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mamibaddie · 2 years

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For Whom The Bell Tolls || Vampire!Steddie x reader

Summary: Steve and Eddie are looking for an addition to their relationship. And you’d make the perfect bride.

Authors note: This idea came to me late at night. I love spooky season. I mentioned Lestat and Louis for Eddie and Steve because I think there’s some parallels to them but not much. They aren’t meant to be exactly like those characters, just that they’re lovers and bring a third into the relationship.

Warnings: some dark themes. Some manipulation, smut (18+ only!!) slight dubcon (but reader is attracted to them and likes them, but they’re hesitate to it all.) vampire shenanigans, corruption kink.

It was late October. The leaves are beginning to turn a red-yellow color. Signaling the beginning of a new season, and the death of another. You were walking to the local library with a sweetened iced coffee. Even though there was a cool breeze, you still enjoyed iced coffee. You walked into the library, checked in with Donna, and moved to find you a table. You took your notebook out, along with your textbook and literature book.

You jumped up and the library was dim. You looked at the windows and realized it was night time. How long were you asleep?

“Hello sweetheart, you fell asleep while hard at work.”

You turned to see Eddie Munson talking over you. Eddie was your best friend. A friend you, embarrassingly enough, had a crush on. He was a little goofy and eclectic. Definitely different from the typical guys in Hawkins, but you liked different.

You rubbed your eyes. “How long was I out?”

He shrugged. “Long enough for the librarian to be off of work.”

He dangled the keys in front of you. Donna knew you’d be able to lock up and come back to give her the keys the next day. You were trust-worthy and reliable. But you hated how predictable you were.

You begin packing up your stuff lazily.

Eddie snorted and picked up your book. “Dracula, huh?” He flipped through the pages, big eyes scanning the words.

You yawned and stretched your arms out. “Yeah, I love a good horror novel.”

You both made your way out of the library. You turned around locking the door. You scanned the outside of the library but couldn’t find Eddie’s van anywhere. Were you two walking?

“Are we taking your van?” You hoped so, it would be nice to get all comfy before heading over to Eddie’s trailer.

“No, Steve picked me up. So we’re taking his car.”

Steve. You had wondered how close Eddie and Steve had gotten so fast. Not only were they complete opposites, they use to have a rivalry with one another. Now the two are inseparable. You knew Eddie was bisexual. Having accidentally discovered his choice of porn mags lead you to know for a fact he was all about giving and receiving love, didn’t matter from who.

But Steve was questionable. You knew he had dated girls but the way he is with Eddie made you start to think that he may be bisexual too. How they’d gaze into each other’s eyes and how he’d laugh at something Eddie would say if when you knew it wasn’t that funny. So, it wouldn’t really surprise you if the two were secretly dating. Either way, you hated how he looked at you lately. He practically leered at you all summer. If that wasn’t enough, his touches began to linger. Before he’d make sure to pass by you without touching you. Now he grabs your hips, making sure to give a firm squeeze before letting go. What was friendly at first could now be considered flirty. You always thought Steve was attractive but if he was dating Eddie, you didn’t want to go behind his back. That wasn’t right at all.

“Hey Stevie, finally tracked down our girl.” Eddie said, reaching out and grabbing the handle of the back door on the car. He held the door opened for you while bowing.

“Why thank you kind sir.” You curtsied before climbing into the back seat.

“H-hey,” Steve said, his voice was a bit rough and raspy while saying your name. He was looking at you through the rearview window.

“Hey Steve.” Eddie slipped into the front seat of the car and buckled up. Steve put one of his hands on the back of Eddie’s seat and turned to look over his shoulder while backing out. You felt him looking at you on occasion. For the most part you avoided him until the last minute when you looked at his face and saw that he was looking at your thighs. You squeezed them together and pulled some your skirt a little. He quickly looked at your face before turning back around.

After a bit, you decided to break the silence. “So, where are we going?”

“We’re going to my house.” Steve stated.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at both of them. “Why are we going to Steve’s?”

Eddie turned completely around in his seat.

“You really don’t remember, do you sweetheart?”

“Eddie, please buckle up. We could get in a car crash. And no, I don’t remember.”

