t getting any from standing across the street. Especially not when your body language reads as calm, happy, and oddly enough – full of energy, along with a trace of confidence. With Duke being almost… too happy, too calm and content for someone that was supposed to be a stranger. You were helping them on the case, of course, but they didn’t know you as civilians. They weren’t supposed to, and yet Duke didn’t have the suit on – where was it?

… She could stand there until you both left, but something told her that wasn’t going to get her anywhere either. Something told her that she had to approach, if only to confront you and get Duke out of there herself. To help him get back on track if anything, and to get some sort of explanation if she was smart about things.

So, approaching the establishment, Cassandra steps inside and wastes no time heading over to where you and Duke are sitting. Resisting the urge to just grab you by the collar and get answers out of you, she simple rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze – which is more than enough to grab your attention.

Looking up at her, a confused expression passes by before another bright smile rests and makes itself home on your face. “Ah, You must be Cain, correct? Or would you prefer Cain-Wayne?” A light laugh escapes as you add, “It’s a bit of a tongue twister, but the choice is really yours, young one.”

Surprised, Cassandra can’t help but blink before her expression hardens and he brows furrow. Taking note of her confusion, you simply say, “I haven’t been here for long, but word travels fast in Gotham! Besides, who wouldn’t know about the children Mr. Wayne has taken in? You’re all a very common topic amongst the city folk, and from your expression – I’m willing to assume you’re surprised to hear that.” There was something in your tone that made those last few words of yours almost sound sarcastic. Cassandra couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it made her narrow her eyes all the same. What were you trying to get at-?

“Cass?” Hearing Duke’s voice makes Cassandra glance at him for a moment, and the look in his eyes rubs her the wrong way. He shouldn’t have an expression like that, not for a stranger, even if you are from Metropolis. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were still… home.” The small pause in his words doesn’t slip past her, and it certainly doesn’t make Cassandra feel any better either, but it isn’t enough to make her leave.

Even as she doesn’t say anything, her eyes say enough, and you notice how Duke tenses slightly while under her gaze. You don’t understand what they’re saying, or whatever they seem to be communicating, but you’re not bothered by it. Communication was a universal thing, after all, and you’ve seen many people find all sorts of ways to do it – with or without words. It’s something you’ve picked up on with time, but that’s a given considering things.

Nevertheless, you speak up and interrupt… whatever it is that’s going on here. “Why don’t you join us, Cain? Thomas was just finishing up, but it’s like they say; the more the merrier!”

Cassandra seems taken aback by your offer, and so does Duke, but you only focus on her for now. Despite not having said a word, it’s like you can feel her growing quieter, and just as you go to say something else, she glances at Duke before promptly taking a seat next to him – nearly pushing him towards the window just to create some space for herself.

Naturally, Duke responds with a surprised, “Hey!” At the sudden intrusion of his space, but ultimately does little to get it back, and instead moves over to grant Cassandra her desired space.

From there, you carry on as you did before, but the younger ones across from you seem awkward – you can’t decipher a reason for this, not on your own, but a few eventually come to you and you try to work around it as best you can. At the start, things are strained and it’s obvious that there is something more than what both are deciding to show. Which, while smart, is inconvenient at best.

Regardless, you do what you can to spark conversation. Duke responds well enough after a few questions that ease him back into the flow of things, but Cassandra takes a while longer. Though that only makes sense since she’s just gotten into things, and is only starting to get into that flow as well. It’s not hard to notice that she’s simply just observing for now, and most likely wants to keep it that way, but you didn’t make that offer for her to just watch.

You start with something to drink, offering coffee since that seemed to be a common choice around here, and even take a sip of your own beverage while you were at it, and ask if Duke wanted anything else. It’s always the little things that count, but of course Cassandra remains as she is, and doesn’t respond. It’s only after a good minute or so does she get something, though if it’s to ‘blend in’ easier or because she genuinely wanted something to drink, you couldn’t tell – but that didn’t matter. Eventually, she gives you small responses by nodding or shaking her head, among other small gestures that seem to give just enough information to count as some sort of reaction. Cassandra was responding and reacting more to things Duke was saying, but that didn’t bother you. She was beginning to ease up, and that’s what ultimately counts.

Then, you’re given a golden opportunity as her stomach gives a small rumble. It’s barely noticeable, and not even Duke hears it, but Cassandra does and you notice her reaction well enough to tell. Of course, you give her the same offer you gave to Duke earlier – and even if she is more hesitant and reluctant, you take a risk and push things as you get her something. Just as before, the wait is hardly long at all – even if Cassandra seemed to feel it more than you did – and when it comes, it takes her a bit to even poke at it, but she caves eventually.

From there, everything eases just as it did before. Whatever you picked, she ends up liking it, and the conversation flows much better now that Cassandra is less tense. Your smile from before remains, and the morning carries on splendidly.

However, as with all things, it eventually comes to an end as you get a notification on your mobile device, and a small huff escapes you. Things are coming along, but it’s time to call it – you’ve been here long enough. You signal for the check, and once it arrives, you simply say, “Well this has been nice, hasn’t it? I don’t know what I expected, but I’m pleasantly surprised by both of you. This has been… eye opening, as one would say,” you muse, another light laugh escaping you, “but I’ve kept you both for long enough. I’m sure you both have places to be.” You don’t even look as the waiter takes the check back after you slip on your Rose Bank card.

Duke seems to tense slightly, and stops you from standing as he shoots up from his seat, “Wait, do you have to go right now? If there’s anywhere you need to go, I could take you-” You wave him off, and shake your head.

