#with all the crappy sequels

[hipstergecko]

My boy.

Look what they've done to my boy.

This feels bad. I hate this. My childhood weeps.

#land before time #whyyyy #why why why #disney why #you already beat this movie to hell #with all the crappy sequels #and now this #i dont want it #stop that #upsetti spaghetti

[shu-porang-porang]

Bunny In Heat

(Cat In Heat sequel)

Read Cat In Heat and you’ll know what to expect 😊

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader

Rating: Very Explicit!

Theme: Smut, 18+ NO MINORS.

Warnings: It's just pure filth, I have no shame, sorry! soft dom reader, sub minho, toys, butt plug, spanking, edging, overstimulation, pet names, unprotected sex (do not try at home!), (and as usual, I keep some elements of surprise!), not proofread

Word count: 3 k

“OMG!! What’s this?!” you scream.

“What’s what?” he turns his head towards your direction.

You show him the vid from the fan meeting where Chan, Hyunjin and Changbin are dancing with tails attached to their coats.

“Oh that! Yea it turned out to be such a popular clip among fans, you saw it just now?”

“If you ain’t on it I’m not watching, I’m that loyal!” you bat your lashes looking at him with a fake smile.

“You mean I won’t find any pics or clips of other members in your gallery?” He called your bluff.

“uhmm that’s irrelevant! Now tell me more about this clip!! Is there a longer version? Maybe one with you in it?”

“No, I’m not in it, but the idea was mine, thanks to you!” he says with a smirk.

“You didn’t… tell me you didn’t talk about our sex life with your members!”

“What if I did?”

You freeze, just stare at him with your jaw dropped on the floor. When his words sink in, you hide your face in your hands and shout: “MIN-FUCKING-HOE, WHY?”

He laughs at your reaction: “I can’t help it that you’re so mind-blowingly awesome that I wanna brag about you all the time.”

“It’s so embarrassing! How am I ever supposed to look them in the eyes again?” you shake your head as if you could shake the embarrassment off too.

 “Oh calm down, it’s okay. They’ve known for a while; you’ve already looked them in the eyes plenty of times.”

“Oh fuck! You’re so shameless, I’m done with you.” you cry out, punching him in the chest.

He grabs your wrists with one hand and with the other puts the hair messily covering your face from all the attempt of shaking off the embarrassment, behind your ears.

“Awe cute! Look how red your ears got.” He’s not taking it seriously, it’s obviously not a big deal to him, but you’re still pretty mad and don’t even look him in the eyes.

“Come on princess, I promise you they don’t even care.”

“Well, with that clip I’m sure they at least have a very solid reminder.”

“How does it feel to be the reason of a key moment in skz history?” he jokes but you’re not having it.

“Oh, fuck off! Just know that you owe me one.”

“I owe you as much as you say, no arguing that.” He cups your face and seals his words with a kiss.

“Then wear a tail for me.” You demand.

He looks confused but plays along: “Okay? Do you want me to sneak one from the company?”

“No, I don’t want those crappy ones, and is there like a room full of furry accessories at the company or sth?!!”

“I don’t think there is; I shouldn’t’ve offered that!”

“I’ll take care of it then.” Poor thing doesn’t know what’s gonna hit him. You already forgot about the unveiling of your sex life, if anything, now it’s just an excuse to get what you want from him.

Two weeks later, when you finally gathered all the items you needed, you present him his little outfit. A bunny head piece and a matching tail, choker and cuffs, all adorned with frilly fabrics and little jewels. You didn’t wanna cover his beautiful body, so you kept the items to a minimum. He gulps as he eyes the shiny plug poking at the end of the tail.

“You asked me to wear a tail, not a plug” He complains.

“But the plug is attached to the tail, how else did you expect to wear the tail?”

“Attach it to my shorts or sth?”

“But that would look off and ugly” you reason. “Come on baby! I promise it’s not that bad, and you would look so delicious. Pretty please?” you pout and wait for his answer, as much as you wanna do unspeakable things to him, you wouldn’t lay as much as a finger on him if he wasn’t okay with it. Same goes with wearing the plug.

“Okay I’ll do it” he finally gives in. “but why is it so girly?” he points to the cute decorations.

“Says the guy who wears red bows and tiaras for a living!!” you raise and eyebrow giving him a “you’re full of shit” look.

“fair point” once again, he surrenders. “So is that it? I’m just gonna fuck you wearing these?”

“Why don’t you go change and wait for me on the bed, I’ll tell you how it’s gonna be” you give him a smack on the ass sending him towards your bedroom.

“Ouch!” the smack caught him off guard.

“Oooh baby, you gotta toughen up if you wanna survive tonight” he roles his eyes at you words and disappears into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

After a few minutes, you tiptoe and press your ear to the door, you can hear him still shuffling around, and when you hear him curse you realize he must be trying the plug. Arousal is pooling between your legs already. You wanna barge in and give him a hand but you think it’s better for the sake of his dignity if he gets through this part on his own, considering the rest of the events you’ve planned.

“I’m ready” he calls out.

Your heart is pounding in your chest with excitement. You open the door and peek in. He’s kneeling near the edge of the bed, back facing you so you can see the tail, neck craning to see the expression on your face. “You look so pretty baby boy” you say as you approach him in awe. You notice the blush creeping up to his cheeks at the compliment and he turns his around to hide it but you can still see his crimson ears.

Standing behind him, your fingers dance on his toned back and travel down to pet the fluffy tail. You don’t even touch the plug but playing with the extension of the tail alone earns you a few airy whimpers.

“Aweeee! Is my bunny’s tail sensitive?” you ask, twirling the tail around your hand. He doesn’t answer, probably too ashamed to admit.

“Baby if you don’t answer me, I can’t make you feel good” you coo at him lovingly “what if you don’t get to cum at all?” you give the tail an experimental tug and he winces. “So, tell me baby, does it feel good when I play with your cute tail?”

“Yea… it feels good…" he admits in a low tone.

“Now turn around baby, I wanna see that pretty face”

He complies and shifts around on the bed while you rid yourself of your clothes and reveal the lingerie you’d bought for this special occasion.  

“God, you’re breathtaking!” he exclaims. You crawl on the bed and he watches you with blown pupils. You straddle him and his arms are quick to circle around you and pull you closer. He starts nibbling at your collarbone but you push him back. He looks at you confused, trying to figure out what he did wrong.

“Do you trust me baby?” you ask, giving him a quick peck on his lips.

“I do” he answers, nuzzling his nose to your neck.

“Then no touching or kissing without my permission, okay?”

“But..” you put a finger on his lips to shush him. “If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, I might have to tie them up” you bend down over the edge of the bed to take a box you put under the bed earlier, giving him a good view of your folds barely covered by the piece of lingerie in the process.

You show him your hidden inventory, with handcuffs and satin ribbons and a few other unfamiliar stuffs. You notice his semi-hard cock twitching. You grab an item from the box “do you remember our safe word?” you ask as you stroke his cock slowly.

“Ye… yes..”

“Good boy, now remember, you can end up cumming inside, or not cumming at all, so behave” you warn him one last time as you message his balls before putting them inside the loop of a pink cock ring and then roll the other loop to his base. He watches in disbelief; he did not see it coming. You reach for your phone on the nightstand, open an app and set the vibration to the lowest setting. He closes his eyes and throws his head back, enjoying the excruciatingly slow buildup of the pleasure. He leans back on his hands, slightly arching his back, his chest heaves up and down, bringing the pointy dusky nipples to your attention. As much as you enjoy the view, you still need to ravish him.

“Get on fours baby” your voice snaps him out of his trance. He complies and you position yourself behind him. If he could he would wag the tail at your face, showing you what a good boy he is for you.

You kiss his thighs, marking him here and there, then give his cheek a little squeeze, his ass goes higher in the air, needing more attention from you. You twist the plug around and his face goes further down to the mattress, muffling his moans.

“You know what we never tried? Milking your prostate” without a warning you yank the plug out and replace it with your fingers. He hisses at the sudden action.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel good” your fingers message his walls in search of the bundle of nerves and you know you found it when he suddenly goes: “Aaaaah…”

“What happened?” you decide to mess around a bit.

“There…”

“Where? Did I find it?” you miss it on purpose just to press harder the next time you “accidentally” brush over it. He fists the sheets and lets out another high-pitched moan.

“Right... there”

“Oh! Here?” you rub it again and he squirms. You pick a steady pace thrusting your fingers in and out, hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. His little “ah… ah… ah…” makes your own core throb. You land a spank on his ass that ripples through it beautifully, jolting his body forward a bit.

“Please…more…”

“More what bunny?”

“Sla …. Aaaah…” you give it to him before he can even say the word. You give him a few more till your hand print is burning bright red on his cheek.

“Cum…. Hurts…” he’s such a mess he can’t even form sentences anymore.

“But don’t you wanna fuck me?” you say as you brutally press harder on his prostate and set the vibration to a higher speed.

“I do…. Please…. Hurts” he cries out.

You stop your ministrations on his prostate and guide his hips to roll him on his back. He whines at the loss. He’s such a sight to see. Hair sticking out in all directions, tears spilling from his closed eyes, his aching shaft rock hard, the tip red and swollen, begging for release. Your mouth waters, you kiss his erection from base to tip, lick the head and wrap your lips around it. He jerks his hips as your tongue pokes under the slit.

“Pleeeeeease…” he arches his back off the bed, his toes curling at the climax that just won’t hit.   

You release his cock with a pop:“Open your eyes bunny” you hover above him; he looks at you with glossy eyes.

“I’ve been ...good … please…”

“Okay sweet baby,” you kiss his teary eyes “but you should get it up again, okay?” he nods his head “yes”.

You kiss him and reach your hand down and fumble with the ring to pull it off. He lets out a guttural moan as he shoots up, his load getting everywhere. You pump him till the last drop is spilled and his cock starts to go limp in your hand. You tug at it a few more times just to tease and hear his tiny annoyed voice asking you to stop.

“We can’t stop now baby, not after you got me so turned on by your needy pleas and all” you grind down on his sticky member, mixing his seeds with the arousal leaking through the thin fabric covering your soppy pussy.

You reach for the box and feed him the last piece of the aphrodisiac chocolate: “Here’s a little treat for a good bunny”.

“Can I touch you now? Please” he asks, still being a good boy even though had had his release. You look at his hands, the lacy cuffs around his wrists make his dainty fingers a thousand times more delicious looking. You grab one hand and bring it to your lips, kissing its knuckles, then guide it to your pussy. “See what you made of me?” his fingers slip through the gap in the fabric and get sticky with your arousal. You bring the hand back up to lick the fingers clean.

“You can touch me love, and kiss too” hearing this, he sits up to properly hold you and kiss you, his hands rubbing the smooth skin on your sides, running up and down your back, squeezing your breasts, suddenly they’re everywhere. He’s kissing you like a man starved, pulling at your bottom lip, sucking on your tongue, you pick up the faint taste of chocolate still lingering in his mouth. You let him have his feast, kissing you and marking you everywhere, your fingers pulling at his damp hair encourage him to leave darker marks you know will last for at least a week.

He sucks at the exposed skin of your breasts while cupping and kneading the clothed part. You stop him and lift his chin up to look him in the eye. God, he looks like such a mess! Saliva smearing on his mouth, his eyes a bit red and still glossy, his cheeks flushed. You kiss the tip of his nose: “do you wanna suck on my tits?” you ask and he nods. “Then take this like the good boy you are” you instruct him to get on fours again. You circle his rim with a finger and he shivers with excitement, You insert a finger in, it’s still somewhat loose, then unbeknownst to him, you insert a small vibrator and turn it on. You see his dick twitch between his thighs, followed by a series of muffled moans.

“Aweeee! Look you’re getting hard again! What a slut!” you tease and then enter the plug so it’s pressing the vibrator harder against his prostate.

“Turn around bunny, I wanna ride you.” he does as ordered. Meanwhile you take your lingerie off, and straddle him as soon as he finds a somewhat comfortable position with the vibrator and the plug still invading his hole. You rub your core on his semi-hard dick: “what got you hard again my little slut? Was it the chocolate or the vibrator?” you ask as you brush his hair away from his eyes.

“You, you did it” he says before pulling you in for a kiss. You smile against his lips, he’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. You kiss some more till you feel his erection poking at you, so you line it with your entrance and slide down. He rests his head on your shoulder as you take him in, huffs of hot breath tickle your bare skin. As you start to move your hips, his lips travel down to take the reward you promised him. He sucks on your tits like his life depends on it. The wet noises he makes mixed with his moans and groans every time you drop on his cock a bit too hard, get your juices flowing even more. Your thighs are burning and from the way they shake, he notices you can’t go like this for much longer.

He stops your hips: “let me fuck you”.

“Please do” you let go, you don’t wanna be in control anymore, you just need a good fuck and he’ll make sure you’ll get it.

He flips you around and enters you from behind. Holding back all night practically made him feral. He pulls the vibrator out but keeps the plug in, that was the main point after all, fucking you while looking like a bunny! His hips snap into you, firm and strong. Your moans hiccup with every thrust of his hips.

“So good…. So tight…” he picks up his pace yet he never fails to hit the spot that makes you see stars.

“Minho-ya….” his name falls off your lips as you clench around his cock, one of the telltales of your nearing orgasm.

“Fuck baby…. cum for me” and you fall apart. He gives you a few slow thrusts to help you ride your climax before He goes back to grabbing your hips tighter and pounding into you despite your squirming. The over stimulation makes you whimper and whine.

“You’re doing great…. Just a bit more…. It’s okay….” He encourages you till he finally shoots his load up your pussy. “Fuck…. so good…” he collapses next to you panting. You roll on your side to face him, he’s still recovering his breath, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, sweat shining on his face. You kiss the hair stuck to his temple. He opens his eyes, giving you a crooked smile.

“You were such a good bunny” you pat his hair and take the headpiece off that somehow managed to stay there the entire night. Your hand travels down his back to gently take the plug out. You massage over the rim, trying to soothe any discomfort that might be there.

“I almost can’t believe all we did tonight” he says in a low tone, his voice is evidently sleep weary.

“Well, now you have another unbelievable story to tell your friends” you joke.

“I wonder what punishment that would earn me”.

“I’m afraid next time I won’t be so nice!”

#lee know #lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #lee know imagines #lee know stray kids #lee know drabble #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #minho stray kids #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz #skz smut #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz minho #skz fanfic #skz drabbles #skz fluff #kpop #kpop fanfic #stray kids drabbles #lee minho stray kids #lee minho fluff #lee minho smut #bang chan #chagnbin

[shadowthejedi]

I waited 9 years of my life to see:

-Child actors somehow outperforming the adults

-A MatPat cameo

-A cop threatening to point blank shoot an innocent civilian that's still recovering from his childhood truama

-A SHIT TON of Easter eggs

-Horror icons that gave made me stay up all night be used for a cutsey montage where they build a fucking fort with our protagonists (okay it was kinda cute)

-Characters that had nothing to do with the games

-Fucked up lore

-A script that feels like it's a crappy Netflix movie

-And the Living Tombstone song being played at the end credits

And I loved every second of it. Bring on the terrible sequels

#five nights at freddy's #blumhouse #freddy fazbear #chica #bonnie #foxy the pirate #william afton #springtrap #balloon boy #the puppet #scott cawthon #jason blum #video games #video game movies #horror #childhood #adulthood #josh hutcherson #matthew lillard #golden freddy #fredbear #nightmare #mangle #baby #funtime animatronics #animatronic #october #movies #universal #matpat

[wroteclassicaly]

Let’s Be Closer

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Warnings: Depression, anxiety, panic attacks, slightly NSFW, but not much, & language.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

A/N: Back with another one! I’ve been working on this for a few days, and I’m really nervous, as I’ve channeled a lot of my energy into this fic, because I’ve not been in a good mindset—at all—so I added a little Eddie to help, and I hope it makes anyone who is going through something similar, to feel better, even if it’s just a morsel? My ask box is ALWAYS open if you ever need someone to talk to—that goes for anyone that reads this, and is feeling badly or lost, or even in general—I’m here! I understand and I hear you, and I’m not going anywhere!! Hope this is okay?

Enjoy! - Kristen <3

~*~

He’d tried calling you, fingers raw from the damned dial button, eyes blurry without sleep for what is the sixth night in a row. You never ignored his calls, you never missed a club meeting—despite never playing the game, but bringing snacks and your branding charm, instead. You never explicitly dodged him in the hallways of Hawkins High, you never missed a chance to wave his Zippo lighter at his band’s shows—their number one fan since founding, and you sure as shit never went a day—hell, even an hour without seeking him out. He misses your hands pressing over his eyes, decorative bangles caressing his cheeks, how he’ll never know what shampoo you’ve decided to use this time brimming his senses. Eddie Munson needs you.

And you’re just… gone. He’s seen you at school, sure, but that’s not what he’s currently worrying a bitten down thumb nail over. He’d bugged every friend he could talk to, running over all scenarios where he might’ve upset you somehow—no results produced. Your last night together was a movie and some burgers. He’d treated you to a shared chocolate shake after, topped with whipped cream and a cherry.

You swore you would master the art of tying the stem one day, and damn it if Eddie didn’t get his kicks from seeing you try to work that cute tongue to accomplish it. You’d both sat on his favorite quilt your mom helped you sow him for Christmas a few years back, van doors open, drinking in the soft serenity of nightfall, overlooking Lover’s Lake. Perfection, peace, that’s what the day’s events contained. Eddie never noticed anything unusual about you, just extraordinary—as always.

His very own confidant. Ride or die, as you’d promised him.

Except… apparently, not anymore.

Eddie is caught between anger at your automatic dismissal, treating him as most of your shared peers, to gnawing nausea that something is seriously wrong. And as his uncle asks him where you are, obviously confused at your lack of presence in the Munson household—being angry wins out.

~*~

Rainstorms are always a bitch in any context, but Indiana seems to pack a solid punch when unpredictable Mother Nature is visiting. Eddie can barely see through his crappy wipers, windshield rain soaked and battered in pounding thumps. Your house glitters above the surface of heavy drops, visible by its glowing inhabitation. Eddie cuts his engine, fingers idle across the monogrammed skull charm keychain you’d gotten him, dangling from his key ring.

Fuck it.

Clambering from his rust bucket ride, he jogs his way up your empty drive, seeking solace on your small porch. Your parent’s cars are gone, yet the normal lamps cast their buttery glow through your windows. He isn’t a man that prays, but he’ll do anything if he can ask you what the fuck your problem is lately, and, you know—check on your well—being, or however the fuck it’s supposed to sound. Heaving in an exerted breath, Eddie presses a finger over your doorbell, legs bouncing back and forth in an anxious jolt as he waits.

And waits.

And waits some-fucking-more.

Anger vs. Anxiety: the Sequel

“Hey, knock knock, Little Hellion. It’s me, you know, the dude that’s your right hand man, the one that lets you eat his pretzels at lunch, touch all his band equipment, entertains your enthusiasm towards the ear splitting garbage that is considered ‘hit music’. Think you owe it to the friendship masters that brought us together, to at least tell me what’s goin’ on?”

Silence.

In a typical Eddie fashion, he begins to obnoxiously teeter the doorbell, each time birthing the same end scene. Humiliated, drenched, and tired, Eddie’s resolve has him pressing his hair-caked forehead to your front door.

Screw this.

You’d told him many times where your spare house key was, so he could avoid having to climb in your window, because really? Though, you adored watching him struggle into an endearing shuffle through your window frame, and Eddie found it fun—he wasn’t about to mud his way around your yard and bust his ass on a whim. Well… unless the key wasn’t here, he can admit to that.

Luckily for him—the first hope of the night—it’s under your mom’s decorative address painted rock. He gains swift access, securing himself in your home. It’s not been but a week, but it feels eternities longer. As he figured, your parents aren’t in their usual living room spots, the television off. The kitchen light above the sink is on, the hall light above your stairs, and he knows you’re bound to be awake. Ever his favorite night owl.

Yanking his shoes off, he carries them in one hand, ascending your stairwell and venturing to your bedroom.

~*~

There’s a soft blue hue merging with your hot pink lava lamp, bleeding underneath your door’s gap. You’re watching some B rated horror film, no reaction, no movement from the other side. And that’s when Eddie starts to panic. Dropping his Reeboks on your mom’s hallway rug outside your door, he doesn’t knock, doesn’t delay, pushing your door open so hard it smacks into your wicker dresser, knocking some trinkets over. He doesn’t know what he expected, maybe you having another guy here—a disgustingly bitter bite brims his esophagus at that notion—or new friends, maybe. He isn’t ready for the gut twisting sight of you, back to him, curled in a fetal position, pink cotton throw around your midriff, tear soaked eyes staring at your baby pink wallpaper, unmoved.

Eddie Munson is speechless.

He takes hesitant footsteps into your sanctuary, easing the door latched behind, as to not startle you. However, you beat him to it.

“What are you doing here, Eddie?” There’s a raw rasp to your tone, a clogged damage.

You remind Eddie of a wounded animal, a lost soldier in his dungeon. He’s never heard you sound so fucking lost. All his hostility dissipates, leaving him with a protective possessiveness. He pulls off his vest and leather coat, laying them over your desk chair, forgoing sitting to your backside and pathing his destination to your front. Your murky vision forces his form out of view, body automatically flinching to move away.

Eddie catches your wrist with a cool hand, thumb tapping the bone, pinching a small portion of your skin in reassurance. “Y/N… baby.”

He doesn’t call you pet names that intimate very often, not unless he’s voicing a concern or a sleepily muttered softness. You’ve always wondered if he called every fangirl that. The burning in your throat threatens to expose you, your limb shaking in Eddie’s vice.

“Please… Eddie, can you just leave? Be mad at me all you want, but I can’t fight with you right now.”

You’re spent, worried he’ll actually go, and not really wanting him to. But that’s how your mind works, isn’t it? Depression’s tricks of the trade; mindfucks, self-doubt, confusion, isolation, emotionless, feeling too much, not enough. His rings are chilled in their brisk brush, sliding along your pulse point, tracing all the way up you arm until they reach your jaw, where he presses a swipe, ever-so-gently. The dam is cracking, about to burst, explode.

“And go where, Y/N? Can’t exactly perform up to my full potential without the Cher to my Sonny, the Eowyn to my Faramir, that nice bit of leather that holds my sweetheart across my chest—“

“Eddie, stop.” You’re head is swimming in static, body moving upright—a position you haven’t assumed in days, with the exception of taking a shower.

Still, you don’t toss his hand off you. He’s beckoned into hope. His middle finger caresses your jawline’s expanse, pushing a bop at your nose, breathing winded, posture patient.

Yeah, that does it.

The levee gapes, flooding itself wide open. Eddie is bringing you into his chest, your fingers fisting into his Hellfire shirt, temple resting against his exposed collar bone, his pick chain tickling your cheek, and you sob. Harder than you’ve remembered doing this week, guilt wracking you at your ignorance towards how your bestfriend might be effected by your distance, that hopeless abyss caverning your chest from the inside out.

“Eddie-Bear,” You breathe out wetly, languidly. The silly nickname you’d taken to calling Eddie since childhood, all because his curly hair, and he never stopped you from saying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

You hear him whisper a meek ‘fuck’, before he’s closing his arms around your blanket covered waist, squeezing you in so tightly to him that your air supply thrums against your ribcage. He’s more comforting than your favorite summer thunderstorm. Cigarette smoke lathers him in wafts, rainwater soaked skin, lavishly showered by his spicy cologne. You’re okay. It’s fine.

“What’s happening, baby? Stay with me, yeah?” He’s peppering your forehead with the softest kisses you’ve ever felt, each one conveying his care towards you—fragile, beautiful. It causes you to reign enough strength back in to meet his gaze, under eyes burning and sore, puffy from your tears.

That undertow overwhelms you, cutting off your momentary serenity, making you begin to tug on Eddie’s shirt in desperation, needing it off. You’re whispering and he’s in a state of confusion, arms having no choice but to untuck from you, spreading out. “Y/N…” It’s a questionable warning, a caution against what this action implies.

Something hums, throbs deep inside you—a beast needing satiated—one that Eddie doesn’t know you keep caged. You’ve always wanted your bestfriend (a rather cliche thing to you, but alas), and it seems your avoidance did nothing to improve it, signifying a tenfold magnitude of want and craving, a desperate having to have. Staying away from Eddie is catching up to you, a new anxiety settling in, a warped panic. Eddie’s eyes are closed in contemplation when you face him, mapping out the expanse of his chin, across his jawline, right over that jugular. Your brain is such a jumbled heap, wanting him to be away from you, everyone to leave you by yourself to drown like you think you deserve, to collapsing if Eddie isn’t on you. But Eddie Munson isn’t everyone, and even your fucked up, depression filled brain can admit to that.

