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literaila · 3 months

Text

eavesdropping

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: seriously, the door was already open

warnings: satoru is an idiot, as per usual, sad tsumiki :(

last part | next part

year one.

satoru approaches the door to tsumiki’s room and he pauses.

after two weeks straight with the kids, you’d finally returned back to work--leaving the three of them to fend for themselves for the day--but you'd insisted on coming over for dinner.

to which satoru suggested, for the twentieth time, that you might as well stay the night. might as well move in already.

really, there's plenty of space.

but you'd pinched his arm and pushed past him at the door, telling the kids that you brought dinner. you didn't stay behind to watch satoru cradle his arm or smile at the back of your head.

and, seriously, he doesn't mean to eavesdrop (if he meant to he would've planned out something much more sophisticated than this) but the door is already slightly cracked.

“—but megumi doesn’t like it," he hears tsumiki say, soft and concerned. her tiny voice is a whisper through the opened door, so satoru takes another step towards it.

“that’s okay," he hears your voice saying, "you can talk about it if you want.”

one eye appears through the crack and he can see you and tsumiki, curled up on the bed, her eyes looking up at yours, tear stains an obvious sin.

satoru is quiet as he pushes the door, ever so slightly.

“he always ignores me when i talk about my mom or his dad, or he says something mean about them. sometimes he won’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”

this seems plausible. just five minutes ago satoru had witnessed an influx of cursed energy coming from megumi when tsumiki merely mentioned their old house and the dolls she kept on her windowsill.

he can still feel that anger brewing now, but megumi, so you’ve said to him, needs to breathe. you didn't exactly tell him to exit the table and leave the little boy alone, or come to tsumiki's room to check on the two of you, but, he knows that's what you meant. you don't have to say something for satoru to help out. he’s just doing what’s best for all of you.

honestly, you probably wouldn't even mind that he's listening in on this conversation.

you tilt your head at her. “did you ask him why?”

tsumiki sniffles, she pushes a sticky hand at the hair matted to her head, so you gently push it away and move it for her instead, much gentler with her than you've ever been with him. satoru almost complains, before he remembers that he's not even there.

“he thinks that they don’t care about us,” tsumiki answers, the hurt obvious in her voice, "he—he can’t remember everything that i can, but he doesn’t care. he doesn't want to.”

you coo at her softly, nodding your head with every word.

satoru has never heard the little girl so sad--he's used to her smiling face and bright energy. honestly, if there's an opposite to cursed energy, it would be tsumiki.

you must feel as disturbed by the difference in the little girl as he does because he watches as you try to restrain a frown.

satoru's eyes are wide through the crack as you attempt a smile. “it’s okay to not feel the same,” you tell her, “wanting to remember your parents isn’t going to make megumi hate you.”

“but it upsets him.”

“well not talking about it upsets you, right?” you say this the same way you chide satoru. and, yeah, you typically know best.

not that he'll ever admit that.

but tsumiki nods.

“then you should talk about it. don’t worry about megumi. you can tell me about them, or satoru.”

he wants to open the door completely just at the sound of his name.

“really?”

“you can talk about whatever you want with us. we’ll always listen," your smile is genuine now.

satoru tries to imagine you as a little girl, with someone wiping your tears away. but he doesn't quite believe that you were ever as small as tsumiki looks now. you'll always be this to him, he supposes, safe and infallible.

even when you were younger, blinking idly at him as he introduced himself to his new underclassmen, you were certain. he's always been sure about that.

tsumiki frowns, her eyes wide. “gojo put his hands over his ears and started singing yesterday when you asked him to take the trash out.”

he has to catch a laugh. you shift around on the bed, your face is stern but satoru can see you about to laugh.

you nudge her with your head, teasing. “i didn’t say he always listens to me.”

the little girl laughs as you nuzzle her nose and for a moment, satoru thinks he's invading.

but how can he walk away when the two of you are cuddled so close, looking so cute together? he should probably take a picture, just so he can always remember this.

but then again, a camera probably wouldn't capture the supple sound of tsumiki's laugh as you cuddle her, or your smile as you hold her closer.

so he just stands there, observing.

you don't say anything as the girl thinks, merely rub your hand up and down on her back, like a reminder that you're still there.

tsumiki remains quiet for a moment, and then she whispers, “i’m afraid that i’ll forget about my mom."

satoru is shocked by the statement, little pricks of guilt perusing through his chest. during all of the digging he did about toji zenin, he wasn't sure where the woman was, or if she was worth finding. he hadn't even thought of it, really. he wasn't very good at that.

and he watches as you pause, feeling kind of eager to see how you'll respond.

your hand continues its circles, and you smile, gently, knowing. “i used to feel that way too," you tell her, just as softly.

and maybe that hurts satoru even more.

“really?”

“yeah. i don’t talk to my mom anymore, but i used to worry that i would forget how she smelled," your nose falls in tsumiki's hair, and you pause for a moment. satoru almost smiles as you close your eyes. "or the way she hugged me," you add, squeezing.

he's never really heard you talk about your parents before. the vauge comment here and there, sure, but nothing more. he knows the bare bones of when you left home—if only from what yaga told suguru, a million years ago, but nothing more. you don’t talk about that.

or maybe he's just never asked.

tsumiki nods, her wide eyes kind of amazed at the confession. and satoru is suddenly glad that he let you follow tsumiki to her room, that he knocked on your door that first night when he wasn't sure what to do with either of them.

you understand this better than he ever could. better than he ever will.

“did you forget?”

you smile. “no. it’s hard to forget those little things, no matter how long it’s been," you consider it for a second, "i don’t remember a lot about her but i remember hugging her when she got home from work, and the way she said my name.”

tsumiki's perks up, “do you think it’ll be like that for me?”

“i don’t know, sweetheart. it could be. you might remember more than i do," you cup her face for a moment, hoping with her.

“my mom always wore rose perfume,” tsumiki's hands cover your own, and she looks closely at you, like satoru wishes he could. “do you miss your mom?”

satoru holds his breath for a moment, and your eyes narrow as you think.

“sometimes," you admit.

“does it make you sad?”

“every once in a while.“

tsumiki swallows, her face falling. “i miss my mom."

you kiss her head. satoru sees your eyes flutter closed as you speak to her, so softly he almost misses it. “it’s okay to be sad without them.”

satoru closes his eyes with you, for just a moment.

he thinks about aquariums and trips to abandoned houses and souvenirs that he couldn't keep but covet.

and his eyes open again.

“really?” tsumiki asks as if she doubts it.

“yeah. that’s just the way love comes out sometimes. it makes you sad.”

“will it always?”

“well, you’ll always love your mom, right?” the girl nods without thinking, and you smile at her. “then being without her will always make you a little sad. and sometimes a lot. but it’ll find its place in your heart, like everything does.”

tsumiki thinks about this for a moment.

satoru wants her to ask how many holes you have in your heart, and if you think they could ever be filled.

and he also wants her to never ask you anything again. he shouldn't be listening to this, but he's stuck at the door.

“do you think about your parents a lot?”

“almost every day,” you say, looking away from the girl for a moment. and then you look back. “but i think about how my mom is happy where she is, and how i’m happy where i am.”

satoru almost falls through the door.

“you are?”

“well yeah,” you say, obviously. you squeeze her a bit. “i’ve got you here. and megumi and satoru. how couldn’t i be happy?”

tsumiki settles into you, she nods in agreement, but considers something, frowning up at you. “i don’t want megumi to be mad at me. he’s my best friend.”

“he’s not really mad,” you tell her--and, well, satoru disagrees. megumi is mad at everything. “and even if he was, he’ll always forgive you. that’s what best friends do. they argue and then make up.”

“who’s your best friend?”

your lip twitches. “satoru. and we fight all the time.”

“really? gojo?”

satoru wants to ask the same question. shoko, he might've assumed. nanami, even. if you knew he was there you would probably say that tsumiki was your best friend, just to mess with him.

but he's there, and you don't know.

you shake your head, acknowledging how crazy this statement is. “yup. i’m stuck with him.”

“has he always been your best friend?”

“oh no,” you laugh at the suggestion. “we met just a couple of years ago, at school. and he always had more friends than i did.”

“…but now?”

“he’s been my best friend for a while, i guess, but i haven’t been his for very long.”

satoru frowns.

“cause you always fight?”

you laugh. “something like that.”

something like what?

and then you turn to her, eyes on eyes, making sure that she’s looking at you. “tsumiki, you know—“

and satoru thinks that he’s heard enough. he doesn't want any more secrets or any more questions. he closes the door as quietly as possible, letting his ear linger on the wood when he hears the two of you laugh.

satoru sits for a moment, almost able to see your smile through the door, without all of his eyes, like he really took that picture.

and then he walks away, into the dining room, where megumi is pushing his dinner around on a plate.

satoru sits down.

“what are they doing?” megumi asks, gruffly. he's calmer now, satoru notes, though grumpy as ever.

“girl stuff.”

“it’s dinner time.”

“oh, megumi,” satoru tsks, shaking his head. “you’ve got lots to learn about women.”

megumi frowns. “i know more than you.”

“okay, i just came here to have a good time—“

later on, you’re unloading the dishwasher, trying to be quiet while the kids get ready for bed, and satoru walks in.

in striped pajamas naturally. no glasses. he is already grinning at you as he leans against the counter, his fingers tapping on the granite.

you roll your eyes automatically, pushing him a little because he's in your way.

"what, satoru?"

“so, i’m your best friend, huh?”

you turn. “i knew that door was open—“

next part

862 notes · View notes

cupid-styles · 2 months

Text

lucky* (single dadrry x art teacher!yn check-in)

word count: 2.6k

content warnings: kids/family talk, fluffy smut (grinding, mentions of m receiving oral), not ramadan friendly!

based on this one-shot

. . .

From: Harry

Riley asked if he could tag along tonight. I was able to distract him with dino nuggets, but that kid has the memory of a full grown adult, I swear.

To: Harry

lmao. he can come hang with us, you know he’s always welcome here

From: Harry

And let him take all of your attention after I haven’t seen you all week? Yeah, right.

I’ll be there at 7.

To: Harry

is now a good time to tell you that i think your kid is way cooler than you are?

From: Harry

Come over and do the bedtime routine with us and you’ll think differently. x

Y/N bites away the smile edging at her lips as she looks up from her phone. She couldn’t help it — she always noticed the rush of happiness that swarmed through her body whenever she spoke to her boyfriend, especially about the prospects of plans.

Her boyfriend.

She can’t believe that Harry is officially her boyfriend. Even though it happened a few weeks ago, she still finds herself in pockets of disbelief, mostly when they’re spending time together. She’ll glance over at him and take in his side profile, or remember that day when he came in, so angry at her for allowing Riley’s hair to be soaked with paint, and flush with the realization that somehow that turned into a real, loving relationship. One with mutual respect and care, one that was handled carefully, especially given the fact that there was a child involved. Y/N hadn’t ever dated someone who already had a kid, so she and Harry had multiple conversations regarding expectations and the changes this may incur on Riley’s life.

Ultimately, they chose to keep most of the relationship away from Riley until things got more serious. She and Harry had every intention of being in the long haul together, but they both knew it wouldn’t be helpful to any of them if they threw in Riley’s comfort and mental stability. For now, all he knew was that his dad had a new friend who he liked very much, and sometimes he went to go see her and spend time with her. So far, it was working well.

Tonight, however, was the first night that she and Harry had decided they’d have a sleepover. It sounded ridiculous and childish, but Harry always struggled with leaving Y/N’s place early enough to catch Riley before he went to bed. He beat himself up when he got home and he was already tucked in and snoozing. So Y/N suggested having a scheduled night that they dedicated just to them: He’d get to put Riley to bed himself and do his entire winddown routine with him (dinner, a bath, reading him multiple books since Harry was a sucker and couldn’t say no, and finally planting a kiss to his cheek when his sleepy eyes finally began to close), the babysitter would stay the night, and Harry would shuffle off to Y/N’s.

It was a good plan.

Except… well, except that they hadn’t slept in the same bed together yet, and their touching hadn’t gone past kissing and heavy petting. It was difficult — it had nothing to do with their attraction for one another, they were busy, and it wasn’t exactly optimal to jerk your boyfriend off when he was disappointed at himself for missing his son’s bedtime.

But Y/N and Harry are grown adults, and they’re aware of the underlying meaning of tonight. She knows it’s a big deal for him to place his trust in her after putting his own happiness and love life on the backburner for so long.

It’s why she’s spent the day scampering around her townhouse, sweeping, mopping, doing laundry, and doing everything she can to make the place as comfortable as possible for him. He’s spent many evenings here — he often comes over for dinner after work since his days at the office run longer than hers at the art studio — but it’s different when you spend an entire night somewhere new. She wants her blankets and pillows to smell cozy and feel even fluffier; her bedroom a calm oasis so even if he begins to worry — whether it be about Riley, or other subject matters — he won’t feel as overwhelmed and nervous.

When 7 finally ticks along, Harry, as usual, appears at her front door, prompt and anxious. He hasn’t voluntarily left RIley alone for an entire night unless it was for a business trip. But the second Y/N answers the door with that pretty smile he adores, his nerves melt just a tad. She almost immediately pulls him in for a hug, a chuckle vibrating through his chest as he leans down to press a kiss to her hair.

“Miss me that much?” he teases. He sets his duffel bag down in the entryway of her home and she kicks the front door closed. Through flushed cheeks, she grins.

“It’s been ages,” she pouts, standing on her tippy-toes to lightly peck his lips, “And I’ve never gotten you for the night. I’m excited.”

Harry’s chest contracts slightly at her words. He doesn’t know how, but she has a way of making even the scariest things seem approachable, and it makes him want to smother her with kisses until she’s pushing him away. Keeping a grasp on his hand, she guides him into the townhouse he’s grown familiar with. He notices that her kitchen is free from its typical small messes — half-empty glasses, crumbs from late night snacks — and she has a new candle burning on the coffee table in the living room.

“Did you clean for me?” Harry asks with a smirk. Again, she blushes before turning to face him.

“I just wanted you to be comfortable,” she explains, sucking on her bottom lip, “It’s a big deal. Y’know?”

“It is a big deal.” he agrees as he issues her hand a small squeeze, “And I wouldn’t want to take this step with anyone else. I hope you know that.”

A wide grin covers her face.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky with him.

. . .

Y/N’s tucked into Harry’s side as their third romantic comedy of the night plays on TV. Glancing down at the warm, dead weight curled around his form, he smiles gently when he sees her eyes batting closed. He nudges her lightly.

“Wanna go to bed, baby?”

She hums tiredly and sits up slightly, pressing her chin to his chest to look up at him.

“What time is it?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as a yawn struggles to strain free. He unlocks his phone, his screen glowing to life with a picture of a smiling Riley holding up a painting he did in Y/N’s class.

“Just past midnight,” he replies, stretching his arms out. His tee-shirt rises up a bit to reveal a bit of his inked hips and it makes Y/N swallow.

“Sorry this wasn’t a super fun evening,” she replies with a pout. She stands from the couch and leans over to grab their empty glasses — they’d each had a serving of wine each, but the minor buzz was long gone by now, despite Y/N being ever the lightweight. “Maybe next time we’ll plan something big, like… I dunno. Something good.”

She’s chattering sleepily and it makes Harry chuckle. He follows her into the kitchen, hugging her from behind as she rinses the cups in the sink.

“This has been perfect,” he murmurs lowly before pressing a kiss to her temple. “We don’t need to plan anything for it to be fun. I just like being in your presence.”

She warms as she dries the freshly cleaned glasses, gently placing them in the rack on the counter.

“You’re too sweet.” she mumbles. She shuts the water off and turns in his grasp to face him, lurching forward to bury her head in his neck. “C’mon then, let’s go to bed. You almost fell asleep on the couch.”

He snorts at her joke and rolls his eyes when she looks up at him with that dumb, cheeky grin she loves to flash at him. With their fingers intertwined, he bends down to grab his bag before following her to her bedroom.

He’s been in here several times before — on evenings when she’s particularly exhausted, he’ll help her wind down for bed, pecking her lips before driving home. One time, when Harry had an awful day at work, Y/N ran him a warm shower, complete with fancy lavender-scented steam that he’s been meaning to ask her about ever since. Despite being semi-familiar with the space, their more intimate time was often being cut short for fears of Harry missing bedtime with Riley, or Y/N needing to wake up early the following morning.

This time, however, there was nothing stopping them. No deadlines, no places to be. The knowledge made them both buzz with excitement and nerves.

Her bedroom is dim as they quietly shuffle around, changing out of their clothes and into pajamas. Harry’s the first to crawl into her cozy bed, nibbling on his bottom lip as he scrolls on his phone. Y/N flicks the single lamp off and allows the moonlight to seep through the curtains of her window, yawning once more as she climbs in next to him.

“Everything alright?” she asks softly. Harry hums, moving his arm to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer.

“Yeah. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything from the babysitter.”

“Mm,” Y/N nods. She purses her lips, forming a gentle kiss at his jawline. “You still feel okay about staying overnight?”

A smile cracks at the edges of his lips. He locks his phone and places it on the nightstand before flipping onto his side to face her.

“I’d be lying if I said a piece of my heart wasn’t still at my own place with Riley, but I’m so happy to be here with you. I promise.”

She swallows as she reaches out to thumb at his bottom lip. “You’re cute.”

“Am I?”

She giggles, “You are, and you know it.”

His eyes flutter shut as she begins to trace his features. With featherlight strokes of her fingertips, she ghosts over his lips, his chin, down to his throat and collarbones. He hums softly at the feeling, her other hand hovering over the hem of his tee-shirt as she silently waits for permission to push the fabric up.

“What’re you doing?” he whispers out, eyes flickering open as she curls her fingers around the bottom of his shirt.

“Is it okay if I make you feel good?”

He pauses. Swallows, and she removes her hands from his form.

“You can say no,” she quickly tacks on, “Please say no if you’re not 100%. I need you to be comfortable.”

His throat bobs. “It’s just… you know.”

She nods. They haven’t spoken about Harry’s anxiety surrounding physical intimacy since their first date, but she hasn’t forgotten about it. It’s been an active decision to move slowly and she would never want to do anything to push him past his limits.

“We can just go to sleep,” she murmurs, “It’s okay. I promise.”

He catches her wrist in a gentle grasp, lips parting as if he’s surprised by his own bravery. Slowly, he guides her down to his crotch, where he’s tenting in his sweatpants. Y/N bites her lip before allowing her mouth to form around a small oh in fear of making him feel self-conscious.

“I need to know that you’re sure,” she whispers in the darkness of her bedroom. Despite the limited light, she can still recognize his facial expressions, watching as a small wrinkle carves itself between his eyebrows. He’s nervous, that much she can tell. The rest is a mystery.