“There’s no need, I know my way around well enough, but thank you-” Cassandra moves to stand as well, and before she can even fully get out, Duke scrambles to get out of the booth and stand in front of you.

“You just got here a bit ago, right? I’m sure I can still help-”

“Thomas, I assure you I’m fine. I’m just heading back to the station,” you handle the check and slip your card back into your wallet when the waiter comes back around. Duke struggles to speak, and Cassandra seems concerned. Hm.

Exhaling softly, you give the teen a pat on his shoulder, “If anything happens, remember, you can always contact the GCPD if need be, alright?” Duke didn’t seem too pleased with that response, but all it takes is one more long look before he averts his gaze and nods.

“Yeah, yeah… alright.” You grin, and give him another pat.

“Perfect! See you around, kid!” With that, you leave without a second thought, feeling more confident then before – and Cassandra could tell. Of course she could, but before she could think about why you were going to the station this early in the day, her eyes drift back to Duke, and she can’t help but pause. His body language and overall attitude is completely different now… but… why? What could have made him so upset?

The young vigilante glances up when she hears the small bell of the door, indicating your leave… and she doesn’t know why, but she can’t help but feel disappointed.

— — — — — —

Making your way to the station is easy enough, and as you check the time, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. Just in time.

You turn around, and are greeted by the sight of blue eyes and dark hair – honestly, if his face shape was different, you’d think he was Bruce. It’s almost weird that they aren’t biologically related, but that’s the funny thing about genetics, you suppose.

Nevertheless, you offer a smile as always, “I got your call, but I didn’t expect to be meeting you in Gotham this soon, Grayson. You really are punctual. Though noon is an odd time to meet up, don’t you think?” Richard – or as everyone apparently calls him, Dick – just gives a smile of his own that borders on a smirk, and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Couldn’t think of a better time, and besides, it isn’t that bad. It’s just in time for lunch!” You hum at his response, finding it a bit curious before giving a nod.

“Well, when you put it like that it almost sounds smart,” You chuckle out, watching as his face contorts slightly. “Regardless, I got your call. You wanted to discuss the case?”

Dick doesn’t seem to appreciate your little jab, nor how you brush past it so fast – but just huffs before giving a nod. “Yeah, some guys said you’d know some things…? Or that someone here did?” You raise a brow before a look of confusion settles on your face.

“A few of us here do, but the one that would know the most would be detective Greenwood,” yet, you pause, as if thinking for a moment before adding, “I assume the situation in Bludhaven has gotten worse?”

The sigh that escapes him is telling enough, even more so with how he rubs the back of his neck, and the nod he gives is almost guilty. “Yeah… and even saying that feels like you’re sugar coating it.” Hm, must be like Metropolis then – that’s good to know. “I guess Ludwig told you?”

“Among a few other things, but just gave a general idea,” Dick visibly deflates at your words, and so, as if extending an olive branch of sorts, you gesture to a cafe nearby. “How about we get you some coffee and a quick bite to eat, hm? Can’t imagine getting here was an easy trip.”

Dick’s practically already following you to the small shop when you make your offer, and a low, exaggerated groan escapes him. “You don’t even know the half of it, it’s like Gotham’s become some highly sought out tourist destination overnight! It’s insanity, I tell you- makes no sense! The people who live here don’t like it enough as it is, why would anyone else want to be here?”

You shrug your shoulders, and guide both of you over to the cafe, “Not a clue, but it is weird when you put it like that. But maybe it’s nothing, who knows? We’ve got enough to deal with, anyway.”

“Tell me about it… not like there's anyone around here that wants to deal with this kind of weather. It feels way too warm for fall, if you ask me.” Dick mumbles, making his way over to the counter to order, and you only partially shrug, giving another nod in half agreement. You didn’t feel a difference, but it could just be because you’re used to it.

“I guess so,” you say, pulling out your wallet to pay – seeing as you offered to begin with. Obviously, Dick notices and doesn’t move to stop you, but can’t help but raise a brow.

“Aren’t you going to get anything?”

You glance at him for a moment before huffing softly, almost as if amused by what he said, and just hand the cashier your Rose Bank card to pay.

“I had a filling brunch.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Despite everything that’s been going on, this is probably one of their more organized efforts to tackle the night – which is really saying something, since there’s always been attempts, but it’s hard to be orderly amidst chaos. Something that Gotham practically breeds, even if this particular strain comes from out of town.

Tim and Duke are in the manor running tests on the organic material Stephanie and Jason had managed to get from the other night, with Barbara doing similar work in the clock tower. The others are out in the city, with Bruce running some things by Gordon, Selina being god knows where, and the others tracking some shipment while taking care of minor crimes and such along the way.