He has some otherworldly effect…

“Y/N?” He’s begging a question. And he wants to sob in relief when your beautiful y/e/c irises meet his own.

Your answer isn’t within words, it’s a slip of your hands off his body, pushing up your own baggy white band t-shirt—a comfort shirt you reserve to usually wear. Eddie’s eyes widen when you’re not even clad in a bra, bare breasts a perfect (to him) swell. The softest of actions, yet Eddie is swallowing, confused. He can’t not be so transparent in front of you, he never has. That’s not your dynamic and won’t ever be. “So, you don’t want to see me and now you’re… what, flashing me? Y/N what is this? You’re scarin’ me here.”

“I can’t tell you if I don’t even know, Eddie.” You mumble, knees knocking into his own, his ripped jeans causing a radiating warmth from bared skin through your blanket piled lap.

Eddie is silent, mulling over your words. He isn’t wanting to allow himself to realize that he recognizes your entire mood, as he’s felt it all too much many times before. That hopeless, wayward, black hole of gloom and goddamned doom. It makes too much sense, and Eddie practically tastes that anxiousness coming off you in tower-high waves. But what you’re asking, here, your body exposed to him, another vulnerability he wasn’t prepared for—he finds he can’t deny you.

Whether it’s that cosmic connective bullshit, or his own self-afflicting mindset to be in constant companionship with you, he nods. “Only if you try and talk to me about all this. You gotta promise.” His chocolate brow raises, expectant.

“I’ll… try, as best as I can, okay? Is that good enough?” You’re weak, tears drying, new ones forming.

Eddie nods, starting to reach to brush his hand across you, hold you, not stare at this intimate part of your flesh. He hears a little hushing embarkment, another request. He grants it, finally watching you under an intensity so precious your lower lip wobbles. He tucks his fingers underneath his shirt, pulling and shimmying his upper torso from the damp fabric, letting it drop behind him on your hardwood. It’s a small echo, but something else completely significant.

He’s inhaling sharply, his creamy inked skin this burning layout you seek to travel. He’s Eddie. He’s beautiful. The neon setting of your lava lamp, the reflection of your television still going as a backtrack—it highlights both your forms. Settled and paused on your bed, Eddie looking everywhere but your breasts. This gives you your first smile in over a week. “Eddie. S’ okay to look at me if you want to.”

His reaction will forever be burned into your retinas. It’s a heated swirl, dark eyes creating a crest across your chest, almost as if he’s strumming you the way his fingers pluck at his guitar’s strings. His tongue sucks against teeth, perks, focused. He looks. You can tell he’s fighting every forsaken and forbidden urge that you are… to touch. To feel.

To know…

“Baby…” A whimpering confusion disorients your bestfriend into that pet name. That secretive thing you both have pictured, hands on yourselves at night right after you hang out, scents clinging to one another, names tipping off each other’s lips.

There’s more here…

“I just need to fucking feel you, Eddie. I can’t… I…” That embarrassingly swift panic stampedes your windpipes.

Your palms splay across his tattooed skin, fingertips tracing its unique outline. He finally reaches out when you can barely stand the anticipation any longer, his finger hooking underneath your armpit, thumb-pad brushing the underside of your breast—his first touch. You finally escape your throw, your black panties the only thing that remain. Eddie has to fight every fantasy he’s ever pictured, his own guilty conscience staring him down. You shake your head, reading him.

He’s actually looking at you in the ways you’ve dreamt of. It gives you a bravery to start a revealing, fingers sliding up and down his ribcage. “It’s been so fucked in my head lately. I just want to disappear, so I tried to… as much as possible.” You hope it makes a little sense, because it’s enough to scare the shit out of you, expecting this scrutiny.

Eddie’s throat is on fire with a settled worry, a dawning thought, a knowing sigh. His thumb caresses your breast, an ache unable to stop its responding throb between your legs. He traces your ribcage, pressing, dancing shapes along, rubbing, his voice light when he speaks. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know how my mind works, Y/N. This is the resident freak you’re talking to here. Not exactly a stranger to the dark side of the human mental state.”

“I know, Eddie. I should’ve, but I didn’t want anyone around. Fuck, I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you forced your way into my house—“

“Uh, I rang the bell, Y/N. And technically, I didn’t force my way. I used your spare key.”

“Oh, Eddie,” You sing-sigh, tears docked. “Crazy boy.”

“Y/N…” He’s closer now, bolder to grip your naked waist, your muscles moving beneath his touch. “I’ve been there. You’ve been right fucking beside me. Did you really think I wouldn’t come over here and ask you what’s going on? That’s a coward’s retreat. I can’t let you feel like shit alone, not gonna happen.”

You reach for his belt, an agreeing nod of your head. He starts to move and grab your hands. “It’s not right, not like this.”

Not like this? So… then, when? He really does want it too.

“I know,” You whisper. “Just want to feel your skin on mine.”

You rest your forehead to Eddie’s, letting your fingers trace that demon head tattoo above his pectoral, scraping the barest brushes. He shivers, pulling away, holding in. Finding the curvature of your spine, Eddie taps an invisible beat, making you croon. Your left hand winds around his neck, draping across his lower back, threading through his curls, calming him. “Please, please.” You aren’t sure you can look at him again if he rejects your last advance, your letter to a lifeline.

In a revamped silence, Eddie slides off your bed, wood floors creaking underneath his feet. Your eyes widen, posture frozen.

Is he leaving?

But he gives you that smitten Eddie Munson smile and he sheds his socks, unbuckling his belt and jeans, shoving them down to his ankles and kicking them away, his decorative buckle clattering across the flooring. He lowers his brows at you, shy, pursing his lips as he knees his way into a crawl across your bed, meeting you—blue checkered boxers all that separate him from you. His chain sways in his movement, his hand cupping your cheek and bringing you up and into him, mouth hovering, lips ghosting, so close you’re drunk on the caress. It’s so fucking intimate, so open and vulnerable. It’s as if you’ve torn open your chest and handed your bestfriend your modesty and your heart.

They’re already his…

Eddie breathes you in, your shampoo— strawberries and cream this time, your skin silky beneath his touch. He’s got you and you’re still here with him, trying.

“Promise me you’ll try and tell me someway, somehow, even if you can’t say it—that something is wrong, Y/N. From here on out, you gotta promise me.” Fuck, he really wants to kiss every bit of that panic from you, lay you down, take you in your bed, and hold you until the moon vanishes underneath the horizon, and the sun sprays its peachy hues all around your bedroom walls. He is startled to revel in the fact that you want it just as much.

“I wish we could…” You trail off, mouth puffing a breath. So close.

Eddie’s honey coated voice is rasped. “We can. All you’ve ever had to do was ask me to go to bed with you, and I’d give you whatever you fucking wanted, Y/N,” He breaks, nose nudging yours, slowly edging back enough to comb your hair behind your ear. “But right now, I won’t.”

It’s so strange, how Eddie was worried about you, angry with you, thinking you hated him, and now he knows you want him inside you just as much as he wants to be there. And you, your brain is a scrambled mess, still swimming in the darkness, yet revealing your secrets to your bestfriend, and hearing his shared truths. It’s all… too much. You don’t have to say anything else—he already knows. His tone is light, airy, as he sings along to the lyrics of your favorite drunken karaoke song. “They say we’re young and we don’t know… We won’t find out until we grow…”

He bumps your shoulder, making your eyes glisten, heart lurch, your own voice joining in. “Well I don’t know if all that’s true… Cause you got me, and baby, I got you…”

You both share a nostalgic smile, a melancholy settling into your chest, joining in together.

“Babe… I got you babe, I got you babe…”

“There’s my girl,” Eddie squeezes your shoulder, his other hand on the back of your neck. “Can’t do this shit without you.”

“My favorite dungeon master.” You quip.

Eddie feigns a dramatic look. “Better be the only one.”

“You are. Always.” There’s a new sensitivity forming—banter aside—a place you and Eddie have just discovered.

He senses those gears shifting inside you, that mood threatening to flood you. Eddie lays a kiss to your cheek, lingering, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against him, breasts smashing into his chest. You both let out a ravished whimper, body heat shared, radiating. Your nipples harden, soaking in the affectionate stick of Eddie. He’s starting to move backwards, taking you with him on your bed.

You let him guide you, unable to let go if hurricane winds threatened you both. He brings a hand underneath your ass in a slide, sheets rustling, gripping where your thigh meets a cheek, lifting, sloping your limb over his lower waist. Your panties, drenched through—a response beyond your control—skim over his happy trail, where all those freckles are resting, waiting for your mouth to trace. He shushes your apology, tilting his body to lay an arm underneath your head, his pick necklace dangling across your bosom, and he lets you rest on his forearm, his other outstretching to wrap around your waist, that thick arm hair stimulating your broke out goosebumps. He rests his chin overtop your head, content, swollen between his legs, but managing to control it to a minimum.

You fall asleep in his arms— quiet, warm, safe, sleeping through the night for the first time in a month.

~*~

It hadn’t been but a few days since you and Eddie were together, and the next morning when he snuck out, he was terrified you’d bolt on him again. He treaded lightly when he showed up at school, trying to focus on getting his final set list together, and interviews for new members of Hellfire Club, pushing distractions. The day crept on and on, but he hadn’t seen you thus far, and the day’s end meeting was approaching.

~*~

He can hardly stomach being still on his throne, knee bouncing. Everyone’s voices sound staged, louder than usual. Eddie is barely aware until Gareth shakes his shoulder—hard. He nearly snaps, a stressed groan leaving his mouth, flat. “What?”

“Dude,” Gareth exclaims, waving the folded piece of notebook paper in his face. “I said, Y/N left a note for you earlier. Said she was doing something for her mom, to call her later.”

Eddie snatches it from his friend, ignoring whatever else he says, nearly tearing the paper to get to its contents. He can’t help but to grin like a fool, teeth bared, almost a proud pose, your scribbled handwriting clear.

Let’s Be Closer

~*~

Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson

#kristenwrites #my work #my writing #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things

[ao3cassandraic]

Meta roundup

I can't even find all my own meta any more, so here's my attempt to fix that!

s2's Final Fifteen Minutes, and Related Posts

You can kind of see my thoughts evolving here. I'm not displeased at that!

When angels overplay

Kayfabe: A Good Omens meta

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2, The Chinwag

Part 3, The Fiasco

Part 4, The Aftermath

Heaven and Hell as surveillance states

Coffee as forced-teaming tactic

Crowley refusing complicity

The Metatron failing Aziraphale's tests

Aziraphale may justly feel abandoned by Crowley

Why does the Metatron even want Aziraphale?

Jimbriel the Holy Fool

Jimbriel the Holy Fool (cw: historical ableism around mental health and cognitive ability)

The almost-defenestration scene, what Crowley is up to

The almost-defenestration scene, ending

Aziraphale's memory, Jimbriel, the Metatron, and forgiveness

Muriel

"No one" and Odyssey intertextuality

Muriel as possible s3 mole

Muriel as bookshop proprietor

Good Omens God is a Horror

Good Omens God is a m-fing open-source techbro

Good Omens God as abusive parent to the Ineffables

Crowley the Maker, God the Wrecker: Part 1, Part 2

Costume Meta

Jimbriel's ball costume

Clothing and identity in Good Omens

Color on angels (from s2 preview)

Crowley's 1941 costume and the Blackshirts

Crowley's sleeve garter

Crowley's bee!demon getup

Bildad the Shuhite

s2 Dagon

s2 Uriel

Saraqael

s2 Michael

Muriel

s2 Beelzebub

Jimbriel

Shax, also Shax, original Shax (with some wrong guesses)

Random Intertextuality

With Gulliver's Travels

s2 as tragedic in structure

Dies Irae

Britten's War Requiem

With Nineteen Eighty-Four

Miscellaneous Other Meta

Angels, demons, language, and culture: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Saraqael, Heaven's Only Competent Angel

Heaven's so-called command team

The ineffable educators

"Funny old world" (Crowley in the elevator)

do be do be do

Job's children as Heaven microcosm

Crowley and the Bentley: partners in threat

a Bentley headcanon (n.b. this one's been Neiled, but I still think it's cute)

Crowley loves his Bentley

Is Heaven even literate? And sequel ("yes, but").

Aziraphale's deeply crappy work situation, compassion fatigue

The Ineffables' understanding of love: love as ritual

Schools of ethics in Good Omens

Can Heaven and Hell attribute miracles?

As far as they can: how Aziraphale and Crowley interact differently with their head offices

#good omens meta #my meta #holy crap how did I write this much freakin' meta

[nikox400x]

Kung Fu Panda 4-All the budget went to the animation (spoilers)

Hey all, its me, the guy who everyday make a tour around this site but almost never talk. How are ya?

Two days ago something arrived to the cinema's screens, something that me and everyone were waiting for since 2018, the fourth film and the begginig of the new kung fu panda triology.

You know? When I sat on that theather seat with my friends to see what Dreamworks had prepared for us, I told myself; "Maybe that post I made a while ago throwing shit at what seemed like Kfp 4 was going to be was a bit hard, I hope I can come out regretting what I said that time"

And as soon as the credits ended, it was clear to me, I dont regret a shit. Maybe it was a little exaggerated, compared to what a megamind fan would think about the terrible sequel they made, but still: the film is crappy and boring most of the time. But why?

I'm going to explain some points.

1- Po? Is that you?

I don't know you guys, but i don't think the panda we knew in the end of the third film is the same as this one. Seriously, he share more comparisons with the Po from the legend of awessonless than the one from the films, maybe its a personal thing but it feels that way. At least in the beggining of the film feel like that.

And I don't know what he was thinking about when he decided to follow a thief he doesn't know at all and who tried to steal in his own palace, and that suspiciously know who is the chameleon, whose were her plans, her past, where she lived, where exacly they had to pass through avoiding all the guard inside her home, why the others thiefs of the city hate her so much... With Po's experience with criminals this is like a chef throwing water on a pan with boiling oil, it's obvious what is going to happen.

2- Zheng- Female Nick Wilde but without charisma or half of his intelligence.

I knew it from the first moment I saw Zheng's desing, the people who know me can corroborate that; her facial expressions, her tone while she talk, her animal race, her position as thief, her final when she is part of the justice same as the protagonist... it's clearer than water I think.

Everyone could say this is forgivable if she's smart, but surprise, she's not. This character is just an absurd try of this company for """"conect with infant audience""""(I don't know in what sense, I supose for the cute design, idk). But the point is, the supposed objective of the hollywood companies is give the new generetions better things than we got at their age, but what I see is laziness for write a decent scrip only for take an advantage of a known IP and make easy money. Even the children have quality standars, this is not the dragon warrior and of course this is not kung fu panda.

And talking about the dragon warrior, having our deep and lovely Tigress with her magnific development or Tai Lung back from the spirit realm... why in the hell this character exists?! Oh yeah, for being trending topic in twitter for three days. Yay...

3- The furious five and Shifu, for us : our pretty boys, and for Dreamworks: living jokes.

What made Kung Fu Panda what it is, is not the fucking panda, it's them. They're the inspiration for Po, their allies, the royale representation of kung fu and the ones which everything started with.

Po's a comic relief, and his mission is show his development in part using his humor, but the humor in this film barely works because of the lazy script. Something that even the talented Jack Black himself can't fix, beacuse his only role there is dublin his character, unlike the rest of the residents of the Jade Palace except Dustin Hoffman.

Seth Rogen (Mantis) himself even said that he wasn't even contact by Dreamworks in the first place, only for make a scream in the credits, that's sad beacause he really wanted to see Mantis on the screen. And I know and I understand that the five are expensive, but cmon, they could just simply change the voice actors and offset it with a good script but that's not the case of course. Their role in the film is being a counter for Po's constant jokes, for not to saturate the spectator with jokes, now that's not in there anymore, thank you Dreamworks.

4-The chameleoooohhn and her "motivation".

I can't say much, basically because out of her design she's nonsense. She says that because of her size, she was reyected for being a kung fu warrior.

Yeah of course but only one little thing, what about Shifu? Viper, a warrior without tips? Mantis, literally a dawn insect? Master Oogway, a TURTLE? The masters goose? C'mon even there's a fucking master chicken! Don't talk shit chameleon!

Her importance for the plot? Its almost a lie, the others villains had links to important characters; Tai Lung (with his link to Shifu's past), Shen (with his link to Po's past) or Kai (with his link to Oogway's past), all of them related to important characters. And her? To zheng's past and present I guess? But again, anyone know this character. She's like a villain from a Disney show, you know the type of villain who say a lot of things but at the end, she don't support nothing to the lore.

And her personality is like a mix of all the previous villains, and this sounds good right? HAHAH nope. Do you remember when as a child you mixed all the plasticines of all the colors to create the final color and you ended up with a color similar to poop? well that's exacly how her personality feels like.

5- Po's dads; the only reason they're there is because they ran out of characters to make the film.

The tittle itself tell everything, they don't do anything for the script in all the film, and their objective could be done since the start.

The script of the film except for the final looks like a draft which they didn't know how to complete, everyone who watch it can see it perfecly. The animation, the music and the backgrounds are the only things notable here.

6- Tai Lung and the cheapness nostalgia.

Fan service is not necesarry bad, above all if is used in a good way, they sold us Tai Lung as a miracle but his importance for the plot feels just like a Stan Lee cameo, I like Tai Lung I can say that. But this is too weak, Shen and Kai are only characters in the background who don't do nothing except being defeated or make facial expressions (I don't even joke that Shen would show respect to Po considering what we saw in the second movie, and Kai wasn't supposed to be destroyed as a spirit, what the hell is he doing here again? *sign* I'll to stop trying to make sense of this).

By the way, anyone else think that the dragon warrior role is understimated? I mean Shifu obligated Po to transfers the role to another one just because yes, i mean he only has been the dragon warrior for less than 5 years and now they want to replace him with a random. Everything just for at the end, he choosed a thief with at least 30 crimes registred and who was a traitor during the 75% of the movie.

7- The """""""""humor"""""""", except they forgot the parts where I must to laugh.

Seeing nonsense hits only beacuse yes stopped of being funny a long time ago, and no, I don't want to talk about the bunnies of the portrait because I would get sick. I had to go to the cinema drunk to endure the filler that the movie had, no joke, it was the only way to laugh at those jokes.

So I think about applying the same method as in any movie with bad jokes, ignoring the jokes. I tried to do the same thing but with the pace that the film managed, such a thing was impossible, the pace of the movie seems to be made for Tiktoker children with attention deficit. From the chaos in the quarry until Po takes the bitc... uhg fox out of prison, only 10 fucking minutes pass, all of that for what? So that you feel like the baseless information and the nonsensical plot that they tell us is of any use? they could simply make a non-canonical short and that's it, but no, yes or they were going to tell us a story written by rotten old men who spend the entire day watching Tik Tok. It's not going to be that the child who sees this doesn't get bored, we know that much today's children don't have many neurons as they say, but even to make movies for them you have to have a certain talent.

In some point at the beguining Po make a joke about the ausence of the furious five saying that at least he had them in cardboard posters, and this would be a good joke. Only if the stupid film could be prove that the franquise can do something memorable without the furious five, but again, that's not the case.

Don't have any respect for this movie, look what it had with you. I understand that it is enjoyable because of the animation but it does not go beyond that line, it destroys important things about the canon and spoils its teaching about the need for change by treating it in a terrible way.

Coclusion: KFP 4 is just another Po's adventure as Shifu says, it won't tell nothing to you or make you feel different, it's a shame but after Megamind 2 I imagined something like this. It's a dark era for film, expecially the animated one so like Scar said; Be prepare, there're worse things waiting for us.

Do you want something with real quality? You don't even need kung fu panda 1,2 or 3, for make it easy to this film let's take this marvelous example; kung fu panda: secrets of the scroll (2016). You'll say; "An animated short, this is not like-" Shhh Just watch it, you won't regret it.

If you think I'm wrong in something, just rewatch the film. And if still you aren't agreed with me, well, I respect you and I'm happy you like it. I wish I could love it as you do, but that doesn't mean that the movie isn't bad, because if you watch it with your brain on or remembering the previous movies it's terrible.

. Me? I've to write a story, I love you all. Except you, Dreamworks, I'm mad with you, expecially when you do this at the same day as Akira Toriyama's death :(

#kung fu panda #secrets of the scrolls #kung fu panda 4 #kung fu panda 2 #tigress #furious five #akira toriyama #dreamworks #po ping #lord shen #tai lung #general kai #kung fu panda 3 #the lion king

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 32

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Lloyd Hansen is a storm. You can’t stop him, you can only brace yourself for the eventual rain of his presence. For the time being, he is calm and you will let it last as long as you can. But you will keep the windows boarded and the doors shut tight.

His bruises are a pale tint of yellow though he was just as reluctant to leave the bed. You are not more eager to be awake and on your feet but you know you must. You find it harder by the day to stay active but if you slow down, the pain will catch up to you. 

So you follow him, after ten minutes of internal turmoil, strapping on your pregnancy belt over a tee and some leggings. Your usual attire as it’s the only thing that fits or offers a degree of comfort for your growing body. You smell cinnamon as you descend, leaning on the banister heavily as you take careful steps, barely able to see your feet past your stomach.

You follow your nose to the kitchen and find Lloyd in a whirlwind, but not his usual tempest. He flips a pancake in the skillet as he looks over his shoulder, a crooked grin under his mustache. He still hasn’t shaved. Is it a new look or neglect? The stubble is getting pretty long.

He wears an apron over his briefs. Nothing else. Not very safe but you don’t mind if he gets a spatter of hot oil. You almost wish you could throw some on him yourself.

“I made decaf,” he announces proudly, “and I have blueberry syrup for you, baby cakes.”

“Blueberry syrup?” You squint as you near the counter, brushing a hand over the curve of your stomach.

“That was a you thing, wasn’t it?”

“A me thing? What are we talking about?”

He uses the spatula to remove the pancakes from the pan and puts them onto a plate, covering them to keep them warm. He sets down the utensil and moves easily to pull down a mug and fills it from the carafe.

“You had some in the crappy old fridge back at the hellhole,” he shrugs, “hidden behind the ketchup.”

You bite the inside of your lip and tilt your head. How did he know that? Besides, why would he even remember that? An overpriced bottle of organic syrup that had Colin halfway down your throat.

“I guess,” you answer nonchalantly, “I don’t mind it.”

“Hm, sure,” he seems disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm, “icing sugar too, if you like.”

“I’ll just have the pancakes,” you accept the mug as he slides it over to you, “thanks.”

He faces you, watching you as you watch him. Your eyelids slit as you warily sip your coffee. His blue irises sparkle menacingly.

“Stop,” he says, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” You utter dully.

“Like I put poison in the decaf.”

You pause and pull the cup away from your lips. You give it a long look. Now that you think of it…

“I didn’t,” he huffs, “I can be nice. I’m being nice. Baby,” he puts his hands on his hips, “you gotta let go of old grudges. Once the kiddo is here, we can’t be fighting like cats and dogs. We’re going to be too tired.”

“We’re?” You scoff and carry your cup past him, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“What?”

“You. Doing anything for anyone else. That has no benefit to you.”

“I’m making you breakfast–”

“You’re getting on my good side so I don’t try to sleep on the lawn again,” you roll your eyes, “and so I don’t smack you every time you touch my ass.”

“Peaches, you’ll see, I’m taking this serious. I’m gonna dad so hard–”

“Mmhmm,” you wave him off without looking back, “and I’m gonna go water the tulips.”

“Tulips? What about breakfast?” He whines.

“It won’t take too long,” you dismiss him, “it’s nice out and I’ll forget.”

He exhales heavily, “since when do you garden?”

“There’s a lot more to me than the contents of my fridge, Lloyd,” you toss back at him as you approach the back door, “some of us have dimension.”

“What? I have–”

You don’t hear his argument. He’s about as dimensional as those pancakes. Flat. Just a mustache that talks too much. Even if he uses that mustache to your advantage. You know him. He pretends to be complicated but he’s really rather simple. Maybe his complexity is that he’s simple in more ways than one.

You balance your coffee tenuously as you go down the back steps. You near the corner of the house and unwind the long house from around the plastic wheel. Harlen installed it while he was there. You take the head with the trigger and tug it around the east wall with one hand. Your progress is slow as you try not to spill the decaf.