“You agreed to going with us to Tina’s Halloween Bash, remember? She throws it every year?”

You closed both of your eyes and slid a hand down your face. You completely forgot about the Halloween party happening tonight. You were so busy with your studies that you forgot to even have a social life. Eddie and Steve were always the more social, outgoing ones. You preferred to stay inside and watch movies. Most of the time that’s what you three did. Opting to find different activities that you all could do indoors or away from people. You decided to agree to go with them after they practically begged you for a month.

It was kind of funny because Eddie tended to hate parties with people he knew from high school. Most of them being down right rude to him.

“I’m so sorry guys. I totally forgot.”

“It’s okay babe. We get it. You’ve forgotten about us.” He turns and taps Steve on the arm with the back of his hand.

“She’s forgotten about us Stevie.”he says, his voice changes as if he’s about to cry and he covers his face with his hands. Pretending to sob.

“I’d rather drive a stake through my heart than have you forget us doll face.” Steve replied.

“You both are so dramatic. I don’t even have a costume.”

Eddie turned to look at you. “You think so little of us. How many times do we have to remind you that we got you?”

“You got me a costume?”

Steve pulled into his driveway and put the car in park before pulling his keys out of the ignition.

“Yes, we’re always thinking of you.” The way he said your name sent a chill down your spine.

You all got of Steve’s car and made your way over to his house. When Steve opened the door, it was completely dark inside. The still and quietness was enough to drive anyone crazy after a while.

Steve moves to the side and turns on a light.

“Let there be light!” He turns to you both, asking if you’d like anything to drink. You politely asked for some water, to which he nods and moves towards the kitchen.

“Hey Steve,” Eddie yells, “is it cool if we go to your room? I wanna show her the costume.”

“Sure!” Steve responds.

Eddie takes a hold of your hand with an excited grin. You both jog up the stairs and the left. Once you both entered Steves room, Eddie makes a beeline towards his closet. While you move to lay on Steve’s bed with your feet still on the ground. You close your eyes for a second. You really didn’t feel like going to a party, but since you already agreed to it, you’ll go with them. Eddie and Steve are your best friends, you’d do anything for them.

You felt a presence hovering over you. When you opened your eyes, you seen Eddie looking down at you with a Cheshire grin.

You jumped and put your hand over your heart.

“Jesus Christ!”

Eddie shoves the costume towards you, still wearing the same grin. “Ta-da! Here’s your costume!”

You sit up and examine it. It’s a white dress with poofy sleeves. It has embellished beads around the sweetheart neckline. There’s a significant amount of tulle underneath it.

“Isn’t it nice?” Steve walked in with your glass of water in hand.

“Sorry I took too long. I got side tracked.” He handed the water to you. You took a sip of it and Steve took your glass to put it on his dresser.

You looked at it and back at them.

“It’s….a lot.” They looked at you confused. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed and Eddie tilted his head to the side.

“You don’t like it sweetheart?” Eddie asked.

You thickly swallowed and looked at both of them.

“I’m just…a little confused. What are you two going as?”

��Oh, that’s right. Uh, we’re going as Vampires.” Steve replied.

“So…you two get to be super cool vampires… and I’m…?”

“The bride of course!” Eddie smiled.

You looked at him with wide eyes, your eyebrows were practically in your hairline.

“I don’t know about this…”

Ever since you three became best friends and super close, you did hear about some of the rumors spreading at school and around town. Some people thought that you three were in a relationship with one another. They’d talk about how strange it was that two guys and one girl can be that close and not experiment sexually. You remember one time you addressed some weird guy who came up to you asking you three about it. You quickly dismissed the claim but Steve and Eddie just brushed it off. They acted like it was no big deal.

“Oh!” Eddie snapped his fingers, “I almost forgot!” He went to Steve’s nightstand and pulled out a white veil.

“The finishing touch.” He gently placed it to fit the crown of your head. They both grabbed the sides of the veil to fluff it out more.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? If people don’t already think we’re in a relationship together, they’re definitely going to think it now!”

“Who cares what people think? It’s just a costume. Try it on. Eddie was convinced this was your size. I wanted to get another dress just in case but he’s so sure of it.”