It’s almost… weird how coordinated this ‘cult’ seems to be, not to mention just how many people seem to be in on this thing. There didn’t seem to be an exact number at the moment, and if they really did split up, then there may even be more members that they weren’t aware of that have taken refuge outside of Gotham-

Point is, there were definitely a lot of people in this cult. Maybe even too many to coordinate and organize, at least for them to work so in sync with one another as they were now. It’d make more sense if they were only in Gotham, but until they got Clark’s report, no one could be sure of that – even if Dick responding so readily when Bruce had called him in was telling enough on its own. There was also the possibility of there being multiple organizers and leaders for this, which seems like the obvious choice, but even so – who could get a system in place that works this smoothly? It’s almost unnatural. Uncanny, even. Not to mention it doesn’t make sense if there’s no incentive for these people to be doing all of this-

Tim couldn’t figure it out, anyway. It felt like there was still so much they didn’t know yet, and like one thing was happening right after the other. Despite not being out in the city himself, he could use his birds as his eyes to see outside while he remained in the cave – so, in a way he was also tracking the cult. What Tim found weird himself is that you didn’t think the cult had a proper name, or that they weren’t called after the event all of these groups seem to be working towards. It made the most logical sense that they would be, or at least something similar to it – but you, someone who's been working on this case longer than anyone they knew at the moment, disagreed. Why? Regardless, aside from this supposed ‘Red Dawn’, what incentive did… well, anyone have to be a part of the cult to begin with? Did the event itself grant them something? What even was the Red Dawn? What did it have to do with all this soil and sand?

There were too many questions and not enough answers, but he supposes that’s why they’re even investigating to begin with. Though, if Tim had a say in this – it feels too organized to be something that only started three or so days ago. Have they really only been in Gotham for just a couple of days? If what his birds are seeing is real, then it’s more likely that they’ve been here for months-

[“Oh, would you look at that? They split again. Geez, really makes you wonder why they’re moving this stuff around like this. Seems ssseriously inefficient if you ask me.” Jason’s voice sparks in the commlink, tone sarcastic and rough.]

[“Agreed, there hardly seems to be a purpose to such tactics.” Damian huffs, going quiet for a moment only to add, “Unless they really are trying to distract us.”]

Tim perks up at this, and uses a nearby bird to perch on top of one of the telephone lines that go across the street. Watching as the next load of… whatever this cult was hauling and bringing around, drives off down the street. Some of it in a truck, and the other half of it in various cars. Not exactly subtle, but it would be hard to keep track of it all if one person was trying to keep tabs on things. Especially if said person was human.

[“Gonna have to agree with you guys, these people… they’re doing something, alright.” Stephanie chimes in, the suspicion clear in her voice.]

“What does that mean?” Tim can’t help but ask, trying to focus on the sample he’s analyzing, but can’t help but focus more on what his birds are seeing – especially when it’s more interesting the shuffling through samples of dirt.

[Stephanie sighs, “Seems like they’re trying to spread this stuff all around. Parks, gardens, bakeries, flower shops- all kinds of places, and from the looks of things? Whatever they’re doing here, it’s getting to other civilians as well. Guards and employees are helping them, and not just to open the back door either.”]

[“Someone open the front door?” Jason asks rhetorically.]

[Stephanic stiffs a chuckle, but Cassandra responds with a curt, “Yes. And storage.”]

[Jason was quiet for a moment before a small, “... Right, ‘course they did.”]

With his birds, Tim is able to follow as many trails as he can – and upon noticing a particularly weird detail, his brows furrow. “They… looped back around.”

[“Yep, I see them. Right back at the gardens… weird.” Stephanie confirms, sounding equally confused.]

[“They’re obviously trying to play us, but why? So they can plant more of this… red shit everywhere?” Jason can’t help but question.]

Tim shakes his head, which the closest bird to Jason and Damian emulates, “No, that doesn’t make sense. They’ve got loads of this stuff all over Gotham- I don’t see why they’d need more, unless…” He grows quiet, thinking for a moment before he looks down at the sample he’s supposed to be examining. Were they thinking of this the wrong way?

[“Unless… what?” Stephanie asks.]

He tries to think of a way to explain it, fumbling for a moment before just saying, “Well, do we even know what this stuff does?”

[“That’s what we have you looking at it for, yeah? Shouldn’t you or Barbara, or hell- even Duke know?” Jason chips in again.]

[Damian sucks his teeth, “Of course you can’t even do the one job we actually give you, Drake.”]

Tim can practically feel the disdain in Damian’s voice as he says his last name, which makes his brow twitch – but he shakes it off. He tries to, at least.

“I’m trying! I just… don’t know what I’m looking at, or why, okay? This whole situation is… weird.”

[“Look, Tim, people… people died over this stuff. There’s gotta be something weird about it. Maybe weird chemicals or…?” Stephanie tries to suggest.]

The watcher huffs at the reminder, but ultimately relents as he gives it another look while still having his birds keep tabs on things. All he sees is the same thing, and as he increases the magnification on the microscope, he only finds himself growing more… confused. More weirded out than anything, and a little curious, sure, but confused all the same.

Leaning back, he takes a breath, “I don’t understand, it looks alien… but how can that even be possible?”

[“We work with aliens, is it really that strange, Drake?”]

“I know that- but this is like- different! The organisms in the dirt are being taken over by something- and it’s like it’s both trying to take over and adapt to it?”

[“Like… a parasite trying to get used to its host?”]

“Kind of? It’s hard to explain… and this substance in the dirt- no wonder some of it looks like sand…”

[“So, instead of ‘getting used to’ the host, it’s killing it.” Jason suggests.]

“Yeah, like it can’t adapt properly or… is valuing infection over adaptation. It seems to feed on organic material and create more- but there’s something weird about it too.”

[“... And that is?”]

Tim hesitates for a moment, unsure himself, before eventually just putting the idea out there. “Well, at this pace… if their plan is for it to infect all the organic material in Gotham for whatever reason, then this is a seriously inefficient way to do it. Their plan here isn’t to have this stuff in all the dirt - at least, not to change it all. It seems more like a byproduct of whatever they’re trying to do with it.”