You stand before your little plot of blooming stems and aim the hose, pushing down as you sprinkle water over the dirt. You should do some weeding but it’s getting harder and harder to get down that low. Even before you were this big, your back could make bending, squatting, or kneeling a task.

You turn the hose head back and forth, sending an even shower across the patch. Content, you let go of the trigger and gulp back more coffee. You’re going to miss the peace you found in the garden now Lloyd is back. You were ready to let it go for the baby, but you really weren’t prepared to do so this soon.

Footsteps hit the pavement on the other side of the gate and you peek over. You narrow your eyes. You should get those checked. You recognise the figure on the other side as he stops and waves.

You let the hose hang off the iron rooster ornament sticking out of the soil and waddle to the path. You follow it down to meet Andy at the iron grate. You’re slightly confused but don’t mind wasting time.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Just out for a run,” he says, cheeks slightly tinged pink as he catches his breath, “I saw you out here and figured I’d ask.”

“Ask?”

“You know, I got some of Lori’s things still, thought maybe you might want some. I’ve been meaning to do something with them but I haven’t made up my mind.”

“Lori? Your wife?” You’re slightly taken aback. You’re not really in the market for a dead woman’s earrings.

“It’s only taking up space. I’d be happy to know they went to a good home.”

“Mm, I don’t know, there’s not much I need…” you shrug but notice the way he stares, expectant, hopeful. It might not be about the stuff, maybe just about the company. You can’t say you aren’t lacking for that as well. “Well, I guess I could have a look through, see if there’s anything I’m missing.”

“Great, I can bring a box over later,” he offers, “tonight or tomorrow, if you’re not busy.”

“I…” you glance back at the house, “we’ll have to see.”

“Yeah, you must be busy,” he wipes his glistening forehead, “getting ready for the baby. Well, you know where I am. You can always come knock on my door.”

“Thanks, Andy, that’s… very nice of you.”

You force a smile. You never really were a neighbourly person. Mostly, you’ve lived next to people even more miserable than yourself. Those who can only afford shitholes don’t typically tend to be optimistic.

“So, you didn’t say if it’s a boy or a girl. Do you know?” He prompts.

“Uh, oh,” you look down at your stomach, “a girl.”

“Wow, I always wanted a girl. Jacob was a good kid but… maybe he wouldn’t have gotten in so much trouble if he had a sibling or two.” His cheek tightens and he turns his head slightly, “Lori couldn’t, you know? She just had him. Her body just couldn’t handle any more than that.”

“I’m sorry, Andy–”

“I told you, don’t be,” he shakes his head, meeting your eyes, “I should be sorry. I try not to talk about them but I can’t help it.”

“You have every right to talk about them. We can’t help who we miss,” you assure him, “hell, sometimes I miss my ex-husband.”

“Ex? Lloyd’s–”

“Number two,” you sigh, “yeah.”

“Hmm, interesting.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s not really the type to settle for being the second choice.”

You nod. He’s right but he also has no idea about how fucked Lloyd really is.

“It’s complicated,” you say, “anyway,” you look into your nearly empty cup, “I think I should go back before breakfast gets cold.”

“Sure thing, neighbour,” he grins and for a moment, you hesitate. Beneath his thick beard, there’s an odd reminder in the cut of his jaw, you’re reminded of Lloyd’s overgrown stubble, “you need any help with that garden, let me know. I’ve got a bit of a green thumb.”

“Will do,” you say as you raise your mug awkwardly and turn on your heel, “see ya.”

You set off back towards the house. The door is open as your husband stands watching you. Even from a distance, you sense his impatience. It’s in his posture and his steady gaze. You can’t handle an argument over cold pancakes. Not with only decaf to bolster you.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #unexpected #dark drabble #dark!drabble #drabble #series #the gray man

[pseudowho]

hellooo Haitch, how are you ? Wanted to drop by and tell you that I enjoyed rereading some Nanami pieces from you now that you've been reblogging them with new headers Also wanted to ask you 2 things : 1. Tips for becoming a better writer ? As in how to improve flow, narration, description (without becoming overbearing), how to make characters more human and less unidimensional 2. Favourite books you've recently read and that you'd recommend ? i've been rereading old favourites like Lolita and the Catcher in the Rye and I desperately need something new :( Thanks a looot

Hiii! I'm having a hard week. It's my grandmother's funeral tomorrow, and I'm horribly afraid. I'm getting by, though. Thanks for asking 💕

TIPS FOR BECOMING A BETTER WRITER:

Read more, and read-- I cannot stress this enough-- challenging and variable material. Difficult books. Classics. Crappy chick-flicks. News articles. Thrillers, romances, murder mysteries, philosophy books, fantasy books. Research pieces. All of them add to the reference library in your mind than you can use to compare to. These all help with flow, narration, description, because they all give you styles of writing to imitate.

Onomatopoeia is your friend. Not just, in individual words (crash, plop, honk!) but in sentence structure. Someone who is angry but calm may sound staccato, crisp-- their words, their sentences, should snip accordingly. You're describing a slow-flowing river? Languid, lazy, loose and fluid rolling sounds bring it to mind.

Trust your reader. Show them, don't tell them. If your setting is a coffee shop, with bright yellow walls, sunflowers outside, and wonderful coffee that always wakes them up, at their favourite table by the window? Don't TELL them the coffee shop is that way. Show them through the way your character interacts with their environment. For example: "Kento's hands grazed those sunny petals, always reminding him, curiously, of a Van Gogh piece his grandmother displayed in his childhood. Stepping into the shop, blinded by the sunshine splashed on the walls and the earth-roast aroma, he spotted his regular table overlooking the street, still free; his barista seemed to have anticipated his arrival, sliding his drink to the front of the queue with a smile." See? The story is moved along AND the reader can picture the environment. Trust them to see the things you infer, without having to DIRECTLY SAY "the walls are yellow, there were sunflowers outside, and this was Kento's regular coffee shop". Capiche?

Some idiot once said to keep everything to the point. Whilst this is true, to some extent, your words choices should be luxurious, in that there is ALWAYS the perfect word for a mood, a smell, a taste, a touch, a feeling. Each word you choose being just so makes a story feel rich and flavoursome. The fact is, if you are struggling to describe something and you find yourself piling sentence after sentence of almost correct words...leave it. Come back when the correct word is there.

If you Selfship, SELFSHIP HARDER-- talk to these people in your head. Build scenarios with them. Savour their reactions and their responses, don't see them through rose-tinted lens either. Cross-reference them with people you know, people you HAVE KNOWN, find the perfect words to describe them to other people.

Empathise harder. Empathy is the core of understanding someone's character. Walk a mile in their shoes. It helps, trust me.

FAVOURITE STUFF I'VE READ LATELY:

I adore Natasha Pulley's "The Watchmaker of Filigree Street" and its sequel "The Lost Future of Pepperharrow". The Ben Aaronovitch "Rivers of London" series is also excellent. If you want a great atmospheric, beautifully perfect scene-setting ghost story, go for "The Haunting of Hill House" by Susan Hill. "Pachinko" (I can't recall the author and I'm away from my bookshelf) is another favourite of mine. "The Poppy War" is the first in a trilogy by R.F.Kuang, and although it was her debut novel and there are traces of immaturity there, she is blossoming and I genuinely threw the second book across the room at one point because the angst and plot-twists hit me so hard.

Phew.

I'm no professional writer, so these are just my thoughts.

Mr Haitch lectures in English Literature and Creative Writing, so the "trust your reader" is one that he offered.

Good luck, thanks for thinking I'm good enough to advise you on this.

-- Haitch xxx

#pseudowho #pseudowho answers you #writing tips #jjk #kento nanami

[wardenparker]

Couch for Four

Dave York x Carol York x female reader x Quinn McKenna Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: General audiences, but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 6k Warnings: MMFF poly fam established in the fic Table for Four . Just a lil bit of fluff about PMS/PMDD. Talk of menstruation and some folks day dreaming about possible future pregnancy. Just a whole lot of fluff and Super Care Taker Dave.  Summary: When your PMS kicks in early and angry, Dave steps up to make sure you’re taken care of and comfortable. Which includes making sure Carol and Quinn are in on the plan.  Notes: I’ve been dealing with horrible PMDD for an entire two weeks now and Keri is an angel who helps me daydream about being taken care of when I feel bad. That’s all, that’s what is here. Pure self-indulgence. 

It started last night, which was inconvenient but not the end of the world. Quinn was out with Carol last night and Dave was having Daddy-daughter night with his kids, so you had curled up on the couch and eaten a parsed together dinner of sad, small amounts of various leftovers, a half a Taco Bell quesadilla, a bowl of that amazing soup from the bistro down the block, and the rest of that bag of kettle corn from the vendor at the farmer’s market. It was by no means gourmet, but there was no one there to witness it so you just popped on Dirty Dancing Havana Nights for the eightieth time because you don’t care if the sequel isn’t as good, you just like to watch Diego Luna dance. Last night was not a problem. It’s this morning that’s the problem.

No amount of coffee in the world can bring you back to human when PMS wallops you out of nowhere like this, so your makeup feels painted on and your clothes feel too tight in awkward places. The breakfast sandwich that you ate on the drive to the office has somehow only made you more hungry and that has you unconsciously pouting at your desk in between phone calls and managing Dave’s many responsibilities.

You’re not getting as much done as you’d like to when you’re denying yourself the bottle of that new Sprite Lymonade – which you’ve become obsessed with – that you have stashed in the break room fridge with your name on it. You’re going to eat the goddamn salad you packed for lunch and not order a crab cake BLT and curly fries from the sandwich shop across the street for lunch. You’re going to get through work and be fine. You’re going to be normal. And only after accomplishing that will you allow yourself to go home and cry over more rom-coms and isolate yourself from your partners for a few days so they don’t worry about you.

When Dave walks into the office, he immediately knows that something is off-kilter with you. Instead of the bright, beautiful smile that signifies that you are excited to see him, your face is slightly sagging. Indicating that you aren't feeling the best and the wane, almost watery smile a dim ghost of your normal greeting. The double shot latte in his hand had been for him, but he sets it down beside your computer and smiles. "Good morning, sweetheart." He murmurs softly, figuring you might be battling with a headache or maybe even those head colds that seem to be running rampant around the office.

“Good morning.” In an effort not to have him worrying, you refocus on your computer like you’re already busy at work. “There is one phone message on your desk and you have a team meeting at 10. Any special instructions this morning?”

He frowns slightly, normally the first five or ten minutes of his day with you is spent chatting about more than instructions or messages. Something’s off with you and he wonders if you are upset that Quinn and Carol went out last night. “Nothing at all sweetheart, I know you have my schedule set for me.”

“Of course.” The electronic calendar containing his business obligations is meticulously micromanaged regardless of how crappy you yourself might feel.

“Are you alright?” He frowns slightly, shuffling closer as you pretend to be engrossed in the screen. “You aren’t upset I was with the girls last night, are you?”

“What?” It breaks your heart a little that he would even think that and you shake your head immediately. There aren’t many people in the office yet so you can reach for his hand and give a quick squeeze without fear of being spotted. “No. I’m just not feeling one hundred percent myself today. I’m fine, I promise.” That’s putting it mildly, unfortunately, but you’re a grown ass woman. It’s not like this is your first time with PMS.

“Okay.” Dave believes you, knowing that you aren’t one to lie to him. “If you need to go home, you know you can.” He doesn’t want you here if you need to be resting.

“I know.” He would never make you work if you needed to be home, probably much more lenient with you than he needs to be because he does care about you. But by the same token, caring about him is part of why you work so hard. “It’s…” There’s no use hiding anything from him. Dave York is not a man that anyone can keep secrets from. “It’s just…the usual.”

Frowning for a moment, his eyes drop down to the calendar and then he understands. “Oh.” He murmurs softly. “Okay. I understand.”

“Nothing to worry about,” you promise him. Even if it’s hitting early and hard this month, it’s still just the same old stuff that you’ve been dealing with since middle school.

He knows that’s not exactly true. Your periods seem to hit you more severely than Carol. She had explained it to him once, and Dave had been appalled that you had to go through that every month. So of course he would worry.

The fact that you have to leave your desk twice before his meeting to ride out a crying spell in the bathroom isn’t ideal, but hopefully he didn’t notice. The coffee he left you also seems to have heightened your anxiety, which only makes things harder, but it can all be managed. You worked at the fucking White House. You can handle anything. At least, that’s what you remind yourself when you’re staring at your own red eyes in the mirror on bathroom trip number three.

Dave kept his door open, watching as you leave your desk for the third time and he sighs. Standing, he walks out and to your phone to pick it up and forward the calls to his handset. Bypassing the need to have you screen his calls for him. It’s clear that this isn’t a normal day for you and he won’t treat it as such.

The blinking light on your desk phone when you get back again makes you frown, and you feel like you should be tucking your tail between your legs when you knock gently on Dave’s door and nudge it open. Apparently, you’ve been so out of it that you didn’t even realize it was cracked open. “Mr. York?” You’re formal because the other assistant in this section of the office is a busybody. “Is there a problem?”

Dave looks up from his computer and motions you to come inside. “Come on in and close the door, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly so that only you can hear him. “No problem that can’t be fixed.”

“I’m sorry I had to step away again.” His door clicks shut behind you and you brace yourself for him to be upset or at least disappointed – which everyone knows is worse. But he is generally an understanding boss and he’s an attentive partner, so the best you can do right now is wait to find out if you’ve finally tested him too much and hope that that isn’t the case.

“You don’t need to be sorry.” Dave pushed back from his desk and pats his thigh. “Come here, sweetheart.”

The pinpricks behind your eyes are immediate, and before you can stop them they’ve boiled over into full-blown tears with messy, garbled “I’m sorry”s hiccuped in between. There’s just no way in hell that you can manage sex right now. Not emotionally or even physically – cramps having kicked in finally and joined that unwelcome cacophony of symptoms.

“Hey, hey.” Frowning, Dave immediately stands, rushing over to you to pull you against his chest. “What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me.” No clue why you started crying when he wanted you to sit on his lap, he’s a little alarmed at how you are reacting. Normally you love sitting on his lap at work, though he doesn’t want to have you sit on his cock this time.

“I just—I’m really sorry—” The game is now about keeping your voice down so Fran doesn’t hear you crying from outside the door. “I can’t today. I know it’s usually not a big deal but I just don’t feel up to it.”

“What?” He shakes his head, curling you into his chest a bit more. Protective of your feelings and wanting to provide you with comfort if you need it. “No, baby, I didn’t want sex. I just wanted to hold you. Nothing more.” He promises softly.

Good job dumb ass. The voice in your head chastises immediately, though you don’t move an inch from the safety of his arms. Always gotta assume the worst. “I’m sorry,” you murmur again, softer, this time apologizing for misunderstanding. “I guess I’m a little less myself today than I thought.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He had just wanted to hold you on his lap while he worked, but now he guides you over to the sofa in the corner of his office. “I have my sweats here. Do you want to get out of your tight skirt and pantyhose?” He offers.

It would be better. You know that. It would be so much more comfortable. Dave’s sweats and workout clothes are always soft and worn in, usually the kind of thing that you would jump at wearing if the situation arose. Carol does too, and sometimes you twin it in her husband’s clothes when you spend the weekend at their house. “That…” You’re nodding even as you protest. “That would be noticeable…I’ll just say I spilled coffee on my skirt, I guess.”

“You’re going to stay in here.” Dave tells you. “I’ve already set up the heating pad.” He uses it for when his back hurts or the ache and pains that come with his job, but he knows how much Carol depends on her heating pad during her periods. “And you can sleep or read or just watch me work.”

“I don’t understand.” Probably more than a little dense from all the fog of mood swings, you feel completely dumb when you just look at him like a lost puppy.

“You aren’t feeling good sweetheart.” One hand slides down to caress your stomach. “If you won’t go home, you’re going to let me take care of you.” He prefers that actually. “I have a drawerful of your favorite snacks and no more pressing meetings today.”

You really could cry all over again, both of your hands clasping over his on your middle. Sometimes you swear he gets moony over the idea of having more kids around, but he knows that’s not in your life plan any time soon. “You’re an angel, you know that right?”

“Gotta take care of my girl.” He leans in and nudges his nose against yours. “If I don’t, Carol and Quinn will have my hide.” It’s more than just the other two being annoyed with him, he wants to take care of you. Wants to make sure that you know you are loved and supported. “You want one of those Sprite Lymonades from the fridge? You’ve been drinking a lot of them lately. I can go grab one while you change. Or some tea?”

“Those stupid sodas are so good.” Slumping a little against his side, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and sniffle quietly. “I really appreciate this, honey…” He knows you’re never off your mark like this at work. So much so that he had no idea your periods and the accompanying symptoms were this bad until Carol had told him.

“I’ve got you.” He promises, sliding his hand around to your back and squeezing you slightly. “You go change and I’ll get you all set up for your much needed day of rest.”

He strides out the door a moment later with confidence and you snatch your purse out from under your desk to be able to have your phone and book on the couch in his office. Dave keeps his spare clothes and gym clothes in the small cabinet under the windows of his government issued office and you slip out the nondescript gray sweatpants and t-shirt that Carol got him on vacation over a decade ago. Exchanging your own clothes for his is like being wrapped in a warm York-family hug and you tuck your heels in next to the couch with your purse so you can lie down. Your partner’s clothes, a heating pad, and a book. This is the closest to comfortable that you’ve felt in two days.

If people are surprised that Dave is in the break room, they don’t show it. Most often you grab his coffee, but he fishes out his wallet to grab a couple of dollar bills to feed into the machine. He knows you will fret about not taking care of him since this is your job but Dave is a believer that as your boss and your lover, it’s also his job to take care of you. He punches the button for your desired drink and listens to it rattle around before dispensing the bottle of cold lemon-lime soda.

The electric blanket is tucked neatly against you when Dave comes back in, and you offer him a soft smile and a "Thank you" for the soda. "I'm just going to shoot Quinn a text and then order your lunch, and then I swear I'm off duty for the rest of the day." What you're actually doing is canceling on Quinn for tonight, but you'll just tell him that you're under the weather. He won't mind – it's not as though you had anything really planned. It was more of just an agreement to meet up for dinner and then see where the night took you.

“Don’t worry about that.” Dave shakes his head. “I’ll order lunch.” He promises. “Now. Do you want Oreos, a Twix, a Snickers, or the pack of those chocolate chip cookies you like?”

"You have my cookies?" Not expecting that in the least, since you had discovered them originally at a gas station of all places, you pause in writing a message to Quinn and lift your head. "You tracked down my stupid convenience store cookies?"

“I tracked down your stupid convenience store cookies.” He grins, walking over to his desk and opening the bottom draw to pull out not one, but two packs of the cookies you couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Daaaave…” There are the tears again, barely pushed back as you take the packages from him and stand up to give him a tight hug full of gratitude. “You’re so good to me.”

“You deserve it.” He promises you, kissing your hair. “Now I want you to let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

“I’m all set.” The salad you brought will keep until dinner if you eat cookies for lunch, but that has to be some kind of nutritional balance, right? “Thank you honey.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He pulls out the blanket he sometimes uses when he’s too tired to go home late from a mission. Winking at you as he comes over to spread it out over you. “You just sit on your heating pad and look pretty.” He murmurs. “And cry if you need to. I won’t be mad about that.”

“Trust me, I won’t be able to stop myself from the way the day has been going so far.” You roll your eyes at yourself and give yourself permission to indulge in kissing him. It’s not like you haven’t done much worse on this couch, after all, but it means that you’re distracted enough to not hear Dave’s phone go off at his desk.

Once he kisses you and you are settled back against the cushions of the sofa, Dave makes his way back over to his desk. He picks up his phone and reads the text message from Quinn.

From SpaceCadet: Is she okay? She just canceled plans tonight. Said she wasn’t feeling well.

With your soda and your book you don’t even notice the way Dave’s face pinches when he looks down at his phone, finally letting your work brain turn off so you can just let yourself be distracted.

He glances over to you and starts typing out a reply. Having a bad day with her period. She’s been crying all morning. Got her camped out on the couch with a heating pad. Swing by her place and get a change of clothes and come to the house? I’m going to take her home.

From SpaceCadet: Copy that. Taking a half day and hitting the grocery store on my way there. Cooking for four or six?

Dave smirks at the reply, the girls love Quinn and he’s taken to them easily. Six. The girls are on a hot dog tear.

From SpaceCadet: Steaks for four and hot dogs for two. See you tonight.

There aren’t a lot of foods that Quinn has mastered but he can definitely feed kids and he makes a hell of a good steak. And since you had been showing him a thing or two or three in the kitchen he had really taken a new liking to cooking. So whatever he does, it’s almost guaranteed to be good.

Dave sets his phone down and glances back over to you to find you curled up with your cookies and soda, sniffing quietly as you read. It could be worse and he doesn’t want to smother you, so he turns towards his computer to knock out some emails.

******

When the end of the day comes you’ve managed a nap and a few more chapters in the novel that Carol had lent you, and you sit up on Dave’s couch still feeling burnt out and heavy with sadness despite resting all day. “I think I’m going to tuck in over the weekend,” you tell him, knowing it would be longshot to get anything done at home. Laundry and feeding yourself at most.

“That sounds good, sweetheart.” Dave nods, closing his computer down and locking his desk drawers. “Quinn’s bringing you some clothes and we are going to just veg for the weekend. Low key, relaxed and you won’t have to lift a finger.”

“Did you just say…” It takes you an extra second, but when you look back up he’s smiling in that completely self-satisfied way that he has whenever he’s plotted a surprise or knows he’s fully exhausted and satisfied you in bed. The expression that is his own little pat on the back. “You’re not letting me go home to wallow in privacy, are you?”

"Should we?" He asks, lifting a brow. "Are you telling me that I should let you go home to be alone and be miserable, stuck in your own head? Or my idea of bringing you home and letting me, Carol, and Quinn dote on you and spoil you?" If you really wanted to go home and be alone, he would let you. He just wouldn't be happy about it.

There’s guilt in your frown, and you dig your toes into the little rug runner under his sofa with a sigh. “I don’t want to spoil anyone’s good time.”

"You aren't going to spoil anything, sweetheart." It's Dave's turn to frown as he shakes his head. "We will have a perfectly good time just relaxing together. Carol knows what you are going through and Quinn and I? Well, we are good boys who do what our girls want us to." He sends you a small wink. "Even running out for your cookies."

In under thirty seconds your frown has turned into a pout with the corners of your lips distinctly turned up as you cross the office to put your arms around him again. “Thank you, love.” He’s very good at making big gestures seem small, and the longer you’re together the more natural it’s all starting to feel. Even bringing Quinn into the equation had been surprisingly simple. “I just—you know I wouldn’t ask for it. But I’m grateful to have it offered to me.”

"We will do anything for you, sweetheart." Dave reminds you, his own arms wrapping around your back and he kisses your forehead. "What do you think about letting me drive you home? Leaving your car here for the weekend?" You might want to go somewhere, but he and Quinn could always come back and get it if you need it.

“As long as it’s okay with my boss,” you flash him a grin, knowing that he doesn’t have anything on his calendar that you have to worry about this weekend and you were planning on face planting on your couch. “It sounds extremely sweet and pretty wonderful, honestly.”

"Okay, let's get out of here." Dave shoots you a grin, happy he's getting his way and you are going along with his plan. You will be pampered and taken care of. Just like you deserve to be.

******

Quinn and Carol’s cars are already in the driveway when you pull up to the house, and Dave parks in the garage beside his daughters’ bicycles. You’ve been having these family nights more often – all four adults together having dinner with his and Carol’s girls. Sometimes you’ll go to their recitals or watch movies with them all together, sometimes you’re just sitting at the kitchen table playing cards or board games while they do their homework. They’re used to you as their daddy’s assistant and friend, and now they’re used to Quinn, too. They tease you, of course, because Carol introduced him as Mommy and Daddy’s friend and your boyfriend, but it’s that cute kind of teasing that makes them giggle and sometimes ask if you’re gonna wear a big poofy dress when you get married one day. It’s harmless and sweet, and honestly you’ve really come to appreciate those moments of being a family together.

"Quinn promised to cook tonight." Dave tells you as he cuts the engine. "Steaks for us, so you know that Carol has whipped up some delicious sides and he probably bought a chocolate laden dessert."