“I just need you to be slow,” he rasps. “It’s been… it’s been a long time, Y/N.”

She nearly coos out a response, wanting nothing more than to love and take care of the man that lays beside her. When he lets go of her hand, she cups him softly through the material of his bottoms, slightly surprised at how hard he feels.

“You can trust me. I promise.”

He nods, and it’s a flurry of shaky, hesitant movements and constant asks of reassurance from there. Everytime she pushes her foot on the gas, she reminds herself to stop and make sure he’s comfortable. He doesn’t ask to stop; not when she’s pulling down his sweatpants or mouthing at him through the fabric of his briefs, not when she’s drooling onto the ruddy head of his length or pressing her fingernails into his laurel-inked hips.

Harry is louder in bed than she had anticipated, or maybe it’s because it’s just been so long for him. He allows strained moans and curses to fall from his plush lips when she guides him into his mouth, and he even tangles a fist in her hair when the tip of his cock bumps down her throat. She thinks he’ll cum when she swallows around him, feeling his balls tighten in her free hand but he stops himself. She knows he does because he tips her head back and stares down at her with rounded eyes, taking her chin between his fingers and gently urges her up the length of his body. She obeys wordlessly, allowing him to move her however he deems fit.

“I wanna see you when I cum,” he eventually explains breathily. She nods, ignores the way her heart feels like it grows another size in her chest, and straddles his hips.

“Is it okay if I grind on you? Or do you want me to just use my hand?”

“You can grind on me,” he replies with a nod, tongue peeking out to moisten his lips. And when she rolls her hips down against his, it’s magic — the wetness between them emits a dirty, slushy sound (admittedly, Y/N is half to blame, since she couldn’t possibly go down on her boyfriend without making a sticky mess between her own legs). Harry pants loudly beneath her and his hands find purchase on her thighs as she moves, allowing his length to slick between her pussy lips.

It doesn’t take much for him to finish after that — especially not with his sleepy-eyed girlfriend on top of him, whimpering softly at the sensation of his tip bumping against her clit. When he comes, it’s a lot, and it’s messy, but Y/N can’t find it in her to care much as she leans down to smother Harry’s face in kisses; the pride in her chest for him growing to a point where it can’t be kept inside anymore.

“‘M so proud of you,” she mumbles. Harry laughs and wrinkles his nose as he wraps an arm around her waist, guiding her onto her side.

“Jesus, it’s not like I have erectile dysfunction,” he jokes, and Y/N rolls her eyes. "And you didn't come, either."

“This wasn't about me— and you know what I mean, Harry. I know this means a lot. For you, for both of us.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his face turning serious. “I didn’t know if I would ever find someone as caring or genuine as you. You’re so… gentle with me, it’s almost like I’m dreaming.”

Y/N smiles and reaches out to cup his cheek with her hand. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

“I know you are,” he says, taking her hand into his and pressing kisses to her knuckles, “And I’m so lucky for that.”

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kamaluhkhan · 9 months

Text

all the love we had and lost

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: lots of plot + flashbacks. angst with fluff in betweem. slightly suggestive dialogue/situations but nothing more than the actual show, a guy being pushy about hooking up with reader but nothing happens, mention of injuries and blood throughout, hints of alcoholism, brief mention of dieting (reader is competitive swimmer and deals with certain pressures from that), reader gets her period, takes on too much responsibility and argues with her mother (aka eldest daughter syndrome)

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije,

a/n: thank you thank you thank you for so much love on my first conrad fic!! i'm so excited to share the rest of the series, so stay tuned :))

read part one here

the best friends of our childhoods are the loves of our lives, and they break our hearts in the worse ways. (fredrik backman)

now — summer, age 18

you throw in some extra sprinkles, along with a few more tablespoons of sugar. belly has a huge sweet tooth. it's the night before her birthday, and you're in the kitchen at the fisher's house baking her coconut confetti cupcakes.

born on june 21st — the summer solstice — belly conklin is the definition of a summer child. she's summer, personified: sunshine, sweet tea, sand, and smiles. having missed so many birthday celebrations, you’re determined to make this year special.

you go to the fridge to grab some eggs, and when you close the door, you're startled by the person standing behind it.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, holding a hand to your chest and setting the carton of eggs on the counter. the joy you felt making birthday cupcakes for belly fades away, replaced with a tingling in your chest. you and conrad hadn’t spoken more than three sentences to each other, or even been in the same room alone, since that morning on the beach. as the distance between the two of you grew, so did your frustration at him.

conrad raises his eyebrow at you. he reaches around you into the fridge and pulls out a beer.

"i should be asking you that."

"the oven at my house is broken and your mom said i could come over."

“i’ve heard that one before,” he mumbles as he leaves the kitchen. you almost can’t believe he brought it up, even if just in a passing, somewhat snarky remark. conrad probably thought you didn’t hear.

these past few weeks, conrad hasn't just been cold towards you — which was a relief as much as it was heart wrenching. he seems more closed off in general, more inclined to spend time with others who hadn't seen him grow up. in fact, you imagine he’s on his way to see nicole now. maybe with her, he can pretend everything is fine. but not with the people in this house, who knew him inside and out.

you would never admit it — if conrad wants to ignore you, you could ignore him just fine — but it was eating you up inside, and it took everything in you not to confront him, to comfort him about whatever he was going through. you’d have arguments when you were kids, but it was nothing a ring pop or tub of cherry jello couldn’t solve. this time is different; the wound is deeper, harder to heal.

you wanted the old conrad back: the sweet boy who cared for you and let you care for him in return.

then — summer, age 14

belly was turning 12, and you wanted to surprise her with homemade cupcakes for breakfast. only, the oven at your house was broken, which meant your intention of baking her birthday treats would have fallen through, if not for susannah’s ever-present generosity.

everyone else was out of the house — you even asked laurel and susannah to take belly shopping to not ruin the surprise. you were decorating the cupcakes when conrad walked in from the deck. his wet hair stuck to his forehead and he was wearing a rash guard, so he probably got back from surfing. he looked paler than usual, even after being in the sun for hours, but you didn’t think much of it at first.

“hey,” he greeted, sounding slightly out of breath. “what are you doing here?”

“the oven at my house is broken, so your mom said i can come over to bake these for belly’s birthday tomorrow.” you gestured at the clumsily decorated treats. the cupcakes had bright pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. you weren’t a professional by any means, but knew that belly would love them.

“but i’m sure she wouldn’t miss one or two, if you wanna try one,” you offered, smiling at conrad.

he smiled back, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “yeah. yeah, let’s do that. i’m just gonna get changed first.”

conrad walked past you, and that’s when you noticed him limping — along with a bloody gash just below his left knee.

you instantly dropped the spatula back into the half-empty frosting bowl.

“connie, what the hell happened?”

“i’m fine,” he answered. “i wiped out, got cut by the fin of my board.” conrad must have noticed your eyes widened with worry because he grabbed your wrist gently, thumb rubbing soothingly on your pulse point. he was bleeding out on the kitchen floor, and there he was, trying to make sure you were okay.

“i’m fine,” he reassured.

the blood dripping down his leg suggested otherwise. years ago conrad would faint at the sight of blood, and though he’d mostly outgrown that, you knew it still made him queasy. you imagined the pain definitely wasn’t making it easier. without another word, you pulled him into the bathroom and made him sit on the edge of the bathtub. you washed your hands then sat cross-legged in front of him.

“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” he smirked as he watched you gather supplies from the cabinet underneath the sink, your brows furrowed in concentration.

“what?” you paused, almost laughing. until you saw his wound again, and you got back to work.

“it’s from the hunger games,” he explained. “when katniss finds peeta in the arena? and he’s all, like, injured.”

“well, he was definitely in worse shape than you,” you assured. “your cut’s not that deep, it just looks bad.”

“it doesn’t feel great, either.”

conrad exhaled sharply when you started applying pressure to his leg with a damp washcloth. you placed your other hand on his right knee.

“it’ll be fine, connie. i’ve got you. keep your eyes on me, okay?”

he looked down at you, wet hair framing his face as he offered a short nod.

you gestured at him to take over, and your fingers brushed together when he grabbed the washcloth, but he never looked down. his eyes still followed you as you searched the bathroom for something to cover his wound.

a comfortable silence followed. the two of you used to spend hours talking, sure, but what you loved about spending time with conrad is that silence didn't bother him. you could each be in your own worlds while in the comfort of each other's company, and that was enough.

once the wound was cleaned and the bleeding slowed down, you placed a gauze pad over his cut before wrapping a cloth bandage around it.

“i’m pretty sure it’s ‘you here to finish me off, sweetheart?’,” you remembered.

conrad shook his head. “i’m pretty sure it’s not. i’ve read the book like, three times.”

you move to sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“how sure are you, connie? because i’m pretty damn sure.”

conrad shrugged. “i’m pretty damn sure, too.”

you rolled your eyes, but with a smile. “okay, fine. we’ll check. but, when you see how wrong you are, you have to come with me to see jaws 2.” it was playing at the local movie theatre during their weekly throwback thursday — you and belly had seen it advertised on your way home from getting ice cream. you had wanted to ask conrad, but couldn’t find the right time.

because you hadn’t meant it to be a date, but you also hadn’t not meant it to be. something changed about how you felt towards conrad that summer; or, maybe, you just figured out what was different about the love you felt towards him compared to everyone else.

(yes, love. again, something you would never admit.)

you thought maybe — maybe he felt it too. there was something different in the way he teased you, laughed with you, looked at you when he thought you couldn’t notice.

you did notice. it happened so much that eventually you decided that either it was all in your head and he didn’t love you that way, or he was also scared of what would happen if he did. which, to be fair, was the position you were in. you were very scared of what would happen if you crossed that line.

“i’ll agree to that,” conrad said. “if you agree to having a picnic with me on the beach. if i have to face my fear of sharks, then you have to face your fear of angry seagulls stealing your food.”

a picnic on the beach. you wondered if this was conrad’s way of subtly asking you on a date. did he also want to cross that line, become something other than friends? he looked at you so eagerly, you hoped he did.

“fine.” you held out your hand. “but you have to protect me from angry seagulls.”

conrad smiled at you brightly as he grasped your hand.

“always.”

in the end, conrad lost the bet. the screening of jaws 2 was cancelled, so you rented it from the video store instead. you got his favourite movie snacks, and some of yours as well, and made sure the couch had the comfiest pillows and the warmest blanket. you felt butterflies just thinking about the two of you watching together, cuddling on the couch.

when the time came though, your plans fell through. the playdates your siblings had lined up both cancelled. your mother had plans to meet a friend at the bar, and claimed she couldn't reschedule. by then your parents were divorced and your father was elsewhere with his new girlfriend, so it fell to you to babysit your siblings.

conrad came over anyway: he helped you make rice and lentils for dinner, convinced your brother to eat his vegetables, and let your sister paint his nails. the four of you watched night at the museum and ate all the junk food you had gotten, with you and conrad sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but stealing glances and shy smiles at each other. when your mother came home, a bit after midnight and a little tipsy, she got angry that you’d kept the twins up so late and cheated on the diet she had so carefully planned for you — to keep you in shape for swimming, she claimed. you rolled your eyes, and that made her angrier. without you saying anything, conrad took the twins upstairs to get ready for bed as you and your mother argued. by the time conrad walked back downstairs, your mother had gone into the living room for another drink and you were in tears. he asked if you were okay, and you told him to go home.

you never talked about that night again, and everything went back to the way it was: with neither of you crossing that line.

now

the only reason you let belly drag you to nicole’s party is because it’s her birthday.

as soon as you enter the house, nicole and the other debutantes whisk belly away to a table filled with elaborate cakes. you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by how elegant they look in comparison to the cupcakes you made her.

"come on," taylor groans. "let's get a drink."

taylor grabs two beers and hands one to you. you gratefully accept. the two of you catch up for a bit, when suddenly jeremiah starts serenading belly in an outrageously funny musical number. you laugh along with them, until you catch a glimpse of conrad with nicole on the couch at the other end of the room. nicole is sitting in conrad's lap, and she leans over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. your entire body heats up.

conrad was right before: you were jealous. as frustrated as you were with him, you were even angrier at yourself for feeling that way.

"i’m gonna go find the bathroom!” taylor says, practically shouting over the music.

"okay!” you yell back. “i’m gonna go get another drink."

you know all too well that it isn’t a good habit to get into, but you need something stronger if you’re going to survive this party. you examine the drink table, finally picking out some mediocre tequila. you take a shot, then another.

“tequila. my kind of girl.” someone declares, creeping up behind you.

it’s a terrible pick up line, and you already have a feeling that the guy trying to flirt with you is some rich entitled asshole.

but, the guy — liam — can hold a decent conversation, and he’s cute enough.

he’s no conrad, though. you take another shot when that thought crosses your mind, and force yourself to flirt with leo. liam. right, liam.

liam leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze linger on the deep v-neck of your shirt. you’re so close, you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“five minutes,” you boast after he asks how long you can hold your breath underwater. somehow, the conversation veered towards your time as a competitive swimmer. you’re just the right amount of tipsy that your inhibitions start fading away.

“wow,” liam says. “i have to say, i’m glad you didn’t have that training camp this summer.”

you bat your eyelashes at him. “oh? why is that?” you lean closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

“because then i wouldn’t be able to do this.”

liam kisses you then, and you kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. you feel nothing. it’s fine.

“let's go upstairs.”

liam’s grabbing your wrist before you have a chance to answer. as he tries to tug you up the stairs, your eyes meet conrad’s from across the room.

suddenly, you feel nauseous. you rip away from liam’s grip and place a hand on the wall next to you to steady yourself.

liam turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just hang out downstairs.”

liam grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.”

this time, your voice comes out louder. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“don’t be a bitch, then,” he scoffs, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose. “do you wanna fuck, or not?”

“i don’t,” you answer instantly, struggling to break free from his grip.

“okay, whatever. we don’t have to go all the way, but we can still go upstairs, and have a good time.”

he manages to drag you up two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage, forcing liam to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he groans.

“just stop, liam.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little girl. “i know what girls want, so you don’t have to be shy. we’re going upstairs right now and —”

“liam, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s belly, giving liam one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. belly, who if you cut open, would bleed sugar. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my friend.”

“whatever,” liam answers, rolling his eyes. “if you don’t mind, we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you forward, but you stand your ground.

jeremiah is also glaring at liam from the bottom of the stairs, his golden retriever personality long gone. “back off, man,” he warns.

“just mind your own business,” liam snaps.

“they said leave her alone,” steven asserts, walking over once he sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” he clenches his hand into a fist as if proving a point.

in other situations, you and belly have definitely teased steven for his tendency to act all tough, but right now, you couldn’t be more grateful.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?”

“just let her go,” belly orders.

“i think she can speak for herself. she wants this, but if you’re jealous, you can join, too.”

your stomach churns. liam leans in close to whisper in your ear. “maybe we’ll see if those 5 minutes come in handy when you’re sucking my —”

as soon as liam lets go of your wrist, his hand trailing downward, you shove him away and punch him in the nose before he can finish his sentence. you deliver a final blow to liam’s ego as he’s doubled over:

“what i want is for you to leave us the fuck alone. there are other people in this house who i’d rather hook up with. people who aren’t complete assholes with fancy cars to compensate for their tiny dick.”

the flirtatious smile falls from liam’s face, replaced with the kind of anger only rich entitled assholes have when they don’t get what they want — figures that he only gets the hint when it literally hits him right in the nose. he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you fall down the stairs, but belly manages to catch you before you hit the ground. she holds you as jeremiah and steven step in front. you hear them shouting at liam over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and the room is suddenly all fuzzy.

“i’ve got her.” conrad’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist. “go find cam — the rest of us have been drinking, but he can drive her home.”

somehow, you find yourself in a bathroom, sitting on the counter as conrad stands between your legs. he carefully examines your injury, but you notice how he avoids making eye contact.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three.

“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” the question slips past your lips before you could stop it.

conrad looks slightly amused, and he finally meets your gaze. “that’s not the line,” he deadpans. you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him all night) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

but, still, he remembers. his comment earlier and his smile right now is all the confirmation you need: somewhere in the back of his mind, he replays memories of you. no matter how cold he acts towards you, he still cares.

he continues wiping the blood off your face. “how’s your hand?” he asks.

you flex your fingers, inspect your hand. “it’s been better,” you answer, though your knuckles are slightly aching. “worth it.”

“i guess all those years away made you a badass.”

all those years away. the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, but you wouldn’t let it burst the comfortable bubble you and conrad had somehow stumbled into.

instead, you offer him a lopsided smile.

“oh, connie,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “i was always a badass.”

“yeah, yeah. but it’s different now. you’re different.” he pauses. you’re worried he’s going to say something else.

but he doesn’t. instead, he asks, jokingly: “did you join a fight club or something?”

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s trying to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it, before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re both heartbroken and not talking to each other.

“you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together.

conrad laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too.

a silence falls over you, one that’s not unfamiliar, but not entirely comfortable either. conrad holds the cloth against your nose to make sure the bleeding stopped.

it seemed to be a strange pattern between you two — being there for each other when you bleed.

then — summer, age 12

it was the end of july when you got your first period.

you had made lunch for your siblings and walked them to their day camp, when you suddenly felt an ache in your abdomen. that ache turned into a sharp pain by the time you got home, and you ran to the bathroom to confirm what you’d suspected.

that afternoon, mr. conklin was taking all the kids to mini golf, but you weren’t feeling up for it. you texted belly about what happened and spent the rest of the day curled up in bed.

you didn’t hear him knock over the sound of the movie you were watching, but suddenly you saw conrad standing by your door, holding a bag from the candy shop.

“jesus, connie, you scared me!” you exclaimed, pausing the movie.

he smiled sheepishly and flopped down on the bed next to you. “belly told me you weren’t feeling well. here.” he handed you the bag.

you opened the bag, grateful that conrad picked out your favourite treats. you take one and bite into it. your stomach growled — you hadn’t eaten earlier because you felt nauseous, but now you could eat that entire bag in one go.

“how was mini golf?” you asked, popping another treat into your mouth.

“it was awesome! i finally managed to get past that giant hippo and get a hole-in-one. i got the highest score.”

you frown, wishing you had been there. if anything, to beat conrad’s score.

“don’t worry, we’ll go back another time,” conrad added. “you can beat me then.” sometimes, you swore conrad could read your mind. he then asked if you were feeling better.

“no. i got my period,” you huffed. “it sucks.”

“oh.” conrad adjusted his glasses, a sign that he felt awkward. “i’ve heard about those. they sound pretty brutal.”

“health class?”

“no. my mom, actually.”

health class wasn’t much help for you either, and neither was your mother. you were lucky enough to have susannah and laurel, who had explained everything to you and belly.

“anyway, what are you watching?”

“the hunger games,” you answer. “i just finished the book.”