[“Well, what’s in the dirt, Tim?” Stephanie asks.]

“That’s the thing- I have no idea. It’s like its own organism, but I haven’t seen anything like this. It’s completely alien, and I doubt it’s the friendly kind.”

[“Well- I have to agree with you there. If it was… well, who knows how this would go. But nothing about all of this particularly screams ‘friendly’.”]

[“Did the people shooting themselves give that away?” Jason sarcastically quips.]

[“The purposefully suspicious activity certainly doesn’t help.” Damian adds, sounding equally pleased.]

Tim zones out of the conversation, glancing back at the samples Jason and Stephanie were able to bring in that he hasn’t fully looked at yet. The samples themselves don’t seem to ‘decay’ necessarily, and it seems to take them a while to eat away at the dirt or sand they’ve been ‘mixed’ with – from the looks of things, anyway.

No, if anything it gives the impression of a substance trying to reach homeostasis. Since, it’s either that or it’s trying to revert back to it’s original state for… whatever reason. Whatever other material it produces in that process is simply a byproduct of its efforts. The real question is why. Why is it trying to change? Why is it working to do… whatever it’s trying to do?

Mindlessly, Tim’s blank eyes drift over to where Duke was sitting, only to pause.

The teenager was hunched over, entirely focused on the task at hand – and whereas that isn’t inherently a bad thing, Duke hardly seems to be breathing, like the smallest gust of air or wind will tamper with the sample so much. Taking too much precaution when it comes to treating it. Not like it’s dangerous, but like it’s precious, like handling something more fragile than glass.

The sight alone makes Tim feel unnerved, and as his senses heighten – its only then does he pick up on the faintest smell. What… what is that-?

[“Oh shit- we’ve got to bounce. Now-!”]

[“Agreed. How did you even manage to-?”]

[“Let’s save the questions for when we’re out of the burning warehouse.”]

Tim blinks, eyes blowing wide as he looks away from Duke and focuses back on what’s going on. Using one of his birds, he can see that a warehouse is, in fact, on fire – and it is growing fast. “Steph-”

[“Already made the call, fire department is on the way but- how in the world did you guys even manage to set the whole place on fire?”]

[“Don’t lump me in with this brainless brute-” Damian’s complaint is cut off.]

[“I didn’t even expect the stuff to catch that fast! Just- ugh,” Jason groans, the subtle sound of the warehouse coming apart is just barely audible through the comlink. “Do everyone a favor, and keep those samples away from fire. That shit lights faster than propane.”]

“Even if it spreads quickly, how did the fire get strong that fast?!”

[“Hell if I know! You said this crap is alien, right? How is anyone supposed to figure it’d have so much kick!?”]

“You knew it could set on fire?!”

[“Last I checked, dirt isn’t flammable- of COURSE I DIDN’T KNOW!”]

[“Guys! Just- focus on getting out of there! We can figure out all of this once we regroup. Meet me and Cass at the station. We need to tell Bruce about this.”]

Tim glances at Duke once again, who’s hand twitches slightly, and the watcher grows quiet before looking back at his own sample.

… Could this night get any weirder?

— — — — – – – – – – — – – –

Eventually, towards the heart of the night, Bruce is able to reach the batcave once more, and everyone recounts what they found or learned – minus certain individuals.

The discussion is as chaotic as one would imagine, but the main points get across eventually, albeit between suspicions a few of them had, and more speculation on what could be going on. The biggest question is why this group had chosen Gotham of all places, if they really have been here recently or have been in the city for longer, who Tim and Cass were able to identify as members of the cult, and so on.

Whoever was organizing this was clearly doing something to the people following them. How perfect everything seemed to flow without their presence was uncanny and unnatural, not to mention how readily members have killed themselves without a hint of hesitation. Honestly, it was terrifying – and the fact there was still so much left unknown wasn’t helping. Not knowing who was behind this, or at least in charge of the group in Gotham was setting them back – and the risk of confrontation was too high. There was no telling if they’d dispose of themself just as quickly as the other members of the cult, but that was assuming there even were other leaders in place.

They certainly had their influencers and people who brought in more members into their cult, but for some reasons… most of the vigilantes had a feeling that there wasn’t. That there was just one person in control – the lack of evidence on that end didn’t help, but they sort of just knew. Regardless, it wasn’t enough to fully dismiss anything, even if some of them were pretty set on a couple of things. Duke, Jason, Stephanie, and Cassandra in particular. Bruce was… well, himself, but he seemed to have his mind set as well even if he left the door open for possibilities.

If this was really alien, who knows what they’re dealing with – and if what Clark said earlier was true, then it’s definitely mind altering, at the very least. Though, that did pose another question entirely about you and the cops that came in from Metropolis.

Were any of you under the influence of this… alien substance?

They weren’t given much time to dwell on that as something pops up on the batcomputer – a notification of sorts. “Ah, must be Clark.” Bruce mumbles, already working on displaying and finding out all the information Clark had gathered.

A map of the United States first flashes onto the many screens, before red dots begin to appear on the map. Like little fairy lights, they flicker on, and don’t stop until it looks like the country has got the bad case of chickenpox. Then, it zooms out, showing the whole world map, and more dots appear. They’re sparse in some areas compared to others, but the message is made clear enough.

Yet, before anyone could fully digest even the point Clark was trying to make, the funniest thing happens.

The dots begin to move. They weren’t just markers, they were trackers.