“I owe you guys for this.” While you know that there is no point system – no one is keeping track of good deeds in this relationship the four of you have – you still know you’ll be doing extra little nice things for all of them to show them you’re thankful.

Dave scoffs but he doesn't answer, knowing that there is no point to it. Instead, he walks around the car and takes your purse and clothes from you. Keeping his hand on your back and chuckling. "Now that we are home, you can take your bra off."

“You bet your ass.” Both of you laugh and you let him sweep you into the house like a guest of honor instead of the frumpy pile of borrowed clothes and unsettled hair you are. A makeup wipe from your bag had washed away the careful face you applied this morning and while you do feel more human, you know you definitely look as tired as you feel.

"Honey." Carol immediately pops out of the kitchen, tutting and pouting at you as she sweeps in to wrap you up in a fierce hug. "You should have let Dave bring you home hours ago." She chastises you gently. "What do you need? The heating pad is already on the couch, or you can sit in the steam shower until dinner is ready."

“I’m okay,” you promise her instantly, accepting the tight hug and reminding yourself not to cry over how sweet she is. “I had the heating pad in Dave’s office all day and had a little nap while he worked. I just…” Sheepishly, you shrug a little in her arms and look around to find the girls nowhere in sight before you give Carol a kiss. “I just want to be around you guys.”

Carol pets your face, cooing against your lips softly. "We will take care of you." She promises, smiling as she pulls back. "Nothing better than two sexy men and me to dote on you when you are feeling yucky because Aunt Flo's being a cunt." She winks. "Pun intended."

“Unfortunately, she hasn’t even kicked in yet,” you laugh at the pun and let her steer you to a stool at the kitchen island. “This is just her pre show.”

"The show before the volcano." Carol winces and reaches out to rub your stomach. "I'm so sorry, love."

“I’ll be okay.” Another kiss can be stolen without too much fear, and you’re hugging her tightly when the glass door between the kitchen and the porch slides open. “Are they home? I thought I heard the car.” Quinn pops his head inside and looks around for a second before his eyes land on you with a sigh of relief. “Baby,” he sticks his lower lip out in a deep pout and immediately makes his way to your side to wind his arms around you. “Are you okay? I’m sorry you’re not feeling good.” Periods are the number one reason he’s glad he’s not a woman, and he remembers how hard his ex-wife had it when they were together but it seems like sometimes yours are even worse.

“I’m okay now.” Carol has stepped away to make room for Quinn and you hug him every bit as tightly as you hugged her. “I have the world’s best people to look after me.”

"I've got some steaks on the grill." He knows red meat is good for you during this time and he was determined to make it the best damn steak you've ever put in your mouth. "And I'm already determined to give you a foot massage later on."

"When Dave said you guys weren't going to let me lift a finger this weekend he really meant it, huh?" It never fails to make you smile, though, because you know that the love between the four of you is steady as a rock. "Thank you, baby."

“You’re welcome.” Quinn winks at you and grins. “You know that we would do anything for you.” He kisses you quickly and lets you go. “I can’t over cook the steaks or York will never let me live it down!” He calls over his shoulder as he rushes back out onto the deck.

"So how was work, love?" When you turn back to Carol at the stove, Dave has already put a cold drink in front of you and is setting the table on your other side.

“It was snotty noses and uncooperative shots.” She chuckles. “So a perfect day in my world.” She is stirring the mushroom risotto and turns to send you a happy smile. “No emergencies, so it was wonderful.”

"We love any day the pediatrician's office doesn't have to deal with broken bones, virus epidemics, or random bouts of pink eye." Carol's work always keeps her plenty busy, but she always comes out of it with a smile and you admire the hell out of her for it. "Thankfully the office was quiet today. Seems like the day was pretty okay for everybody but my uterus," you chuckle lightly.

“Your uterus is angry with you.” Carol hums. “Or maybe it’s angry at the two sexy men that continuously fuck you but never gives it what it wants.”

"You just want another baby around without having to give birth to it yourself." Which isn't such a bad thing, but you still laugh a little as you sip the water that Dave had put in front of you.

“Duhhh.” Carol laughs and shakes her head. “No, but maybe we can talk to one of my colleagues, see if there’s something that can be done.”

"About me having a baby?" The immediate confusion has you sitting up in your seat before your mind catches up with your mouth. "Ohhh...wait...you mean about my dumbass periods."

“Of course, honey.” Carol reaches for the heavy cream to stir it in slowly. “I know you aren’t to that point yet, but you don’t deserve to suffer every month.”

It isn't too unusual for the topic of kids to come up considering you're the only one of the four of you without a biological child, but you typically wave it off just like you are now. "Every several years I have to change my birth control, that's all. They help the symptoms for a while and then they don't, ya know? It's fine. I just clearly need to see my gynecologist again."

“Okay.” She frowns slightly but she won’t push. “If you want me to make some calls, you just let me know, okay? I can call in some favors.”

"I appreciate it." Unfortunately, you're one of those unlucky women that got dealt a bad hand when it comes to monthly symptoms and you're managing it the best you can. What is lucky is that you have three people who love you who are willing to bend heaven and earth to help. "For now I'm just thinking good food and good company is the way to go. Even if I'm not up to running around with the girls...I'm glad Dave set this whole thing in motion." Because you know it was him. This level of coordination smacks of Dave York's handiwork.

“Of course. You know Dave.” She smiles indulgently as she looks towards the door. “He likes to make a fuss and he would do anything for you. We all would.”

"I'd do anything for all of you." That is as earnest a promise as you can possibly make, and you would make it as many times as they needed for the rest of time. Dave's gone outside after setting the table, getting a few private minutes with Quinn before dinner, and you glance back at the glass door before turning to Carol with a grin. "Did you guys have fun last night? Quinn was really excited but he wouldn't tell me what he had planned."

“We did.” She smiles fondly and knows you will understand. “We relived a little bit of the golden days. He took me to a dive bar and then we got a hotel room and pretended it was our old dorms.”

"Oh, cuuute." They've enjoyed rekindling their college romance and it's been sweet to see Carol and Quinn in that sunny, lovey stage. "That sounds like a perfect way to have some time together. He was so excited, I'm glad you loved it."

“I just hate that you were having a miserable time while we were having fun.” She pouts softly.

"If I had called you would have dropped everything and then you would have missed out on Quinn's whole plan." You shake your head, reaching out to rub her shoulder gently while she pulls the pan off the stove. "This is better. We have no plans for the weekend and the girls have a sleepover tomorrow. We can relax and be together with no expectations or changes of plans."

“As long as you do exactly what you want.” She murmurs softly as she covers the pot to keep it warm.

"What I want is to sneak a little forkful of whatever dessert Quinn picked up." The conspiratorial smile you share with her is broad, and you put your hands out to take the pot from her to put on the table.

“I think that I didn’t see you open the box on the first shelf of the fridge.” She winks at you and walks around you to put it on the table herself.

"You're a goddess," you promise Carol, as if she doesn't already know it. In their big refrigerator, a tall white cardboard bakery box stamped with the logo of the bakery down the block from your own apartment is waiting, and when you pop the lid your favourite cherry chocolate cake is staring back at you. "Oh my god," you groan happily and swipe a finger through the deeply rich ganache on top before turning back to Carol. "I love all of you. You're spoiling me and I'm going to return the favour so many times over."

“I knew you would want it.” She tells you proudly. She had told Quinn exactly where to go and what to get in order to put that exact expression on your face. “Don’t tell him I told you that. Let him have the credit.”

"Cross my heart." The motion of crossing your finger over your heart goes with it and you make a mental note to really rock the hell out of your next date with Carol as a thank you. "Do you need anything else from the fridge while I'm in here?"

“Can you grab the asparagus salad?” She asks. “Second shelf, metal bowl.”

"Done and done!" Even just being around your partners has brightened your mood, and even though you know it will ebb and flow for the next couple of days before your cycle starts, at least you're feeling buoyed by the idea that these three wonderful people all want you to be happy and cared for.

The rush to the table happens nearly all at once, with the guys coming in from the grill bearing a large platter and Dave going to fetch the girls while Carol gets the tray of condiments for their hot dogs. It's big, it's busy, it's noisy, and it's so wonderfully comfortable. Even though you're not feeling yourself, you feel the closest you possibly could.

“Hey babe.” Quinn curls around your back and kisses just below your ear. “How are you feeling?” He asks softly, rubbing your shoulders.

"A little better." You feel like you can breathe again, emotionally anyway, so that is a big step in the right direction. "What are the chances you're going to stay this weekend and hang out with us?" Just like the rest of you, Quinn has an extraordinarily demanding job and you know very well that a traditional weekend away from the office is not always possible for him.

“There’s nothing on the books so I’m all yours unless there’s a crisis.” He murmurs, smirking as he sits down beside you. “So I’m praying the world doesn’t burn.”

"Or if it does, that it has nothing to do with NASA." A soft kiss between you helps you relax even further, and in no time the six of you are sitting down at the table like it's a perfectly normal family dinner.

Dave hums happily, reaching for Carol’s hand and he pulls it up to kiss the back of it. “It’s a good day.” He murmurs as he watches you and Quinn put your heads together and talk quietly.

"You did a very sweet thing for her today, my love." Carol hums, kissing the back of her husband's hand in turn.

“I hated seeing her cry.” He admits quietly. “It was all I could do to keep working and not just bring her home and sit her on my lap.”

“Poor thing.” She tuts softly, shaking her head as Dave fills her plate for her. “I’m just glad she works for you and not someone who would force her to keep going in agony.” There are plenty of bosses like that out in the world, but she hates to think of you working for them. If she could keep you safe and cared for and always have someone there to adore you, she would.

“She wouldn’t go home, so I had to just make sure she didn’t suffer too badly.” He hands his wife her plate with a soft smile.

“You did good.” She beams at him and gives him a kiss on the cheek before taking her plate. “Now we can have a nice weekend as a family.” And if that family already felt complete before you and Quinn joined it, then having the two of you is the icing on a very sweet cake.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld  

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Dave York #Dave York x reader #Dave York x you #Dave York x female reader #Dave York x f!reader #Carol York #Carol York x reader #Quinn McKenna #Quinn McKenna x reader #Quinn McKenna x you #Equalizer 2 #The Predator #crossover fanfic #poly fam

[shu-porang-porang]

Bunny In Heat (Teaser)

(Cat In Heat sequel)

Read Cat In Heat and you’ll know what to expect 😊

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader

Rating: Very Explicit!

Theme: Smut, 18+ NO MINORS.

Warnings: Nothing in the teaser

Word count: 0.5 k

“OMG!! What’s this?!” you scream.

“What’s what?” he turns his head towards your direction.

You show him the vid from the fan meeting where Chan, Hyunjin and Changbin are dancing with tails attached to their coats.

“Oh that! Yea it turned out to be such a popular clip among fans, you saw it just now?”

“If you ain’t in it I’m not watching, I’m that loyal!” you bat your lashes looking at him with a fake smile.

“You mean I wouldn’t find any pics or clips of other members in your gallery?” He called your bluff.

“uhmm that’s irrelevant! Now tell me more about this clip!! Is there a longer version? Maybe one with you in it?”

“No, I’m not in it, but the idea was mine, thanks to you!” he says with a smirk.

“You didn’t… tell me you didn’t talk about our sex life with your members!”

“What if I did?”

You freeze, just stare at him with your jaw dropped on the floor. When his words sink in, you hide your face in your hands and shout: “MIN-FUCKING-HOE, WHY?”

He laughs at your reaction: “I can’t help it that you’re so mind-blowingly awesome I wanna brag about you all the time.”

“It’s so embarrassing! How am I ever supposed to look them in the eyes again?” you shake your head as if you could shake the embarrassment off too.

 “Oh calm down, it’s okay. They’ve known for a while; you’ve already looked them in the eyes plenty of times.”

“Oh fuck! You’re so shameless, I’m done with you.” you cry out, punching him in the chest.

He grabs your wrists with one hand and with the other puts the hair messily covering your face from all the attempt of shaking off the embarrassment, behind your ears.

“Awe cute! Look how red your ears got.” He’s not taking it seriously, it’s obviously not a big deal to him, but you’re still pretty mad and don’t even look him in the eyes.

“Come on princess, I promise you they don’t even care.”

“Well, with that clip I’m sure they at least have a very solid reminder.”

“How does it feel to be the reason behind a key moment in skz history?” he jokes but you’re not having it.

“Oh, fuck off! Just know that you owe me one.”

“I owe you as much as you say, no arguing that.” He cups your face and seals his words with a kiss.

“Then wear a tail for me.” You demand.

He looks confused but plays along: “Okay? Do you want me to sneak one from the company?”

“No, I don’t want those crappy ones, and is there like a room full of furry accessories at the company or sth?!!”

“I don’t think there is; I shouldn’t’ve offered that!”

“I’ll take care of it then.” Poor thing doesn’t know what’s gonna hit him. You already forgot about the unveiling of your sex life, if anything, now it’s just an excuse to get what you want from him.

Read the full version here

#lee minho smut #lee minho fluff #lee minho stray kids #lee know #lee know smut #lee know imagines #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #minho stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids #skz #kpop fanfic #skz drabbles #skz imagines #stray kids drabbles #lee know drabble #lee know drabbles #skz smut #skz x reader #skz fluff #kpop #changbin #bang chan #han jisung #hyunjin

[kstewdeux]

@inukagfluffweek | Prompt: Comfort | August 13th

Summary: Modern Trivia AU Universe (Inuyasha has 99 problems but trivia ain’t one on Ao3). Inuyasha finds comfort in an old film.

Cross Posted on Ao3

To be truly and completely honest, no part of Kagome wanted to stay up past midnight just to watch a cheesy monster movie - especially on a Friday night when she’d had to get up at the ass crack of dawn for work - but, but Inuyasha was stressed with work and they’d lost at trivia so monster movie he did want.

“Why do you always pick Godzilla movies? Can’t we watch something else?” Kagome yawned as she grabbed the oversized throw blanket and made herself a cocoon in the couch, “Literally anything else.”

“You’re going to fall asleep anyway because you’re weak,” Inuyasha huffed irritably, “If you have a problem go to bed.”

“So you can stomp around like an elephant and wake me up at two? No. I’ll wait,” Kagome groaned, “Just help me understand.”

“Well the comically large lizard from the sea is named Godzilla,” Inuyasha replied sarcastically, “And he’s attacking-“

“You don’t need to be an ass about it. I understand the concept behind Godzilla,” Kagome sighed heavily, “I meant why you love this franchise. You’ve seen all of these a thousand times. Why-“

“I mean, everyone has a movie from their childhood they love, right? You can’t sit there and tell me you don’t love, I don’t know, Ariel or something,” Inuyasha huffed, “Or My Little Pony.”

“It was Jasmine thank you very much,” Kagome huffed as she pulled the blanket higher, “But I’m not going to force you to watch Aladdin and all the crappy straight to DVD sequels just because I liked them as a kid.”

Inuyasha sent her a side eyed glare as he scrolled through his obscene collection of Godzilla purchases until he landed on an older one that looked horrifically cartoonish.

“My mom liked to watch the Godzilla marathons when they came on. You know, when I was a kid,” Inuyasha sighed after a long moment, “She was sick a lot but even, even when she was tired, she’d let me get in bed with her and we’d just watch them all.”

Kagome blinked a few times and then her heart broke so throughly it was plain on her face.

“And they’re good movies so I still like watching them,” Inuyasha sniffed and cleared his throat, “It’s not my fault you don’t have good taste.”

Slowly scooting closer, Kagome gently flung the blanket over his shoulder and snuggled close.

“Well, maybe I’ll give this one a chance then,” Kagome mumbled affectionately with her cheek on his shoulder, “Pick a good one to win me over.”

#inukag fluff week 2023 #inukag fanfiction #inukag fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #inuyasha fanfic #inukag

[courtneysmovieblog]

Top 10 movies I love that everyone tells me I should hate

I know we're all entitled to our own opinions. But it doesn't feel like that these days, especially on this hell site and social media in general. The loud majority of critics and fandoms seem entitled to dictate what movies and shows are good or bad. They spend endless posts on telling us exactly why these movies are either the greatest thing in the world or the worst. And God help you if you disagree, because that just proves you aren't a true fan.

Does any of this sound familiar to you? It should. Especially after the the new Avatar The Last Airbender series...

To give you a clear idea of what I mean, here are 10 movies I like that have gotten (unfairly or not) trashed:

1. Every Ghostbusters movie since the original: Seriously. Fine, nothing is as good as the original, but Ghostbusters II wasn't that bad a sequel and the latest sequels are fun, even if they coast on nostalgia. And don't even get me started on what you monsters put everyone that dared to like the 2016 movie through...

2. Star Wars: The Last Jedi: This movie was great, it's the Star Wars fandom that is the worst.

3. The Marvels: One of the best MCU movies in a long time. Cute and charming and with a strong female cast...and you guys let it bomb at the box office for reasons I'm too tired to even talk about. Enjoy getting crappy Captain Carter getting the lion's share of female MCU roles while more deserving heroines like Carol, Monica, and Kamala get sidelined, you jerks!

4. Red Notice: Fine, it was a dumb action movie. But it was MY kind of dumb action movie that I'd happily watch again. And I still want that sequel!

5. Thor: Love and Thunder: I get that people don't like the flanderized Thor, and even I'll admit that there were parts that could've been better. Yet contrary to popular opinion, this was far from the worst MCU movie we've had. A movie can be fun and flawed.

6. Thor: The Dark World: For all the complaining about goofy Thor, you don't seem to like the gritty, serious Thor movies either.

7. The live action Beauty and the Beast: It doesn't matter if the live-action Disney are good or bad. Liking both the originals and remakes doesn't make you any less of a fan!

8. The live-action Aladdin: Ditto.

9. Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny: I realize this stance might be hypocritical, since I don't want to dictate what movies should/shouldn't like, but come on, it was WAY better than Crystal Skull!

10. Damsel: The reviews for this movie weren't great, and I don't care. I don't make high standards for Netflix movies. A fun feminist fractured fairy is always welcome for me.

Your turn. What "unpopular" movies do you love?

#top 10 list #dial of destiny #red notice #ghostbusters afterlife #ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters #aladdin #beauty and the beast #thor love and thunder #the marvels #the last jedi

[ieatsmallorphansnamedtom]

Harvey Headcanons

Hi.

TW: Death mention, swearing.

Brief spoilers.

He's lactose intolerant. IDK he just gives those vibes, y'know? But the man loves milk to death and will drink as much of it as possible. It's still harmful, and he totally shouldn't be consuming it, but his body has it so often the effects of it feel less painful. He's gotten used to it.

He only got glasses recently. Or at least he went a period of not wearing them in favour of contacts. He only switched back to glasses right before the farmer arrived. He didn't really like the contacts anyways. They felt... I dunno how do annoying contacts feel? I don't wear them.

He's only got two friends from university. I'll be honest, he used to be a party pooper for sure. Harvey never got the hype of going out during university. Sure, he sort of wanted to, but he only tried it twice and decided twice was well and truly enough for him. Those two times he went consisted of him standing in the corner freaking out whenever anyone got two close. He ended up doing that thing where you follow your friend around the whole night, except he totally lost him and got scared. Hense how he ended up in the corner.

I feel like the friends' names would be David and something else. David probably studied some physics-lookin' thing or something and Other Guy was probably also in the medical field. Harvey met David through Other Guy and bam friendship formed. They're still good friends and meet up whenever they're all on holidays. It's usually in Zuzu City since David and Other Guy both have jobs there (and they also can't be bothered to get off their arse every once in a while).

Back when he was younger, he didn't have a coffee addiction. He was actually pretty on top of his health, but that grip slipped the further into university he got. I mean, people study a long time to be doctors, right? That's a lot of late-night studying and a hell of a lot of time to slip up. It started with him buying more cheapy-crappy meals, then he started gaining a bit of a dependence on coffee, and then the floodgates opened and everything went downhill.

He was a bit of a rough kid growing up. He lost a few teeth - and not in the normal way. I'm not saying he got into fights or anything. No, he's not a violent person. I mean he was the kind of kid to hit the ball through the window or to fall off the swing and chip a tooth because he demanded to go higher. Thankfully they were all baby teeth.

Despite that, he always dressed formal. I mean, no matter the occasion he had a jacket and tie on. Formal dinner? Jacket and tie. Running for the track team? Jacket and tie. Going swimming? Jacket and tie- okay no not that time. But that attire isn't just a doctor thing.

Actually, speaking of the track team, he used to be a real good runner. I only have this headcanon because I got really confused what the hell his legs were looking like in his Ginger Island sprite. Honestly, he looks like a rotisserie chicken (/lh). Anyways, yeah, he was a real fast runner and shit. He was actually asked to join a few sports during high school but took up studies instead. His skills naturally depleted the less time he spent exercising - hence how he ended up where he is now.

-~-~-

That's all for now. I might reblog this post with more or just make a sequel if I think of anything else. <3

#ieatsmallorphansnamedtom #swearing tw #death tw #<- only a mention but putting this here just in case #sdv #stardew valley #sdv hcs #stardew valley hcs #stardew hcs #sdv headcanons #stardew valley headcanons #stardew headcanons #sdv harvey #stardew valley harvey #stardew harvey #SHUT THE FUCK UP DISCORD >:(((( #i needa mute that shit

[chaifootsteps]

Vivzie... girl... people arnt just saying your show is Fanficy because there's gay/queer characters in it... they say it cause watching it feels like someone's fanfic got turned into a show/movie. It has NOTHING to do with the fact that it's queer!! It has everything to do with the fact that the writing is SHIT

Exactly. "It's fanficcy" just means it feels slapped together and unprofessional, like someone's crappy Wattpad fic.

Also calling absolute bullshit on Vivzie's "I've never, ever heard anyone use that term to refer to straight stories, ever." Lindsay Ellis used that exact term to describe Lion King II back in the day. I see it thrown around all the time when discussing How to Train Your Dragon 3. People compare shitty movies and shows, especially sequels, to fanfiction constantly.

#Anonymous #vivziepop critical #actual blog post

[btsgotjams27]

this is us ~ jjk | masterlist

How could you possibly forget him? You couldn't even if you wanted to. You wanted to extract core memories of the two of you and store them in a pensieve for safekeeping, so you could revisit them whenever you missed him, but magic isn't real, and the fairytale of you and him isn't either. You were just a writer caught up in your fantasies, living in daydreams, escaping reality, and projecting your hopes and dreams onto an imperfect person--what a fool you were. But yet, this is you. This is him. This is the story of us.

✨ title: this is us | completed (sequel to all grown up) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ✨ word count: 159k | ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni ✨ genre/au: drama, romance, angst, fluff, smut | est!relationship, age gap ✨ warnings: language, kissing, alcohol consumption, significant age gap (9 years), noona kink, recreational drug use (edibles), girlxgirl kiss, insecure reader, crappy mom, jungkook's nipple is pierced, cheating, toxic ex's (jk's & readers), talks of miscarriage/inhospitable uterus, flashbacks to 18-year-old jk, reader slaps someone, accidental voyeurism, heartbreak, time skip, eventual happy ending, there is a lot of emotional trauma and this story is pretty much a rollercoaster of emotions, love confessions, longing, pining ✨ smut warnings: jungkook + reader attempt to have sex in a hot tub and fail, allusions to sex, LOTS of teasing and touching, blindfold kink, masturbation(f), unprotected sex, oral sex (m,f), creampie, rough sex, rough oral (m receiving), 69, jungkook is a tease but so is reader, non-penetrative sex, fingering, breast play, light anal play, protected sex ✨ a/n: hiii, this is a sequel to all grown up! if you've read it here, then you can read the sequel :) this is probably one of my favorite series, and this couple has a special place in my heart. ✨ a/n 2: have a drabble request for any of my couples? drop them here and i'll do my best to fulfill them! ✨ read on AO3 & Wattpad ✨ playlist | ✨ quiz: which tiu character are you? | how well do you know tiu? ✨ tags: fic: this is us | tiu couples mood boards | tiu asks | tiu ramblings | ask my muse | tiu pin board | character profiles

✨ one - this is how you fall in love | wc: 5.5k ➥ you start to fall hard for jungkook.

✨ two - back hugs and peppered kisses | wc: 4.3k ➥ when you're stressed, jungkook has a way to help.

✨ three - hot tubs and clubs pt 1 | wc: 10k ➥ you get to meet jungkook's college friends during a weekend getaway.

✨ four - hot tubs and clubs pt 2 | wc: 5.0k ➥ jimin and taehyung want to party before they leave.