“cool.”

conrad didn’t move — he actually leaned back against the pillows even more — so you figured he wanted to stay. you moved the laptop so it sat between the two of you and started playing the movie again.

“you know, it doesn’t seem fair that you miss out on having fun just because of your period,” conrad said as katniss finds peeta injured in the arena.

you frown, about to point out that he has no idea how painful cramps can be.

he lifted his hand up to stop you. “not that i can judge what you’re going through. i’m just saying when it’s this bad, instead of being alone, just text me, and i’ll be there.”

when the time came, he watched movies with you in bed. he brought you junk food and pain killers. he even biked to the store when you’d run out of pads.

he was there for you, just like he promised.

now

those moments from past summers now feel warm and sickly sweet, like popsicles melting in the sun — then again, that might just be the remnants of tequila flowing through your veins. you think about what happened earlier, how belly, jeremiah, and steven stepped in to protect you. how conrad is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve ignored each for so long. it’s like nothing changed. but once you leave this bathroom and the alcohol leaves your system, it wouldn’t be the same. you feared you'd never get that magic back, and that weighed on your chest so much, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“why’d you go for liam, anyway?” conrad asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes the cloth from your nose so you can answer, and the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. liam’s an asshole. and you’re…” conrad places his hands on either side of your thighs, leaning close. “you.”

“i went for liam because….well, honestly, i didn’t care who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with conrad is running out.

conrad’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts.

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s so close that it’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on conrad’s. it's not the most elegant kiss — it's messy, urgent, with your noses bumping together, and teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. you taste beer on his tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. you tangle your hands into his hair, and you swallow his moan as you gently tug. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him.

when you run out of air, feeling like your lungs could burst, you pull away. conrad’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“connie,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

conrad wipes away your blood with the cuff of his flannel. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. jeremiah, letting you know that it’s time to go.

and, just like that, the moment is gone.

a few days later, belly invites you over for a girl’s night. you paint each other’s nails, eat sour candy, and watch rom coms, just like you used to. she updates you on debutante season, the argument she had with taylor, and her blossoming feelings for jeremiah. you let it slip that you and conrad kissed at nicole’s party, though you admit you aren’t sure what it means — as if you hadn’t spent hours and hours thinking about the kiss, about him. belly gives you a knowing smile, but you change the subject before she can comment any further.

you’re halfway through 10 things i hate about you when belly falls asleep. you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to conrad, when you get a text from him.

he’s already on the dock when you arrive, looking out onto the water.

“hey,” you greet as you stand next to him. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell belly that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “but…would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, belly’s close to nicole and i don’t want her finding out," conrad explains. his words are deliberate, and you suspect he'd spent some time perfecting what to say to you. so far, you didn't like where this was going. conrad delivers another blow:

"it’s not like it meant anything.”

you feel like you could shatter into a million pieces right then and there.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to conrad’s stoic demeanor.

conrad shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with liam happened, so we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing other than friendship?”

he turned away before he answered. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he pauses, and you know you caught him off guard. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit has happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —"

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, conrad.”

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay conrad’s words as you crawl into bed next to belly, holding back tears as to not disturb her sleep.

you decide then that you didn’t love conrad anymore. you couldn’t because it would eat you up inside.

then again, it doesn't seem like hating him would be any easier.

#conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp #tsitp fanfic #the summer i turned pretty fic #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher angst #saf writes

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cultrise · 6 months

Text

PHONE SEX. DAZAI OSAMU

𖤐 CONTENTS NSFW, phone sex, masturbation (male & female receiving), a little praise, extra horny dazai, begging, squirting, dazai guides you through it in the end ᵎᵎ wc 1.7k

ᵎᵎ check the mlist for kinktober here !

dazai hated nothing more than being away on missions, unable to come home to his “gorgeous belladonna” each night. it had been a week since he left to handle some very private and very secret work, which was usually his specialty, and he couldn’t bare it anymore.

he would text you everyday, during meetings, during investigations, during fights even, which made you scold him. you would get ignored, of course. he would call and pout on the daily, whining about missing you and wanting to be there. and sometimes, even..

“wanna be between your legs so bad, bella” he would whine loudly into the phone, making you go red all the way up to your ears and start yelling his ears off for having no shame whatsoever. and of course, he did not care for it any more than he did when he got kicked and slapped by kunikida for saying uncalled for shit all the time.

it was the second to last night of dazai being away and, unfortunately for him, he couldn’t stand it anymore. he missed kissing you, touching you, seeing your naked figure in the morning as you awoke from slumber.. every thought he had of you made his dick strain under his boxers. and his hand simply wasn’t doing it anymore.

“i have so many documents to finish for tomorrow… i can’t believe you talked me into doing yours too” you scolded dazai through the phone as you struggled to open your eyes and keep working. his mouth rests hung open as you talked his ear off about what you did today, body throbbing with desire. his hand involuntarily slides to his pants.

“are you even listening to me, osamu?” osamu. calling him by his first name. it makes him go crazy. his eyes shut tightly as he unzips his fly and slides his leaking dick out of his pants, back leaning against the headboard. he takes a long breath in, trying to stabilise his breathing.

“i am, love. always am” you roll your eyes at the pet name, trying to not let him get to you. if there’s one thing you are is weak. you’re weak when it comes to him, to how he speaks to you and his tone shift whenever he addresses you. it’s filled with warmth, with love, so much more different from the way he used to speak to you, to anyone. it proves just how much you’ve gotten under his skin, how much you changed him in these past few years.

and it’s proven by his desperation to have you, to feel you, which was still unbeknownst to you at this point. he smiles against the phone, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. he was aware your were sulking, trying to compose yourself so you didn’t fall for his tricks. he also knew you were failing miserably. and so was he, as he started stroking himself slowly, listening to your breathing.

“i think i’ll take a break..” you sigh as you slam your pen on the table, picking up the phone and lounging back into your chair. dazai’s eyes glisten, mouth corners raising up into a smile. it was his chance to let you know how much he wanted you, how he’s going to jump you the second he gets home.

“yeah? wanna take a break with me, belladonna?” he says in a sultry tone as you raise your eyebrows in confusion, pressing the phone to your ear and taking a sip from your drink. you hum in approval, making dazai’s excitement rise to his chest.

“what are you suggesting?” you ask mindlessly, still unaware of his intentions. dazai’s hand slides down to the base of his dick, letting out a drawn-out breath that makes you halt.

“want me to tell you how much i’ve missed you?” he bites into his bottom lip as your eyes widen. he couldn’t be… was he? oh god. this man was truly shameless. it was embarrassing how quickly your body heated up, your lips parting slightly.

“have you been jerking off the whole time i’ve been screaming your ears off?” you ask in disbelief as he chuckles. of course he had.

“come on.. stop scolding me and join me, baby. been missing you so much…” he begs as your vision blurs. you bolt out from your chair, rummaging through the boxes hidden in your drawer. it was insane how quickly this man turned you on, how a simple beg made your mind spin. you take out a blue magic wand — gifted to you by none other than your thoughtful boyfriend. self-proclaimed.

you take your pants off in a haste, throwing them into the corner of the room and sliding your panties off, jumping into bed. you put the call on speaker, placing it on the pillow next to you as dazai sits quietly on the other line, waiting.

“go on…” you whisper as you open your legs, setting the wand between your plushy thighs. dazai chuckles, amused at your obedience before he speaks.

“what a good girl… want to know what i’ve been thinking about doing to you?” he purrs. the low buzzing of the toy hits his ears and he groans, brushing a finger over his slit. god, was he thankful for gifting you that. and so were you. even though it did make dazai cocky, especially since he knew that you weren’t satisfied with only your fingers anymore. not after being fucked so good by him.

“yeah…” you breathe out, pursing your lips as the head of the wand works it’s way on your puffy clit. dazai’s words catch in his throat for a moment at the sound of your suppressed whines of pleasure, his cock throbbing in his hand.

“been thinking about the way you pretty cunt swallows me in so good… she’s made for me” your mewls accentuate with every graphic description dazai whispers against the cold screen of the phone. you failed to realise just how much you had actually missed him in return.

dazai throws his head back, hand stroking his length rapidly as he listens to your soft pleads, begging him to let you do something – anything. he was well aware you were too fucked out to even form coherent sentences.

“shit.. need to feel you so bad… haah.. fuck, baby, need to get home to you..mmh” dazai chokes out as his dick twitches, making him throw his head back with a gasp. you mirror his reaction as the toy whirrs over your sweet cunt, touching a sensitive spot that made you see stars. dazai pressed his phone against the shell of his ear, smirking at the sounds you make. even when being away, he knew what part of you you had touched, knew exactly what every reaction meant.

“oh.. ‘samu… i’m gonna– oh god..!” you whine as your hips jerk upwards, grinding against the wand for extra friction.

“you can hold it in a little longer…” your reply is not a satisfied one. “come on, gorgeous… want you to cum with me.. not yet” he was begging by that point and the idea enticed you so much you couldn’t refuse. as he hears your annoyed grunt, dazai smiles.

“yeah, there we go. circle that clit for me, okay, bella? fuck.. miss your pretty pussy so badly…” if it was one thing dazai did during sex, it was talking. however, it was actually hilarious how he was not only turning you on but he was also getting off to his own comments. he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut for anything, especially now when he was so close to making a mess on the sheets of the hotel bed.

“osamu… please” you snap him out of his daze as he chuckles, wrist shaking “mhm.. so close, darling.. need you to cum with me so badly….” it was all he needed to say for you to start resuming your antics, pushing your head back into the pillow.

the next minute was followed by loud grunts, moans and whines of pleasure, hastened begs for each other and name screaming until… “shit, fuck, bella, i’m cu– oh fuck!” dazai groaned as cum started to shoot out from his sensitive, reddened tip. at the sounds of your lover’s moans it was hard to keep it together, so it didn’t take long for you to follow suit, back arched as you squirted all over the newly placed sheets.

your bodies go limp as you close your eyes, trying not to fall asleep as you process the whole experience. your body glistens with sweat and you dread the idea of getting up and showering.. or cleaning your bedsheets, for that matter. you gather up all the strength left in your body to turn to the side, facing the phone.

“you still there?” dazai smiles as he hears the faint sound of your breathing ring out from the small device. he hums in approval, eyes threatening to close. “you don’t want to talk to me anymore, is that it?” you try to play it off as being angry, the hint of amusement in your voice giving it away.

“maybe i don’t” dazai plays along as you gasp theatrically, slapping a hand to your mouth “i can’t believe you, osamu dazai! how dare you?!” and he breaks into laughter, purring sweetly as a reply “indeed, how dare i do this to my pretty girl?”

you nod “exactly. she must be so upset” you jut your bottom lip out “well, good thing i’ll be home soon and ready to pamper her like she deserves” dazai muses, eyes closing. he hoped that once he’d open them he’d find you next to him. you smile contently, pressing the phone to you ear as you lie back again. your mind trails off as you watch the cars passing along the street.

“bella?”

“yes, ‘samu?”

“we should’ve facetimed… hey, how about i call you right now and you can spread those pretty legs for me, huh?”

“osamu!”

“yeah, definitely facetiming.. answeeer”

his annoying ass didn’t let you go until you repeated the whole show. he made sure not to slip away from the sight of you for a second. after all, you did need an audience. and how kind of him to help you out by telling you what to do.. you just wanted him to come home as soon as possible.

#✦— kinktober.#𐙚 — pages.#𐙚— dreamscape.#kinktober '23 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #dazai #bsd #bungo stray dogs #dazai x reader #dazai x reader smut #bungo stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #dazai smut #osamu dazai x reader

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 9 months

Note

Hiiii! I've been scrolling on your account for the past hour and haven't found what I was looking for, so here I am. I've been wanting to read a Sterek fic where Stiles just takes a gun and shoots straight or whatever and when everybody is like wth he just says: what? My dad's a cop! Just, super badass Stiles. Pleaaaase

Let's see.

Bang Bang Baby by rlnerdgirl

(1/1 I 5,388 I Explicit I Sterek)

When Stiles said he was going to Los Angeles for a week for “PD,” Derek is pretty sure it’s the flimsiest excuse for a solo-vacation, and he feels bad having to call him back early. But there’s something in Beacon hills, something more dangerous than they’ve dealt with in a long time. Turns out, Stiles did go to professional development, to help him deal with shit in Beacon Hills, and when Derek gets a look at what he’s been doing, he’s more than a little conflicted.

Derek manages to blink, tearing his eyes from the gun and bringing his attention to Stiles’ face. “That isn’t a gun.” His voice is rough, mouth still parched.

The smile that pulls at Stiles’ lips makes him frown. “No,” Stiles agrees. “That’s a Barrett M82A1 sniper rifle, which, according to my instructors, I am a natural at firing, so much so that I have been suggested, many times over the past week, to enter some kind of,” the hand on the back of Derek’s neck stops stroking as Stiles’ wrist moves, hand making a gesture of some kind, “competition for, because apparently shooting competitions are things that exist. I mean, I guess I knew that. I just didn’t realize shooting this would be a competition.”

I'm the ghost of my mistakes by GreyHaven

(20/20 I 29,696 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles hasn't been known as Stiles for the past six years. He's Mitch Rapp, a CIA assassin with 117 kills under his belt. When he gets a late night call from Scott, saying Derek has been taken, he's on the road back to Beacon Hills in less than ten minutes. He's going to get Derek back, even if that means adding a few more kills to his ledger.

Hear The Wheels As They Roll by crossroadswrite

(2/2 I 44,919 I Teen I Sterek)

“You can’t be here. This is private property,” someone calls out and for some reason that voice sounds painfully familiar.

When it hits him why, Stiles almost chokes with the realization, “Derek Hale,” he says, unbelievably happy because he remembers Derek when they were young.

Derek looks grumpier, sadder, angrier. Stiles can’t really fault him for that. He also looks surprised that Stiles knows who he is. He squint/glares suspiciously at him, his nostrils flare for a second before he widens his eyes almost dramatically.

“Stiles,” he says quietly, like he can’t really believe it.

Stiles beams, “Yeah, you remember me!”

AND

@lovesouthernsweettea suggested this series!

The Sum of It's Parts by KouriArashi

AND

@merchymynydd suggested this one!

So Take a Long Shot by relenafanel

(1/1 I 2,650 I Teen i Sterek)

Stiles is ten when his father teaches him how to shoot. He sucks with a handgun, more likely to shoot off his own foot than the target.

The same cannot be said for his skill with a long-range rifle (but he's no one's weapon).

Eventually, Stiles knows, the secret will come out, because there are just some people he will save at all costs.

(That day comes when they're hunting a redcap through the forest and can't reach Derek in time)

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #bamf!stiles #anon #submission

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silksongeveryday · 8 months

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Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 200!!!

(huge thanks to this person for the art suggestion!! <3)

I genuinely can’t believe that I’ve made it to 200 days, it’s truly been wild how time flies by like that and the amount of doodles I’ve made during that time. Over 200 doodles (217 to be exact if we’re counting double pictures/extra doodles) have been made over the past 200 days. :0

And thank you all so much for the love and support! Not only have we reached 200 days but also 1400+ followers about a week ago! <3

But, having said that I’d like to make a few announcements—some good, some not so great—about a few things regarding the blog, myself, and other stuff.

Putting it all under the cut so the post isn’t long if you’d like to know more

______________________________

Announcements!

My pfp!

1.) I’ll be changing my pfp again!! I’ve officially decided that after every 100 days or so I’ll change up the pfp so it’s up to date with my doodle style (assuming it changed at all lol), but generally it’ll look relatively the same as the last!

Possibly more admins?

2.) As of right now I’m looking into the idea/possibility of having a second (maybe third?) person help me with daily doodles! As much as I’d like to keep doodling everyday there are some days that it can be tough or some situation might be happening. (i.e. recently got injured)

See, the problem is I don’t exactly have a proper way of trying this out??? My idea was to maybe do this through dms or more preferably Google Forms. I also don’t really know what form of communication afterward would be best either, suggestions to help me work this out would be great! (as you can tell I’m not very good at this stuff lol)

Commissions!

3.) After much consideration and a lot of thought, I’ve decided that in the near future, I’ll be opening commissions again for the first time in years. I don’t have everything set up quite yet, but expect more info in the near future!

About requests:

4.) You may have noticed recently that I haven’t been doing as many doodle requests recently. Sure, there’s usually quite a few in a row at once but you may have noticed I’ve also been doing “non-requested” doodles aka ones that I just do on my own.

Expect this to become a very normal thing going forward. I probably won’t be doing as many requests as before because frankly with the amount of requests I get daily when it’s open is a lot to handle sometimes. Does this mean requests will be stopped entirely? No, I’ll still do some occasionally, but not as much as I have in the past.

Also I’ll likely be doing strictly anonymous requests.

About Burnout:

5.) Alright let’s address the elephant in the room.

There have been quite a few instances where people have wondered if I would ever have burnout and have occasionally joked about “dying” from said burnout because “Silksong will never release, you’ll be doing this forever” etc etc.

In the past I’ve been fine, motivation has been great, but recently I’ve noticed it a little bit.

Unfortunately life has its own plans so it can be a little hard for me to make a doodle that day, expecially recently since I’ve been experiencing personal/medical issues. It’s part of the reason I’m hoping to get a second (maybe third) person to help me do daily doodles so I can take a little bit of the load off my shoulders.

So what does this mean for this blog?

Not much right now. But in the future, there may be some changes. My current plan is to keep going on daily doodles/posts for the length of a standard year, so roughly 365 days. After that, if things in personal life keep up the way they have, I may have to stop daily doodles and instead will post only if I have time. That likely means doodles every other day or every three days or something. At the very least I’ll still post a doodle once a week.

Not to worry though! I’ll still try my best even after I reach day 365 :)

I’ll discuss how things work a little more on my main @miizori later, but that’s as much as I can think to explain rn.

———————————————

Just a few more things I wanted to say!

This community has been so cool to interact with, so much tamer than some others I’ve been apart of in the past. I’m genuinely thankful for how much support and how nice everyone has been. I truly didn’t expect to get this far, I was fully expecting to have stopped like 10 doodles in lol. I especially love to see all your comments in the tags and people sharing their art. You’re all so cool :)))

I have a dtiys from back when I reached 300 followers that’s still available if you’re feeling up to it!