Some move faster than others, all of them blinking for a moment before shifting, showing their movement. There aren’t any labels, but the direction seems to be clear enough. Especially as the map zooms back into the United States, and shows the movement there a little more clearly.

On the East Coast, all of the dots closest to there seem to be moving towards two cities in particular – but before it can be shown where they are clearly moving towards, the power cuts. The batcave is swallowed by darkness, and the vigilante family is left in complete darkness for a few moments. The cave being the most dark any of them have seen it, and the silence near deafening.

It doesn’t take long for the lights to flicker back on, but they have the oddest shade of pink, and as everything powers back on – the ventilation is still paused, and something else has taken place of the map on the batcomputer – it’s taken over every screen even remotely connected to the advanced computer, actually.

A red solar eclipse with a timer right on the bottom, counting down. No explanation, nothing aside from the eclipse and countdown.

There’s no way someone in the cult could’ve got into the system, and especially not tonight when they were all on high alert and keeping an eye on them! It wasn’t possible, the security in the cave and manor would’ve been enough to stop anyone from getting in, or at least notified any of them if someone had gotten in. Hell, Damian’s sense and trigger would have alerted him if anyone had so much as stepped onto the property that wasn’t supposed to be there. There are too many precautions put into place for this to happen – and for the sight to stay on screen as well.

That didn’t leave many possibilities, and it was less about the why and more about how this could even happen. Which, amongst the options to shift through… with the threat they were dealing with here, only one seemed to stick out and seemed the most plausible.

There was a traitor among them.

[gothamite-rambler]

A Deal with an Alien Princess

Alina, an alien princess with gender-neutral facial features, stood in front of the Young Justice crew, finalizing a deal.

Alina: I will aid you in your fight against my brother if one of you gives me their firstborn child. And I will know if you try to h—

Red Robin: I can do that for you.

Alina: You can?

YJ: You can?!

Red Robin (reading a text from Bernard): Yeah, my partner said he's okay with it, and I don't mind co-parenting... You're not planning to eat the child, are you?

Alina: Nah, I’m not sure yet, but they’re mine to do whatever I want with them.

Red Robin: Cool, I accept the deal. Handshake?

Alina: Hmm, surprised you’re so willing to give up a child, but it’s a deal.

Alina shook hands with Red Robin, while Konnor and Bart exchanged knowing glances, aware of where this was headed. M'gann, already reading the thoughts Tim was having kept quiet as well.

Cassie: Should you sp-

M'gann: This is a canon event, don't speak.

Alina: You're all weird. I enjoy it, let's go.

—Many hours and a fierce battle against her brother later—

Red Robin: Thanks for helping us. When do we start?

Alina: Start what?

Red Robin: You said you'd take one of our firstborn children. If you want to begin now, we can. But what's sex like on your planet? I don't want to be too surprised.

Alina: Huh?

Red Robin: You said my firstborn child; you didn’t specify who it had to be with.

Alina's green cheeks flushed a darker shade of green. Red Robin crossed his arms completely on board with having a half-alien child.

Red Robin: I tried to do this once before; it didn't work out. But this time, I’m getting me an alien baby!

Alina (flustered): Oh... Um, I didn’t mean it like that.

Konnor: You shook hands on it and never specified whose child, dumbass.

Alina: I… Nope, nope, count this as a freebie.

Red Robin: Come on! I got my boyfriend to agree to this. To be fair, he was on board without me even trying to convince him, but he said he's okay with it.

Alina: I don't want to carry a child. You were supposed to have it with a human woman and I don't care how attractive you are stay away!

With that, Alina scurried back to her spaceship, leaving Red Robin shrugging in confusion.

Bart: She wanted to be like Rumpelstiltskin, but underestimated you wanting a child.

Red Robin (pouting): I was kind of excited too.

Konnor: What is with you and half-human babies?

Red Robin (nonchalant): I read a lot of stories about humanoids and hybrids and wanted one. They’d be so cute, too, and I’d raise them to be a hero.

Konnor: You are a strange man, but that’s why we’re friends. Did Bear actually agree to that?

Red Robin: Yep, he wanted fifty-fifty custody. I thought she’d agree! Batman said it worked for him.

Nightwing (overhearing that): Batman said what?!

Red Robin: Her father called it off before they finished.

Nightwing (laughing): Oh my God! He said he got kicked out for breaking a vase in their castle.

[soulwrencher]

ok so like this is my first ask so sorry if its worded weird!! but could you write a drabble for ellie where like reader is dinas step sister or sum and like reader lives a few states away and dina wants reader to meet her friends so reader visits and meets all of them and ellie is like nervous and stuff and dina teases her for it and eventually dina ships ellie and reader tg (once again sorry if its worded weird..😭)

it's okay! so i'm not gonna specify readers relationship with dina lmao, reader could be a family friend too... and it's longer than a drabble, sorry. but here you go!

why don't you stay, stay here after hours?

ellie x reader, just fluff, not proofread, enjoy :)

you haven't been here for a while. but dina's apartment stayed the same, citrus-scented air freshener and deep brown eyes meeting you at the front door, it was all so familiar, even after all those years. however, you didn't expect a pretty face to emerge from behind her, in fact you didn't expect your little trip to good old hometown to be interesting in any way. when dina told you about her friends, you weren't expecting much, sorry dina. but shit, her friend is more than pretty, she's incredibly attractive.

"come on in," dina says, hugging you, miss pretty face standing awkwardly to the side. you let go, dina gestures towards her, you've been dying to know about her at this point and it's been only a few minutes since you got here.