✨ five - daydreams and stargazing | wc: 4.2k ➥ you finally talk to jungkook about the conversation you overheard.

✨ six - it's not all rainbows and butterflies | wc: 5.6k ➥ after a hard conversation with your mother, you learn some new things about yourself.

✨ drabble - girl's night | wc: 2.0k ➥ a fun girl's night with yuna and hyunie.

✨ drabble - the reveal | wc: 4.0k ➥ jungkook sees the photos you took with hyunie.

✨ seven - party of three | wc: 5.4k ➥ you find out yuna's big secret and reveal one of your own.

✨ eight - a blast from the past pt 1 | wc: 5.5k ➥ a blast from jungkook's past comes to stir shit up.

✨ nine - a blast from the past pt 2 ~ the college years | wc: 8.3k ➥ jungkook feels guilty about what he did.

✨ ten - a blast from the past pt 3 | wc: 10.3k ➥ jungkook finally admits what's been on his mind.

✨ eleven - the call | wc: 7.8k ➥ you receive an unexpected call.

✨ twelve - i do | wc: 6.3k ➥ you finally find hyunie, amongst other things.

✨ thirteen - heartbreak hotel pt 1 | wc: 6.6k ➥ after a few weeks apart, you have to tell jungkook what's happening.

✨ fourteen - heartbreak hotel pt 2 | wc: 8.6k ➥ jungkook makes a decision that will change the course of his life.

✨ fifteen - here comes baby | wc: 5.4k ➥ let's have that baby, shall we?

✨ drabble - it'll be okay (jk) | wc: 891 ➥ a small glimpse of life in LA

✨ sixteen - so maybe you're not okay | wc: 5.4k ➥ six months later and you're still not over jungkook, and when you finally hit rock bottom, you realize you have to pick yourself up because no one else can do it for you.

✨ seventeen - one year later | wc: 8.8k ➥ it's been one year since the breakup, have jungkook and y/n been able to move on?

✨ eighteen - you're seeing things, aren't you? | wc: 10.9k ➥ you're dreading the meeting in LA, but it's a big city. you're not gonna bump into jungkook, are you?

✨ drabble - dream bigger, darling | wc: 1.3k

✨ nineteen - together again | wc: 9.7k ➥ after three long weeks, you and jungkook reunite.

✨ twenty - ending credits | wc: 9.2k ➥ you finally get your happy ending.

✨ epilogue - us | wc 5.9k

✨ TIU deleted scene

➥ TIU Celebration | Podcast Episode

➥ drabbles 01 - jk + oc compete who thinks iseul will say mama/dada first 02 - jk telling his family he’s coming back home 03 - jk gives oc his photo album 04 - iseul's bedtime routine 05 - jk, joon + tae look after all the girls 06 - indie + hani meet baby iseul

➥ character asks - jungkook | oc | yuna | namjoon | hyunie | taehyung | jin

➥ ama

#jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #fic: this is us #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook angst #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts x reader #bts angst #jungkook romance #jungkook drama #jungkook noona #jungkook x y/n

[gilbirda]

Can we keep her?

DPxBatman crossover. Jazz/Jason pairing. Background BatCat

Sequel to Dance with me?

NOW WITH SEQUEL -> Hit on me

The aftermath of last night's gala and all the implications. Also, time to meet the family!

thanks to @lapetitechatonne  for taking a look at this and helping me not fall into despair!

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Chris watched in shocked silence as subtly as she could. It was difficult — the lovebirds were the only patrons in the whole Denny’s at two in the morning.

Who the fuck went into Denny’s at two in the morning? You see, in Gotham it could be anybody. Shady individuals, people getting out from late night shifts, vigilantes when they got hungry in their patrols, etc. You know, the usual.

Not two people, clearly a couple, dressed like they came from a fancy party.

Or. At least they were, once upon a time.

Chris looked nervously at Jackson, probably with the same wide eyes and red cheeks.

It was such a bizarre experience, bearing witness of the way these two were all over each other, touching each other, kissing, being lovey dovey in general. They never went over what was decent publicly, mind you, or Chris would have been the first to call the police to escort these people out of the establishment.

No.

The worst part was that the pair was the cutest thing they had ever seen.

And Chris and Jackson knew who they were since the moment Jason Todd, wayward son of Bruce Wayne, entered by the door with Jasmine Fenton, the face of the Arkham Reform project, gingerly placed on his back.

Both looked happy, despite their fancy clothes completely askew, stained and modified for freedom of movement — he had opened the first buttons of his shirt and shed the jacket, which now was over the girl, probably to cover her a little since she had tied her skirt on her hips, the fabric now riding high up to her waist, showing the black shorts she wore under the dress.

Jackson cooed as Chris processed the shock of seeing the famous faces enter her workplace at this ungodly hour. Jackson was a hopeless romantic, and there was something in the way Jasmine was barefoot, with her face tucked between Jason’s shoulder and neck, that pulled the strings of his shipper heart.

They ordered a sinful amount of waffles and a big strawberry milkshake with two straws. Jackson was trying not to cry of cuteness as he prepared the shake, sneaking some Valentine’s exclusive heart shaped sprinkles over the whipped cream.

They sat on the furthest corner, in a place where they could hide and canoodle in peace without giving a show out of the window.

But Chris and Jackson could still see them. And hear them.

“Should we—”

“Let them be,” Jackson stopped her hand from reaching her phone for the tenth time since the couple entered Denny’s. “Seriously, they are not hurting anybody.”

Chris made a face. “As long as they don’t get naked…”

Fortunately for everyone, they didn’t get naked. In fact, they kept their hands to themselves — if you didn’t count the two times they stopped talking and started making out for a moment there, then back to talking, or eating, in the girl’s case.

Because Jasmine could eat. And the lovestruck Wayne kid watched her like she hung the moon as she devoured her last waffle with a satisfied moan.

Chris had to look away when the kissing started again.

“I feel like we need to take a photo.”

“Why?” Jackson frowned at her.

“To have proof that this happened?”

“We have the security footage.”

Chris roller her eyes. “You know they don’t work and are only to scare away common thieves.”

“Eh.” Jackson shrugged. They weren’t paid enough to care. “Yeah, one photo won’t hurt anybody.”

Chris lifted her phone, snapped a photo of the pair and quickly checked that it was good.

It was good. She had managed to capture the lovebirds looking at each other, Jasmine talking and gesturing with one hand while the other was clasped with his over the table; Jason sipping what was left of the milkshake, leaning back on the crappy seat of their booth, eyes fixed on her mouth.

“Heh.” Jackson was looking over her shoulder at the photo. “We could sell this for a big sum of money.” At his coworker’s glare, he quickly jumped to add: “Not that we are going to! It’s just that this is such an exclusive… “Love blooms at Denny’s” or something, can you imagine the publicity?”

Yeah.

It was such good publicity.

With the McDonalds opening right on the other side of the street and the Taco Bell setting up down the road, business had been a little slow lately; and Chris was starting to think that her boss was considering that two people for the night shift was one too many.

With a heavy heart, she opened twitter and switched to the Denny’s twitter account. They didn’t have a proper CM for the Gotham branch, so she and Jackson sometimes did a bit of that work. For free, of course.

I’m sorry. You guys are the cutest, but we need this.

She wrote the tweet, attached the picture and hit send before she got too scared.

***

Dick Grayson prided himself as a very calm and put together adult. He was the older brother of a bunch of siblings that needed him, he had led various teams of superheroes while being a powerless human, he had gone to space!

He also prided himself to have outgrown his murderous phase from his Robin days — Nightwing was a new start, a new face, a new beginning. He was his own person beyond Batman’s sidekick.

And yet, he was very tempted to kill someone right now.

Specifically, his little brother.

Dick gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white, eyes glaring at the red light as if it had personally offended him.

He wanted to scream.

Last night it was supposed to go smoothly and Jason had decided to choose violence.

He only had one job — dancing with the daughter of this big-name-whoever-that-man-was that had been nagging Bruce for months. The poor dude thought that the girl was his last chance at striking a deal with Bruce Wayne, so he tossed her at them like she was an object and not a human being.

Dick would have felt bad if the girl in question wasn’t so creepy about it. She had this fixation on the Wayne boys, going as far as saying she didn’t care which one of them she ended up with — speak of red flags.

Bruce was aware that this was a very bad idea, but still spun the whole thing as a way to get Jason to participate in family stuff, join the gala, and hopefully meet someone that was a good match for him; not necessarily the rich girl, but maybe someone else at the gala. The last part was implicit, though. Bruce was getting to that age that he wanted to see his children find happiness, and he had made it his mission to ‘nudge Jason in the right direction’.

That’s all cool and fine.

Except that Jason abandoned ship and ran away the moment the event started. It became a wild goose chase trying to get him to do just one dance with the girl to shut up the crusty father, but nooooo Jason had to make it difficult for everyone.

And then—

Bruce said he found Jason and never explained if he was coming back. Or if he was okay. Or if he was running away from the whole gala.

With a girl.

It was that Fenton girl, the one that had been behind Bruce and fighting to get his attention for months. Dick had heard many complaints and stories about the crazy stunts she pulled just to get him to listen to her, manilla folder and tablet in hand, being borderline creepy stalker-ish.

They thought she would calm down and stop once Wayne Enterprises showed their support, once Bruce organized the stupid gala to make it official and gather more support for her cause.

Reforming Arkham. What a joke. There was no saving that place, not even in a million years.

He knew he was being harsh, but Dick had been in Gotham longer than the girl and he knew that there was no way to fix that thing unless you considered burning it down and starting again as ‘reform’. She could fight and throw her life to the cause if she wanted, he wasn’t going to pretend he had the high ground to tell her what to do.

Jasmine had gone for his little brother. That, he couldn’t forgive.

As Dick approached Jason’s apartment building, he could see the twitter messages and the tabloid articles in his mind’s eye.

“Love blooms in the most unexpected places #OnlyInDenny’s” and then the cutest photo of his brother, caught with a rare smile as he looked at the girl. It made his stomach turn when he saw it that morning as he had breakfast. Did Bruce know about this? He must have, Bruce wouldn’t miss something like this.

But why?

It only got worse as more and more people piled on, retweeting the photo and adding their own to the list — people that attended the party and apparently saw them chatting at the food table (Dick knew he had seen her before her speech) and then a blurry photo of the pair dancing and kissing in a balcony.

Dick would have saved the photos if he didn’t feel like crying.

How could she do this? Was it a ploy to ensure Bruce would support her cause? Seduce his poor baby brother and threaten to never let him go if Bruce didn’t comply?

Some tabloids were thinking about his same lines, this morning articles opening with the Denny’s photo and questioning if this was Arkham’s latest plan to gain more power.

Dick wouldn’t put it past an Arkham doctor to go beyond what was morally and legally correct to get what they wanted.

And this bitch had targeted his poor baby brother!

He was fuming as he parked his car, got out and stomped towards the elevator. There, he stumbled onto a frowning young man that was narrowing his eyes at the floor buttons, as if he couldn’t figure out something.

***

Danny was, to put it simply, pissed as hell.

Look.

If his sister had a bit of fun and drank too much and needed to stay there for the night, he wouldn’t have been mad.

If his sister had found a strapping young man or a beautiful woman, he wasn’t judging, to spend the night with, he wouldn't have been mad.

He was pissed because not only she never reported back that she was safe as she promised, but he had to find out she was even alive because twitter was burning down with the news of the pair canoodling at Denny’s at two fucking in the morning.

He hated the photo. His sister, who had left home so beautiful and grown up and put together — his sister looked completely ruined. Her makeup, her hair she had fussed about for hours, her dress she had saved up for to not look out of place in the stupid gala — all of it was ruined.

And she was wearing the idiot’s jacket like she was some kind of prize he had won. Like some kind of claim, as if Jazz were something you could own.

His sister!

He had obsessed looking at photos of them through the whole twitter, getting more and more inciensed as the articles and comments treated his dear sister as if she were some kind of gold digger and social climber — Jazz!! Who only ever wanted to help people in this god forsaken city!

This Jason dude thought he was invincible because he was rich — that if he made a mess, daddy would step in and make it all go away with money.

Danny knew their type. They tried to be bad boys without the consequences, thought that money could buy silence, thought that women were things to conquer and then throw away.

Well then, he was going to give this man a piece of his mind. And maybe give him the scare of a lifetime. Maybe what Jason needed was to get a bit of fear of death into his bones and learn to never touch his older sister again.

But first, find Jazz and make sure she was alright.

He followed her faint ectosignature throughout the city, first trying the stupidly enormous Wayne Manor — overcompensating, in his humble opinion — but then she had clearly left the premises sometime in the middle of the night and went to a nearby Denny’s. From there, he transformed and invisibly followed her signature to a pretty crappy apartment building. Not the kind of place you’d expect a rich boy to live in, and for a hot second Danny worried she had been abandoned in the worst part of the city to die.

Once he got there, he found he had a little problem. He couldn’t pinpoint the floor she was on.

He was glaring at the floor buttons of the elevator when a tall and good looking dude, older than him, stomped into the elevator as if it had offended him somehow.

Just to not look so suspicious, Danny clicked a random floor button. The man looked at him and then at the panel, before huffing and turning the other way.

His breathing was labored and his heartbeat was fast. The man was angry as hell. He also did look out of place in the building. Danny noticed his clothes — a rich boy.

He started to panic.

Was he here for his sister as well?

The elevator doors opened and both stepped into the dirty hallway. Danny sniffled a bit and nodded to himself when he could confirm Jazz was on this floor. He started walking forward, senses extended, and tried to ping her so she would answer back.

C’mon Jazz, he hoped he wasn’t wrong. That she was okay. If something happened to her because he didn’t follow her as Phantom to that gala, like he wanted… he would never forgive himself.

He stopped in front of a nondescript door.

Exactly where the angry man was about to knock.

Both looked at each other.

“Who are you?” The man finally asked. Danny lifted an eyebrow. The other narrowed his eyes at him. “Why are you here?”

Danny considered his options. “I’m looking for my sister.”

This was, apparently, the wrong answer.

“YOU!” Danny jumped at the scream.

“Me?” He squeaked.

“You and your damn sister—!”

“Hey, watch it!” Danny had to make a conscious effort to stop his eyes from glowing. “How do you know my sister?”

“She— She seduced my brother!” The stranger’s face was contorted by fury. “I don’t know what you guys want, but leave my baby brother alone!”

“Excuse me?” Danny crossed his arms. “My sister would never! She's the cutest and the nicest person I know!”

“Ah yeah? And how do you explain—”

“Your brother is the one that must have seduced her!” Danny narrowed his eyes at the stranger. “I know she’s from a small town and that the shiny bad boy routine is all the rage around here, but leave my sister alone!”

“Bad boy routine—” The man was taken aback. “Excuse you, your sister is the one that used some kind of mind control on my brother!”

“Mind control?” Danny scoffed. “No, no, no. He’s the one that targeted her! It's not her fault she has a weakness for motorcycle riding leather jacket wearing guys! All we had was yee-haw boys and football players!"

The door behind them opened.

“What the fuck is going on?” A new voice grumbled.

There, on the door, was a tank of a man. He was tall, taller than the stranger he had been arguing with, and with wide shoulders and muscular arms casually placed on the door and on the door frame, using his body to shield what was inside from their view.

He was the man that had taken his sister, Danny recognized him. Also, he was shirtless.

Danny squared up for a fight. “Where is my sister.” He demanded.

“Danny?”

It was her voice indeed, coming from inside the apartment. Danny wanted to die all over again.

“For fucks sake—” He tired to push the man so he could enter the apartment. “Jazz! Are you okay?”

He heard her laugh nervously.

Oh no.

“Let me iiiiin!” Danny pushed again at the man blocking the entrance, but he didn’t budge. The halfa didn’t want to resort to violence or ghost strength, but…

“The fuck are you?” The scoundrel glared at him.

“Danny, I’m fine!” There was a lot of noise, a sound of something hitting something, a quiet ‘ouch!’ and soon his sister was close to the door. “See? I’m totally fine!”

She was fine, alright.

She was also wearing a hoodie that clearly didn’t belong to her, it was way too large on her and the lower hem reached her knees. It was one of Gotham’s vigilantes merch — the Red Hood — all black with the red bat symbol on her chest.

It was also the only thing she was wearing.

Danny felt like spontaneously combusting right there and then.

“Jazz, are you fucking naked under that?”

He vaguely heard the other two men choke in a gasp, but his whole attention was on his sister.

She was blushing. “I am certainly not.” She looked away. Danny followed her eyes and saw her beautiful green dress reduced to a pile of fabric on the floor. “I just needed something more comfortable to sleep in, and Jay was kind enough to lend me something.”

“Jay,” the man he encountered in the elevator murmured under his breath, as if he couldn’t believe she just said that.

“It’s okay,” she turned to look at this ‘Jay’, “he’s my little brother.”

‘Jay’ seized up Danny, as if he were trying to determine if he was a threat. “Huh, he is just like how you described him.”

Danny let the disdain show in his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He would fight this dude if he had to. He wasn’t afraid of fighting someone bigger or stronger than him — he wasn’t afraid of revealing his ghostly identity if it meant he could defend his sister’s honor.

“Okay. Let’s stop.” Jazz placed her hands on ‘Jay’s arm and he let her remove him from the door. Then, she put a hand on Danny’s shoulder and led him into the apartment, her eyes wide as she pointed first at them and then at Danny’s face.

Oh right. Glowy eyes, bad.

Danny breathed in, breathed out. No need to blow the whole thing out of proportion.

“What the hell were you thinking?” The man from the elevator was growling at his brother as he entered the apartment as well. “An Arkham doctor? Seriously?”

“Any problem with that?” Jazz heard that, of course, and she was very proud of her work at the Asylum, regardless of the fame.

The stranger turned towards her, crossing his arms when Jazz did the same.

“Well, excuse me for being cautious when the likes of you usually turn out to be real psychos.”

“The ‘likes of me’?” She narrowed her eyes, moving to take a step closer to the man.

Danny tensed. The stranger tensed. ‘Jay’ tensed, walking quickly between the girl and his brother, his eyes fixed on hers and only hers.

“Jazz, my brother is an idiot but a well-meaning idiot. We’ve had a lot of troubles with doctors from Arkham in the past, so don’t hold it against him for being cautious.”

It was quick and quite scary how Jazz was disarmed in the blink of an eye. Danny had never seen her deflate so quickly once she was in ‘I’m going to kick your ass’ mode. The halfa looked at this ‘Jay’ person, watching how his eyes were unmoving from Jazz’s, silently talking with her with a deep understanding that didn’t fit in a one-night stand or a simple fling — it was more like real love.

Oh shit, he felt his usually quiet heart start beating faster, what have you done, Jazzy?

“Okay,” she finally said, taking a deep breath. She walked around Jay and looked up at the stranger with a controlled smile. “My name is Jasmine Fenton, Mr. well-meaning idiot, and I’m sorry if my career of choice has brought up past fears and memories.” She extended her hand to the man.

He took it, a bit dazed. “Dick Grayson, nice to meet you.”

Jay and Danny started cackling at the same time. Danny really loved when his sister gave the worst backhanded compliments and pleasantries with her sweet voice and sharp smile. She could be ruthless and scary, and he loved that about her.

He glanced at the scoundrel, and by the way he looked so softly at his sister, he assumed that he loved that too.

Okay, the man came off as big and scary but Danny couldn’t have hallucinated how his eyes followed her smile as she patted Dick’s arm; or how they stayed on her as she walked back to where Jay was chuckling at the situation.

Danny couldn’t look away from the way she easily took his hand, the way the man responded with a little squeeze like it was an unconscious reaction, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He glanced at Dick, who had seen the same thing, with the same dawning horror Danny was feeling passing behind his eyes.

“Why didn’t you text me?” Despite trying not to, the hurt was obvious in Danny’s voice.

Jazz flinched. “I was going to! I just… forgot.” She winced. “And then we came back here and I got, uh— distracted.”

Dick cringed at the same time Danny did.

“Not like that!” Jazz's face was getting more and more red as she tried to explain. “We were talking about Pride and Prejudice and I said the 2005 adaptation was the best and Jay said it has been a while since he saw it and—”

“And you had sex with the movie on?” Dick was making a face, but wasn’t shocked by the news.

“What the fuck, Richard?” His sister’s not-boyfriend-but-maybe-yes (and wasn’t that a thought) glared at his brother.

“What? I didn’t know you had such weird kinks, but I support you.”

Jazz facepalmed with her free hand, her face red up to the tip of her ears. “This is a disaster.”

“I can’t deal with this without a shirt on,” Jay grumbled, his cheeks also a bit red. He turned towards Jazz. “I’m getting you some clothes, if that’s okay?”

“Do you really have anything my size?”

“I have nosy siblings that like to leave their shit around my place.” He rolled his eyes. “Be right back. Don’t murder anyone while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try not to,” her smile was cheeky, like it was some kind of private joke.

They have private jokes and everything, now. Oh joy. Danny was ecstatic (sarcasm).

“Where’s your phone?” Danny quickly tried to redirect the conversation once the man disappeared down the hallway to another room. Jazz blinked as she turned to look at him. “Phone. Instrument to call people. Where is it?”

“Right here, in my… purse…” He saw the moment it dawned on her that her purse was not in the apartment, as she looked at where her dress was on the floor. She smiled, rubbing the back of her head. “I think I left it at Wayne's Mansion.”

“Manor.” Dick talked for the first time after watching them interact. “Not a mansion.”

Danny couldn’t care less about the name of the fancy house. “Big ass house with too many rooms, yeah. Semantics.”

Jazz giggled.

“I think Alfred knows where the purse might be, we usually store lost objects in the same room.”

“Alfred?”

“Our butler.” He answered Jazz.

Danny felt a shiver go down his spine. Once again he wondered why his dear sister decided to get involved with these people.

But again, looking around him, he found that the little apartment was well used and lived in. The scoundrel (he was being mean by still calling him that in his head, he knew, sue him) might have flown away from the flock and tried to live apart from the riches and the pompous lifestyle, which he could understand and respect.

Damn. He couldn’t stay angry at the dude anymore.

Stay strong, Danny. You need to instill the fear of death on the guy in the most epic shovel talk ever seen.

“We say ‘butler’ but really the man is more like a grandpa for all of us.” Jay added as he walked in, now dressed with jeans and a simple black shirt on, and a bundle of clothes in his hands. “I got a bit of everything, pick whatever you want.”

“Thank you!” Jazz said, turning briefly to fish her bra from the crumpled dress on the floor, and Danny wanted to delete the knowledge that she had taken her clothes off last night in a stranger’s apartment.

Look.

His sister was a grown woman and she was free to sleep with and/or canoodle with whoever she wanted — he would approve more or less, but unless he suspected her partner had ill intentions towards her, he trusted his sister’s choices.

That didn’t mean he wanted the details. He had enough with the photos of them kissing that people posted on the internet.

“We have a situation.” Dick whispered to his brother, thinking that Danny couldn’t hear.

“Really? You come here to bother me for that?”

“No. Not that kind of situation.” Danny was making a point of looking away. “A civilian situation.”

“And it concerns me because?”

There was a pause. Danny sneaked a look and saw Dick regarding his brother with the dread of the witness of a disaster about to happen.

“You guys were seen. At Denny’s. And someone took a photo. It kinda blew up twitter and the whole internet.”

“And now people are calling my sister a gold digger and a social climber. Among other horrible things.” Danny gave up the pretense of not listening in and walked up to the brothers.

To his credit, Jay looked genuinely shocked. Then sad, angry and worried. And lastly, absolutely furious.

“I’m going to kill someone.”

Danny nodded, liking him a bit more. “And I’ll help you.”

When the man redirected his eyes at him Danny didn’t miss the slight green shine on them. Okay, he could see why his sister took interest in him now. Also, he won’t ever let her live down the fact that she was dating someone ghost-related after renouncing her ghost hunter heritage so hard and so loudly.

“I think we haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Jason Todd,” he extended his hand. Danny took it. “The black sheep of the Wayne family.”

Dick groaned at his words. Danny smiled.

“Daniel Fenton. Call me Danny. If you call me Daniel I’ll make you regret it.” If his handshake was a bit harsher he didn’t show — not that Jason didn’t grip his hand harder in response.

“Oh good, you guys are getting along!” Jazz sounded ecstatic as she rejoined them, now dressed with some jeans and a band shirt that was a bit big on her, but just enough to be fashionable. “The boots fit, by the way!”