Also my main (again, @miizori) is where I make updates on doodle stuff, regular art stuff and so on if you’re interested at all in that lol

I think that’s all that I can remember wanting to say, so thanks!! I look forward to more doodles for you all :)

#hollow knight #silksong #hk hornet #hollow knight hornet #silksong hornet #hk shade lord #shade lord #hollow knight shade lord #hollow knight fanart #hk fanart #silksongeveryday

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suashii · 7 months

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꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒜 𝐹𝒪𝒪𝐿 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸

info ⭑ geto suguru x reader ﾉ 2.4k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ ex-boyfriend geto ﾉ band au ﾉ hurt/comfort ﾉ a wee bit angsty ﾉ some suggestive bits ﾉ reader is tipsy ﾉ ambiguous ending

note ⭑ hi! after writing this, i really wanna continue something with this band au geto! not sure if that means i'll be making this into a series. . . perhaps an anthology? idk! lmk if you'd be interested :3 happy reading !

the streets of tokyo during the late hours of the day are restless—especially here in shibuya. you’d think the bustling crowds, fast pace, and your slightly tipsy state would make it difficult to recognize anyone but the universe seems keen to prove you wrong recently.

because standing at the corner of the street you’re supposed to be turning at is him—the man you haven’t seen in nearly five months and didn’t plan on seeing any time soon.

the sight of geto makes you stop–or more accurately, stumble–in your tracks. you can’t help the way your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open. it’s as if time slows for a couple of seconds in his distant presence. you can’t think straight and you aren’t sure if that’s because of him, too, or if you have the alcohol to blame for that.

regardless, when you finally regain cognitive function after what feels like an eternity, you’re able to tell yourself that you need to turn around and find another route home. unfortunately for you, the thought comes a second too late, geto spinning to face you just before you have the opportunity to turn on your heel. the brief moment of shared eye contact doesn’t stop you from trying to run for the hills, though you quietly curse yourself for getting caught in this predicament while you do so.

you hear the shout of your name from behind you, but you don’t dare come to a halt. your perseverance to escape is futile, made apparent by the newfound proximity of the familiar voice and the feel of fingers snaking around your wrist. you aren’t sure what possesses you to do so, but you quickly swing around to face the man hellbent on catching up to you. he seems just as surprised as you if the way his eyebrows shoot up is any evidence.

“hey, wait—i come in peace.” geto raises his hands in mock surrender to show that he stands by his words.

you believe him.

your fingers are cool as they brush against your forehead in an attempt to form a coherent sentence. there isn’t much you can think to say other than, “sorry, i just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“i gathered as much.” geto nods, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. he knew this reunion–if it ever even happened–would be awkward, but the air between the two of you is so tense that he finds it a little hard to breathe. he clears his throat before continuing. “kind of looked like you were trying to avoid me though.”

“got me there,” you softly admit.

geto understands but he doesn’t relate. he’s been trying to get a hold of you since he landed back in japan last week and his efforts have been fruitless until now. running into you this way may have been a coincidence but geto doesn’t intend on squandering what just might be his one chance to tell you what has been nagging at his mind for the past few months. “look, i was hoping we could talk.”

the expression that paints your face upon hearing his request is apprehension. he can practically see the blinking red lights and hear the alarm bells going off in your head. and, as much as he hates to admit it, your worry makes sense. the last time he asked you to talk, he broke up with you.

“ten minutes—fifteen, max.” geto attempts to bargain. he hopes the limit on the time you have to spend with him will convince you to agree, to hear him out. it hurts, but after chewing on his cheek, he adds another condition that’ll work in your favor. “and after, if you don’t want to see me again, i’ll leave you alone for good.”

with as much effort as you’ve been putting into steering clear of geto since his return, you’d think his words would come as a comfort to you. they don’t, though. the feelings that surge within you at hearing them contradict your strict avoidance of geto up until this point. they make you confront the fact that you have wanted to see him and can’t stomach the thought of never seeing him again.

you’re taking a risk by doing so, but you nod.

“okay, let’s talk.”

the two of you end up at some park a little ways away from the city center—one where you can see the orangey-red leaves flutter through the air once they fall from the trees and watch the fountain in the pond shoot up water that rains back down. despite how pretty the scenery is, you can’t help but look at geto instead.

it’s been practically half a year since you last saw him. you’re sure he’s changed quite a bit since then but all you can focus on are the ways he’s stayed the same, the little parts of him that you missed while he was gone—like the dragon tattoo that snakes up his shoulder to his collarbone. seeing it floods your head with memories of when the two of you were together. mornings spent tracing the delicate lines with feathery touches, kissing up the ink and coloring the creature with love bites.

you almost flinch at the reminder. your plan wasn’t to revisit the past, at least, not those moments, but seeing the tattoo on display makes it almost impossible. it’s geto’s fault for wearing that stupid sleeveless hoodie. you drag your gaze up to meet the obsidian shards that are his eyes. “strange choice of attire for such a chilly night.”

he rubs his arm at your observation, a grin gracing his lips. “yeah, i didn’t plan on staying out for long.”

you know that you agreed to come with him, but even sitting on opposite sides of the same bench is proving to be overwhelming. so, instead of regarding his innocent statement as simply that, you view it as an out. “if you have somewhere you need to go or someone you’re supposed to meet, we can do this another time.”

“no way.” geto doesn’t let a beat of quiet pass before he speaks and shakes his head. “i finally caught you and i’m not letting you get away so easily.”

the confession stuns you to silence. there are a million thoughts bouncing off the walls of your skull right now–how this wasn’t a good idea, that you weren’t obligated to listen to what he wants to say–but the one that worms its way past the others and to the forefront is that his words are… romantic. it’s frustrating that you aren’t mad at him, especially when you’ve spent so long convincing yourself that you should be.

it seems as though the feelings you tried so hard to bury are beginning to resurface.

you clear your throat. “what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“right,” geto starts, a hand coming up to scratch at his neck. his tongue pokes out from between his lips to poke at the metal hoops wrapped around them. they’re things he does when he’s nervous, like when he first asked you out on a date or when he’d tune his guitar while waiting to go on stage. you wonder what it is on his mind that has him so on edge. though, you aren’t sure if it’s your place to ask, to show concern like you used to, so you stay quiet.

“i guess i wanted to talk about how we left things,” he finally tells you.

you should have seen this coming, and maybe part of you–a part you were trying to ignore–did. there isn’t much more the two of you can discuss. there have been a lot of unspoken thoughts lingering on your mind since that night, ones that you never planned on letting see the light of day. you’ve gone so long sitting on your feelings; what’s the point in digging them up now?

“what more is there to talk about exactly?” you ask, crossing your arms—using them as a shield. “you broke up with me to go on tour and i told you that i understood—no hard feelings.”

geto is quiet across from you, but you can tell there’s something weighing on his mind, words on the tip of his tongue. a few moments of stillness pass before he spits it out. “i don’t think you mean that. not then and… not now.”

“what do you want me to say, suguru?” you toss your hands up in frustration. your voice has been low, controlled up until this point but rises with your question, with your growing irritation. does he want to humiliate you even more than he already has? your intention of continuing to sit on your feelings, to keep them hidden, is lost with the way words unknowingly spill past your lips. “that i was dumb for thinking that i was worth a little more effort to you? that i should have let go of you as easily as you did me?”

there’s a certain level of relief that comes with your words but they also open up a wound you’ve been trying your best to close. all the emotions you felt that night feel as raw as they did then, as though you’re reliving it all over again.

the tears return, gathering at your lash line and threatening to fall but never rupturing the dam. the insecurity comes back, too. you can feel the ghost of a knife piercing your heart as you think about how it felt like he had chosen music over you. but who were you to ask him to reconsider—to think of you before his music, his dream?

tonight is turning out to be more than you can handle.

you’re about to stand, apologize for your outburst, and excuse yourself when geto speaks up.

“i didn’t let go of you—not really,” he quietly admits. his hand reaches up to his neck again, fingers twirling the loose hairs that happened to make it out of his bun. the action makes his words carry more truth and while you can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely, hearing them has an uncontrollable effect on you.

one of the tears you were adamant about not shedding until you were out of his sight rolls down your cheek. you quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. “you don’t have to say that, it’s not going to make me feel any better.”

“i mean it, though, i do.” when you finally muster up the courage to meet his stare, his eyes tell you that what he said is the truth. his eyes have never lied. “i thought about you every day while i was on tour.”

the confession sends a pang to your heart. it clears up the fog of turmoil clouding your mind, although a haze of uncertainty lingers. does he mean that he missed you—the same way you’ve been hopelessly missing him?

you don’t have to aimlessly ponder, as geto continues.

“look, i asked you here because i wanted to tell you that i regret how i went about things. i thought about my choice–about you–a lot. and i realized a little too late that i owed us a chance. i was scared that we couldn’t handle long distance and that we’d both end up hurt but i never considered the possibility that it might have worked for us.”

geto unconsciously reaches for you, though when he realizes what he’s doing, he thinks better of it, letting his hand rest in his lap instead. just because he’s laying himself bare for you doesn’t mean the pain he’s caused has disappeared. besides, he still has one thing to say before you can even consider forgiving him.

his tongue glides across his lower lip, over the two silver hoops situated on either side. “i made a decision that both of us should have had a say in. i’m sorry.”

beyond the feelings of heartache and self-doubt, the thing you felt most that night was unheard—as if anything you could have thought to utter during that moment would have fallen on deaf ears. geto seems to have noticed that much, reflected on it and recognized his mistake. his apology, the acknowledgment of his fault, unchains the final weight that was tugging at your heart.

you sniff and dab at the stray tears that have trickled down your face. “thanks for saying so. and… i forgive you.”

there’s a weight of his own that makes geto’s chest feel lighter upon hearing your words. from the minute he started rehearsing this conversation, he imagined that he’d damaged you to the point of being unworthy of your compassion, your forgiveness. this is more than he could have asked for, even if you still choose to take him up on his offer of leaving you alone for good.

“i’m glad,” geto nods, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips, though he doesn’t let the short moment of happiness overtake him. “i know that was probably a lot and if you need to take some time to decide how you want us to proceed, if at all, i understand.”

you shake your head and the corners of geto’s lips fall into a neutral line. he made a good point earlier, one that you can’t ignore if you want to prevent yourself from getting hurt the way you did before. and despite just learning about it, geto was hurting, too. if you can minimize the pain either of you have to experience, you will.

you clear your throat with hopes that your voice will come out steady. “i’d rather come to that conclusion together. since it has to do with both of us, y’know?”

geto’s shoulders slump as the tension seeps from them. “yeah. yeah, of course. whenever you’re ready.”

“we can start tonight if you have time,” you suggest, bashfully rubbing up and down your arms. it really feels like you’re starting over. before you knew his name, simply when you had a crush on the hot guy playing at the bar you were visiting for the night. “i want to hear about how your tour went.”

“okay,” geto easily agrees, the smile from earlier making its way back to his lips. it meets his eyes and the obsidian shards sparkle—with hope.

hi there, sua here! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x you #jjk x you #geto drabble #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios

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azsazz · 11 months

Text

Cinders and Smoke

Azriel x Eris x Reader

Summary: Azriel finds that he and Eris are more alike than he thought.

Warnings: Graphic depictions of scars/past injuries.

Word Count: 2,061

Notes: A lil Azris angst for 4k?

_________________________________________

“You need to stop goading him into fights,” you sigh, exasperated by your mate. You sit across from Azriel at the dining room table, staring longingly at the door Eris has just disappeared through. You flinch in your seat when you hear the harsher than normal click of your bedroom door slamming shut.

Azriel places his fork onto the table with a clack that earns him another disapproving look. Stretching out his fingers, aching from how hard he’d been clutching the utensil in his hands he scoffs, glaring down at the metal. It doesn’t match any of the others and one of the prongs is more bent than the others and Azriel hates it. He knows Eris gave it to him on purpose, the asshole. The heir to the Autumn Court’s lifestyle is annoyingly endearing. Azriel hopes it doesn’t change when he becomes High Lord.

He’s still fuming from the constant back and forth bickering with the arrogant son of Autumn. It’s bad enough that you live with Eris in the Autumn Court full time, and how Azriel’s the one who has to sneak in and out of this quaint, cozy home, but he bristles at your scolding before a burning rush of guilt twists in his stomach.

“He needs to learn how to share,” Azriel growls, thinking back to the conversation you’d all been having over your meal. “I don’t get to see you as often as I’d like and when I’m here it feels like I’m a guest, not at home with my mate.”

Your gaze softens at his admission. Reaching out for his hands you watch as your mate huffs, reluctantly threading his fingers through yours like the knots connecting your souls.

“Only a little longer, mate,” you murmur, rubbing his knuckles with your thumbs. It’s a hope that Eris will overthrow Beron, but neither of you believe it will happen soon. It’s something, though, knowing that there are plans in motion so that one day there won’t be a perimeter keeping you from seeing either of your mates.

You’re all playing the long game. And what a long, long game it is.

“I don’t know how much longer I can take,” Azriel whispers, voice thick with emotion. He thought that finding his mate would be everything, and it is, but having to share you with Eris was not something he’d ever planned. And with you being the known mate of the heir to Autumn, you had always been by his side, flaunted in meetings and adored by the people of the court. Azriel has never stood a chance, always secret visits and fleeting looks that no one but the three of you understood what they mean. He yearns to be able to stay the night, the week, forever with you.

“Maybe we can talk to Eris,” you suggest, “Maybe he’ll let me visit–”

Azriel chuckles dryly, rolling his eyes. “My love, I think we both know that you won’t be going anywhere near the Night Court without him.”

“Just let me talk to him,” you plead. You know that he’s sore about these things. Even for the shadowsinger to admit this is hard enough, but letting Eris know about how he truly feels? No, he won’t have it unless it’s through a well articulated plan, where he can control the conversation and keep his emotions in check. “It will be quick, I promise.”

He grumbles because he can’t say no to you. You beam, pecking him on the cheek as you pass, headed towards the bedroom Eris has locked himself in.

Your other mate waits. A few minutes turn into many and he’s at the end of his tether. He looks at the clock on the wall. He needs to be headed back to the Night Court soon and he’d hardly had any time to see you. He’s simmering with anger until finally, he’s had enough.

Azriel takes the stairs two at a time because no, he did not come all this way to fight and not spend time with his mate. Eris can be a prissy prince elsewhere. His boots are silent as he makes for the doorway, shoving it open with an insult already loaded on his tongue–

He freezes. Everything in his mind, his body, goes still. It’s not the sight of Eris on top of you in the bed that does it. Having two mates, Azriel’s prepared himself for the possibility of having to share you like this, thought about it many times, the lordling’s hands all over your body. It’s Eris that has him screeching to a stop.

The Autumn Prince is shirtless, settled between your legs. But it’s his back that catches Azriel off guard. It’s a massacre of bright pink scars.

Eris’ startled eyes find yours. You can feel the pounding of his heart in your own chest and the terrified look on his face has you wrapping your arms around him protectively. It had taken a lot to even show you the fucked up marks on his back, and even though your love for him is unyielding, he’s still insecure about his scars.

You’re okay, you send through your mental connection with him. It’s a coo of reassurance that you know he doesn’t believe but accepts anyways. His fingers clench the linen sheets so tightly you think they’ll rip, and you filter as much calming warmth and love as you can down the bond to him.

It’s difficult to watch as it plays out. Azriel, a looming figure in the doorway. You observe how his calculated eyes scan Eris’ body, the thick, mottled marks trailing across the expanse of his back from his broad shoulders to his taut waist. Your very intelligent mate figures it out quickly, sending you a questioning look, brows drawn together and golden eyes wide. Should I leave or should I stay?

Your stare answers his question.

Eris burrows his head into the crook of your neck at the sound of Azriel’s first step towards the large bed. The shadowsinger is making it known that he’s moving closer, thick-soled boots ringing like the bell tower as he nears, letting the Autumn heir prepare himself. His breathing is uneven against your throat and his hands are shaking as they find yours to latch onto for comfort.

When Azriel rounds the side of the bed closest to where you and your mate lie, he speaks.

“Eris–”

The male hiding in your neck laughs wetly, interrupting the pitied response he figures is coming from Azriel’s mouth. “You didn’t think fire could burn, did you?”

Azriel swallows harshly, eyes flicking up to find yours again. You send encouraging feelings through the bond to him, to the both of them. It’s no longer time to fight.

“When I thought about having a mate, I never bargained for two, let alone you, godsdamnit,” Azriel ignores Eris’ harsh words. His voice is soft, touch even more so as he tentatively reaches out to caress the melted skin of Eris’ back. It’s ragged, red and pink and his stomach churns at the sight of a perfect handprint. It’s the oldest, by the looks of it, wrapping around his shoulder, marring the freckled skin there. Eris flinches at the brush of Azriel’s fingers upon his tainted skin, and the shadow singer looks like he might pull away, but he presses on and Eris lets him. He lets the Night Court native trace the deformed planes of his back, and you watch Azriel’s eyes clear, realizing just what you’ve been telling him all along.

“But here we are,” Azriel continues. Eris’ body is stock still beneath his touch and the shadowsinger can feel the tension in his bones but he doesn’t stop, can’t force himself to when he’s just like him. All these years, and no one had ever known the punishments the lordling has had to endure by the fiery hands of his own father. “Arguing like a bunch of children.”

“You started it,” Eris mutters. There’s a strain in his voice and you bite back a smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“I did,” Azriel concedes quietly. He’ll take the blame for this one, because Eris is letting him see something that he never thought he’d have to share with anyone other than you. Fury twists his gut like Helfire because it reminds him so much of his own life. The family that had neglected him, both father and brothers alike, just as Eris has gone through. Maybe that is why the Mother had made you both of their mates, to take care of the males made of smoke and flame and care for them and love them like they deserve. “And I’m finding myself wanting your attention just as much as my mates’.”

His fingers pause as the admission slips from his lips. The room is silent, even the fire that was raging in the hearth when Azriel had walked in has gone quiet, stifled, and not even his shadows move from their hiding spots in the darkness of the room.

“What are you saying?” Eris asks weakly. He refuses to look over his shoulder and meet the gaze of the shadowsinger, eyes the color of the Autumn rye he loves. He’s holding your hand so tightly that it hurts, and you stroke his copper hair soothingly, always his greatest support system.

Azriel’s temper flares. He wants Eris to look at him. To see the absolute honesty in his eyes as he speaks this truth. He catches your gaze instead. The reassurance and adoration pooling them in waves is all he needs to shove that feeling aside and say what desperately needs to be spoken.

“I’m fucking weak for you, Eris Vanserra.”

The admission is enough to rip the copper haired male's head from his hiding place, twisting around to stare at the winged male confessing. “What?”

“You know I can feel your emotions through the bond too, don’t you? I can feel how much you love her, when you’re happy and sad and terrified. You were fucking terrified when I walked through that door, and I can feel it now, right here in my chest,” Azriel points to his heart, face serious. Eris doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s trapped, hovering above you, hanging onto every word that pours from the shadowsingers mouth.

Azriel continues. “But we’re the same. Have always been, and neither of us realized it. We feel the same, about our mate, about our courts, and not a day goes by where I don’t think about my mate, but also the one she’s mated to. I get that flood of emotions when you walk in a room too, the same ones you get when you see me. Nervousness, that fluttering in your stomach, the way you watch us when we’re together, that yearning for more. I see you, Eris, but can you see me through all that smoke?”