"so, this is my friend ellie, we used to be a thing but—" ellie clears her throat, are her cheeks slightly rosy?

"we're really good friends, that's what i was trying to say," she continues, shooting ellie a glare. you awkwardly laugh, exchange some 'hi''s and 'nice to meet you''s with ellie, her raspy voice makes it harder for you to remember what you're here for. pretty auburn hair, strands falling out of her bun framing her face, green eyes and long lashes, freckles and kissable lips... what were you here for?

and ellie can't help but notice your eyes wandering, it's making her nervous. it's making her nervous that a gorgeous woman like you was watching her so carefully, she isn't used to getting this much attention next to dina who's incredibly extroverted and drawing all the attention.

she watches you leave and go up to dina's room. pulling dina aside, ellie elbows her.

"ouch," she hisses, rubbing herself.

"what the fuck? why would you mention we used to be a thing," ellie whispers. dina gasps, then covers her mouth, a sly smirk creeping up her face.

"don't tell me you like—" ellie cuts her off with a threatening, well not so threatening, 'hey' hoping dina understands that she needs to quiet down, you're literally upstairs.

"no, she's just pretty. you didn't tell me she's that pretty," she whispers, her face turning red. this will be a fun game for dina, for sure.

you all sit in her very cramped, but colorful kitchen, snacking and drinking while you and dina catch up. however, ellie can't help but steal glances from you, she couldn't help but study your face, the way you speak, the way you'd wheeze when you thought you said something funny, or when you—

"—and ellie is so, totally so single, incredibly single," dina laughs, pulling ellie out of thought. and you too, you've been thinking about ellie's green eyes lingering on your lips, is something on there? dina is the only one laughing while you and ellie are exchanging glances, for a second it feels like the world stopped for you to step closer to something unreachable.

"i guess i am? but why does that matter," ellie then responds, annoyance lacing her voice.

"because she's single too? and i just wanna be able to say that i'm a matchmaker," dina continues, stuffing chips into her mouth. you laugh, but ellie doesn't.

"you really wanna make us all uncomfortable, huh?" ellie mutters, fuck, why would she say that? she's been so overly self-conscious, trying really hard to leave good impressions, but having a pretty girl watch her bicker with her good friend, not how she imagined this to go at all.

"oh i'm not uncomfortable, don't worry," you say, the tension was thick. and dina notices this too, this whole thing took the wrong turn.

"well back in high school i walked up to someone thinking it was dina and scared that girl from behind, talk about uncomfortable," she scoffs. dina immediately throws back her head and cackles, but you can hear ellie's soft and low chuckles. fuck she's cute and you want to know more, know more about her and all the stories she had to tell and lived up until now.

and ellie is more than happy to see the smile that emerged on your lips when she said that, her eyes on you while you giggle at dina's silly stories about teenage ellie and dina's adventures. she just can't look away, your nose scrunches when you laugh, your eyes literally sparkle, you are just so endearing, and ellie would be a fool to pass up on this chance, on this chance to get to know you.

and you spend the rest of the afternoon at dina's place, laughter filling the room, glances and hands brushing filling up your heart.

"okay guys, we need to wrap it up, jesse is on his way and you know how he gets," dina shoots a look to ellie, both nodding in some secret agreement.

"can you get her to her hotel? but take it slow guys, never fuck on the first date," she chuckles, ellie scoffs while getting on her jacket, ellie would never be able to even hold hands with someone as beautiful and kind as you. but it for sure is a nice thought, a thought she saves for when she'll go to sleep later. and your thoughts are racing too, you're about to get in the car with ellie, she'll be driving you, you'll be alone with her, you are freaking out, but you can't let it show.

instead you awkwardly play with the leaves on the ground while you wait in front of her car after you said goodbye to dina.

walking out of dina's apartment, ellie can feel her heart jump out of her chest. she's a fucking wreck, but her urge for more is too big to ignore, she has to do something about all the feelings you made her feel. and for once in her life, she decides to make the first move once you're in her car, something dina always made fun of, telling ellie she's the biggest coward ever.

but not today, today she'll make you fall for her.

what she didn't know is that the second ellie opened the door for you and the scent of patchouli and tobacco filled your senses, you already fell, really hard at that.

you sit in her passenger seat, imagination running wild, the two of you could be knee deep—

"you comfy?" ellie asks, pulling you out of thought. you nod, yeah too fucking comfortable. you struggle putting your seatbelt on because your hands are shaking, but ellie is attentive, already helping you out, with shaky hands too.

to your disappointment, the drive was mostly quiet, so quiet you could hear your own racing heartbeat. but it's stupid to believe that someone like ellie would want to get to know you, you feel stupid for getting your hopes up.

ellie's eyes are on the navigator the whole time, two more streets and you're at the hotel. two more streets, she has to do something. the wheel is getting moist under her sweaty hands, she has never been this nervous in her whole life. but she might never see you again and does she really want to risk that? risk never going to meet anyone like you again? ellie clears her throat, she can't live with the thought of never having tried.

so she inhales deeply as she stops at the red light.

"so—" she starts, looking your way, making sure she got your attention. you tilt your head, you're gorgeous, god you are making this hard, ellie thinks to herself.

"—i made dinner, you should stay." ellie says, her voice low, eyes searching for yours in anticipation, she is about to explode.

"i'd love to," you reply. ellie smiles and hits the gas a little harder than needed as the lights turn green.