“Aren’t those the boots Steph had been looking for like crazy for weeks?” Dick was frowning as he took in her outfit. “And that’s Tim’s shirt?”

“Yeah, Timbo is small. Who would have guessed.” Jason’s smile was all teeth.

“I can still change? I don’t want to upset any siblings.”

“Nah. If they missed these so much then they wouldn’t have left them in my apartment.” Jason’s eyes went over her body, but Danny didn’t think it was creepy. “It looks better on you, though.”

Jazz blushed. “Thanks, I guess.” She pushed her hair behind her ear, smiling at him.

Dick and Danny exchanged a look. This was ridiculous. It was cute, but ridiculous.

“Let’s go get your stuff back and then go home,” Danny interrupted the couple, who turned to look at him at the same time. Huh. “I didn’t eat breakfast in my rush to make sure you weren’t dying in a ditch.” Jazz made a face at this.

“You can get something to eat at the Manor,” Dick rubbed his face, his frustration with the whole situation showing. “We need to talk with Dad, Jay. The scandal is getting a bit out of hand and we need to get our story straight.”

“Scandal?” Jazz’s eyes were wide. “What scandal?”

Instead of an explanation, Dick quickly pulled his phone, the damn tweet that started all of this opened already. Jazz took the phone and looked at the picture with recognition in her eyes; then, she scrolled down at the responses and the pictures more people were sharing, theories about the scandal, and their unsolicited opinion about the couple.

It broke his heart, but his sister needed to know the truth. He saw tears gather in her eyes before she closed them as she gave Dick his phone back.

“I knew there would be some kind of backlash, but this is ridiculous.” The three ignored the way her voice broke a little. “I hate this so much.”

She let Jason pull her into his arms, her eyes still closed as she controlled her breathing.

“We can fix this,” Dick hesitated for a moment before putting a hand on her shoulder. “Is not the first scandal the family has been involved in. Haven’t you met our father?”

She opened her eyes, but she wasn’t amused.

“I am not a model or a celebrity looking for easy money, Dick. I wasn’t even liked before all of this. I am not stupid, I know the kind of fame Arkham has already, and I know that people are just waiting for me to give up the Reform or snap and become the next Harley Quinn.”

Dick winced. He had accused her of the same thing less than an hour ago.

“I’m sorry.” He said, not knowing what else to say.

The arms around Jazz squeezed her harder for a moment. Jason leaned in to subtly kiss her hair and whisper in her ear, but Danny heard him perfectly.

“Arson is still on the table, darling.”

She smiled at this. It was small, but the shadows in her eyes were slowly fading away.

Danny decided he wanted this man around forever, especially if he could hold her so tightly that she wouldn’t fall into despair and spiral into a breakdown like Danny would expect her to do in a situation like this.

“Okay, let’s focus on what we can fix right now. We are going to the Manor and get your stuff, then regroup and make a plan. We’ll fix this, Jasmine, I promise.”

She hummed against Jason’s chest before patting his arm to signal that she was okay now. He let her go but kept one hand on her bicep in a light grip.

“Jazz is fine,” when she smiled at Dick she looked a bit better, more determined. Centered. “And sure, let’s go.”

***

It took a bit of arguing, but finally the four of them piled into Dick’s car and were on their way to the Manor.

Jason crossed his arms, really not at all bothered at being denied sitting with Jazz on the backseat, no sir, he was not mad.

Who was he kidding? He wanted to sit with her — not for nefarious reasons, mind you, but because after spending the last… who the fuck cares, but the time with her had been the best he had in forever. He remembered being twelve and soaring over the rooftops of Gotham feeling like a superhero while wearing the Robin costume — well, something like that. But different.

He just felt alive.

Funny how things can change in one night.

He tuned out the siblings arguing and Dick asking whatever questions to make friendly conversation, his mind miles away, reliving everything that happened since he made the smart decision to run away from the stupid gala with Jazz.

She was… How to describe it? Jazz was like a ray of sunshine and the taste of lightning at the same time. She was kind, but not naïve, and very sharp of tongue and mind. She had the craziest thoughts about things and the most heated opinions about menial stuff, completely ready to throw down when they argued about ice cream flavors. Yet her touch was soft on his hair, on his face, on his chest; like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to touch but unable to stop her hands.

She also found his sarcasm hilarious. She said a few times that he reminded her of her brother, and he could see now why — Danny was sassy as fuck and wasn’t afraid of saying what he thought out loud.

He actually liked him. It was obvious that he cared a lot about his sister and he had been completely ready to fight him when he thought that Jason had done something bad to her. Good, but unnecessary.

As if he could hurt her in any way.

He wasn’t stupid — he knew what it looked like from the outside. Son of the richest man in Gotham runs away with her and she doesn't answer her phone the whole night. He should have said something, he knew she lived with her brother in a tiny apartment (she complained a lot about how things broke down all the time) and he would expect her to be back in the morning; but he completely forgot the world existed outside their little happy bubble.

He didn’t even notice the Denny’s staff taking the photo. Bruce will have his head for being so careless. But the damage was already done, sadly.

He didn’t regret anything, he decided. It didn’t matter what happened next, how they fixed the scandal, he had decided to give them a chance.

Jason blushed as he watched the city go by from the window.

‘Them’... Jazz had been open to the idea of dating when they talked about it, she had said she liked his company a lot, she had kissed him and let him kiss her like she wanted a ‘them’ to exist.

But now he didn’t want to get his hopes up. After what happened, after the damage of just being with him had done to her and her reputation, he wouldn’t blame her if she regretted last night or didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Last night…

He smiled, thinking about how nervous he had been when they finally arrived at his apartment. It’s true that he was the one that said they should go there and watch the movie, and she was completely into it; but he wasn’t sure if she wanted to just watch the movie or maybe it was an excuse to make out some more and take their relationship further.

When he shut the door and the reality of the situation dawned on them, she was the first to laugh and say that she wasn't the kind of gal that jumped into bed on the first date.

He felt… relieved? Jason wasn’t the kind of guy that brought girls to his place, either; hell, he barely let his own family in there and that was only because they managed to bypass his security every damn time.

Jazz felt special. She wasn’t the kind of girl you ‘just’ do anything with, she made it her own, a little adventure at her side. When (if, a little voice in his head corrected him) they decided to get physical, it had to be special.

So they got comfy and watched the movie, and nothing more. If he got any personal pleasure from the way his own merch looked on her, well, that was just a picture he would treasure forever in his memory.

He didn’t mind it either when she got cuddly and let her hands run all over his chest, or when she was delighted after he took off the shirt to let her squish her cheek against his skin and kiss the scars she found there — surprisingly, not even the autopsy scar phased her, as she kissed it with the same care as she did with all the others.

Somewhere in the early hours, close to dawn, he fell asleep feeling loved and warm with the comforting presence of Jazz in his arms, the movie completely forgotten.

“Thinking something funny?”

Jason turned to glare at his brother, who glanced at him with a knowing smirk before looking back at the road.

The bickering coming from the siblings stopped.

“And you!” Danny said as if he was following a thought, making Jason look over his seat at the siblings. “What are your intentions with my sister?”

Jazz groaned, punching Danny on the arm. “Are you seriously doing this?”

“Is this a shovel talk?” Jason lifted his eyebrows, glancing at Jazz to see if she had some kind of insight on what to do. She smiled, looking as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Yes. Now, what are your intentions with my sister? Huh? Is this a one time thing or do you plan on leading her on with your bad boy charm?”

“Danny, stop!” She punched him again, but the other didn’t even budge.

“No fighting in my car, please.” Dick wasn’t even phased. His car had seen some sibling on sibling violence before, enough to warrant the rule. “Don’t make me tap the sign.”

Indeed, when he pulled the sun visor down, there was a paper with “No violence while the car is moving” written on it. It was Alfred’s handwriting.

“Jay, please ignore my little brother—”

Danny leaned in, getting closer to his face. “Answer me.”

Jason smiled. The kid had guts. “Or what.”

“Or I’ll kick your ass.”

“No fighting, at least not until we get to the Manor.” Dick was giving nervous glances at them.

“Hmm,” Jason hummed, moving a little to look around the threatening little brother and get Jazz’s attention. “Maybe I want a more long term thing. What about that option?”

Danny narrowed his eyes, but he only saw it from the corner of his eye. Jazz was blushing at his words, nodding in agreement. He nodded back.

“Then you’ll better treat her well, punk.” He spit the word like it was an insult. Dick coughed a laugh at the situation.

“Or what?” Jason repeated, poking the proverbial bear.

Danny wasn’t amused. “Or I’ll find you, and I’ll make you wish you were dead.”

And he saw it — the green glow coming through the blue. If Jazz hadn’t been honest about her brother's situation, he would have been shocked at the revelation. He would have felt betrayed and scared, suspecting the siblings and questioning if they had connections with the Al Ghuls of the Lazarus Pits somehow.

But she had been honest, because she believed in them, because she wanted to start something with him.

His smile was all teeth when he looked at the other. “Oh. Been there, done that.”

By the way Danny froze and let his body fall back to his seat, Jason knew his eyes had turned green as well. Jazz looked between the two, waiting to see what her brother would do.

He scoffed, but there wasn’t any heat behind it. His eyes went back to blue. “This isn’t over, loverboy. You haven’t proven your worth to me yet.”

“Danny.” Jazz growled in warning.

“What do you need? A duel?”

“Do you have a sword?” Danny smirked, really liking the idea.

Jason’s answering smile was equally amused. “Yeah. Lots. Name a place and time and I’ll be there.”

“Jason.” Dick growled, probably against him abusing their training and skills from their other life to mess with civilians.

“What? Apparently sword fighting is an appropriate bonding activity with my new brother-in-law.”

He chuckled when his words made everyone in the car cringe.

“Please don’t say that again.” Danny crossed his arms, frowning. “You are still on fucking thin ice.”

“So, no duel?”

“No, no, the duel is still on,” Danny nodded quickly. “Let’s exchange numbers so we can keep in touch.”

So they did, while Jazz watched in disbelief.

“Alright! We are here!”

Everyone was quiet as the big metal front entrance opened automatically to let the car pass. Jason was used to the grandiose and the absurd display of wealth, but by the tiny gasp from the backseat he remembered that his girlfriend (was it okay to call her that? He needed to ask Jazz, they didn’t exactly define what they were last night) wasn’t raised in a mansion by the richest man in the city.

“It’s so pretty!” She admired.

Dick beamed. “Thanks! B will love to hear that. It’s been his family’s home for generations.”

“But weren’t you here last night?” Jason asked, turning around to see her look out of the window as they approached the main entrance.

“I was too busy trying not to throw up or make a fool of myself to look at the decor.”

“That’s why you were hiding at the food table?”

“No, I was hiding because if one more dude looked at my boobs instead of my eyes I was going to resort to violence.”

Maybe it was her deadpanned voice or Danny’s instant cackling, but it made Jason start laughing as well.

“I would have loved to see that.”

“Then we wouldn’t have met.”

Her teal eyes sparkled as she held his gaze. His lips curved slightly. It was easier to smile around her. “And what a sad world that would be.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but Danny leaned in to get in the way of their locked eyes, his mouth in a tight smile, shaking his head. Jason lifted his eyebrows, responding to the challenge.

“You guys are just the cutest.” Dick interrupted whatever was about to go down. He had parked the car in his designated place and killed the engine. “Please stay forever.” His words were directed this time at Jazz, since he turned to look at her. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Jay smile so much in so little time.”

Jazz quickly opened her door and walked out of the car to hide her face. Dick jumped out to follow her, leaving Danny and Jason behind in the car.

The two looked at each other, finally alone and without their siblings in the way. Danny sighed loudly and unbuckled his seatbelt. Jason did the same and turned to fully face him, knowing that he was going to talk.

���Look,” Danny was serious, his shoulders relaxed but in a forced way, like he was doing the effort to stay calm. “I love my sister. She’s everything to me.” Jason nodded, despite not knowing where this was going. Danny looked at Jazz and Dick talking on their way to the front door. “This whole scandal thing will hurt her a lot — I know you didn’t mean to!” He quickly added when he saw Jason open his mouth. “I believe you, don’t worry. I thought you were a bad person but I was wrong and what I’m trying to say is,” he passed hand through his hair in a nervous gesture, “uh, I’m sorry. I think you are cool now.”

“Thanks?”

“Also Jazz really likes you so I guess I’ll have to get used to having you around.”

“I’ll stick around as long as she wants me to.”

Danny did a weird smile at his words, like he couldn’t believe how sappy it sounded but was glad he said the right thing.

“And just so you know, you aren’t her first dead boyfriend.” His smile turned mischievous. “I guess she really has a type, huh.”

“The motorcycle guy?”

“She told you about Johnny?”

“She just said you hated him and that you would chew her ear off for being with another guy with a bike.”

Danny made a face. “I don’t hate him for being a bad boy with a bike and a leather jacket — he tried to use my sister’s body as a vessel to bring his girlfriend back. Also he’s a total jerk and tried to kill me multiple times.”

“What is even your life?”

“Buddy,” Danny put a hand on Jason’s shoulder, his smile mocking him, “you have no idea what you got yourself into.”

Well, that’s ominous.

Without having anything else to say, Danny exited the car. Jason followed him, and soon the two caught up with their siblings waiting for them in front of the entrance.

As if they were expected, Alfred opened the door before Dick could ring the doorbell.

“Master Richard, Master Jason,” he nodded at the brothers. His eyes then went to Jazz and her Danny, analyzing them in the way that Alfred usually registered a new person in the Manor to take care of. He smiled softly. “Miss Fenton, Mister Fenton, we were expecting you.”

“Of course,” Jason rolled his eyes.

“Good morning, Alf! Is B awake yet?”

“Master Bruce is waiting for you at the breakfast table.” He nodded at Dick. “He already sent a message to the PR team and wishes to discuss plans regarding last night's scandal.”

Jazz wilted a little at the mention of the scandal. Jason quickly put a hand around her shoulders in silent support. He didn’t regret anything, he wanted her to know.

Alfred’s eyes zeroed on the gesture, the corner of his lips curving a little. He moved to the side to let the group in, stopping the couple as he closed the doors behind them.

“I believe this belongs to you, miss.” The butler presented Jazz a small green handbag.

“My purse!” She took it. “How did you know?”

“It’s my job to know what happens inside these walls.”

Jason leaned in and fake-whispered in her ear. “Don’t question it. Alfred just knows everything, it’s his superpower.”

“Indeed,” the older man hummed. “A very useful skill since this family’s children tend to start mischief when their father turns his back. Someone has to make sure the place doesn’t burn down, after all”

“It was an accident, Alfred.”

“Keep trying to lie to me, Master Jason.” He chuckled as he walked away.

It worked. Jazz was giggling and a bit more relaxed after the exchange, her face smiling up at him.

“Is arson your response to everything?”

“I didn’t burn anything, I swear. Not on purpose.”

She hummed and narrowed her eyes, still smiling, probably not believing him. He leaned in and kissed the smile, unable to stop himself now that they were virtually alone.

“About the—”

“It’s okay,” she stopped him, the hand that wasn’t grabbing her purse now placed gingerly on his cheek. “I’m tougher than I look.”

He didn’t doubt that. He wanted to ask if she was still open to the idea of dating, but shouting from the dining room reminded them of the situation at hand.

Once they got to the dining room where the family usually ate breakfast, it was filled with people. Jason had half a mind to turn around and run for it, but he still had his arm around Jazz’s shoulders and somehow she sensed he was going to run, so she sneaked her arm around his waist to prevent him from getting away.

Bruce was at the head of the table, sipping his coffee and looking like he didn’t sleep as much as he needed. Selina, at his right, was looking over Tim’s shoulder, who was sitting next to her, as he typed on the screen of his tablet, showing her something. Cass was sitting next to Tim, but she was content with only watching everyone else as she sipped her orange juice.

On Bruce’s other side, Damian was quietly eating pancakes and watching with distrust as Dick animatedly talked with Danny.

“Oh, there they are.”

Everyone got quiet at Selina’s words and turned to look at them.

“So it’s true?” Tim narrowed his eyes. “And isn’t that my shirt?”

“Finder keepers, Timmy.”

Jason started walking again, ignoring the stares, and guided Jazz towards where her brother was already sitting. Cass caught his eye after she looked at the siblings, her beaming smile making him calm down a little. If she approved then he must be doing something right.

“Hi,” Jazz waved her hand as she sat down, her smile completely forced and trying hard to not look nervous. “I’m Jazz.”

“Well hello, dear,” Selina looked as put together as always even in her black silk pajamas and slightly tousled hair. “Glad to finally meet you in person.”

Jason sat down next to Jazz, deliberately the furthest from Bruce, who was looking at him with raised eyebrows. He held his analyzing gaze, squaring his shoulders for a fight. He didn’t want to fight Bruce, not right now, not in front of his (probably, but most certainly) girlfriend. But he would, if the situation required it.

“Glad to be here, although I would have preferred meeting you in less… uh, awful conditions,” Jazz nodded at the older woman.

Bruce turned his attention to the siblings, specifically Jazz. “Dick already explained part of it. Some kind of misunderstanding?” He said.

The man in question lowered his head a little, feeling ashamed.

“I’m not mind controlling anybody, I’m not a villain and I do not have nefarious plans involving seducing anybody. Just to be clear.”

“Arkham would benefit a lot with the popularity, though.” Tim shrugged, his eyes cold as he regarded her. “The Reform would—”

“This has nothing to do with—!” Jazz closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She relaxed her shoulders. She was used to reigning in her emotions. When she opened her eyes they were so cold and uncaring that Jason thought he was seeing someone else. “My Reform plans did not involve anything from the Waynes beyond the public support, which it already has, and I am deeply grateful for.” She nodded at Bruce, who nodded back. “You’d know if you actually read my report.”

She crossed her arms, smirking in victory when she caught Tim in his bullshit. As CEO he was pursued as much as Bruce and she emailed him her powerpoints and written reports many times, receiving promises of them being read.

Bruce sipped his coffee, hiding a smile.

There was a loud sound, like a jingle of sorts, and Jazz jumped in her seat.

“Oops, sorry. I must have left my phone on last night.” She put her purse over the table and fished inside it for the device. It still had some charge, and she had a ton of notifications and missed calls.

“About those plans to deal with the scandal?” Jason tried to steer the conversation away from Jazz.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded, putting his cup on the table and interlacing his fingers. “We didn’t know what route was the most beneficial for all of us, so the PR team prepared a few scenarios; but now I can see we need to make a few adjustments.”

“Adjustments.” He raised an eyebrow.

Bruce looked away in shame. “I thought— well, um…”

“We weren’t sure how serious you were about the girl.” Selina took pity on her boyfriend and answered instead. “And since you brought her here…”

Jason glanced at Jazz, but she was too focused on her phone, scrolling through messages.

“You should have seen them, B.” Dick leaned back in his chair. “They are the cutest.”

“It’s painful to watch,” Danny spoke for the first time, nodding his agreement.

Jazz gasped. Everyone looked at her. Her face was completely white, drained, her eyes haunted. Then, she started trembling. Then the blood came rushing back and painted her skin red.

She looked at Jason.

“I’ve been fired.”

“What.”

“Marcel— he said— I mean he called but I wasn’t— ugh, read here.” She gave him her phone, he read the text on the screen, his eyebrows going to his hairline.

“This is illegal.”

Jazz made a sound like a strangled animal and let her head fall to the table, bonking it against the wood. A few seconds later, she stood up with a fake smile.

“Excuse me, I think I have a thing to take care of.”

Quickly, too quick to really let anyone follow her, she exited the dining room and made her way back to the front door. Soon, they heard them slam shut, followed by a very loud:

“MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Uh oh,” Danny stood up as well. “She’s going berserk.”

“What?”

Danny turned to look at Dick, eyes nervously going in the direction his sister had gone. “Jazz is the sweetest sister in the world, but she’s the type of person that bottles up her rage until she goes nuclear. I call it ‘berserk mode’, heh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Be right back.” And he bolted out of the room.

Everyone at the table looked at each other for a moment before they nodded and followed the siblings.

By the time Jason was out of the mansion, Jazz was well on her way to the front gates, Danny running behind her and trying to make her stop.

“Jazz, what the hell are you going to do!”

“He has fucked with me for the last time, Danny!”

“And? You are going to walk to his house?”

“If I have to!”

Danny turned to look at Jason once he caught up with him.

“Do something!”

“Like what!”

“I don‘t know, figure it out, you are her boyfriend!”

“Oh, so NOW you acknowledge it!” Jason scoffed. “And you are her brother!”

“Do you really think she’ll listen to ME?”

“Try!”

Danny groaned and ran faster, one hand prepared to grab his sister’s arm to make her stop.

What happened next almost made Jason stop in his tracks — he knew she must have had some training, and sometimes she made a comment about it without really getting into detail; but seeing it in person was a different thing.

Without stopping her stride, she grabbed the hand Danny was going to grab her with, flipped him over her shoulder and slammed him to the ground, the gravel probably digging on the poor man’s skin as he gasped for breath.

“Ow.” He said in a small voice, eyes on the sky. He recovered quickly, since he was up and running again by the time the others caught up with him.

Okay, Jason tried to rethink his strategy. He really didn’t want to be judo slammed in front of the family, but he really didn’t want her to kill anybody, at least not after shouting vague threats in front of Bruce and his paranoia about Arkham doctors.

He got this.

“Jazz, stop.” He said as he got next to her with a few long steps. She didn’t stop, but looked at him. “You can’t kill the guy.”

“Why not.”

“You might get in deeper trouble.” He tried. She lifted an eyebrow, but stopped to hear what he wanted to say. “You’ll need to make sure it doesn’t trace back to you, too. It’s harder than you think.”

Her smile should be nice, but with murder in her eyes it looked rather predatory. “I have my ways.” She patted his cheek, the touch making him shiver and not in a bad way.

“Also, think what will happen next,” he tried again, ignoring his heart beating faster. “You have just been fired, by him. If you kill him the first suspect will be you.”

This got to her — finally! She ignored the group walking up to them (why were they even here if no one was trying to help? Geez), and put a hand on her chin as she thought over his words.

“You are absolutely right.” She said, grabbing his head between her hands, making him lean down a little. He sighed in relief. “You beautiful genius, I just need to ruin his life!”

She kissed him right on the mouth. It was brief, but intense, barely giving him time to put a hand on her waist before she was gone and back on her bloodthirsty way. He stood there with probably a dumb look on his face.

“Unbelievable.” Danny was shaking his head at him as he walked past.

“Oh, she’s delightful.” Selina had a hand on her cheek, clearly enjoying what was going on. “Can we keep her, Bruce?”

The man wasn’t amused. At all. He was looking at the back of the rampaging Jazz with that suspicion he usually saved for Jason.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He told the man.

If he went full Batman on her he knew there was going to be disaster. She had secrets, he was aware, and he hoped she told him when she was ready. She had the same courtesy with his secrets about his vigilante life, he knew he had told her things that would make someone suspicious of him, but she accepted his deflection and his lies with a gentle smile.

He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

“She might be dangerous but she is good, B. Trust me.”

Bruce looked like he wanted to say something else, but Jazz had backtracked a bit and walked up to Jason. She grabbed his hand and started dragging him to the front gates, now a short walk away.

“I need you.” Was everything she said, probably regarding some revenge plans she was making in her head, but his heart jumped at her words anyway.

“Uh…” He looked at the others for help, but they were either enjoying the spectacle or talking between them. Fantastic. Just perfect. “What’s the plan?” He asked her.

“I’m just going to speed up my Reform plans a little.”

“What?” He tugged their joined hands, but she didn’t slow down. “What does it have to do with ruining that guy’s life?”

“Not that Reform Project. I meant the real one.”

This made conversation stop. Jason could feel Bruce’s glare on the back of his head.

“The real one?” He asked, nervously looking at Danny, whose shocked expression told him that the guy didn’t know about this.

“Did you really think that Arkham is the kind of place that can be reformed with good intentions and asking pretty please?” She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “No. I had plans. Months and months of meticulous planning… for nothing!”

Her voice cracked at the end. This was important to her. She really cared about fixing that horrible place and now that she was fired—

“I had the documents, the proof I needed. I managed to get records they tried to get rid of.”

“That’s why you asked me…?” Danny left the question unfinished, apparently catching on what she was saying.

She nodded. “I got the victims to talk to me, too. I promised them! I was so close!”

“Victims?” Dick asked.