You grab the dress and carry it to Steve’s bathroom.

“You don’t want to change out here babe?” Eddie asked.

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

You closed and locked the bathroom door. Not that you don’t trust them, you just didn’t want them to forget. You looked at yourself in the mirror. The veil was pretty. Most of it was tulle with lace around the border. You noticed some makeup on the counter.

“Hey Steve? What’s with the makeup?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! We got you some makeup as well! Thought it go good with the costume.”

You looked through it. Now that you’re actually thinking, everything they picked complimented your skin tone perfectly. Even the face powder was practically an identical match.

“They really went all out.” You whispered to yourself.

While you were getting ready, Steve and Eddie were also putting on their costumes. At times they’d get a little distracted with one another. Eddie running his fingers through Steve’s chest hair. Steve leering at Eddie’s tattoos and toned torso. They resisted from taking anything further than that and few kisses. They wanted to wait for later.

“Okay, I’m coming out.” You slowly open the door and step out into the room. It’s the first time Steve and Eddie are seeing you like this and vice versa. Steve is dressed as Louis and Eddie is dressed as Lestat. Their costumes are so detailed and intricate, right down to the lace and fingernails. You noticed they both had large blood red rings on their ring finger.

While you were taking them in, they were doing the same. The dress fit you to a T. It flattered your figure so well. The veil cascading down your hair and over your shoulders. The makeup accented your natural beauty.

Eddie stood up first and walked over to you. Slowly drifting his eyes up and down you.

“You look exquisite, my lady.”

“Look good enough to die for.” Steve said, suddenly right beside you. He grabbed your hand and kissed every single knuckle while looking you in the eye. The attention they were giving you was nice but intense. You weren’t use to it at all. You started to shrink in on yourself.

“Did you get her shoes, Steve?”

“Shoes?”

“Yes, my dear. Want to complete the look.” Steve bent down to get your shoes underneath his bed. He walked back over before getting back on his knees. The shoes were also white with a block heel attached. He gently grabbed your right ankle and slipped the shoe right on your foot. Then did the same to the other one. After the left one, his two fingers rubbed the inside of your ankle. He went up a little further and looked up at you.

“The finishing touch.”

He kept eye contact with you on his way back to standing up. It made your heart flutter.

Eddie clapped his hands, looking at you two.

“Are we ready?”

You nodded and Steve grabbed his car keys.

———-

You guys had been driving for a several minutes.

“So….where is Tina’s house?”

You had never been, but you heard through word of mouth that it was close to where Steve lived. He was going the other way.

“Oh, we wanted to show you something before going to Tina’s. Trust me, I think you’ll like it.” Steve said.

You blinked a few times. In all your years, you completely trusted Eddie and Steve. You couldn’t really say that with confidence lately. Though they never pushed your boundaries without your consent, they were a lot more touchy, feely. That wasn’t too out of the norm for Eddie, but it was for Steve. Both of them together was intense.

Before you could ask where you’re all going, Eddie excitedly announced that you all were there. He was hitting his hands on the dashboard happily.

You looked out the window and seen a big mansion. The architecture was gothic and worn down. Foliage had started to grow on the exterior of the mansion. Parts of the foliage had started to wither and other parts were very much alive.

“What is this place?” You asked once you all were out of the car and walking towards the house. Steve opened the iron gate that kept people out and closed it back once you all were in.

“Let’s just say it’s a little gem Stevie and I found while we were exploring Hawkins.”

Eddie took a lock opener out of his pocket and picked the lock. Once the door was open he waved his hand out, “After you.”

You and Steve both walked in together which Eddie took complete advantage of because he was able to check both of you out at the same time. The problem was that he couldn’t do it at the same time.

“C’mon.” Steve stated. Holding his hand out, you hesitantly took it and felt a another rough, calloused hand grab your other one. You gasped and looked back at Eddie. He was smiling at you and winked.

After you went up the steps and turned a corner, there was another set of steps to go up.

“What is going on? I thought we’d be going to Tina’s party.”