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Okay but hear me out on US being a horrifying Yandere for Frank, or literally any other neighbor (besides Wally smh..) Like after all this time of the puppets hearing about human strength, resilience, silence, ect ect, it'd kind of be a horror movie no?

You didn't specify what relationship this is (platonic or romantic) so I wrote it as platonic.

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Platonic yandere Reader

Frank

★ At first, Frank really didn't think much of it. You were always an active listener. Paying close attention to whatever he was saying. And asking questions that never seemed to end. He could tell you liked listening to him. But it never struck him as odd.

★ You remember every little thing he says. And have learned to anticipate his needs or wants before he mentions it. You adjust things exactly how he would. Making everything just so. It's nice, but not if you do this in your own home.

★ Sometimes, playing with you can be off putting. “Neighbor… you’re scaring me.” Not once does he think you'll hurt anybody. He sees the Reader as harmless. That, even if you wanted to, you wouldn't hurt somebody. Thought the truth is much darker than that.

Sally

★ She's always loved a good drama. But this is real life. And now that she's living in it, she's going to make the best of it. Treating you a bit like an assistant. Seeing as your so eager to help. "Oh, it's surely just admiration! From their fine taste in theater. No doubt!"

★ Still, the way you look at her, your gaze lingers. It's slightly unsettling. Sally wants to call it paranoia. She tells herself 'I'm overreacting' as you watch her every move. She wouldn't know, but your actually stalking her.

★ The hardest part is that you're so kind. You never ask for anything in return. Never make her feel unsafe. You just exist. Always ready to help and happy to do so. This isn't a role she chose. You did, and now she cant tell who's the director.

Eddie

★ It's almost funny how often he sees you! He goes to turn a corner and you're already there. Little does he know, you've memorized his schedule. “You’re always around, huh?” He tries to laugh it off, you were there first. If anything he's the weird one for always running into you.

★ Eddie feels guilty over being scared of you. Even if its just for a brief second. You would never do anything to hurt him. You've been nothing but kind to him! So why does he feel this way? Something in his stomach twists when he thinks about it too much.

[keij0h]

⌗ BAD IDEA, RIGHT? ┆ the8

After finding out about your cheating boyfriend, your pettiness leads you to ask another one of your exes for a favor. The ex in question: Minghao.

CAUTION : profanities. college au. ex!minghao. afab reader. a bit suggestive. cheating. (Minghao’s not involved with it.)

tap to listen !

No way. No fucking way.

Phone in hand, you stared intently at the pile of screenshots you just opened, trying your hardest to not pop a vessel and break every single thing near you as you stormed down the dorm halls.

It was a known rule to not leave your dorms once 10 pm strikes, yet that wasn’t refraining you from banging on a certain door, evidence right in your hand that apparently, your boyfriend has been sleeping around, and was stupid enough to post pictures of him doing it. So you figured that was worth being caught and suspended for, if it meant you could strangle him.

“it’s not as bad as you think, if you could just—“

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it.” you snarled, pushing past him as you stormed inside his dorm, barging his closet open, gathering a few of your clothes that you left in his dorm.

“Should’ve left you when that goddamn counselor told me to.” you muttered, shoving the pieces of clothing into a pile, simultaneously knocking a few of his things as you could hear his retorts from behind.

It wasn’t all the time that you felt rage like this. It just so happens that you managed to get so unlucky that your fate lands on a total douche, and you just refuse to muster up the fact that you endured a whole year with someone like him.

So when you finally slam his door closed, you’ve solemnly swear to not look back. But of course, you also weren’t leaving without a proper comeback.

And what better way to do that than to ask another person you’ve dated for assistance.

You had no idea what came to you that night, but you just found yourself back in the men’s dormitory, face to face with the “easiest” person you can reach out of everyone you’ve ever dated. Xu Minghao. At least, that’s what you thought.

“So, what do you say?” you hummed, still catching your breath with the amount of explaining you just said.

But even after all that, you were still met with that all too familiar, bitter: “No.”

The remaining hope you had on your face suddenly faltered, now replaced with a stoic glare. “I thought you said you’d be there for me even if we’re through? Huh? What happened to that?”

Minghao huffed, letting his shoulders slightly slump down as you recalled the same exact words he said two years ago when you broke up.

It was rather a weird way to remember, especially now that you’ve presented him your plan. The plan being simple: the same thing your (now ex) boyfriend did, make out, take pictures of it happening, and spread it around campus, then boom. Done.

“This is quite far from what I meant.” he pointed out, never breaking eye contact with your dejected state.

You could only click your tongue at this, not having a clue that this would be harder than you pictured it to be. “How the hell am I supposed to know what you meant? It’s not like you specified anything..”

For the record, he never did mentioned anything against something like this when he made the vow. But shit, it wasn’t like Minghao expected you to remember his words so easily, let alone recite it right in his face.

“Don’t even start acting like you don’t want this—“

“I really don’t.” he interferes, watching as the frown on your lips suddenly turns upwards as you tilt your head to the side.

“Oh, really?” you spurred, folding your arms to your chest. “Well, rumor has it..” you trail off, lowering your voice as you slightly lean towards him, enough to hear you mumble. “..you haven’t moved on from me.”

Truth be told, you weren’t so certain that it is a rumor, as you’ve only heard it from one of Minghao’s friends: who all still tend to tease him about you despite already calling it quits. Though he never seemed to have much of a response to it, which sucked to you.

He scoffs, rubbing a hand on his temple. “Did Jun tell you that?”

“Would it bother you if I said yes?”