Jazz jumped, as if she had forgotten they had an audience. She stopped a few steps away from the giganting metal gates and turned to look at the other to the eye.

“Arkham Asylum has a rich history, but what people don't know is how far and how wide the abuse runs in that place.” She tilted her head, taking a breath to calm down a little. Her hand was trembling in Jason’s. “Physical abuse, sexual abuse, sexual assault, violence. Murder.” Her face was a mask of disgust. “Nobody talks about it, nobody cares about what happens to us in that place, as long as the rogues are contained and away from the rest of the nice citizens of Gotham.”

“Us?” Danny murmured, eyes wide.

“That’s not—” Dick tried to step closer.

“Also nobody will talk.” She interrupted him. “Why would we? We are just ‘the crazies from Arkham’. Patients are just insane and the doctors are even worse for believing we can make a difference. Who would trust an Arkham staff member?”

Bruce flinched at her words. By the smirk on her lips, Jazz knew the man didn’t trust her because of her workplace choice.

“I had a plan,” she continued as everyone processed her words. “I had records. Death certificates. Audio and video proof. Everything I needed to make sure that the people involved in the systemic abuse would be unable to hurt anybody else.”

“Why not give it to the police?” Bruce stepped closer to the pair. Jazz looked at him with a raised brow.

“How do you think they get away with it, Mr. Wayne?” Her smile was sad — it wasn’t a secret that the Gotham Police Department was dirty. “I never said that the people involved were only Arkham staff.”

“Jazz, is this why you have the murderboard?” Danny looked conflicted, horrified and kinda proud of his sister. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The murderboard is for a side project, don’t worry about it.” Her smile was worrying. “And if I told you, you would have rushed in guns blazing; and to really fix Arkham I needed a more subtle approach.”

She combed back her hair with the hand that wasn’t gripping Jason’s like a lifeline. She was starting to come down from the adrenaline rush, if the trembling of her hands was something to go by.

“Although, thinking about it right now, maybe murder is the better approach.” Her chuckles were shaky. “I just — death is too easy, too little a punishment for what they have done and keep doing, unchecked. I wanted to watch them run around like headless chickens as everything crumbles down around them. That’s phase four.”

“There’s phases?” Jason talked for the first time since she started her rant. He didn’t know if he should feel horrified by the truth or impressed by her careful planning and ruthlessness.

“Phase five was taking control of Arkham and personally firing Marcel,” she smiled up at him. “I wanted to look him in the eyes as he learned it had been me all along.”

Ah. His heart started beating faster as he was unable to look away from her eyes. He knew she could see his cheeks turn a bit red since she was so close, she could feel his heart thumping against his chest.

He had never considered love as a possibility, a real possibility, in his future. Love, marriage, family — those kinds of things were for people that didn’t dedicate their lives to fighting crime, to lies, to violence. He had seen relationships form and collapse in the hero community, nevermind a relationship with a civilian.

But — as she ranted and went off about her plans he couldn’t help but feel he could have a real future with her. That she could understand him in a way that he needed to be understood. That she would listen.

“In any case I could still just ruin his life anyway,” she patted his cheek and looked away, finally letting him breathe. He blinked, as if woken from a spell. “Marcel had threatened to fire me if I ever went public with the dirt I have on him, and guess who doesn’t work at Arkham anymore?”

“You would put a target on your back,” Bruce tried to reason since Jason was still coming back from his own revelation. He didn’t miss the worried look the man gave him. “You could share it with Batman?”

This got her attention.

“Batman?”

“Is not the first time he had to take down an operation as big as this.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need Batman. I need Bruce Wayne.”

Jason tensed, as did his brothers. Selina was smiling like she was having the time of her life and Cass was watching Jason with a knowing glint in her eye.

“Why is that?” props to the man for keeping his cool. Jazz had all her attention focused on him and how he reacted to her words.

What the fuck was going on?

“Because having Bruce Wayne’s support would make them all sell each other out once I start publishing my findings, of course. Nobody wants to be associated with criminals, not if they want to get in the Waynes’ good graces.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” He relaxed a little, his controlled voice almost completely devoid of the relief he must be feeling.

She narrowed her eyes, stepping closer to Bruce. All her murderous intent gone at the man’s words, now swapped for a deep suspicion. Jason could see the wheels turn behind her eyes.

“Hey, Danny?”

“Yes?”

“What was the thing you said about Batman?”

Bruce and Dick tensed. Selina snickered, probably knowing where this was going.

“That the man doesn’t know when to give up?” Danny’s voice was exasperated, as if it was something he said often.

“No, the other thing.”

“That he looks like a furry?”

Someone snorted.

“The other other thing.”

Her brother’s face illuminated with recognition. “The chin scar thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I see.”

“What are you talking about?” Dick tried to laugh, but Jazz turned her inquisitive eyes on him.

“Interesting deflection, but it won’t work on me.” She turned towards Bruce. “You are Batman.”

There was no question, no need for confirmation — she just knew.

Also, it’s true that Bruce had a distinct scar in his chin from a nasty fight, but it had healed so well that it was virtually invisible unless you knew where to look or had the chance to see him up close.

They said that Batman had the scar, and the only people that could have gotten so close are the family and —

And that meta that Bruce was losing his mind about, because he slipped away every time and was seemingly impossible to catch.

He appeared around a year ago and at first he just floated and flew around the city. Then he started fighting crime and generally making a nuisance of himself. Most recently the meta, or Phantom, as he introduced himself, liked to mess around with the vigilantes and mock them because they couldn’t catch him.

“That the man doesn’t know when to give up?” Danny sounded like he spoke from experience.

“My brother came to live with me in Gotham a year ago. He said he didn’t want me to be lonely in such a big city.” Jazz had commented when he asked her about her brother. “He thinks he can protect me from everything.”

Jason looked at Danny, who winced and took a step back, tensing under all the sudden stares from the vigilantes.

“Jazz?”

“Oops.”

“Yeah, oops.” He glared at her sister. “Did you really need to do that?”

“I…” Jason looked at her, at how she was looking at his family like she was seeing them for the first time. She turned to look at him, her beautiful teal eyes muddled with the realization dawning on them.

He didn’t know who let go first, but suddenly his hand itched with the absence of her warmth.

“Jazz, we need to go.” Danny tried to approach her, but when he took a step all the attention was on him. Jason saw Damian get ready to pounce.

“I can’t—” She was still looking at Jason, tears gathering in her eyes. Why was she crying?

“Jazz c’mon!”

“Tim, prepare the containment cell.” That was Batman’s voice.

“Jay?” Her breaths came short. She was panicking. She didn’t want to leave.

If she left now, he had the feeling he wouldn't see her again. He couldn't let her go.

“Everyone, stop.”

Jason stepped between the siblings and his family, straightening his back and crossing his arms to take a stance that made him a human wall. He usually did that to intimidate and instill fear in his targets, but he was using it now to protect someone important.

“Jason, move.”

“No.”

“He is an unknown meta—”

“I said, no.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Your judgment is being clouded. Step aside.” Jason enjoyed that Bruce couldn’t look down on him anymore when he tried to order him around.

“They haven’t hurt anybody.”

Jason knew he was right, and Bruce didn’t have anything to refute him. One year, and the unknown had only done good deeds around the city, even helping around the bats when the situation looked dire.

“Jay’s right, B.” Dick joined him in the wall between the others and the siblings. Cass was right behind him.

“They are not bad people.” She said, crossing her arms, somehow managing to look down on Bruce despite being much shorter than the man.

Selina walked up to the group and smiled softly at her boyfriend. “I think we should just sit down and clear any misunderstanding.”

Outnumbered, Bruce breathed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, catching Damian just as he tried to sneak past him to jump at the meta.

“Alright.” He glared at Selina, who looked triumphant. “It’s too early for this drama.”

“I told you she’d make things interesting.”

Jason tuned out the conversation and turned around, finding Danny trying to console his sister. Jazz was crouching, still hyperventilating, hiding her face behind her hair, but he could hear her sniffling.

Danny looked up at him. “Thank you.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. “How is she?”

“I’m fine,” Jazz said before her brother could respond. “I just need a minute.”

“Can I touch you?”

She nodded, sniffling a little.

Jason picked her up and easily settled her in his arms in a princess carry. She would have made a comment on it, like she did when he carried her piggyback last night, but she was quiet as she hid her face on his shoulder.

“We are going to get some water and fresh air. Be right back.”

He ignored the protests, Selina’s ‘aww’ and Danny’s ‘for fucks sake’ and speed walked all the way back to the house.

Instead of going through the front door, he went around the building until he was at the kitchen door, the one that Alfred always left unlocked so the children (i.e., everyone) could come and go seemingly unnoticed. The butler would know, of course, but the point was not crossing paths with the inhabitants of the house.

Once in the kitchen, Jason gingerly placed his cargo in one of the kitchen stools and went to grab a glass of water for her.

She had been quiet the whole time, and she stayed quiet as she drank her water.

“I messed up.” She finally said after she gulped down the water, her voice hoarse.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did.” She sighed, putting in the now empty glass on the counter. Then, she combed her hair away from her face with her fingers. “It wasn’t my secret to reveal.”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “I was going to tell you anyway. Eventually.”

“I also meant my brother.” She slumped her shoulders, eyes watery. “I’ve kept that secret for so long…”

“Hey,” he hugged her once the tears started flowing. “It will be okay.”

“I don’t feel okay.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what else to say, but let her listen to his heart and the kitchen clock ticking the seconds away as she cried. Without nothing else to do with his hands, he caressed her hair from her head down her back in a constant pattern.

After a minute or so, she spoke again.

“Can we go outside?”

Instead of an answer he picked her up again and walked back out to the gardens surrounding the Manor.

She probably just wanted to breathe a little of fresh air, or as fresh as it could be in Gotham, but his feet carried him to a specific part of the gardens.

Once he found the tree he was looking for, he sat down against the trunk under the shade and placed her between his legs, her back to his chest, so she could sit the way she wanted or if she preferred to move around. She did turn a little to rest her ear on his chest.

“I like the sound of your heart.” She explained, despite him never asking.

He hummed, watching her hands on her lap fidgeting with her purse. She had apparently grabbed it and looped the strap over her shoulder before storming off the breakfast table.

“It’s strong and steady,” she continued talking, “like you.”

“I am anything but ‘steady’,” he huffed. “Now you know why I mentioned weird sleeping patterns and being unable to have a normal relationship.”

“Is this why you weren’t sure about the dating thing? Because of the vigilante stuff?”

He nodded, humming when he realized she wouldn’t see it. “I’m not reliable. Sometimes I have to go undercover for days, sometimes I have a mission that requires a lot of attention, sometimes I have barely time to sleep and eat something before I have to suit up and do it all over again.”

“And a relationship needs nurturing. I understand.”

Could she hear his heart breaking? This felt like A Conversation. Like the ones you have when something is about to end.

“I do want to try, though.”

His hands, which he had strategically placed at his sides to not crowd her, twitched with the need to touch her warmth.

“You do?”

She nodded. “I can understand where you come from. I used to live like that, back when— uh… Remember when I said I was involved in ‘family business’ back in my hometown?” She chuckled, looking up at him.

“You were a crime fighter.” What were the odds? At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if she had been an assassin all this time and they danced around each other like idiots.

“Nope. Not human crime, at least.”

“‘Human’ crime?”

“Ghosts. We fight ghosts. Or I used to.” She bit her lips. “Family business. Ghost hunting.”

“You traded being a ghost hunter for being an Arkham doctor?”

“I wanted a change! Don’t judge me.” She pouted, hiding her face on his chest again.

He kissed her hair, enjoying when she placed her hand close to her face to feel the vibrations of his chuckles.

“Do you— I mean… We still have to fix the scandal thing, and I don’t know what I’ll do about Arkham, but maybe, um,” she rubbed her cheek against him, sighing. “Do you want to try?”

He breathed in sharply.

“I mean, we could still be friends if it doesn’t work?” She continued. “We could even kiss if you want to, or meet up to watch movies or something and cuddle and stuff.”

“That sounds kinda like dating, though.”

She shook her head. “Dating requires compromise, lots of attention, and a shift in priorities. I would never try to get in the way of your, well, your other life.”

He couldn’t resist it anymore — he put his arms around her and slightly squeezed her against his body. She giggled.

He didn't know what to say. He understood where she came from, and agreed that things could get tricky; but he really didn't want to lose this. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life wondering what could have been, wondering if he had tried harder then it would have worked.

Anything he thought he could say sounded stupid in his mind. She deserved truthful words and not flimsy promises.

Suddenly, it came clear to him what he needed to say.

“If your feelings are not those of last night at Denny’s, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever.” She snorted, getting the reference immediately. Still, Jazz kept quiet and only looked up at him to gaze into his eyes as he recited Mr. Darcy’s sappiest dialogue from memory.

If, however, your feelings haven’t changed, I would have to tell you, you have bewitched me body and soul,” he licked his lips, knowing it was just the dialogue of that scene, but his voice still trembled a little when he continued, “and I love you.” She placed a hand on his cheek, her smile growing wider. “I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

In the silence that followed, he felt his heart trying to beat out of his chest, the noise deafening behind his ears. She didn’t say anything as she looked into his eyes, searching for something.

“That was super cheesy.”

He left out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, laughing weakly. “Now it’s the part where you say my hands are cold or something and we get married.”

“Do you want to get married?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“I was joking. I don’t want to get married.”

“So you are saying you wouldn’t marry me.”

He groaned and let his head bonk against the tree trunk, any nervousness completely forgotten.

“Just kidding.” She laughed. “We don’t need to ever think about it. For now.”

“So you do want to marry me, then?”

If he wanted to get a raise from her, he failed at it. She just smirked and let her hand tangle in his curls. She said last night that she loved them. “Who knows. I’m interested in dating you first, though. As a trial run.”

He hummed, basking in the sensation of her nails softly scratching his scalp. He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes.

“Oh, this is the tree we climbed down yesterday.”

“Now you notice?” He opened one eye, but she was looking up at the balcony they jumped from to run away from the gala. It looked less magical under the sunlight.

“Well, I was kinda panicking to really notice it.”

“Feel better now?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, resuming the head scratches. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the attention. She shuffled a bit, maybe to get a better angle, and suddenly she stopped. “Oh right. Guess what I have in my purse?”

“Your phone?” He opened his eyes to find her fully facing him, kneeling between his folded legs, her attention on the purse as she looked for something in it.

“Nope, this!” She withdrew a small item, presenting it to him like it was a great finding.

He picked it up, trying to guess what it was. After deciphering the tiny lettering around the tube-like object, he smirked.

“Is this…?” He opened the tube, confirming that it was the lipstick she was wearing at the gala.

“I noticed you liked it.”

“Looked good on you.”

“I meant the taste.” Her cheeks were a bit red.

He nodded, twisting the tube to get a bit of the lipstick out. “Kissing you is always a delight, but the cherry flavor made it interesting.”

“So it wasn’t an excuse to kiss me back at the balcony?”

“I thought I said you looked pretty under the moonlight or some sappy shit like that.”

She rolled her eyes. “So romantic.”

“I’m just saying,” he started applying the lipstick on his lips, eyes fixed on hers, taunting her, “that I don’t need excuses to kiss you. Do you need them?”

It was creamy and warm from being under the sun, and the cherry flavor was just like he remembered it. He didn’t dwell on the sensation, focused on how she smiled wider at his obvious bait.

“Pink is definitely your color.” She said, cupping his head in her hands to look at his lips from different angles.

“Do you really think so?”

She tilted her head, leaning in a little just so their lips were barely touching. “Or maybe red, Mr. Hood.”

She was so close he almost had to cross his eyes to keep eye contact.

“So you figured it out?”

Their lips touched, finally, but she leaned back when he tried to kiss more properly. Damn tease. She combed back his hair, letting her nails softly scratch his scalp, earning a shiver from him.

“You were the one I managed to get less information on. After discarding the other options you were the one that matched Hood the most.”

“You were investigating us?”

She licked her lips, probably tasting the cherry.

“Side project.”

“You have a fucking murderboard dedicated to us?” He chuckled. At this point it was just funny. He was never bored with Jazz, she threw shit like this to him from absolutely nowhere — and he loved it so much.

“It was an interesting puzzle to solve!” He hands stopped their ministrations as she withdrew one hand to gesticulate as she tried to explain herself. “I wasn’t going to do anything about it, either way. I swe—!”

Her words were silenced by his lips. He couldn’t stop the giddiness at the situation. It was so absurd, everything was not how it was ‘supposed’ to go, but it was perfect in a strange way. They weren’t just two strangers at a gala, or two normal people kissing under a tree; hell, they weren’t even fully human by some standards. But kissing her was perfect, having his arms around her was perfect, her hands on the base of his neck was perfect.

When they parted, her cheeks were red and her lips stained pink from the lipstick. He carefully lifted a hand to push back a lock of hair that was in the way of her eyes. The teal shimmered green for a moment when his hand touched her cheek.

“You were right,” she said, a bit breathless. “The cherry makes it interesting.”

He hummed his agreement, letting her get comfortable and use his shoulders for leverage. Strange — he didn’t usually like being touched, and he thought it would be a problem since she was very touchy feely, but he didn’t mind it that much when she did it. Maybe it was because she usually made sure he was fine with her touch.

“Everything okay?”

He focused back on her. She was now on her knees, making him look up at her a little. With the way the stray rays of sunshine that sneaked past the tree leaves played with her hair, she was truly glowing in his eyes.

I love you, he had on the tip of his tongue, but chose to just nod and lean in a little to let her know he wanted to kiss again.

She obliged, grabbing him by the shoulders and softly pushing him back until he was completely against the tree. The parallels of the situation weren’t lost on him — last night their positions were reversed and he had been the one pushing her to the tree to kiss that lipstick off her lips.

She didn’t disappoint, though. Her kiss was first as tender and as light as always, but soon she took a breath and licked his lips to ask if she could take it further. He let her, he wouldn’t tell her no, lifting his hands to place them on her waist to seek more physical contact.

It was just like that other kiss shared under this same tree. She was dominating, but let him push her away if he so desired. This time there was a small difference, though; this time he wasn’t afraid of joining her and let his tongue follow hers, the cherry flavor encompassing their dance back to her mouth.

She did the small moan that signaled that he was doing something right, encouraging him to take the lead and press her body closer to his. His hands squeezed her waist a little, but Jazz wasn’t complaining; instead, she let out another soft moan that he swallowed in their kiss. Interesting.

He was warned about the risks of her teeth, though. Last night it had been a bit of a surprise to find out that her canines were a bit sharper than normal. Thankfully the cut on his tongue healed fast enough, and the one she accidentally did on his lip barely hurt at all, because she had been very self conscious about her fangs.

It was a liminal thing, she explained. Jason just found them hot, and told her exactly that. Her face became so red he thought she was going to faint.

They parted to take a breath, but kept their hands on each other. Her hands went to his hair to resume their appointed scratching task, making him shiver again.

With a sigh, Jason let his arms circle around her waist to pull her closer, the height difference allowing his head to fall on her chest and enjoy her heartbeat. It was a bit fast after the kiss, but strong. Alive. He understood why she liked to listen to his heart.

“We should head back.” Her voice was low, as if she didn’t want to break their little moment.

“Can’t we run away again?”

She chuckled, the feeling of her laugh against his cheek was as pleasant as the nails on his scalp.

“We already used that card once, I don’t think we can do it again.” Jazz patted his shoulder. “Also, I already messed up things with your dad and I don’t want him to hate me more.”

“I don’t care what he thinks about you.” His arms twitched a little around her waist.

“But I do,” she said, adding quickly before he could protest. “If I want to marry you I need to at least get along with your family.”

“I thought we weren’t even considering that for the moment?”

The scratches stopped. He moaned at the loss.

“I am not. But I meant it when I said I don’t want to get in the way.”

Jason felt a pinch in his chest at her words. She had insisted on that point a lot, and she was also the kind of person that planned ahead of time with the type of passion he was familiar with.

“Jason?” She asked, probably because he was getting tense.

He let her go, pushing her until they had enough distance between them to look her in the eye. Jazz was confused but cautious, her hands still on his person but with a lighter touch, waiting for him to confirm if he wanted her touch or not.

“Jazz, listen to me, and listen carefully,” she was listening, but he could see she was getting a bit scared at his words. “If you ever want to leave me, if you ever stop loving me, or I don’t make it worth your while or whatever, I’ll be fine. I mean, not fine-fine, but I would get it.”

She looked like she wanted to protest, but bit her lips closed and nodded at him to continue.

“But never break up with me because you feel like ‘you are in the way’. My family has had enough of that bullshit and I hate it so much.”

There was understanding in her eyes. “Self-sacrificing idiots with lack of communication skills? Feels familiar.” She complained about her brother pulling stunts like those.

It made him smile, but he needed to make her understand… She needed to know that it would crush him if she just up and left one day, even if it was ‘for his own good’.

“Promise me.”

Her eyes glowed green for a moment. “I promise. If something comes up we’ll have a conversation about it.”

He relaxed a little. Let’s see how that held up with time, he thought. She seemed to really understand where he was coming from, though.

“One last kiss for the road?” She asked.

The tension was completely gone when their lips touched again. They got this, whatever challenge dating brought their way.

Once they brushed the grass and dirt from their pants and were ready to face the music, he took her hand and guided her back to the dining room, this time from the kitchen door.

“Finally!” Danny was the first one to spot them. He didn’t look happy. At all.

“I see the dissection hasn't started so I’m still on time.”

“Har har.”

“We are not going to—”

“It’s a family joke,” Danny interrupted Tim, who blinked very slowly. That opened more follow up questions. “Don’t worry about it.”

Jason felt Dick elbow him, so he turned to see what he wanted. He found his brother biting back a knowing smirk as he pointed to the area below his lips, tapping the skin there. What the…

Oh.

Oh shit.

He rushed to wipe the remaining pink lipstick with his hand, but the damage was already done. Enough people had seen it and he wasn’t going to live this down.

Whatever.

“So,” Jazz sat down on the chair Danny had occupied before, since Damian apparently decided not to join them after the drama, and everyone at this side of the table was moved one seat over. “Have you explained everything?”

“Not everything,” Danny looked between Jason and his sister. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to explain to the loverboy here or just smooch—” He was interrupted, jumping when his foot was stepped on under the table. “Was that necessary?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t amused, her frown doing little to hide her red ears. “What have you said and what do I need to add?”

“‘I’m not a meta, I’m just a dead guy’?” Danny shrugged.

“That’s… vague.”

Jason looked at the others watching the siblings interact. There was a certain tension in the room, Jason knew Bruce wasn’t the only one about to shake them upside down for answers.

Tim cleared his throat and tapped the screen of his tablet. “You are Daniel James Fenton and Diana Jasmine Joan Fenton—”

“Diana Jasmine?”

“Don’t ask.”

Tim glared at the couple. “— children of Madeline and Jackson Fenton. Born and raised in a tiny town in the middle of Illinois called Amity Park. Parents dedicated their life to the investigation and science behind ghosts and how to contact and deal with them.”

“‘Deal’” Danny snorted.

“Ten years ago, they published a paper about their successful portal to another realm they concluded was where the ghosts came from.” He continued. “Shunned and ridiculed by the scientific community, they stopped their investigation and dipped into the weapon industry. Nowadays they sell weapon patents and original inventions, strangely enough, dedicated to storing food.” Tim ended his summary and looked at the siblings with a raised eyebrow.

Jazz sighed while Danny snickered.

“That’s the official version.” She finally said, somehow making Danny laugh harder. “After the portal they didn’t stop investigating ghosts, they just took a more, uh— direct approach.”

“It’s just a family joke, don’t worry about it.”

“They tortured ghosts?” Jason didn’t know what horrified him more, the idea or that the siblings seemed fine with it.

“At first, they tried. But local hero Danny Phantom thwarted every attempt!” She pumped her fist, like it was some kind of old timey superhero show jingle, but devoid of any of the energy it usually had.

All eyes went to Danny. “You are a superhero.” Tim said, but didn’t need confirmation.

He smiled cheekily. “I retired.”

“Also now our parents don’t dissect ghosts. Things changed a lot and we learned to adapt.” Jazz shrugged.

“You all became ghost hunters,” Jason said, now the pieces slowly making a picture.

Both siblings nodded and said: “Family business.”

“But why? Did the portal work? Why haven’t we heard anything about this?” Bruce leaned in, stealing Tim’s tablet to look at the pictures and the research he had compiled in so little time. “The League could have helped.”