“I–” Eris chokes, unsure of what to say. Here, in front of him, a Night Court male he’s always been enemies with, bares himself, tears his chest wide open for him to view. It makes him swoon a little, and your comforting fingers have stilled, trying not to distract him as he ponders his feelings for the shadowsinger. “I see you too, Azriel.”

You can’t help but watch as Azriel launches himself at Eris, wings pulled tightly into his back so as not to hit you as he tackles the copper haired male to the bed. Eris lets out a gasp that’s smothered by Azriel’s lips on his, a harsh and hot kiss that makes his stomach burn. It takes Eris a moment to catch up, Azriel’s tongue dipping into his mouth to taste. His strong hands are gentle as they slide down his back, exploring, loving. It makes him want to cry.

Their chests heave when they part. Azriel shifts just enough so his body brushes against Eris’ with every breath. Just enough to let the Autumn Court male know that while he has to return to the Night Court for now, he is always with him. There are no cinders without smoke. The tug in Eris’ chest and the gleam in Azriel’s eyes confirm it.

You startle the two of them, beaming down at your mates from the top of the bed.

“So, no more fighting right?”

#azris x reader #azriel x eris x reader #acotar #azsazz #acowar #acomaf #azriel x reader #eris x reader

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salty-croissants · 5 months

Note

Heya! Just hear me out:

When their s/o buys matching hoodies (w/ Bullfrog & Rayman/Ramon)

Thank you for the request !

This is a really wholesome and original idea of a prompt , I really enjoyed writing it :D

I apologize for the long wait , but it’s been a very , very busy week , and I’ve been feeling a bit too tired to write anything the past days … sorry about that ;(

Anyway , I hope this turned out okay !

Details : use of gender neutral reader ;

established relationships ;

no warnings needed

Bullfrog 💚

When you come back home and show him the matching hoodies you got while you were outside , Bullfrog is definitely very surprised :

I honestly don’t think he has ever received something like this as a gift , so expect him to be especially enthusiastic .

< Merci beaucoup my dear , it looks so nice ! >

< Haha , you’re welcome sweetie !

I just couldn’t help myself : the idea of sharing some matching clothing with you sounded amazing to be honest ~ >

This frog will have the brightest smile on his face when you’re both wearing the matching hoodies …

He just can’t stop gushing about how much he likes his and just how cute you look in yours , it never fails to make you smile ://)

The other Ghosts have seen you two with the matching hoodies occasionally , and while Dolph thinks it’s … well , maybe a bit too cheesy , Jade definitely supports you both , even suggesting more matching clothing you could get …

< Oh - you guys should definitely try wearing these !

I think you’d look super cute in them ! >

< *sigh* … please don’t encourage this . >

It’s especially nice when you’re in the safety of your home , cuddling under the comforting warmth of the hoodies and just enjoying each other’s company …

< y/n , thanks again for this hoodie … I just love it ! >

< Don’t mention it … I just really wanted to do something nice for you , y’know ?

If anyone deserves that , it’s you . >

< Aw , venez ici mon amour ~ >

< Heyy - hahah , that tickles honey ! ~ >

Rayman 🧡

To say that Rayman is happy about your gift would be an understatement :

the fact that you decided to surprise him with a matching hoodie just to see him smile is enough to make his daily stress caused by his job disappear for a few precious minutes …

< So uh , do you like it ? I wasn’t sure about the color at first , I thought it might be a bit too much , but these were the last matching hoodies they had left , and - >

< Like it ?

y/n , I love it ! You couldn’t have chosen better ! >

Rayman is already a big fan of spoiling you , so as soon as he understands that you’re into matching clothing you better believe that he’s going to buy you a lot more of them in the future … maybe exaggerating a little sometimes , but he just wants to do all he can to make you feel loved and appreciated .

< Woah - Ray what happened ? You look like you just bought an entire store ! >

< Uff - it’s okay , I just gotta carry these inside … gimme a second … >

< Hold on , let me help you …

I really appreciate you getting me all these gifts honey , but maybe don’t get so many next time : I don’t want you to hurt yourself carrying them around ! >

< Heh … you’re right , you’re right …

I just couldn’t help myself : you deserve all the best things I could possibly give you . >

< Pfft … you’re always so sweet , thank you ~ >

< Anything for you , y/n ~ >

When you’re separated during the day , Rayman likes to carry his hoodie with him and keep it by his side when he’s at work : just looking at it makes him feel so happy to have a loving partner like you , you truly are the best thing that’s ever happened to him ❤️

He loves it whenever the two of you are outside wearing the matching hoodies , it’s like a nice little way of showing to everyone around that his heart belongs to you and you alone …

Also if you ever feel worried about him getting embarrassed by it , Rayman is quick to make your anxiety go away .

< That’s nonsense darling … this isn’t just any hoodie , it’s a gift from you , and that makes it all the more special : I could never get embarrassed by it ! >

Ramon 🖤

Okay , so Ramon might get … pretty worried at the thought that you went to buy something , especially without him :

he’s the one who is supposed to watch over you , plus Eden knows who you are … they could’ve taken the opportunity to capture you and do horrible things to you .

… however , he can’t bring himself to be actually angry .

< I’m sorry Ram … I just wanted to do something nice for you , you’ve been looking down lately and I thought … >

< No - no no , I like the hoodie y/n , I do … it was very sweet of you to do this for me .

Still , please remember that Eden is on the hunt for us , you can’t just go outside without a way to protect yourself .

Just … be more careful next time , okay ?

I love you , and I can’t bare the thought of you getting hurt … >

< I love you too , sweetie … I’ll be more careful , I promise . >

Sometimes , Ramon is going to hold the hoodie and just … stare at it , quietly reflecting to himself :

you put your life on the line to get it for him … you risked getting hurt , all to give him a gift that could make him happy …

While that thought worries him , he just can’t help but smile a little in front of your sheer dedication to make him smile .

It can get very cold in the hiding place you’re both staying in , so you and Ramon definitely cuddle while wearing the hoodies :

they’re so warm and cozy … they really make those little moments of affection even better .

< Are you comfortable like this , y/n ? >

< Mhm … couldn’t be better ~ >

It’s not rare for you to stumble upon a sleeping Ramon using the hoodie as a blanket , and he just looks … so cute ;//;

He often has trouble sleeping , so having your gift so close to him definitely helps him relax … not as much as actually holding you , of course , but it’s still nice !

#captain laserhawk #x reader #bullfrog x reader #rayman x reader #bullfrog captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk bullfrog #captain lazerhawk rayman #captain lazerhawk bullfrog #rayman #gender neutral reader

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itzrainbow110 · 7 months

Text

I promise.

Pairing: Stereo!Barbie x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, love story, lesbo, suggestive smut but nothing really said.

Summary: (Y/n) helps the Barbies take Barbie-land back.. but falls in love with Barbie in the process. Little does she know.. Barbie loves her back.

(A/N): It’s my first time writing on Tumblr guysss! I hope you like it :)

The Kens took over everything in Barbieland.. the houses, girls night, the Barbies.. and the only way to get the Barbies back was for Gloria to give a speech.. and then that Barbie would be a decoy Barbie to get all the Barbie’s back.

Stereo!Barbie and I were helping get the Barbies constitution back in place.

“I can’t believe we’ve almost done it!” Barbie said excitedly to me. “All these emotions are just overwhelming right now..” Barbie grabs my hands. Oh my god.. “Aren’t you excited to get the constitution put back in place?” She asks with hopeful eyes. “Yeah.. I’m very happy that Barbieland will be back to normal” I answer smiling at her.

I knew that I would probably never see Barbie again after all of this.. I’d go home and Barbie would be perfect in Barbieland again.. I grew feelings for Barbie over the past week we’ve been together. Of course Barbie wouldn’t like me back.. Barbieland was the idea that Barbies and Kens would be together and Ken was always trying to get Barbie’s attention. A human and a Barbie doll wouldn’t work out.

Tonight Barbie was going to take Ken to be his ‘long-term, long-distance, low-commitment casual girlfriend’ whatever that meant.. I’m just a bit jealous by this.. even though I knew it was all apart of the plan.. but what if she falls in love with Ken in the process? What if she decides to stay with Ken? I am hopelessly in love with Barbie…

“(Y/n)? Are you okay?” Barbie asks. I determine whether I should tell Barbie the truth.

“Barbie? I- I- I love you..” Barbie looks at me surprised. “You do?” She asks. “I know barbies are supposed to be with Ken and I know you probably like Ken.. but I just wanted to get it off my chest.” I tell Barbie and she starts laughing. I’ve done it now.. Barbie of course doesn’t like me.. “I don’t like Ken..” this surprises me “you don’t?” Barbie shakes her head. “Ken’s just a really good friend, and I love you too” Barbie gets closer to me placing her hands on my waist, I can’t believe this.. barbie actually likes me. “Then why are you going to be Ken’s ‘long-term, long-distance, low-commitment casual girlfriend’?” Barbie sighs and caresses my cheek. Her hands are soft. “it’s all apart of the plan.. we need to save Barbieland. But I promise I won’t love Ken.. I’ll always love you.” Barbie kisses me softly. Her lips are soft too.. One kiss showed me all of Barbie’s feeling towards me. “I love you.” Barbie tells me. “I love you too.”

At the beach later that night all the Kens are singing to all the Barbies this weird song that the Kens like. I was with Weird Barbie, Gloria, and Sasha. “I can tell you like Barbie” Gloria says to me. “How could you tell?” I face towards Gloria “I just can..” I chuckle at Gloria’s comment. “Is it your mom sense?” I ask, joking a bit. “Maybe.” All the Barbie’s come back to Weird Barbie’s house. Barbie walks over to me and she wraps her arms around me pulling me close. “I hope you’re not jealous now..” I look over at her “I’m not.. I promise.” She chuckles.. “I think after all of this is over I want to stay in the real world.” I look over at her surprised. “Really? Why? You’ve always wanted to be perfect in Barbieland..” I ask her. “I get to be with you.. but also I already have feelings and I’m okay with change now. I’d also like to have the ideas, not be the idea.” She says. “Oh, Barbie… are you sure?” Barbie nods.

Barbie finally became human and Ken accepted that Barbie didn’t love him. Barbie and I started living together in a small apartment in LA.. Gloria and Sasha come over all the time for dinner and sometimes we go over to their house.

“Baby, Gloria and Sasha are coming over again tonight!” Barbie says excitedly crawling on the bed and wrapping her arms around me. “Do they have to come over like every night? When do we ever have time to ourselves?” Barbie kissed my lips “we have time to ourselves all the time.. you know what? Tomorrow we’ll have the whole night to ourselves… just you and me.. okay?”

The following night Barbie stuck to what she said.. “a whole night to ourselves.. what to do?” Barbie says teasingly.

And the rest of our story will be left to your imagination.

The end.

#barbie meme #barbie #barbie 2023 #barbie x y/n #barbie x reader #barbie x fem!reader #barbie x you #margot robbie #margot robbie x reader #Margot Robbie x fem!reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 month

Text

Let Me Help

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fostered!SWAT!fem!reader

Summary: When Los Angeles is hit with a freak cold front and your apartment loses heat, you don't ask for help. Luca sees how sick you are and pays you a visit which ends with him taking you back to his house to heal.

Warnings: reader was a foster kid, angst, sickness (pneumonia), fluff and comfort! there's also several Batman references. oops.

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

In hindsight, becoming a member of S.W.A.T. may have been a mistake. Not because you don’t enjoy the work or get along with your team but because your past makes certain things hard for you. Growing up in the foster system is a lot of things, and it caused you to be incredibly self-reliant. You learned to be responsible and take care of yourself at a very early age. More than that, you were led to believe that no one would ever want to help you. So, now that you are an adult, you find it hard to ask for help. No matter who it is, asking for assistance or backup is not easy, which makes it hard to be a member of 20-David sometimes.

When you’re in the field, you can switch that part of your brain off, and become a S.W.A.T. officer rather than a foster kid. But the moment you get back to HQ and need your teammates’ help, the words seem to disappear, and you forget how to ask people to be there for you, even those closest to you.

Joining 20-David, however, saved your life. Before S.W.A.T., you were, for the most part, alone and lost. They gave you a home, a family, and everything else you never had before. While every team member cares about you, Luca shows you what it is like to be loved and appreciated.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It’s freezing out there,” Hondo complains as he enters HQ.

“Coldest winter in history according to the news,” Street replies. “Which means desperate, cold people and more calls for us. Any chance this is like Batman, and Alfred can make us special winter uniforms before the first one?”

“Sure,” you answer. “I’m sure that’s precisely what Hicks is doing right now.”

“What am I doing?” he asks as he rounds a corner.

“Nothing,” you and Street answer together.

“Alfred,” Street whispers to you.

You press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing while suppressing a shiver. It is certainly cold, and the heat in your apartment complex went out in the middle of the night. Most people then left and found somewhere else to stay, but hotels are booked, and you can’t find the right time or words to ask your team to lend you a hand or a place to stay.

“Sorry I’m late,” Luca says as he joins your side.

He rubs his hands together to warm up and smiles at you. Hicks gives you information on a fugitive warrant and pulls up a blueprint of the man’s house. There are several points of entry, but the man knows how to barricade all of them, so your team will have to take a unique approach.

“Cut the power and wait for him to get cold,” Deacon suggests.

“Man, what do you have to complain about?” Hondo asks. “You’ve got a wife and four kids to keep you warm.”

“Really?” Hicks asks. “You wanna bring up body heat, playboy?”

You chuckle and stick your hands farther into your pockets. Luca shakes his head beside you before lowering his voice to ask how you are.

“I’m alright. Ready for sunny Los Angeles to get sunny again,” you answer. “What about you?”

“I’d have to say the same. If you want to come over for my world-famous hot chocolate tonight, feel free,” Luca offers.

“Hot chocolate?” Street asks.

“That got his attention better than I ever have,” Hicks grumbles.

“Luca’s hot chocolate is like Christmas and happiness and pure warmth in a cup. And I do pay attention to you, Commander, but my eyelids are frozen shut.”

“Just, go execute the warrant and get back. It’s going to be a long week with this cold front,” Hicks interjects.

“Yes, sir,” Hondo replies. “Let’s roll.”

When you open your locker and realize you forgot your second long-sleeved t-shirt at home, you lean your head against the locker door.

“Here,” Luca says as he extends a jacket to you. “It’s an old one, but I accidentally picked up both.”

“I can’t accept that,” you begin.

“I don’t need it. Seriously, I’ll feel better knowing you’re warm. Work with me?”

Luca smiles, and you accept the jacket with a smile. It’s warm and smells like Luca’s cologne, so, once it’s on, you regret arguing against it. If you could live in this jacket, you would.

“We got this,” Luca reminds you as he walks by your side to Black Betty.

✯✯✯✯✯

The following morning, when your alarm goes off, you feel like you can’t wake up. Your apartment is still without heat, and the permeating cold sucks the energy out of you. When you finally pry your eyes open, you remember that you are still wearing Luca’s jacket, and that gives you the surge of energy you need to get out of bed and get ready. You’ve been sleeping in too many layers, and with each one you strip off, you feel the cold settle further into you. Your joints are stiff, your nose is runny, and you can’t shake the tiredness caused by the dropping temperature. Something needs to change, but you don’t know how to fix it. There has to be a trick to surviving this without help… if only you knew what it was.

In the warm locker room, you scroll through your phone in a sad attempt to find a hotel or rental house you can afford. They’re all booked through the end of the week or ridiculously overpriced, so you turn the phone off and lean back against the bench.

“How are you?” Luca asks when he enters. “The jacket looks good on you.”

“Oh, do you need it back?” You sit up as you ask, but Luca smiles and waves you off.

“No, keep it as long as you want. Can’t remember the last time I wore it. Everything okay on your side of town? Some of the buildings in my neighborhood lost heat during the night.”

You shake your head as you prepare to lie. “Everything’s good.”

Luca nods but glances over when you sniff. The cold can be blamed for some of what is happening in Los Angeles right now, but Luca suspects there is something that you aren’t telling him. He’s repeatedly told you he’s here for you, but Street explained that foster kids aren’t great at reaching out, no matter how close someone is. So, Luca will wait for you to come to him, and his arms will be open when you do.

✯✯✯✯✯

By the end of the week, you are miserable. The cold front has stalled, so meteorologists have little idea about when it will warm up again, and your apartment is getting colder every day. You’ve been able to sleep despite the conditions, but each morning, waking up is harder than the day before. You’re constantly tired, and your sniffles worsen, becoming an ache in your chest. The joint pain has worsened, and while it eases at work, it only intensifies each night you return home.

Luca keeps a close eye on you and can tell you’re tired, but he doesn’t want to push you to talk. If he could convince you to tell Street what's up, maybe you’d be more open, he thinks. You interrupt his internal debate with a deep cough. It rattles your chest and hurts your body as it escapes.

“That does not sound good,” Luca says as he turns toward you.

You’re shivering and can barely keep your eyes open, but you shake your head and reply, “I’m good. The cold is just bothering my allergies, I think.”

Hondo yells for you, and you stand quickly, ignoring the pain as you do so. Luca watches you go and grows more concerned for you. He asks Deacon if he’s noticed you acting differently and Deacon immediately answers that he is nearly certain you are getting sick. They both know you won’t tell anyone, preferring to risk your safety at work rather than asking for assistance. It’s part of your personality, even if it worries them.

Out of stubbornness and not recognizing that your team is worried about your well-being, you brush off their questions and concerns about your health. You’ve been living in the cold for nearly a week now, and you are sure the heat will be fixed soon (even if you have to figure out how to repair it yourself). So, you return home to a freezing apartment and silently hope you wake up in the morning.

✯✯✯✯✯

Not only do you wake up, but you wake up while it’s still dark out because you’re coughing and shaking. You’re burning up, which is the first of many clues that you are not okay. After picking up your phone, you find Luca’s contact and sit with your finger positioned over the call button. He would happily come to get you and let you rest in his heated house, but when you imagine him answering, you no longer want to admit you need help. So, you get up and slowly get ready before driving to S.W.A.T. HQ. At the least, you can sit in a warm room before your shift starts.

When you enter, Rocker’s team is about to start a training exercise and invite you to join. You have an hour before you have to be in uniform, so you agree, mostly so they don’t get as suspicious as 20-David already is.

At the end of the exercise, you are holding your coughs in and fighting to hide how hard your arms and hands are shaking. You feel terrible, and anyone who looks at your target from the shooting range will be able to see that it’s affecting your work.

You don’t notice Luca standing at the edge of the rink, and when Rocker knocks you to the mat with a single hit, he jumps onto the mat beside you.

“Hey,” he calls as he gestures for Rocker to step back.