“Then he’s full of shit.” he nods, smirking as he sees your expression shift back to a frown.

“Look, if you came here to just pester me and use my own words against me, then you’re free to go.” he shifts, pushing the door to close it on you, but failed as you slipped a foot right in the crack of it.

“Hate to say it, but this would’ve been so much easier if you would just agree.” you coo sarcastically, clasping both of your hands together. “You wouldn't even realize this ever happened, I swear.”

Minghao looks at you as you said that, this time, actually considering. It’s not like you want to make out with him, it’s just a petty little move to get back on your ex. Right? Whatever it was, it suddenly made him shiver.

With one final sigh, he spoke. “Three minutes. And that’s it. Clear?”

“Crystal.” you furiously nodded, letting yourself in before he could even do that himself.

Oh, boy.

“What are you even..” you sigh out loud. Not even a minute in, you were already having complications on making it seem.. real.

You were now situated on his lap, while he sat up with his back on the headboard. You tried your best to ignore the awkward tension, knowingly convinced yourself that it’ll all be worth it. It just had to be

As for Hao.. he just didn’t know where to put his hands.

“Can’t you make it more natural?” you scolded, grabbing a hold of both of his arms.

“Don’t expect me to be good at this, it’s been a while since I’ve touched you like this for fucks sake..” he argued, mumbling the last part as he looked down to his arms. All the while, your stomach churned at what he said, blinking away to stop yourself from thinking further.

“Just- just do it the way you normally did..” you sigh, now feeling his arms wrap around your figure, simultaneously feeling the tips of your ears heat up.

“This alright?” he muttered huskily, looking up at you. You heaved a breath, briefly staring right into him before nodding. “Mhm. It’s fine.”

The way his dorm room smelt, how warm he felt, it was all familiar, and you’d be caught dead if you said it didn’t calm you down. You struggled to reach for your phone beside you as you attempted to angle it down to a natural level. It was mostly focused on Minghao, while your face was a bit hidden, but enough to recognize who it was.

You cleared your throat, signaling that you should, well, start. You took a moment to observe him more, eyes gazing from his cheeks to his lips, until he pulled you out of your trance.

“Hey,” he called out. “Time’s ticking.”

Shit, right.

Your free hand found its way to the back of his neck, finally pressing your lips against his. You felt that certain shockwave as soon as you felt him kissing back, hand trailing through your cheek as you blindly snapped the pictures in your shaking hands.

“Hao, wait–”

You gasped into his mouth, Minghao purposely swatting your phone away, letting it fall somewhere on the bed.

You could feel your throat beating as he pulled you further to deepen the kiss, his plump lips moving so rhythmically with yours. You’ve missed this, more than you’ll ever admit. He’s always been such a skilled kisser, and you never understood that. All you knew was it felt too good, the sensation alone enough to drive you crazy.

A shiver ran up your spine as you felt his hand slip under your cotton shirt, gently caressing the soft skin of your back, accidentally letting out a hitched moan through the kiss, lighting a surge of pride on Minghao as his lips twitched into a smirk.

The three minutes you both agreed on was already over, yet he kept his grip firm, refusing to let go just yet.

Just as his hands reached the hem of your shirt, the loud tone of your phone going off filled your senses, making you abruptly pull away from Minghao, breathless as you got off his lap, hastily fumbling through his sheets in search of your phone.

A hint of panic suddenly washed over you, the contact name of your roommate right on the screen. You looked over your shoulder, catching a glance of Minghao’s slight weary state, not missing the subtle kiss marks you left all over his face as his lips parted, his eyes motioning you to go ahead.

Shaken a bit, you swiped the answer button, placing it right in your ear.

“Hey–”

“Where are you?? You never told me you were going out..” the alarmed tone on your roommate’s voice loomed over you, making you silently hiss.

“I, uh, I fell asleep..” you looked at the Minghao as you said that, causing another smirk from him, mocking your stupid excuse as you glared at him before turning away. “..in the library.”

“Oh, do you need me to get you there, or–

“No!” you exclaimed, sheepishly clearing your throat as you realized how forward it sounded. “Sorry, it's just that.. I'm already on my way back.”

Liar. Minghao thought, softly shaking his head in disbelief, biting back an amused smile.

A breath of relief left your lips as you ended the call, shoving your phone back in the pockets of your sweatpants.

“That wasn't three minutes, by the way.” you remarked plainly, standing up to pat down on your shirt, getting ready to leave.

“You didn't pull away either.” Minghao added in a matter-of-fact tone. All the while you rolled your eyes at him. God, him and his sly remarks, you kinda hoped that he got rid of that trait by now.

“Hey,” he suddenly called out before you could reach the door, cautiously making you look back. “Yeah?”

You watched as he faltered, somehow hesitant to just say it as you waited. With a sigh, he spoke up.

“Would it bother you if I said that Jun was telling the truth?” A slight reference to what you said earlier. The scary part was that he seemed a bit too serious, but anyway, you saw it coming from miles away.

You snorted, shaking your head simultaneously. “I never believed you anyway.”

Honestly, Minghao agrees that your presence can be infuriating at times. Though he can never say that he didn't miss it, and was willing to see more of it. That is, if you'd let him.

Considering that all of this was for some idiotic, and needless to say, petty comeback, you couldn't lie, you'd do it again.

“Goodnight, Hao. I'll see you.”

He chuckles. “Oh, you will.”

a/n : this took so long for what smh. also I'm obsessed with the Guts album rn, so hereee!