Steve was lighting the candles in the large room. It was shaped like an attic but was decorated much like a bedroom. While the rest of the house had layers of dust caked into the floors and walls, this room was impeccably clean. There were layers of rugs thrown throughout the room. The bed that was off to the side was rather big. So big, that it had to be custom made. It looked like it could easily fit three people, if not more. The bedding matched the theme of the house. The sheets and pillowcases were red with a black duvet covering it. The goose down inside made the bed look soft. It was all rather inviting. As mentioned, candles were strewn all around the room. Some places had lanterns on the floor while others were hanging. There was even a fireplace in the attic that Steve started to prepare after finishing the candles. The silence was killing you. If it weren’t for Eddie’s cold hands caressing and sliding up and down your arms, you would’ve almost forgot he was there.

“You’re special,” Steve said while whispering your name. “I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“I did too.” Eddie added. He moved to where his face was in your hair before he moved to place his chin on your shoulder. “You were so sweet and kind to someone like me. Someone who had a bad reputation. Someone who was known as a freak. Tell me love, did you know about the rumors or were you ignorant to them?” He was now moving the tip of his nose across your hairline, not so subtly sniffing you.

“I-I knew somewhat of the rumors but I didn’t care. I wanted to get to know you for you.”

“I told you she was the one Eddie.” Steve said from across the way, sitting on the bed.

Eddie moaned and got incredibly closer to you. So close that even through the tulle and fabric of the dress, you felt his hard length press up against you. You swallowed hard. You were incredibly taken aback.

“T-the one for what?”

“The one for us. You’ll be that for us, won’t you sweetheart? You’ll be our good girl, right?” Eddie was now gently rocking his hips against your ass through the dress. He started to gently kiss your shoulder leading up to your neck. You closed your eyes and let out a loud moan. You had always wondered what Eddie would be like, what his lips would feel like. You just didn’t think it’d be with Steve. Upon thinking that, you opened your eyes to see Steve palming himself through his pants.

“You two look so hot together.” He said.

Eddie looked at him while still kissing your neck. He starts to slowly move you to come closer to Steve and before you know it, you’re right in front of him. You’re now caged in between the two with no way out.

“You haven’t answered my question, love. Will you be ours?”

You look at Eddie and he’s looking at you with those doe eyes of his. His eyes appear to be darker in this subtle light but you can tell that lust is swimming in them. You look at Steve and he’s looking at you expectedly, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs through your dress.

“A-are you guys serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Eddie said with a grin. That’s when you noticed his sharp teeth twinkling in the candlelight. You gasped out loud before letting out a scream. You move to get out of his grasp but Steve catches you and wraps his arms around you, sitting you on his lap.

“Ssssshh. Shshshsh. Please don’t be afraid.” Steve said. You’re on the verge of crying. A few tears stream down and as soon as they fall, Steve wiped them away.

“Who are you?! I want to know what’s going on?!”

“We already told you that.” Eddie stated sternly while saying your name. “We want you to join us.”

“L-like become a v-vampire?”

Steve chuckled beside you. “Yeah, something like that. Except you’ll be our queen.”

“W-why me? Why not any of the others? There’s plenty of guys and girls that’d love to be with you two.”

“Don’t act so coy.” Steve replied. “You’re everything we’re looking for. Plus, We know you think of us the same way we think of you. It’s okay to be attracted to us. We know how you were raised. In a strict household. So you try to suppress your emotions. Try to tame that fire of yours. But it’s okay.” Steve said. He started to move back into the bed with you still in his lap. Eddie moved towards the bed and crawled to lay beside you. Steve maneuvered you to lay in between him and Eddie. Eddie took his jacket off before grabbing the hem of his linen shirt and taking it off. Steve reached down to grab the zipper on the back of the dress and lowered it down. In an instant Eddie was on you. He looked at you expectedly. Despite your worry and hesitation, you nodded that it was okay. He lowered your dress and latched his mouth onto your breast while his hand played with the other. He moaned against you which caused you to moan. He scooted closer to you while grabbing your hand and lead it to his hard-on. He squeezed your hand around it and rocked against your hand.