Danny was shaking his head, all mirth gone from his face. “You couldn’t. Too dangerous. Ghosts can possess the living and I don’t really want to fight a possessed Superman.”

Bruce winced, knowing he was right.

“Then how did you deal with ghosts?” He asked.

The young man frowned at his hands placed on the table. “I… It was my responsibility, you know? I made the portal work and now they could come and go freely and—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jazz took one of her brother’s hands.

“I know that now, but back then I was just fourteen and I touched something I shouldn’t and I couldn’t tell anyone that I was dead—'' Danny took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. “I could deal with the ghosts better than anyone else not only because I was a ghost as well, but because I wouldn’t tear them apart to investigate what they were made of like my parents would.”

A few seconds ticked.

“Hold up, I think we need to unpack a few things there.” Dick tried to sound lighthearted, but there wasn’t anything positive in what Danny had said.

“Buddy, you have no idea what you got yourself into.”

Yeah, he was starting to see what he meant by that.

“I don't think it's a good idea to discuss things with an empty stomach.” Alfred, the godsend, arrived with a tray filled with breakfast goodies. Right, he hasn’t eaten anything since the mountain of pancakes at Denny’s.

“Thank you,” Jazz rushed to help him distribute the dishes filled with french toast around the table to those that hadn’t eaten yet — Jason, Danny and herself.

Danny jumped to eat. “Finally, some good fucking food.” He said with his mouth stuffed with delicious food. He jumped from another foot stomping. “Ow! Was that necessary!?”

“I thought I taught you some manners, young man.”

Danny made a mocking face at his sister, but still turned to the butler and nodded. “Thank you for the food, Mr. Pennyworth.”

The man fought to keep his smile under control. “Alfred is fine.” He nodded at everyone gathered, and walked out of the room to eavesdrop, probably.

Jason turned back to his french toasts and watched the Fentons devour the food like it was the last thing they did — Danny had forgotten all manners, but Jazz clinged to some as she inhaled the food at the same pace.

“It’s good, right?” Dick tried to make conversation.

“So good. I’m sorry Jazz but I don’t think I can go back to eating your cooking.” He said between bites. “Stop trying to kick me!”

“Stop saying stupid things, then.” She growled.

“Jay’s cooking is delicious, too,” Selina interrupted the starting argument, watching them with a soft smile, her face resting on her hands. “Alfred taught him personally.”

Danny opened his eyes wide, looking at the man. “Can I move in with you? It’ll be fun, I promise. Some dead guy quality time.”

“You abandon me so easily?” She lifted an eyebrow. “What happened to ‘I can go without food or sleep for weeks, Jazz, stop babying me’?”

“We still have to schedule that duel,” Jason shrugged, smirking when his girlfriend looked at him with raised eyebrows as Danny celebrated with a little ‘yes!’.

“Really?” She said.

“I can cook for you too, don’t worry.” Actually, the idea sounded very appealing. Why hadn’t he thought about it before? He could make it cute. Or maybe she wasn’t into big romantic gestures. He had to ask.

“As adorable as all of this is,” Bruce cleared his throat, “please explain what you said before.”

“Alright, so,” Danny swallowed what he had left, much more than was humanly possible to fit in a mouth, and breathed deeply. “The bullet points are: I died turning on the portal. Yes it hurt a lot, please don’t ask.” A few pairs of eyes turned to look at Jason instead. “I came back as a halfa, half alive, half dead, and got some sick new powers. I used those powers to battle evil ghosts and bring them back to the Ghost Zone—”

“— Where the ghosts live,” Jazz added, still finishing her last french toast.

Danny nodded. “Where the ghosts live, because my parents, who didn’t know I was a ghost too, would torture them to a second death. Eventually Jazz found out and helped me fight ghosts alongside my best friends. And then we told our parents, they took it well, decided to help and changed their ways. Happy ending.” He shrugged.

“And why are you in Gotham?” Wasn’t that the question? If there was a real threat of evil ghosts in their hometown, why were they here? Jazz said she left home to try being on her own, but with this new context…

“I followed my sister,” he pointed at her face with his thumb, she swatted his hand away. “She ‘renounced her heritage’ and hung the proverbial cape,” by his grin he said it on purpose, “and moved far enough from home to not be bothered by ghosts anymore.”

“That is so not what happened.”

“And what happened, Jazz?” He turned to look at her with a frown between his brows. “You just — I came back home one day and you were set on leaving.”

“I was tired! I had been doing the same thing since I was sixteen! I wanted to try something else.”

“And that ‘something else’ is dealing with living people that are just like ghosts. Yeah. Not buying it.”

Jazz looked like she wanted to keep arguing, but deflated. She subtly seeked Jason’s hand under the table, and he knew she was going to say another difficult thing to unpack.

“It was the liminality, Danny. I… When the changes started to happen I panicked. I thought I was going to die and I didn’t want to die regretting my life choices.”

Danny flinched like he had been slapped. “What?”

“It was logical. I was too contaminated already and I feared that if I stayed in Amity with such a high ectoplasm concentration—”

“You didn’t want to become a halfa?” Danny’s eyes started to water, green swirling into the blue with an alarming speed. Jason knew the others saw it too, because Bruce tensed.

“No! Danny, I swear it is not about that!” She jumped to hug her brother, “I was scared for a moment, but when I was finally here I knew I just needed time to do my own thing. I was going to come back to Amity, to you, but then the Observants happened and then the coronation happened and you were so busy and I was so busy and—”

“—and Mom and Dad took it so bad you didn’t want to come back either.” He melted in the hug. “They miss you, you know.”

“They miss us fighting together,” she rolled her eyes. “Ghost hunting is not a family bonding activity.”

Someone snorted.

Jason looked away from the sibling moment to find Tim looking very directly at his tablet, Dick controlling his expressions and Bruce trying not to look anybody in the eye.

“So your parents took the being dead thing better than Jazz giving up the cape?” Dick asked.

“Oh, they tried to dissect me at first. That I came back wrong, that they could cure me, that I was just possessed, you know.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

Tim gave up pretending he was reading something on his tablet and looked at Bruce. The man was horrified, glancing between Danny and Jason, who smiled at him. It hurt a lot when Bruce said shit like that about him, back at the beginning, and seeing Bruce suffer from Danny’s tale was so validating.

“What happened next?” Selina was genuinely curious.

“Jazz went berserk, held them at gunpoint and made them choose. What was the thing you said? ‘Your children or your research, but you can’t have both’.” He leaned back on his chair. “It was amazing.”

Jason’s eyebrows went to his hairline.

“In my defense,” she started, pointedly looking at the table, “they had Danny strapped to a table and were ready to cut him open. I came back from school and found them in the basement and I just did what I had to.”

Feeling his heart beat faster and his face a bit red, Jason took her hands on his. “You protected your brother, that’s what matters.”

“So they chose you?” Bruce’s eyes were on their joined hands for a second, but he looked back at Danny.

“Unconditionally.” Danny’s smile was blinding. “Threw everything they had about ghosts away and started over. For me.”

“It still doesn't explain how you are here, in Gotham, and not back there protecting your city.” The question wasn’t judging, even for Bruce standards. Phantom had been in Gotham for a year and the world hadn't ended via ghost apocalypse.

“I am the Ghost King. I ordered them to stop coming to my city and rampage it.” Danny’s smile was all teeth. “And I'm on vacation visiting my sister, so any ass whooping has been canceled until further notice.”

Surprisingly, that wasn’t such a truth bomb. After all that messy retelling of their fucked up childhoods? They believed it — sure, Bruce would ask for details laters and maybe take it to the League, but it kinda made sense.

“Okay,” Bruce finally nodded. He looked at Jazz. “About Arkham.”

She tensed. “What about it.”

“You said you had research.”

“I do.”

Bruce wanted her to just hand it over, and Jazz probably knew it, and that was why she was not following him on purpose. Could he love her more? Not to sound like a highschooler, but in less than twelve hours he had seen so many sides of her and he loved every one of them.

“I’m not going to give it to you, I said I didn’t need Batman.”

“If this is a question of pride—”

Jazz was shaking her head. “This isn’t about pride—” She jumped from a kick under the table. “Danny, stop.”

“Then don’t lie.”

“Oh, shush you.” She kicked him back. “Yeah it’s my research and it was so hard to compile everything and I’m reluctant to let it go — but I have reasons why it is a bad idea for Batman to take care of Arkham.”

“I remember this rant.” Danny murmured.

“First, Batman doesn’t kill and that’s fact. Fear of retribution is a big part of why my plan works so well. Fear of being socially shunned, fear of losing money, fear of death.” She was looking directly at Bruce as she spoke. “I am an unknown, a newcomer to Gotham, and they don’t know what I am capable of doing to get what I want. Not that I would actually kill anybody —”

Danny fake coughed, earning another kick.

“— but they don’t know that. And I need that fear, that uncertainty, that they don’t know what I would do.”

Honestly? Jason wanted to kiss her on the mouth. Damn it that everyone was looking.

“And second?” Bruce had this look on his face, his ‘I don’t like this but I don’t have grounds to forbid it’ constipated face.

“Second, Batman is a symbol of the status quo of Gotham. There is a system, a way that things work, and any change could destroy the balance. If a new rogue comes up, Batman will be there to take everything back to how it should be.” She took a breath. Jason felt her hands were trembling a little, so he squeezed them to show his support. She smiled at him briefly.

“If an outsider reforms Arkham, it would be no problem — just another thing that Batman will eventually bring back into the balance, or maybe that’s part of how it should be, or maybe blame it all on the outsider and continue on with life. But, if Batman himself breaks the status quo, they will come for your blood.”

Bruce was listening. Amazing.

“How so?”

“Why only change Arkham? Why stop there? Why not fix the Narrows? And Crime Alley? Why not fix the housing problem? Why not end the rogues for good, if they can’t be cured in the new system?” Her smile was tired.. “The status quo works because nobody wants to change it. Problems become the usual when nobody tries to fix them. But try to fix one? Then you have to fix them all, or the symbol falls.”

She leaned back on her chair, satisfied with her rant. This was something she had given a lot of thought, Jason realized.

Danny leaned in and got his attention, making him lean too to see what he had to say.

His grin was devious when he fake-whispered. “This is why her favorite hero is Red Hood.”

“DANNY.” Unsatisfied with doing another kick, she chose to punch him on the shoulder this time. “I will fucking kill you.” She growled, but it was lost in how her face was completely red.

“You cannot kill me in a way that matters.” He snickered as he jumped back in his seat, dodging another punch. “He’s my favorite hero too, there’s no shame in that.”

Jazz probably answered something, but Jason’s mind was filled with static.

He knew he was some people’s favorite hero — Crime Alley’s kids were afraid of him but knew he would protect them, especially if they were homeless. Even in the dumb tabloids’ popularity surveys Red Hood was comfortably up in the list, so people liked him and what he was trying to do with the worst parts of the city. And apparently he had his own twitter fanclub?

He let his head fall into his arms over the table, knowing his face was red up to his ears.

He thought about Jazz’s murderboard, and how she said she had investigated him — sure, she investigated everyone trying to figure out their identities, but was going to take the fact that she looked into his work.

Did she like what she found? Did she agree? Was she appalled by the killing?

No. She had kissed him and said she wanted to date even after knowing who he was.

And he was her favorite hero.

“B, she’s right.”

“But she can’t go back, they’ll come for her.”

“After the scandal I don’t think I could hold as much power as I need,” Jazz was answering Bruce. “Unless we clear it all in a way that makes sure my relationship doesn’t have anything to do with the Reform.”

“Yeah, nice try about that.” Dick said.

“Yeah, people already believe it was all premeditated.”

“I’ll do it.”

All conversation stopped as he lifted his head.

“I’ll take care of it. Red Hood doesn’t have the limitations Batman does.”

“Jaybird, you promised not to kill people anymore.”

He smirked at his big brother, taking his girlfriend’s hand. “Yeah, but they don’t know that.” His smile turned genuine when he looked at Jazz. “We only need the fear of what I could do, right?”

She was beaming like a ray of sunshine. God, he could really kiss her right now.

"I would need to change a few things, but,” she played with her hair, eyes slightly unfocused but staying in his as she went over the plan in her head, “I think it can be done.”

“Perfect. Wanna discuss it over lunch?”

She focused back on him, her smile cheeky. “Is this a date, Mr. Hood?”

“If you want to,” he said with another smile. His eyes went to her curved lips, thinking about that romantic lunch date idea from earlier. “We can go back to my place after this.”

Jazz giggled, hands still playing with her hair. “You still have my dress and my other stuff, so...”

“I’m going to scrub my brain with bleach.” Danny’s murmur cut through their bubble.

The couple remembered they weren’t alone and jumped back, having leaned closer without realizing.

Only Selina and Cass, who had been silently following the conversation, looked ecstatic at them — Tim and Danny were not having a good time and looked about to make a run for it. Dick was shaking Bruce’s shoulder, murmuring “I told you, I told you” as if the man needed another pair of eyes to believe what was happening.

Jason cleared his throat. “We will first need all your intel, get rid of any digital evidence of your investigation—”

“I have everything on paper or stored in thumb drives. Nothing digital. Also, Danny helped me with covering my tracks.”

Danny made a peace sign, smirking. “Family business. Also my best friend helped. He’s a hacker, and very good.”

“Okay,” he nodded at the siblings, honestly impressed by their efficacy. It made him fall back into vigilante mode easier, too. “Then we need to go to your apartment and get everything.”

Her smile was mischievous. “No need!” She put her purse on the table and started rummaging through it. “I have everything a girl needs to carry in her bag. Phone, wallet, keys, lipstick,” as she listed them she took out the items, the lipstick earned him a little glance, “and a thumb drive with everything you need to bring the downfall of an institution!”

There it was, in the palm of her hand, a black thumb drive. Deceptively small, but that probably contained the worst the city had to offer. She offered it to him without fuss, showing how she trusted him with her work.

“Are you guys sure you don’t want to go back to crime fighting?”

The Fentons turned to look at Selina at the same time.

“Nah. I have King stuff to do.” Danny shrugged easily.

She nodded, turning to look at Jazz. “And you, dear? What are you going to do after all of this is over?”

Bruce gave the woman a warning look, apparently knowing where she was going with her question.

“I don’t know,” Jazz said, looking at her brother. “I was going to go back to Amity after settling things in Arkham and choosing someone to run the place fairly, but now I’m not sure.”

Danny’s eyes landed on Jason.

Oh. Right.

Now he got what she meant by not wanting to get in the way.

It was easy to forget she wasn’t a Gothamite, since she fit right in with the madness, but the city wasn’t her home the way it was his home. It didn’t call for her, it didn't need her to stay. Jazz didn’t really have any roots in Gotham. Until now.

“You want to stay.” The younger Fenton told his sister, eyes still on Jason. He didn’t look mad.

“I really liked my job at Arkham.”

Danny nodded, taking her hands in his. “You can always accept my offer, Jazzy. I still think ‘The Warden’ is a cool title for you.”

“It’s silly.”

“If I have to endure silly titles I’m taking you down with me.”

This made her chuckle. “I’ll think about it.” She squeezed his hands. “But I think I’ll stay for a while and figure out what I want to do next.”

“Sure.”

“Fantastic!” Selina had this dangerous glint in her eyes, like when she found a target she really wanted to steal. Uh oh. “Next question: if the thing with Jason doesn’t work out would you consider being my daughter?”

Jason rolled his eyes, complaining with a little “hey”.

“Jesus christ.” Tim facepalmed.

Bruce was massaging his temples. “Selina, dear—”

“Oh hush, you already have too many children. Let me have at least one of my own.”

“Um, thanks for the offer? But I already have parents? Alive ones? Also, I’m an adult?”

“My apprentice, then?”

Jazz looked confused for a few seconds and then opened her eyes real wide. “Holy shit, you are Catwoman.”

“I am, dear.” She leaned further into the table, set on her objective. “But focus, I have follow up questions: can you fight in heels and do you know how to use a whip?”

“Selina, no.”

“Actually…”

“No shit?” Jason looked away from Selina to see if his girlfriend was telling the truth. She was, since she was getting a bit red and Danny started cackling.

“The heels part not really—”

“Your suit did have a bit of a heel, though.”

“It didn’t? It was boots.”

“Boots with a heel, yeah.”

“And the whip?” Tim was looking between Jason and Jazz with a tiny smirk. He didn’t give him the satisfaction of humoring the implication.

“I did use a version of a whip that traps ghosts. Very useful when they try to fly away.” She answered with a shrug.

“I have a video, if you wanna see her in action.”

“Video?” This was news for Jazz.

“Video!” Danny rushed to take out his phone, searched for a video in his gallery app and tapped play.

One by one, everyone gathered on this side of the table to see the screen as it showed Phantom exchanging punches with a floating woman with short red hair. The woman — ghost? — bared her pointed teeth and glared at the younger Danny as she flew further up to get enough distance to shoot green lasers from her fists.

“How did you get this?”

“Wes. This is from his creepy stalker phase.”

Jazz snorted.

From outside the frame, a new ghost jumped into the fight, slamming against Danny’s side and launching him to the ground.

“I need help over here!” Danny in the video screamed, struggling to take down the ghost woman and the new ghost, a green panther, at the same time.

“On it!” That was Jazz’s voice.

The camera panned in her direction and there she was, sliding over an abandoned car and running towards the fight. She was wearing a skintight black and white suit, similar to Phantom’s, but she had added knee pads and sturdier looking boots and gloves. On her waist she had a utility belt with weapons strapped to it.

“Oh, I remember this fight — we were testing the new Fenton Peeler 2.0.” Jazz commented, her eyes kind of wistful as she watched her past self march towards danger.

She did miss it. He wondered if she really wanted to go back despite saying she preferred to stay in Gotham.

“Fenton Peeler?” He asked.

“Kind of an armored suit.”

“Armored suit?”

“Watch.”

Indeed, once she was close enough to the pouncing panther, she hit a button on her glove and some kind of armor started unfolding up her arms and feet. It was calculated, because with a few powerful leaps, she intercepted the panther in the air just in time to have the full silver armor covering her entire body.

Both ghost panther and human rolled to the floor and started wrestling. From where this supposed ‘Wes’ was filming it was difficult to discern who was winning; but she was holding her own and catching the big animal every time it tried to weasel out of her grip.

Only took one time she couldn’t keep it down and the creature was free, finally deciding that going after Danny wasn’t worth it either and leaping away from the fight, turning into an enormous bird mid-flight.

Jazz in the video hit her glove again and as the suit retreated back to its place, she took the whip on her waist and, in a feat of skill, hit her mark and tangled the ghost and its wings in the weird glowing weapon. She dragged the bird down back to her, smashing its head on her knee. The ghost was out cold.

“Danny!” Past-Jazz extended a hand and her brother tossed an object to her. She did something with it and the ghost was warped into the object.

Danny paused the video.

Selina was vibrating as she placed her hands on Jazz’s shoulders. “Are you really sure you don’t want to go back to that?” She pointed at the paused video with her chin.

“Selina, stop.” Bruce wasn’t amused, despite looking at the screen with interest.

“No, it’s okay,” Jazz was looking at the phone, eyes still a bit lost in the memories, “sometimes I do want to. Hard not to when is the only thing you have known.”

“Yeah, Mom and Dad wouldn’t win many ‘parent of the year’ awards.” Danny’s expression was sad, but guarded. Old wounds, probably.

Jazz closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Jason didn’t need to ask — she had explained, vaguely enough to keep all these secrets safe, that the neglect ran deep in her childhood. That Danny forgave them too easily, that her parents were trying to be better but that ignoring the damage was not the solution either.

“I’ve been doing this since I was sixteen.” She had said.

She had to point a gun to her parents to make them see that they were hurting their own son.

“Do you have more videos?” Jason asked Danny, trying to lift the mood a little and distract her from being sad.

He accepted his olive branch and hit play, the video resuming and this time showing another fight. There was now an older woman with short red head fighting alongside the siblings.

“That’s Mom.” Jazz whispered to him.

Her fighting style was familiar to all the bats — martial arts and proficiency with a bo staff, the woman jumped around and knocked out ghosts with powerful kicks, a level of control of her body that could only be achieved through years of training.

Suddenly, what could only be called a tank ran through the ghost the woman was fighting. She didn’t even flinch.

“And the one driving is Dad.” Danny snorted.

“What’s with the tank?” Dick asked.

“Family van, the Fenton Assault Vehicle, heavily modified by my parents.”

“Imagine going camping in that.” Danny didn’t look amused, probably speaking from experience.

The video montage continued, and Danny and Jazz shared the stories behind each fight. In some they were with their parents; in some the ‘B-team’, aka Danny’s friends, were there for back-up; in some it was just the two siblings against the next ghost threat.

They were too young to fight like they did. Jazz showed a proficiency in weaponry that an eighteen year old shouldn’t have, Danny showed a pain tolerance that was very unnerving in such a small body. They were good, especially in the videos that showed them older and with better equipment, but they shouldn’t have fought the fights of the adults in the first place.

Soon after, Danny put on more goofy videos to lighten the mood. Training montages and fails; one time Jazz hit her face when the recoil of her new rifle was stronger than expected, one time Danny was slammed to a building so hard he came back out dizzy and forgot how to fly, one time the bickering of the siblings made a giant ghost dragon find their hiding spot.

They were watching a video of Jazz trying a new move her mom was teaching her, when the door to the dining room was slammed open.

Duke was there, dropping his duffle bag to his feet. “I leave for ONE WEEK and Jason has a girlfriend?” He said, glaring at the group still gathered around Danny’s phone. He started blinking fast, shielding his eyes as if he were looking at the sun. “And why is there a glowing person sitting at the table?”

“Oops?” Danny smiled apologetically and did something about it, because Duke could now uncover his eyes.

“Dude, who are you and why is there a floating crown over your head?”

Jazz let her head fall on Jason’s shoulder, sighing.

“Okay, I yield,” she whispered to him as the others rushed to explain, “can we run away now?”

Jason sneakily kissed her hair and took her hand, taking advantage of the confusion to sneak away from the others. Only Danny saw them leave, narrowing his eyes for a second before smiling at the duo. He waved them goodbye.

They were giggling as they ran hand in hand through the corridors of the Manor, just like last night, this time with less formal clothes and without heels to ditch on the way.

Jason took her up some stairs and down a hall to Bruce’s studio.

“Through the balcony again?” She asked, a little short of breath.

He smiled. “Nope.” He guided her to the grandfather clock, eyeing the desk and considering making out with her over Bruce’s precious mahogany fancy desk. Alas, they had a few minutes before the other started going after them. “We are stealing a bike.”

She was confused for a moment, but once Jason put the clock hands in the correct position and the door to the elevator that went down the Batcave opened, she made the connection.

“Isn’t it a bit early in our relationship to take me to the Cave?”

“We are not going for a tour, but we can revisit that another time,” they walked in the elevator still hand in hand. As it went down, he couldn’t resist finally touching her face and combing back a few stray locks of her red hair. “It isn’t like you don't know enough already. And it’s a matter of time before the old man or the cat lady decide to train you.”

The elevator got to the Cave, the doors opened.

“Do you think I should accept her offer?” She asked as they walked out, her eyes on his.

“While I think you could totally pull off the sexy catsuit aesthetics,” she snorted, “and I think you could really be a good crime fighter… It’s really up to you. If you want to do it, do it. If you want to pursue your career at Arkham, do it.”

He had the feeling she understood this kind of life was something you needed to choose, not be pushed into it. But he needed to say it anyway.

“Why not both?” She tilted her head.

“You could,” he shrugged, “if you want to. Just keep in mind that having a day job and a night job will be taxing.”

She pondered his words and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Just know that I support you either way.”

“I know.” She cupped his face, pulling him down a little.

“Just wanted to make it clear that I’m a supportive boyfriend and that stuff.”

“I know,” she got on the tip of her toes and kissed him. “Let’s go back to your place and go over my plans for Arkham.” She whispered against his lips.

“You sure know how to romance a guy.”

“You can also show me your sword collection?” She patted his cheek.

His face burned a little. “Is that a—” Before he could make a fool of himself and ask if that was an euphemism for sex, the elevator got back to life and started going up.

They looked at each other.

“Time to run.”

She nodded her agreement.

He guided her towards the bike he had in mind, making a brief stop to pick up the keys, and quickly turned it on just in time to hear Bruce and the others calling their names from the elevator.

“Go, go, go.”

They put on the helmets and drove away like bats out of hell. Pun intended.

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