His words don’t reach your ears over your coughing, but you see him and force yourself to calm down. Luca and Rocker stand over you, clearly concerned, and you smile as you accept their help.

“I’m fine,” you promise. “Just wanted to see if Rocker would pull his punches for a girl.”

“The fist of justice is unisex,” Rocker replies sarcastically.

“You and Street should have a Batman marathon,” you reply as you follow Luca to the locker room.

“I’m just going to be direct,” Luca begins once you’re alone. “I’m really worried about you.”

“Luca, I’m just not doing well with the cold. I’ll be fine, though. I appreciate the concern, but it’s unnecessary.”

You stand, and Luca says your name. Stopping, you can’t decide if you want to let go and tell him everything or push him away like you normally do.

“Luca, I am fine.”

“You clearly are not.”

“I know that you care, but leave it alone, Luca.”

You walk about before he responds. As you pass Deacon, you realize that Luca touched your skin, so he probably suspects you have a fever. However, your conversation with Luca makes you feel worse, so you decide to power through the day and then call your landlord about your heater. Again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Luca watches you leave the minute your shift is over. You don’t change or wash up, and he decides that he can’t leave it, or you, alone any longer. As he drives to your apartment, Luca plans to remind you that you need to rest and take care of yourself, especially in this weather. He sees a drugstore and stops quickly to gather a few things he thinks may help you feel better. Maybe you’ll surprise him by accepting his offer to help you care for yourself.

When Luca pulls into the parking lot of your apartment, he’s surprised to find it nearly empty. He parks behind your car and rushes to your door. His concern grows with each moment he waits for your answer.

✯✯✯✯✯

You continue to shiver painfully despite being dressed in your tactical uniform, plus several sweatshirts, Luca’s jacket, and a blanket around your shoulders. Someone knocks on your door, and the only reason you force yourself off the bed is out of hope that it is the heat repair guy. When you open the door, you can’t decide to be happy or disappointed that it’s Luca.

Your voice is broken up by your harsh shivers as you ask what he’s doing there. Luca immediately feels how cold your apartment is and pushes inside. He sets a plastic bag on your counter before walking into your bedroom. He moves silently around your home like he belongs there and gathers your things as he goes.

“What are you doing?” you ask quietly.

“Are you out of your mind?” Luca replies. Despite the harshness of his question, his voice is soft, if a little annoyed. “How long has your heat been out? You said the cold was getting to you – because you let it in. Living like this is the reason you are sick! You should have told me, any one of us, so that we could help you. My house is always open to you, you know that.”

You get confused watching Luca gather your things while ranting about how you should have told him something. He reprimands you and helps you at the same time, it seems.

“Let’s go,” he says as he puts the bag he brought in your stuffed backpack.

“Where?” you inquire as you pull the blanket tighter around you.

“My house. Someone has to help you overcome the pneumonia you probably have.”

“But-“

“No more buts,” Luca declares. “I’m not asking, babe.”

The pet name catches you off guard, but you take Luca’s offered hand without question. You didn’t ask for help, but accepting it isn’t necessarily easier than asking for it. Once you’re at his house, he makes you comfortable on the couch before bringing you a warm drink and some medicine. His requests are soft-spoken, and you obey wordlessly.

“Thank you,” you murmur when he finally sits beside you.

Luca shakes his head and clenches his jaw quickly. “I’ll always be here to help you. I enjoy protecting you, caring for you, all of it. But you have to stop acting like it’s an imposition.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sappy or are just really annoyed with me.”

“Both!” Luca exclaims. “Look, I can understand being independent to a degree, but living like that could have been so much worse than this, and this is bad.”

You nod and look down at the blanket. “I have trouble asking for help,” you admit. “Growing up, I didn’t have people I could ask for help. The few that I did ask wouldn’t help me, so I just learned to do everything by myself. Finding the words, the opportunity to ask… it’s hard.”

Luca’s eyes soften as he lays his hands over yours. “I promise that I will always be here. I will always be ready, able, and willing to help you. I want to help you because I care about you.”

“Why am I so important?” you whisper as you look into his eyes.

Luca licks his lips before deciding to tell you a version of the truth. “Because I care about you. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone before.”

He says care, but he thinks love. Maybe after he’s gotten you healthy again, you can have an open and honest conversation with one another. For now, though, you close your eyes and lean against his shoulder, warm and happy.

“I care about you, too. More than I should,” you mumble against Luca's shirt before falling asleep.

Luca smiles and tugs the blanket tighter around your shoulders before kissing your forehead. He will help you until he can’t help you anymore and love every moment of it, he thinks.

#hanna writes✯#dominique luca x reader #dominique luca #swat x reader #swat cbs #requests #fem!reader

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vampirictranssexual · 8 months

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I’ve got a bit of a theory brewing in my noggin regarding the Guide. I’m placing bets that the Guide’s storyline points towards her villain arc. Hear me out-

In season 3 the Guide is appointed to assist the new leaders of the Vampiric Council, our Staten Island vampires. She has been an underling for the vampiric council for centuries and manages the Temple of Blood-Devourers.

She has followed the orders of many legendary councils, "the best of the best" as she refers to them. Now she is in the hands of a group of vampires who do not care about the rules and who violate the vampiric code by which they live at every turn. But she is required to help them and so she does.

In season 4, she quickly finds that she cannot control them. Laszlo and Colin destroy artifacts from the Chamber of Curiosities. Nandor and Nadja neglect to feed the sire and he escapes. She oversaw the sacred reliquary for hundreds of years and they dismantled all of it in a matter of weeks. Then Nadja suggests they turn the whole place into a bar. She is completely opposed to this idea and only comes around when Nadja tells the Guide that the liquidator of underlings of the Supreme Worldwide Vampiric Council, Lord Tyractus (?), said that it would be better used as a bar.

This is of course a lie but the Guide cares what the Supreme Vampiric Council thinks of her and her dedicated work. So, she agrees to the bar. She can’t get her wraiths to help with converting the space into a bar because “they know what her heart really wants”. To help get through this mental block, Laszlo books her for a therapy session. That’s where we discover her history of falling in love with a Van Helsing. (I would also like to point out that the picture of the Guide with the Van Helsing in her flashback is the same one we see in the open credits for season 5) Her form of punishment is to serve the Vampiric Council as an underling for eternity. She explicitly tells Laszlo in her therapy session that “if anything gets changed here something very bad will happen.” Could this be hinting towards some greater power beyond her control?

Finally they are able to gut the chambers for Nadja’s bar. Nadja treats the Guide and her wraiths so poorly the whole time. Despite all this, she sticks by Nadja’s side. She does her best to fulfill her duties despite their constant mistreatment.

We learn in the beginning of season 5 that she is once again left waiting at the Vampiric Council. At this point she has mostly given up on trying to make them follow the legacy of the vampiric council. So instead, she pursues respect and admiration from the vampires. But she cannot make her way into the clique.

She wants to live with them, but they make up a fake excuse about there being zoning rules that limit four vampires to a house. Then she tries to support a depressed Nadja after the bar burned down from the fire Nadja started. The guide can’t get through to her, so she suggests maybe it is a hex. She asks Nadja if she has been unkind to anyone in her past. Nadja is in denial that she could have possibly hurt anyone, let alone the Guide.

The Guide knows witchcraft, so it would make sense that she placed this “hex” on Nadja. But is the hex even real? Or did the Guide just say that to scare Nadja into realizing her own selfish behaviors?

Now the Roast is where we see things shift for the Guide.

At the roast she tells Baron that Guillermo was the one who set him on fire, because she felt bad that he wasn’t in on the joke. She mentions how bad it feels to not feel included. But then she also tells the Baron that Guillermo is a Van Helsing. This I believe is purposeful.

They have neglected her, given her nothing to actually guide, and left her aimless. She ends up apologizing and admitting to Nandor and Nadja that she told the Baron that Guillermo burned him. But she purposefully leaves out that she told the Baron about Guillermo's Van Helsing blood, too.

In the end, she is an underling for the Vampiric Council. She will not risk everything for these vampires, because her loyalties lie with the Supreme Vampiric Council. I am theorizing that she may end up selling Guillermo out to show her loyalty to the Supreme Vampiric Council and as a way of getting some revenge on the vamps for how they’ve mistreated her. I believe it’s possible she could be working with this “mysterious, illustrious” vampire (possibly part of the Supreme Vampiric Council?) to lure Guillermo into a trap.

In the screen capture for the 9th episode, we see Guillermo and the Guide standing next to each other. I don’t believe the Guide has any good intentions towards Guillermo after seeing how she betrayed him by telling the Baron about his slayer blood.

I mean there’s only so long someone can put up with being left out of a friend group and being unappreciated.

Addition:

I mean, the Guide has barely been a part of the last few episodes. They added her to the main cast/opening credits but her character's only story so far is that she wants to be roomies with the vampires. She made no progress in her own story up until the Roast. She took matters into her own hands by divulging Guillermo's secrets.. and if she continues in that direction then she could very well become the villian. It just doesn't make sense to have so little story for a main cast member. They have to be taking a big jump with her character in these last two episodes. Otherwise the whole Nadja and Guide subplot will fall completely flat. And imagine Nadja's surprise when she finds out that the Guide was behind the hex?

#all aboard the delusion train #thanks to the discord server for planting this idea in my head #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #wwdits spoilers #what we do in the shadows spoilers

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a-certain-romance · 1 year

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Antsy

Characters/Ships: Yae Miko x reader & Ei x reader

Synopsis: You decide to release your pent up emotions by teasing them

Warnings: Suggestive content written by a minor, teasing

The puppet sat stoically on the throne, face void of emotion as she remained in a deep state of meditation.

You’ve been stuck with the puppet for a solid 2 weeks and Ei has yet to come back out of her Euthymia. Even after promising that she would take more breaks, her recent enlightenment has doubled her efforts in pursuing a better Inazuma.

She left you alone with the puppet, which isn’t exactly terrible but it just isn’t Ei. Despite her programming the affection the puppet shows is different from Ei’s. You don’t feel Ei when you lock hands, but Ei can feel every bit of contact. The puppet is but and extension of the archon, surly the sound of a low, sultry moan could get the attention of your beloved archon.

When the puppet sees you she asks of your day, how are you and why you’re in the tenshukaku. To which then you lean close to the puppet’s ear and moan out Ei’s name.

You giggle as you walk away, only for the room around you to transform into a grander space. Pillars like up against a sandy, barren surface. The sky is filled with angry purple storm clouds. And in the center sits a cross-legged Ei floating in meditation.

Ei blinks open her eyes and stares down at your confused expression. She steps down from her position in the air, almost as if she’s walking down an invisible set of stairs.

When you meet face to face she tilts your chin up with her index finger, brings her face so close to you that your lips are inches from touching her own.

“Now that you’ve captured my attention, do use it wisely”

Miko was sifting through some of the many submitted works from her employees at the publishing house, each of them awaiting for which she’d pick as the next bestseller.

Miko had been adamant about finishing the workload by the end of the day. Intel of a rival publishing house’s next launch has been leaked to her and she can’t afford to waste another second.

She promised you that she would make it worth your while if you just held tight through the next few days, and then she would give you her full undivided attention.

But you were getting antsy. You’ve been worked up these past few days as Miko’s promise hangs in the air. Thoughts of her touch, her tongue and that teasing smirk have been running rampant around your impatient mind. And to top it off she barely seems fazed, completely content with staying cooped up in the office for hours on end.

You know Miko isn’t one to back down on her word, but a little motivation can do wonders. You pop into her office to check up on her, leaning into her side as she tells you about these latest light novels. Miko knows something’s off. You just look too…innocent. You must be planning something.

“I applaud you for your patience this past week my love. I’m getting close to finishing, I’ll make sure to reward you accordingly”

“I’ll be waiting”, you say, and bend down closer to kiss her cheek and moan against it. You laugh as you walk away, barely believing you were able to get away with that. You hand grasps the edges of the handle, only for it to be pinned by your head against the door.

Your eyes widen as Miko begins pressing open-mouthed kisses against your jaw. She sighs, and the hot breath against your skin has you arching into her.

“Well look at you, all bark and no bite? You didn’t really think I’d let you get past that door after teasing me like that, did you?”

She all but drags you back and sits you against the table. Two fingers push down on your chest until your back meets the wood.

“I think it’s time to put you back in your place”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #yae miko #yae miko imagines #yae miko smut #yae miko x reader #yae miko x y/n #yae miko x you #yae smut #ei x reader #ei smut #raiden shogun smut #raiden x reader #ei x you #ei x y/n #💋

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percervall · 4 months

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Mamma mia, here I go again {pt7}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: heart break Word count: 1022 Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @topguncultleader @vellicora @ystrolllll

Part 7 of the Mamma Mia series

They really weren’t kidding when they said ‘let us woo you’. The next two weeks fly by in a blur of data streams, flights and more dates, each getting more elaborate as time goes on. Mark takes you out for crazy golf while in Singapore, a suggestion by Oscar and undoubtedly Lando, although you wonder whether they suggested the murder mystery themed one. Lewis spoils you with a hot air balloon ride to watch the sunrise when you’re in Suzuka, the sight leaving you breathless, and Kevin treats you to a picnic after a bike ride through the park. You love seeing their own personalities reflected in the activities they plan for you, but also in the way they show their affection for you: Mark takes care of you, driving you to and from the paddock, making sure you eat by bringing you lunch. Kevin and you managed to keep your promise to spend more time together; he will often just come hang out at the Mercedes hospitality and chat with the mechanics or with Mick while you get some last minute bits of work done. It’s nice to have him beside you, to have the weight of his hand on your thigh every so often just to let you know he is still there. And then there’s Lewis who is so observant and spoils you in different ways. You mention once how your sunglasses broke and the next thing you know a new pair sits atop your desk. He even gifted you monogrammed loungewear embroidered in his colours after he overheard you talking about how your travel clothes are just no longer comfortable. It’s a clear display of his wealth and not something you’re used to, but seeing him smile as you use his gifts has your heart skipping a beat. It quite literally feels as if you’re in a romance novel, but while those usually end in a happy ending, you’re having a hard time believing that that could be you. Because romance novels and relationships are usually between two people and not four. Because no matter how hard you try not to, you’re falling in love in a way that terrifies you. It breaks your heart to know you are once again hurting them, but what other options do you have? There is no way that this, that a relationship can work because that would mean having to choose and you can’t. You cannot choose between them nor can you allow yourself to live in the delusion that there is a possibility that you don’t have to. It’s impossible, the choice feels impossible, so you make the only one you can; you’d rather live with the heartbreak and the knowledge that you hurt them, than choose between Kevin, Lewis, and Mark. And so you do what you have always done: you very slowly begin to withdraw yourself, rebuilding the wall the three of them had painstakingly brought down over the past four weeks.

It all comes to a head after the race that Sunday in Japan. Your emotions are all over the place, flitting between happiness and pride at Mercedes’ performance and bagging some much needed points to hopefully be able to secure that second place in the constructor’s championship, and absolute dread at having to have this conversation with them. And so you find yourself outside the Mercedes motorhome, the three men sat in front of you.

“Now that the month is almost over I thought it best to have this conversation now,” you begin, looking down at your mug. Your stomach is in knots and for once it’s not the morning sickness that’s making you nauseous.

“I’m really sorry but I can’t do this. I- I don’t have feelings for you. For any of you. I’m sorry for stringing you along and getting your hopes up, I really am,” you continue, voice barely louder than a whisper. The silence that follows is deafening. You don’t dare to look up because you know once you see the look on their faces your resolve will crumble like a house of cards.

“Bullshit,” Kevin says, his frustrations clear in his voice. Your heart breaks at the ice in his tone, but keep your eyes on your mug while holding back tears.

“Kev-..” Mark tries to placate him, but to no avail.

“No, don’t you Kevin me. This is her M.O. God, you can’t even look at us while you tell us you feel nothing for any of us.”

“We did tell her it would be up to her,” Lewis adds.You look up at both him and Kevin through your eyelashes, watching them share a look you can’t decipher. You watch Kevin’s shoulders slump before looking back at you. Quickly you avert your eyes, trying to keep your face neutral.

“Fine,” Kevin sighs, the dejection and resignation in his voice cut deeper than any knife possibly ever could, “forget it. See you around the paddock I guess.” And with that the Danish driver leaves.

“I’m really sorry,” you whisper, throat thick with tears.

“So am I, sweetheart,” Mark says, pressing a kiss against your temple before getting up as well. Lewis gives your hand a squeeze before following the Australian into the paddock for the final round of interviews, leaving you behind with the remnants of your shattered heart.

You somehow manage to hold it together until you’re back in your hotel room, catching a ride with another colleague to avoid having to see Mark again. Throwing your bag on a chair, you make a beeline for the ensuite, turning on the shower while silent tears roll down your cheeks. Stripping out of your team gear, you step under the hot water, wrapping your arms around your chest as sobs wreck through you, afraid that you might fall apart even further if you don’t hold onto yourself. You know that this hell is your own doing but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less, doesn’t make the pain any less. Little do you know, the heartache that is already all consuming is about to become so, so much worse.

Maybe the secret fourth option was choose pain? I can already hear someone throw her phone against the wall. Love you @szobosz

Again, the biggest thank you to @curiousthyme for being my beta reader, love you so much ives

Please let me know what you think! Your comments, tags and likes mean the absolute world to me 💜

#f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen x reader #kevind magnussen x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber x you #mamma mia fic

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little-pondhead · 1 month

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The Folly of Men -

Chapter 3: #228B22

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

Damian was still being watched. The summer storm had well and passed, but the eyes he felt on the back of his neck were persistent, following him no matter where he went. He drove himself mad, tearing his room and the rest of Wayne Manor apart for bugs, asked Oracle to scan the city while he patrolled, and even pulled in a favor with some magic users to ensure he wasn't being haunted. Nothing! It was concerning his family, but Damian didn't care. He kept himself surrounded by others at all times whenever he left the house. Something was out there, ready for him to be truly alone. He didn't want to give them the opportunity.

The day came when he was assigned to patrol with Orphan since Batman was with the League but was separated due to the Riddler's schemes. They had solved the riddle already, thankfully, but Damian was intercepted while on his way to their meet-up point.

Pru, a former League assassin, caught his attention from one of Gotham's rooftops, and he swung down to meet her.

“Assassin,” was his only greeting. Damian was not a fool. No matter what had happened between Pru and Drake, she was still dangerous. He drew his sword easily and pointed it at her neck, reminding her that he was still a threat as well.

Pru didn’t look too happy to see him either. “Don’t give me that shit, Robin,” she snarled. “I’m just here to pass on a message.”