“Do you see?” He stated breathlessly. “Do you feel what you do to me? It’s been so hard to resist such a walking temptation like yourself. I bet you taste sweet too.” He moved to lick your neck and started to suck on it. You briefly opened your half-lidded eyes to see Steve. He’s now fully naked and stroking himself to you two. You take this time to really look at him. He has his head thrown back, muscles in his arms and torso tensing up. His chest hair makes him that much more attractive. You let out another moan at the thought. Steve snaps his head right back up and makes eye contact with you. It’s so intense that you can look away. He hesitates for a second to pull away from his cock, but does. He grabs the hem of your dress and starts to pull it down. You lift your hips up to allow him to completely take it off. Your only left in your white lace underwear. Both Eddie and Steve moan at the thought. Steve moves over behind you when Eddie looks at Steve. That’s when they both lean into one another, lips and tongue moving with each other. Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s chest and that’s when you start to touch Steve’s torso, slowly moving down further and further until you reach his hard cock. You begin to slowly stroke it and he lets out a groan in Eddies mouth. Both Eddie and Steve get impossibly closer to you. Eddie begins rocking his hips against the globes of your ass. You’re all a hot, moaning mess. Rocking against one another while feeling each other up. Eddie takes one of his long fingernails and cuts the side of your underwear off. You let out a little gasp before he slides it off of you.

“H-hey, what are you doing?” Steve asked. You looked at the both of them, Eddie finally releasing himself from his pants, pulling them down a little past his ass. “I’m going first remember?”

He states while tugging on the head of his cock and squeezing it, giving it much needed relief.

“Maybe we should our love who she wants first, hm?” Steve looks at you. “Who do you want in you first?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter, just put it in me please. I need to feel one of you inside me.”

Eddie growled. “That’s good enough for me.” With that, he entered in you slowly. He is determined to feel every ripple and ridge inside of you. You see that he already has a fucked out face, eyes brows furrowed and his mouth in a perfect O shape. He leans his forehead against your shoulder. He mutters something to himself before going further. While you’re a moaning mess already, wishing he didn’t go so slow. Subtly trying to meet his hips but his hands are on yours stopping you from doing so. You turn to Steve who immediately starts kissing you. You pull away and look him in the eye while reaching down to tug on him.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” You ask. Steve could’ve cum right then and there. He nods and moves to where his hips meets your mouth. You all stay like this for a while. Entangled with one another while moans and groans feel up the room. The sounds of skin hitting skin becomes so erotic and adds to the slick that you’ve already gotten from Eddie fucking you and rubbing your clit. Steve cums first from your mouth. His head thrown back and his hand in your hair. You continue to suck him off through his orgasm. Eddie looked at you two and then down between you and him. He pulled out a little, his pubic hair all wet from yours and his juices. There was even a milky ring around his cool. His eyes rolled back and he groaned at the sight.

“F-fuck, I’m about to cum. You’re so good, sweetheart. So wet, you’re practically drowning me.” He says with shaky breath.

“Is it okay if I taste you, my love?”

You were so wrapped up in the erotic euphoria of it all that you nodded your head without even wondering what he meant.

Eddie proceeded to thank you while grabbing your wrist. He sunk his teeth into your wrist. In the beginning it hurt but as soon as he began to lick and suck from the blood flowing out of it, it added a weird sense of euphoria. You ended up cumming just from that. He groaned into your wrist and continued to fuck you through your orgasm. Steve came back down to meet you eye-to-eye.

“Don’t worry, my love. You’ll come to love your new life with us. If you haven’t already.” He took one of his long fingernails to his wrist and created about an inch long slit. Blood came rolling out and he held his wrist over your mouth. Before you knew it, a couple drops landed on your lips and you subconsciously licked them. Steve smiled and looked over at Eddie, who smiled into your wrist. He also added an inch long slit to his wrist and held up for it to drip into your mouth as well. Steve placed his hand behind your head and tilted you to the side. Allowing enough space for him to be able to make his two small punctures and take his turn sucking your blood. As he did so, you felt movement on the other side of you. Eddie had got off the bed and reached into the drawer on the nightstand for something small before he came back to bed.

“The things you want to do with us are the same things we want to do with you.” Eddie stated. “And if you’re worried about it being a sin or something, don’t worry.” Steve lifted off your neck and helped you turn your head to look at Eddie. You felt so drained but so alive at the same time. Eddie pulled out a small square box and opened it up. A gold ring with a red heart was placed right in the middle of it. He took it out the box and slipped it on your ring finger.

“You’re bonded to us now. In this life and the next.”

#eddie munson #Steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #vampire!eddie munson x reader #vampire!steve harrington x reader #vampire!eddie #vampire!steve #steddie x reader #steddie smut #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie the freak munson #perv!eddie #Steve harrington x black!reader #Steddie x black!reader #dark!eddie munson #dark!steve harrington

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britcision · 1 year

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I am back! And with the beginnings of some answers to the mysteries, though sadly not the full John Constantine lowdown! But I will make it up to you all with some Harley shenanigans!

There just wasn’t enough space to get them both in and of course Harley comes first, I stan a queen (Quinn)

We’re gonna take a much closer look in Brucie’s head this time too as he gets a bunch of new information and maybe some new trauma, so this chapter and the next will be a lil Bruce heavy

(Jason is thrilled, believe me)

First Chapter:

Previous Chapter:

———————

Yeah This Might As Well Happen

Jason really wished he could just focus on having a good time with his family. The food was, as always, exquisite, and Sam and Tucker were moaning happily along with the others.

It smelled great. It looked great. It tasted great, but something in the back of Jason’s head just wouldn’t switch off.

Not until Danny came back.

Even the thought that Danny might be in danger while he just ate dinner sat like a lead weight in his stomach.

The expanded aura… well. It kind of helped? Being practically choked by Danny’s presence, aware in every pore of his skin that Danny was there, was fine, wasn’t hurting, did help.

It just. Made it impossible to really think about anything else.

He was barely following the conversation, just reading the intricacies of Danny’s mood changes and losing track of sentences as people said them.

Finally, finally, Danny’s aura shifted again.

Done-got him-no big deal-coming back.

Jason almost sagged in his seat, shoulders unknotting marginally (they probably wouldn’t finish until he could see Danny and prove he was fine).

Sent impatient-relieved-happy-hurry back as well as he could, and nearly dropped his fork at the warm swell of affection he received in return.

Well.

Affection-amused-teasing.

Clearing his throat, Jason did his best to will away the heat along the back of his neck. Nope, he wasn’t gonna blush when Danny wasn’t even here to look at him while smothering him in those feelings.

And it was definitely just the pit curling up into a little buzzing ball of happiness in his chest. Definitely not actually Jason melting like snow under a blow torch.

Whatever.

Danny was fine, he’d be back soon and Alfred had saved them both plates. And sure, maybe something in Jason wouldn’t unclench until he could see Danny in person, but letting Alfred’s cooking go cold was a sin.

He dug into his still steaming plate, forcing his shoulders to relax a little. Tucker and Tim were still talking about tech, currently disparaging what the GIW thought were elite security measures.

Harley had lured Sam, Duke, and Cass into a discussion of her new place in Coney Island at the other end of the table, and yeah, Jason could get interested in that.

Someone might have already asked, but hey. He waited for a convenient pause and leaned in.

“Didn’t Croc move down there with you? He and Riddler attacked the gala last night,” he explained when Harley made a curious noise, head cocking to one side.

Her brow furrowed, so apparently the others hadn’t gotten this far yet. Not sure if he was glad or gonna tease them mercilessly later.

“He what? Yeah, he moved in, but he came back this way ta keep me company as I came up here. Someone’s tryin’ ta give me a hard time cuzza my criminal record, an’ they’re gettin’ intel from one of your local problems,” she added with a shrug, waving her hand.

Cuz yeah, that was also on the list; she’d been up with Ivy, neither of them noticeably causing trouble before apparently Ida Manson got them out of town.

Cass made a small noise of concern and Harley patted her hand, grinning.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me doll, it’s all under control. Thought it might be Pengy havin’ another go at my spot but he burst into tears when I walked in so it’s prob’ly not him,” she said with a very self satisfied smile.

Jason chuckled softly because… yeah, he could picture that. It tracked.