“I believe you are loyal to my brother, not me,” Robin hissed. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because it’s important!” Pru looked frustrated. “Eth Alth'eban is on lockdown, and I barely managed to get out. I can’t get in touch with Red Robin; every time I try, something happens and messages are re-routed or destroyed. Lightning strikes on the communication towers in Antarctica, the encrypted server that runs through Bolivia crashed from a fucking hurricane, even the goddamn carrier pigeon got drawn off course from high winds in Brazil! Do you have any idea how erratic the past two weeks have been? It’s like something is out to get me!”

“So why come to me? You’re in Gotham now.” He pointed out.

Pru threw her hands up, exasperated. “Because Nightwing told me Red Robin is out of the country to help with flooding in Qatar! Apparently, there’s a fucking tropical storm hitting it for the first time ever! You’re the one who really needs to hear this, anyway, so I gave up and found you. It seems Gotham won’t let me leave until I say my piece.”

Damian considered the situation. Pru really did look like she’d been through hell and back. She looked furious at something, and her clothes were still damp from rain. Except it hadn’t rained in Gotham for a while. Not since…the summer storm. The back of his neck tingled again, and he glanced around. Clouds were closing in. Fuck.

He sheathed his sword. Pieces from this puzzle were starting to fall into place, but he needed more information. “Say what you must,” he nodded to Pru while tapping his comms to alert Oracle to the conversation. He also activated his emergency tracker, hoping Orphan or Nightwing would find him in time. Their conversation would end quickly once the woman relayed her message, and Damian wasn't about to force Pru to stay because he was nervous about being alone.

“Finally,” Pru sighed and sat heavily on the rooftop, not minding the glass that dug into her hands and thighs. “Your grandfather has a new Heir.”

Damian blinked, pausing. He wasn’t quite expecting that.

“I only knew about this early because they killed my inside man in the medical department. I got a hold of his notes, and it looks like they were in the middle of treating an unknown entity, and the files all referred to it as the ‘Demon's Heir.’ I'm not Red, so I can't be sure, but the records don't start in a way that would suggest they made a test tube baby or another clone."

"And it is not my cousin they are treating? Perhaps grandfather has changed his mind and declared Mara his ideal Heir."

Pru stared at Gotham's roiling clouds, looking frustrated. She didn't seem to notice anything strange about them. "No. Mara al Ghul was in Kuwait until recently. She and the others from the Demon's Fist were doing something on orders from Mother Soul. It's above my pay grade, so I can't tell you much more than that other than they left suddenly without finishing their business. I'll take a guess that Mother Soul will be pissed about that. I do know that the medical records were updated two days ago to reflect a stab wound to the entity's chest. Their name was also updated: Phantom."

Damian considered Pru's words. He turned the clues over in his mind like stones, carefully examining anything that might hint at deceit. She was telling the truth, unfortunately. "So someone named Phantom has claimed the role of Demon's Heir, and my cousin most likely heard this news first and abandoned her post to attack the usurper," he summarized. "And my grandfather has closed off his city for one reason or another, presumably to either train or protect Phantom. Am I correct?"

Pru nodded. "That's pretty much it, birdie. Whatcha gonna do about it?"

He ignored the jab. "I will consider my options," he said stiffly. "Now that you've served your purpose, leave Gotham immediately." Orphan, where are you?

The former assassin laughed and hauled herself to her feet, brushing off the glass and dirt that stuck to her clothes. "I'll consider it. I've been running around for weeks; Red Robin won't mind if I crash at his, will he?"

"He will."

"Tough shit. See you around!" Pru jumped off the rooftop and into the alley below, not giving a shit about potential muggers as she waltzed into the night.

He was alone.

Damian watched her go before tapping his comms again. “Did you hear everything?” He asked Oracle, but no reply came except static. He expected this but cursed anyway. Thunder started to rumble overhead; he felt it deep in his bones. Whispers of electricity started crawling along the rooftop, following wires and coming dangerously close to touching him. He was forced to back into a corner on the rooftop and hoped his rubber-insulated boots were enough to prevent a shock. The feeling from earlier was stronger than ever. Someone was watching him. They knew he was finally alone. Obviously, Orphan nor Nightwing would get there in time, so Damian would have to deal with this himself.

He turned in a circle, straining his eyes to see through the cloud cover. He still couldn’t pinpoint their location, but he knew they were up there. “Reveal yourself!” He barked, hand on his weapon.

A moment passed. The air pressure changed, making his ears pop uncomfortably. His eyes were trained on the sky as rain started to fall. The clouds above the city gathered wildly, swirling together and reaching down toward him. The bolts of electricity that crawled over the rooftop raced together and rose up to meet it, becoming large bolts of lightning that could do real harm to the city if even one got loose. He stepped back into the corner even further, watching the mass of storm clouds finally get low enough to spread out across the building like a thick fog, revealing a figure in the vague shape of a man.

Great. Of course, it was something magical. He'd be having words with the magic users from earlier.

The man wasn’t touching the ground. In fact, Damian could hardly make out his legs as his broad form blurred from the wind, snatching bits of his green body away. Smaller rain clouds encircled his waist like a belt, and his hair looked more like jagged horns sitting against his brow. While he wore a well-loved weather vest and thick gloves, the rain around them would have soaked the man through by now. But he was perfectly dry. Damian was a little envious.

The man was smiling at him, but not the kind of smile that welcomed him into the conversation. No, this man of clouds and lightning was holding himself like someone was forcing him to be there. His red eyes looked like a swirling red cyclone, and his overall air was disinterested and tired.

Damian flinched as the man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except drawn-out screeches and clicks. It sounded like thunder was crashing right next to his ear or a tree getting struck by lightning. He didn't like it. The man frowned, realizing Damian couldn't understand him, and cleared his throat to try again.

“Hello, little Robin,” the man eventually tried, this time in Arabic. His voice was…strange. It sounded like he was gasping with every word, and the thundering sound was still there, muted and layered under the greeting. "I'm sorry, I forgot the people of this world are not natural speakers of the Realm's language."

“I am not little,” Damian snarled, likewise in Arabic.

“Of course not,” the man waved his hand. “A ghost’s size does not determine their power. I greet you nonetheless, little Robin.”

Damian had a feeling that speaking with this man was going to be infuriating. “Who are you?” He demanded. “And why are you in Gotham City?”

“You may call me the Navigator,” the man bowed a little, stiff in his back like he wasn’t used to the action. The Navigator, it seemed, was used to being in power. But by bowing to Damian, he showed his reluctant submission right off the bat, hoping to appease him and have a civil conversation. “And I believe you have a hunch as to why I’m here. You noticed me pretty quickly, after all.”

“So you are the one who’s been stalking me.”

“In plainer terms, yes.”

“I presume you’re the one who’s been messing with Pru as well?”

“You would presume correctly,” The Navigator's face scrunched and swirled like he was making a face of disgust. “I would rather have sent my sylphs to do it, but the Scepter insisted I do this part myself.”

More new information. If Damian remembered, sylphs were elemental wind spirits. So the Navigator was either a spirit himself or someone who could control them. But he said ‘ghost’ earlier. How did that fit in? He didn't look like the undead Damian knew of.

And ‘the Scepter’ was said with an inflection that suggested it was a name. Scepters were symbols of royalty, but Damian didn’t know anyone who actually used one or went by that name. It was no title he’d ever heard of. Whoever they were, they had to be more powerful than the Navigator if they had truly sent him after Robin.

“Aye, I can hear your brain working from here, little Robin.” The Navigator rolled his eyes, stretching the tiny cyclones. “You three are so similar that I’ll never find peace.”

“I don’t quite follow. State your business quickly; I’m losing my patience.”

The Navigator waved his hand, summoning a tablet out of nowhere. He tapped on it a few times clumsily, like he wasn't used to holding it, and then tossed it to Damian. The boy caught it easily and examined the thing. It looked like a normal tablet, similar to the ones Drake made and sold. It had a shield logo stamped on the back with Egyptian hieroglyphs engraved around the edge. It was warm to the touch, and Damian felt a little tingle as he turned it over in his hands. This was filled with magic.

The screen was made from something other than normal glass, that much he could tell as he scrolled away, trying his best to absorb the information quickly while keeping an eye on the stranger. It was a contract, he realized. The contract had been written on papyrus and then scanned in digitally. Half of it was written in a language he recognized but couldn't read. The other half contained details on limitations for the Navigator and instructions he was to follow regarding 'ghostlings,' 'The Guardian,' and...Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne.

Damian paled beneath the mask. His full name was in this contract. This was about him. The magical being before him knew who he was. He sped through the pages faster, frantically looking for answers.

...And as stated previously, the Navigator, Ancient of Storms, will grant Damian Thomas al Ghul-Wayne his blessing. This blessing will last the entirety of Damian's natural life until death returns him to the Realms. Upon completing the blessing, the Navigator will dispatch one guard to watch over Damian until the Scepter returns* but will not interfere with him personally.

During this period, the Guardian will fulfill the contract between the Gardener, Ancient of Growth, and one Ra's al Ghul. *The Scepter will enter The Guardian's time loop, and therefore, the Navigator may return to the Realms once the time loop is closed again. The runaway ghostlings will be promptly returned to their Lairs and Haunts in the correct dimensions.

As one last note, the Navigator will also refrain from fucking around with The Sword and The Shield unless he wants to find out what they can do. (I'm serious, too. The Shadow is busy, but I'll still find out if you try something, and I will kick your ass with no hesitation. The other two will be more than willing to punt your ass into Soup Time, as well.)

Upon completing this assignment, I release you from your bind, Ancient of Storms. Return to your Lair and rest with your sylphs. Thank you for your service.

Upon signing, all parties agree to abide by this contract until its terms are met. May the End take our souls if it is ever broken.

The Navigator, Ancient of Storms

Jasmine Nightingale, the Guardian's Scepter

At the bottom, under the signatures, Damian spotted a smaller note addressed to him.

Damian al Ghul, I look forward to our first meeting. Don't forget to bring your sword!

"You," he breathed heavily, glancing up at the mass of clouds. "Explain. What on earth is this?"

The Navigator cocked his head a little too far to the left. "I thought it was pretty self-explanatory," he said in a bored tone. "I was essentially sent on a ravenger hunt to find you and some escaped ghostlings. You shall receive my blessing whether I like it or not, and then I'll leave you to return to my Lair. Hopefully, I'll never have to grace these rotten clouds again!"

"It's 'scavenger hunt.'"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. You are useless at explaining. What is this 'Ancient of Storms' title you have? What are these Realms this contract speaks of? Why must you give me a blessing?"

"Ughhh," the Navigator rolled in the air, groaning. "I'm the embodiment of storms, isn't that obvious? I'd rather deal with Plasmius now than talk with a naive ghostling like you. What kind of ghostling speaks like this anyway? It's rude! I've been practicing my manners; the least you can do is humor me. At least Phantom can figure shit out on his own; I don't have to explain anything to him."

"Phantom?" The name caught Damian's attention. "You know Phantom? Who is he? What does he want with my grandfather?"

"Dunno, little Robin. That's between the Scepter and the Gardener. They had a contract in place decades before your grandfather was even born. And since I'm not allowed near Phantom for a while, all I know is that he's been handed over to Ra's al Ghul for a chance at recovery. He was involved in an incident recently. I don't know the details, but he's hurt so badly it's turning the Realms upside down. That's why I was sent away; I thrive off chaos."

"So, again, you are useless," Damian snarled. He turned away, which, in hindsight, was a stupid move, but he was so angry at the lack of answers that he didn't care. He buried himself back into the tablet, scanning through the contract again, looking for anything useful. Everything seemed so organized, yet the information he wanted felt just out of reach.

He vaguely heard the Navigator mutter in surprise. Something about freaky time visions being too accurate before a blinding white hot pain spread across his body. He dropped the tablet, falling to his knees. It felt like lightning was crawling under his skin, burning him from the inside out. He was distantly aware that he was screaming but didn't know how to stop it. Then the pain was gone in the next instant, and he was left collapsed on the roof, eyes screwed shut as shudders racked his body. He smelled burning flesh. A misty touch brushed away his damp bangs, cooling his brow.

"Yup, I'm pretty sure he's still alive," the Navigator murmured. "Well done, little Robin. Perhaps the Scepter knew what she was talking about when she said you could house my power. Either way, I've said my piece. The rest is up to you. Goodbye, and I hope to never see you again. Feel free to pass on those ghost rabies to the Gardener if you ever see him, though."

And with a rumble of thunder, the presence of the spirit disappeared, taking with him the gentle rain and green storm clouds. Damian lay on that roof for what felt like ages, staring into nothing and dazed from the pain. Nightwing eventually found him, however, with Orphan not far behind.

"Baby Bat!" His elder brother cried, sliding to a stop beside him and gathering Damian in his arms. Cass hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.

"Baba," he croaked in return. "The tablet..."

"Don't worry about that," Nightwing pushed his bangs back, just like the Navigator had. "Are you okay? You're shaking; Oracle lost contact with you over an hour ago and you never showed up to the rendezvous spot. What happened?"

Damian tried to tell him. A being made of storms came by, looking for me by name. He wanted to say. He cut off my comms and shared a contract with me. Then he struck me with lightning and left. We need to bring the tablet back to the Cave for analysis.

But his throat was too dry, and Damian's mind was in too much pain to form the words. As he curled up in Nightwing's arms, all he could mumble was the word 'baba' again and drop his head to the side. Nightwing cursed, instructed Orphan to grab the tablet, and swiftly made the trip back to the Cave with a sense of urgency. Damian groaned the whole way. His body was tender, and every jostle sent tiny shocks through his nerves.

He must have passed out at some point because he remembered skirting around Crime Alley one moment and Alfred checking his vitals the next. The butler gave him a gentle look and dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. "Where's-" he tried to ask.

"Quiet, Master Damian. Master Dick will be here in a moment." Alfred soothed. Damian dropped it and settled back into the medical bed. When had he taken his clothes off? How long was he out?

A few minutes later, his siblings got the message that he'd awoken and stormed the med bay. "Baby Bat!" Cried Dick, sliding into the room and bolting to Damian's side. "Are you okay? Do you remember us?"

"Yes, baba." Damian croaked. Alfred held a glass of water to his lips, and he sipped carefully to soothe the burn in his throat.

"Dickie told me you got one hell of a shock," Jason, the second eldest, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at them. Cass hung from his side, overwhelmed with anxiety. Steph was shuffling an exhausted Duke into one of the other medical beds, simply so the boy could feel included but still get some rest.

"I did," Damian confessed. Dick gripped his hand tightly, helping him sit up better. "I've been feeling a presence stalk me over the past few weeks, and tonight, I was finally confronted when Cain and I were separated." He left out the part with Pru for now but relayed everything the Navigator had told him, including the details he'd seen on the contract.

Everyone stayed silent as he spoke, but Dick looked like he was ready to bite someone by the end of the story.

"I'm calling everyone back to the Cave," he decided. "This is a Code Addams."

Jason shook his head immediately. "I'm all for punching storm cryptids," he said. "But you know this doesn't fall under Bruce's emergency plans."

"He's right, Dick," Steph frowned. She sat on the other side of Damian's bed, playing with his fingers lightly, and he didn't have the energy to move her. "We can put out a warning, but this sounds like League business to me. Most of us won't really be any help when it comes to al Ghul family drama."

"It's not 'drama,' Brown. Grandfather has taken a new, unknown Heir that has connections to several powerful entities if I'm not mistaken."

Steph nodded. "Yeah! Drama! And if that freaky storm demon shows up again, then we're even less equipped to deal with it. B's not even here right now to help, so we're on our own for this one."

"I'll even send Babs a copy of the contract; she'll probably be able to find something we can't." Jason started tapping away at his phone with one hand, updating the BatKids group chat on the situation and unloading the work onto Barbara.

Dick looked devastated. "But-"

"Hey, Dami?" Duke groaned, cutting everyone off. He was tangled in the thin sheets of the bed now, squinting at the youngest Wayne like he was staring at the sun. "I was kind of half-listening, but you said something about the lightning strike being a blessing, right?"

"Correct."

"Okay, um. Are you aware you glow now? Well, glow more than you used to?"

"...I was not aware. What do you see?"

Duke shuffled and threw an arm over his eyes. The lights of the med bay were giving him a migraine, but he refused to leave now. "You used to just look like a lamp. Now, you look like a bolt of lightning," he said. "There's electricity following your nerves. And your eyes are glowing green—just like Jason's when he's mad. Whatever you got hit with, it's definitely doing something to your body. I just don't know what."

Everyone paused at that.

"Well shit," Jason eventually broke the silence, bringing Cass even closer like a teddy bear. "Looks like we should get a hold of Talia and Bruce, at minimum. Demon Brat, you should probably go to Eth Alth'eban if you want answers."

Damian thumped his head against his thin pillow. "Fuck."

"Potty mouth!"

Danny was starting to get tired of waking up sore.

At least he recognized the room. It was the same one as before and actually decorated like a patient's room, not an underground bunker with his own blood splattered on the walls. He groaned, trying to shift his body. How much was he missing? His lungs were back, obviously. They felt raw in his chest. His vocal chords were also half-baked, but speaking wasn't really an issue right now.

What mattered was his pounding headache and the fire beneath his skin. He had started to sweat in his sleep, which is something he'd never done ever since he had died. Danny tried to glance down at this chest. (Had someone slipped his bones back into place?) The bandages were professional work but pulled away easily when he tugged on them. He hissed as they caught on fresh scabs and drew tiny amounts of blood.

His torso was a fucking mess. Danny was underground for ages, he knew. The GIW treated him like an immortal lab rat by tearing open his body every day to poke around and take samples. It was a miracle they didn't find his broken core, which was hidden deep behind his heart.

The cuts on his torso were being held together by surgical staples; no doubt any stitches or glue dissolved when in contact with his blood. His skin was flushed, puckered, and oozed green. The stab wound was fresher and looked nastier than what Lunch Lady could cook up. It was probably infected. He most likely would have scars even as a ghost. Frostbite once told him that wounds to the soul were the hardest to heal, and Danny didn't see himself getting over this anytime soon.

He laid his head back, staring at the smooth ceiling. A whine built in his throat. Why did everything have to hurt? He just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

His home was gone.

He had nothing to return to.

His parents pretty much disowned him the moment they sold him to the GIW.

The whine turned into a quiet sob, and he let himself sit there and shake. All he had ever done was try to be a good son to his parents, a good friend to Sam and Tucker, and a good brother to Dani and Jazz. Why did it have to be up to him to save others? Sure, it was kind of fun, but the stress of protecting both humans and ghosts got to Danny fast. The others didn't understand. No one understood. And now they never will because Danny was gone and had no home.

And there was that heavy pain again. His core became impossibly cold, uncomfortable against his human heart. It was pulling at his skin and at his bones. He gasped and cried, balling up the bandages in his fist. Was his chest caving in? His core felt like it was trying to turn him inside out and tear him apart.

Why was no one there to help him? Why wasn't he good enough to be saved? Was it because he couldn't save that little girl? Were his failures finally catching up to him? He'll do better, he promises...

Desiree must have heard his silent pleas. The door to his room opened, and a single man entered. It took a moment to recognize him through his tears, but Danny eventually saw that he was the same man who had soothed him to sleep previously.

"Ra's al Ghul," Danny managed. The man nodded to him, coming closer to stare at Danny while he writhed on the bed.

"You are having another panic attack."

"C-can't-"

"The doctors say you have lungs once more. Use them."

"It hurts-"

"Then let it hurt," Ra's didn't look away from Danny. He was cold but not disgusted. He expected Danny to be strong enough to handle this himself. "You are my Heir now; either embrace the pain or let go of what torments you. Become stronger."

"I can't!" Danny sobbed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to speak. "They'll come back-"

Ra's firmly said, "They shall not."

"You don't know that! I'll be cut up again!"

"You are not from this world, Phantom. Whatever torments you cannot follow."

The words slowly sunk into his brain. The weight was lifted off his chest for a moment. Another world? He wasn't in his home dimension? The GIW didn't exist here? His parents weren't waiting around the corner with a bone saw and handcuffs?

That was great, but that also meant he truly was alone now.

There was no way for him to find his way back, was there?

The pressure from his core lessened, and his body stopped trying to eat itself. His chest expanded again, allowing him to breathe properly through choked sobs and broken groans. He clenched his teeth, trying to stop the tears. He really was useless.

"You are not useless, Phantom." Ra's had a hard light in his eyes. "As mentioned before, you are an al Ghul now, one of my grandsons, no matter what you were previously. You are very valuable to the League now, and I refuse to let you go."

Danny sniffed. "I can't offer you much," he said. "I remember that Undergrowth promised you power and knowledge, but I'm practically a high school dropout, and I'm so weak I can barely lift my head."

"So you shall regain your strength. I have lived a long time, grandson, and I shall live even longer. Your recovery will be swift when compared to the erosion of time."

"Mr. al Ghul..." Danny said defeatedly. His throat felt thick from all the crying. "I couldn't even keep my town safe. All I'm good for is killing kings and pissing people off. I don't want to bring you that kind of shame."

Ra did not show any signs of his satisfaction with Danny's words, but Danny could taste it in the air. "So you were a warrior, yes?"

"I-uh, sort of? I'm a ghost, and I died two years ago. Ghosts fight for every reason and no reason. I kinda had to learn on my feet or risk getting Ended."

"A warrior who cannot die. A man who has the will to act." Ra's appraised him like a prized cow. "Yes, I shall be able to use you, child. The al Ghul legacy shall never die out if you become the Demon's Head. Phantom al Ghul is a...fitting name, I suppose."

Danny wrinkled his nose. "I don't know what half of that means, but okay. And my name isn't really Phantom; that's just my title and hero name. My real name is Danny."

"Then, Daniel-"

"Danny!"

"Daniel, now that your tears have stopped, let me call for refreshments and fresh bandages. We must discuss the Gardener's contract and your usefulness in great detail."

Danny sighed. He was calmer, but now he had to do an Ancient's magic paperwork? He'd rather let his core swallow him whole.

At least someone needed him again.

The group followed Jazz’s decision without a second thought and stepped through the giant portal alongside her. Luckily, it led right to the edge of the In-Between, where Clockwork and a few others resided in their individual spaces. Jazz yelped as she realized there was no solid surface to land on and flipped around in the air uncontrollably. Sam and Tucker had the same fate. All of them kind of bobbed around like ducks in the water before Danielle sighed, gathered them all up with some rope from Tucker’s pack, and hauled them along in the vague direction of Clockwork’s tower.

For a space called Long Now, it didn't take very long to reach the tower, even with Dani hauling along three passengers. Everyone was pretty quiet during the ride, still processing what they had seen in the underground facility. It was a little strange. None of them felt disgust or fear at Danny's actions, but anger and sadness at what he was forced to endure. Not once did they consider abandoning him, even though others might have shied away from his monstrous outburst.

Jazz wondered what Clockwork could possibly say to them that would make the whole thing better. She just wanted to see Danny. She wanted to sit down with him and watch shitty kid's movies while they huddled under that one big quilt her parents had. The one that was gifted to them as a wedding gift and the one they added to when something important happened. She felt horrible thinking about it now.

Jazz would probably never see that quilt again. And if she did, she would probably burn it.

"We're here," Dani quietly announced, untethering the group from her body as they touched Clockwork's island. Long Now was a special place even in the In-Between. The tower's foundations were in varying stages of decay, and much like its owner, the building warped from looking good as new to 'about to fall over' kind of old right before their eyes. Everything felt so fragile.

They entered the lower entrance, climbing a spiral staircase past rows and rows of clocks lining the walls. Everything was ticking out of sync, which usually annoyed Jazz to no end. Right now, she couldn't care less.

Reaching the top had a lack of fanfare. One minute they were passing the biggest fucking grandfather clock they'd ever seen, and the next, they were in Clockwork's main room at the top of the tower, facing the old ghost himself.

Clockwork didn't even look at them. He seemed exhausted.

"We're here," Jazz announced. "Tell us what you know."

"No greetings, Jasmine? I thought you raised Danny to have manners, so where are yours?"

"Locked behind the walls of Fentonworks. Tell us what you know, Clockwork, or I'll break everything here." She snarled. It wasn't an empty threat, and everyone knew it.

"Please, Clockwork," Tucker added. "We saw your message. Where's Danny?"

Dani started crying into Sam's shoulder. "Where's my brother?" The ghost girl sobbed. "I want to see Danny!"

Clockwork sighed. He was aging rapidly, growing wrinkles as they watched. "Daniel is safe, for now. I hid him in another world. However, the flow of time has changed. New paths are being forged. If things continue as they are, Daniel will become something worse than Dan."

Danielle muffled another sob.

"Daniel did something I did not expect while having his rampage in Yellowstone. It will take a delicate hand to make sure his actions do not cause him to go down the wrong path."

"What did he do?"

Clockwork looked them each in the eye. His eyes were glassy and blank, like the face of a new watch, but his sincerity was enough to reach them. "He sealed off the Realms."

Tucker choked. "I'm sorry, he wHAT??"

"Daniel, in his explosion of sudden power, sealed off the Infinite Realms from your home world's influence. Only the power of an Ancient can break that barrier now. The only portal still open is the one located in Fentonworks, protected by the strongest shield your mortal world has to offer. Vortex had to be sent out to collect ghostlings who didn't return in time. By sealing off the Realms, Daniel effectively declared they were under his protection and claimed the title 'Guardian' since only Guardians have the right to seal off worlds."

Jazz's mind was spinning. "He...sealed off our world. Did he do it on purpose?"

Clockwork shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. This was a decision made by Fate alone. He was simply the strongest power source available that was also willing to defend the Realms to his End. The Realms responded in kind and claimed him as Guardian. That is a title and a burden he will share forever."

"Oh, god..." Jazz sat heavily on the floor, reeling from the shock. Dani left Sam's shoulder and crumpled into her lap, still crying. Tucker and Sam also offered each other comfort, leaning on each other as Clockwork's words sunk in. "So, what happens to him? Where is he now? What future do we have to avoid?"

Clockwork waved his staff, summoning a few large clocks with reflective surfaces. The clockfaces glitched and changed to show different pictures of Danny, all doing various things at different stages in his life. One had Danny laughing with a group of strangers. Another had him shaking hands with a green-skinned man. A third was him sitting in a hospital bed, getting stabbed in the chest. They cycled through different pictures and videos, and it was hard to look away.

"This is the future we must avoid." Clockwork motioned to the smallest clock, which showed a furious Danny screaming into the vacuum of space, tears pouring down his face. A large rip into the Realms tore open from his Wail, and the stars surrounding him started to get sucked in.

"If this future comes true, Daniel will destroy not only your home world but the Realms as a whole," The Ancient explained. "Because of his new link to the Realms, no one will be able to take the title of Guardian from him. He will become a destroyer and tear apart every universe and every timeline. Everything will just...End."

"That's horrible," Sam whispered. "What's the tipping point?"

Again, Clockwork looked them deep in their eyes. "Your betrayals."

"WHAT??" Danielle screeched, whipping around.

"You betray him by dying, Danielle. You melt in his arms and ask why he didn't save you. Samantha, you betray him by leaving him. Your home world is never unsealed and you can't stand not being able to see your grandmother again. Tucker, you betray him by lying to him. You say you're on his side but end up stabbing him in the back for a 'good cause.' Jasmine, you betray him by acting just like your parents." Jazz felt tears prick her eyes, but Clockwork kept going. "You see the monster he has become and can't look past it. The four of you betraying him would be his last straw, and Daniel would rather tear apart the universe than be reminded of you four ever again. And so he does."

Sam protested, "We would never!"

"You wouldn't." Clockwork agreed. "But you can, and in some ways, you already have. That is how time works. If you do not want to bring about this end, you must actively fight against this destiny like Daniel has fought against Dan."

Tucker whipped out his PDA, already taking notes. "What's the game plan, then? I would rather eat Dash's underwear than stab Danny in the back. If I have to throw hands with an evil version of myself from the future, I'm willing to do that, too."

Clockwork smiled at them for the first time since their arrival. "That was the right response," he told Tucker. "You're already taking a step away from that future. But for the best ending for everyone, all four of you will need to connect with the Realms as well."

"But we don't have the same power that Danny does."

"No, but your will is just as strong as his. Prove to the Realms that you're willing to fight, protect, and love just as much as Daniel. Become his support. Do it right, follow in his footsteps, and the Realms shall accept you with open arms. You will be bound together as a family for eternity."

The four looked at each other. Jazz gently wiped away the remainder of Dani's tears as they pondered over the ghost's words. Connecting with the Realms would probably mean giving up some amount of their humanity, especially if it truly was a forever thing. They might follow in Danny's footsteps a little too closely-but for their friend and brother? They would do anything.

"Fuck eternity!"

"Tell us what to do."

"We'll always be there for Danny."

"I don't plan on eating any underwear, but I will fight evil me if that's what it takes."

Clockwork shriveled up, folding in on himself several times before unfolding into a child, like a phoenix (but without the fire). He looked less exhausted now, less like the promise of the End was no longer hovering over his shoulder. "Become the Guardian's Shadow, Danielle. Take up his mantle while he is away and keep the peace in his stead. Be the Guardian's Sword, Samantha. Be at the front of each fight and kill when he cannot. The Guardian's Shield will be you, Tucker. Your wish to protect those around you will come true, and you will gain the power to shield them from harm. And Jasmine-"

Jazz held her breath.

"You will have the most difficult job. You will be the Guardian's Scepter. His symbol of power. You will work behind the scenes to stage events that shall work in his favor no matter what."

She released her breath, surprised. "A scepter? Like the symbol of royalty? But wasn't the position of King given to another?"

"In sorts. Daniel helped elect a council to rule the Realms and refused to be a part of it. However, you shall be his Scepter, only wielded in times of need. You will take the dark and harsher jobs that shouldn't be brought to life. You will pull the strings to ensure the timelines stay together, and he never strays from the path."

"How would I do that?"

"You need to become my apprentice."

After Jason's statement about coming to see Ra's in person, the whole Batfamily blew up. Words were said in person and over text, and Damian was too exhausted at the time to get a word in edgewise, so let Jason argue for him. Eventually, Bruce had to take a moment away from his League duties and settle the matter over a conference call. After debating, he allowed Damian to return to the League of Assassins, provided Dick went with him. The man was already on a leave of absence from his job to cover for Batman, and he could keep a level head when dealing with the Demon's Head.

So off they went as soon as Alfred gave Damian the all-clear. Strangely enough, he had no side effects from being struck by fucking lightning. Well, almost none. He did feel flush every once in a while, and his veins burned like there was liquid battery acid in them, but other than that, he was fine! No, he didn't need another cold press, Alfred! It was only a few hours by plane; he'd be fine!

And honestly, with the news that Eth Alth’eban was on lockdown, Damian thought it would be harder to enter the city. Undetected, at least. Sadly, they were found out immediately and had a group waiting for them as they touched down. As soon as he stepped off the Batplane onto the private airstrip in Yemen, he was quickly surrounded by the 'welcoming' entourage of assassins. They took his bags, herding him toward a black car as Dick jogged to keep up with them. Damian was glad they didn't do a pat-down in their rush; he'd hidden the tablet under his clothes just for this purpose.

"Hey!" his brother shouted. "How did you guys even know we were here?"

"This is a League matter, Nightwing." The head of the group, a one-eyed man named after the god Balor, whom Damian recognized as part of his grandfather's elite, barely turned to look at Grayson and dismissed him entirely.

“No, this is a family matter,” Dick leaned against the door of the car, preventing Balor from opening it and shoving Damian in. They stared at each other long and hard.

“You are not an al Ghul.”

“Damian was nearly killed by a storm demon and told there was a new Heir who is somehow connected to said storm demon. I’m not leaving him alone.”

Balor considered the options before him, glancing at Damian. His one good eye assessed him. The boy simply raised a brow. “I’d prefer it if my baba came with us.”

The assassin’s face twitched, which was the equivalent of a snort of disgust, but gave in to Dick’s demands and herded them both into the car. Two more assassins slid in on either side of them while Balor took the passenger seat. The driver barely glanced at the airport security as they drove the vehicle off the tarmac and into the middle of the desert.

The drive felt long. Damian held a stoic face whenever Balor looked at him and refused to engage in any conversation with Dick. Even when the AC was turned off, everyone started sweating, and his brother was threatening to sing show tunes until they turned it back on.

He ended up singing, of course. Damian just zoned out as his brother started warbling through the entire soundtrack of Hairspray. Truly, the man had questionable taste. For their credit, the assassins made it through the entire performance of Hairspray and halfway through High School Musical before the driver slowly leaned over, never taking their eyes off the desert landscape, and flicked the AC back on to blast. They lasted longer than Bruce would have.

Dick still finished the High School Musical soundtrack despite getting what he wanted. No one ever said he did things half-assed.

Finally, Damian spotted the maze of canyons that housed the Assassin City, Eth Alth’eban. Damian wasn’t sure if his elder brother had ever been there before, but the tight hold he had on his hand suggested that Dick either had very complicated memories of the place or was anxious about being in enemy territory. He wasn’t really interested in asking.

As they approached, the main gate was large and imposing. The sun was high in the sky now and beat down on them to reflect all the minute details that had been carved into the gates. They were gorgeous pieces of work, ones that Ra’s was no doubt very proud of. Guards were there to welcome them, examining the vehicle from top to bottom to ensure nothing strange was being brought in from the outside world. Damian glared at his brother when the man leaned forward to take the attention off of him and the hidden tablet, loudly asking the outside guards when they could go in yet.

One of them narrowed their eyes at Dick. “An extra?” They hissed in Arabic. “This was not approved by the Demon’s Head.”

Balor jerked a thumb at Damian. “His choice,” he responded simply. “The Bats are never alone. The Head is aware of this." Since when? They never called ahead. Damian felt the burn of lighting in his veins again. He caught Balor's eye in the rearview mirror and realized that the man's eye color was much lighter than it was supposed to be. It was shifting between gray and blue, like a cloud, and stared at him with unusual intensity.

Fuck. Of course, the secret guard that was mentioned in the contract. It must have gone into effect when the Navigator returned to wherever he came from. How did he know they would end up in the Eth Alth'eban?

Whatever was said next, Damian missed, but eventually, the gates opened, and the car was let through. Dick was quiet once more, staring at the lush city, probably trying to figure out how to do a backflip off the tall buildings. They headed straight for the palace that was past the training grounds. Most people were taking a noon daybreak, so the grounds were empty when the car pulled up next to the designated drop-off point.

Balor motioned for the group to leave the car, and the two assassins tugged on Dick’s arm painfully, practically dragging him along and not allowing any room for him to wander off. Damian wasn’t touched, but he was no less shuffled in the same direction. They went up the steps, through hallways lined with servants and fountains, following a path Damian recognized easily. They were headed to the medical wing.

His mind raced. Was he ready to meet this ‘Phantom’ fellow? Would he insist on fighting to the death to prove his worth? Had his mother gotten his message and made it here before him? So many questions ran through his head, yet this was not the time to ask them. Damian bit his tongue and instead played the part of the perfect al Ghul. Silent, deadly, and proud.

Balor was leading the way. He studied the older man's back carefully, looking for any other inconsistencies in his behavior. There were none, except for a single cloud symbol stamped into his neck that shimmered the same color as Vortex. Did this mean he was possessed? Was he another one of the Navigator's blessed? Did Damian also have the same symbol? No one else seemed to notice the mark, so Damian put it in the back of his mind. He'd have Dick check his neck later, just in case.

They'd reached the end of the medical wing now, where Damian knew the rooms were sealed off for quarantined patients.

Indeed, a pair of guards stood in front of the extra set of doors. Balor nodded to the guards and pushed through without stopping. The quarantined corridor was short, with only six rooms, three on each side. Five were marked with a little green flag by the door, indicating their vacancy. The sixth, the farthest on the left, had a little red flag displayed. Damian pushed his way to the front of the group and beelined for the door. This was it. Soon, he'd have some answers.

His grandfather opened the door before he could knock. The al Ghuls looked at each other, noting how much had changed since they had last seen each other. His grandfather looked…well. He was healthy, and there were no visible injuries. His clothes were immaculate but simpler than his usual ornate robes. It felt like Ra's was dressed for a close social visit, not for taking over the world and planning murder.

"Damian," His grandfather was as short as ever, however. "You are late."

"Good to see you too, old man," Dick snarked. Ra's ignored him, waving a hand to Balor, who promptly shut the door again before Dick could walk through after Damian. The two were to wait in the hallway, apparently.

Damian moved further past his grandfather, forgoing the greeting. His eyes were glued to the hospital bed. Draped in rich blankets and wrapped in soft cotton bandages, a boy around his age was sitting up and staring at him with green eyes similar to his own. He was holding a glass of Lazarus water, raised to his lips like he was about to drink it. Honestly, if it wasn't for his incredibly pale skin and wispy white hair, the boy could have been his-

"Holy shit, we look exactly the same!" The boy lowered the glass, staring at Damian in wonder. His voice was double-layered, like the Navigator's, and it grated on Damian's mind with the sounds of screaming and creaking ice. "Are you Mr. al Ghul's other grandson? This is so freaky!"

Ah, so this was Phantom.

#dpxdc #pondhead writes #the folly of men fic #no beta we die like danny #long post #really long post #I asked myself how many titles i can give people and my hands took that as a challenge #the reason undergrowth and vortex go by those weird ass names is because the words for their name don't exist in the dc world #add that to ghost speech and basically it's easier to give themselves a title over the centuries #clockwork is just dramatic

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