“Smart man,” Duke agreed with a snicker and Harley gave him a fist bump.

“Yeah, I’ll run ‘em down. But why was Waylon at the gala? He jus’ said he was gonna look inta some shit while I was gone,” Harley asked, looking around the table for an answer.

Jason shrugged.

“All their demands were for Harvey Dent. Apparently he was planning to make a run and they beat him to the punch,” he explained, in as much as he understood.

If no one else had a hand on Dent by tonight, he miiiight stretch one of his Red Hood patrols out of Crime Alley to go for a look see.

The man missed his party. The least Jason could do was pay a personal visit.

“Croc mentioned Jason,” Cass noted with a small frown, looking up at him with concern.

And, yeah, that was the other reason he was thinking of getting involved. He couldn’t imagine what the fuck he’d done as a civvie to annoy Dent.

Harley huffed, blowing blonde bangs off her face and lacing her fingers, pointing at Jason.

“Okay, so we gotta go talk to Waylon tomorrow and find out what’s goin’ on. He’s comin’ with me back to Coney when the time comes so he ain’t got time for Arkham,” she said firmly, and something settled in Jason’s gut.

Waylon had so badly wanted the Red Hood not to turn out like he had; another criminal permanently trapped in the system. Yeah, he’d like to return the favour.

Of course, not everyone in the room was up on all the secrets. Sam leaned forward, breaking her quiet streak that as far as Jason knew was her longest ever.

“Wait, you’re going to break that guy out of jail? He wanted to strap a bomb vest to Jason,” she said harshly, finally snapping Tim and Tucker out of their little happy world.

Jason raised both hands.

“He didn’t succeed.” Much as Danny had freaked out about it, Jason wasn’t gonna complain about things that hadn’t happened.

Too much like it actually happened every day, he’d never be done.

Oh. Maybe that was kinda why Danny had freaked out. That probably wasn’t good.

His personal revelation was dampened by Harley waving a hand easily.

“Nah nah nah, we’re not gonna break ‘im out tomorra. He’s gonna tell us what the fuck he was thinkin’, I’m gonna break Dent’s kneecaps, and Batsy’s gonna give a character statement an’ get ‘im released ta me for community service.”

And if any of that didn’t work, they could still just break Croc out the next day. Jason knew the unspoken corollary.

Tucker’s eyebrows raised and he said the very stupidest thing that Jason had ever heard from a genius, and he’d seen Tim on 72 hours of no sleep.

“You know Batman?” He asked incredulously.

Harley stared at him for a long moment. Then snickered.

“Yeah, we know each other from work,” she said dryly, waving her fork, “we go way back.”

The assorted bats snickered to themselves and Tucker sunk back in his chair a little, grinning sheepishly around the table.

“Yeah… sorry.”

Sam rolled her eyes, arms folded as she frowned down the table. She clearly had a bigger question, which was probably fair for anyone who didn’t know the combined Harley-and-bats history.

“And you think Batman will do you a favour? He’s not exactly known to listen to reason,” she pointed out half sarcastically. Not that anyone in the room would argue.

There was a reason Jason loved her.

Harley weighed her up for a moment, then grinned, leaning forward.

“Y’know, kid, I don’t think we were introduced. There’s somethin’ real familiar about you,” she mused, folding her arms on the table and leaning over them, plate slowly nudged aside.

Sam smirked and shrugged. They were meeting a lot of new people these past couple days, but if she’d been doing the gala circuit her whole life?

Yeah, this probably wasn’t the worst. Harley was better than Jason had ever met at a party.

“Sam Manson. Friend of Jason’s through Danny,” she added with a nod to the empty seat still between her and Jason.

Harley beamed, hiking forward onto the table a little more.

“Oh, you’d be Ida’s granddaughter then?” She asked brightly, clearly pleased to have been right. “Your granny’s a real doll, sent me and Ivy on a real sweet vacation this week.”

Sam chuckled softly and nodded, giving Harley a half apologetic half cocky smile.

“Yeah, that’d be my fault. I’m not allowed to come to Gotham if there’s a chance Poison Ivy is in town,” she explained, fingers on her left hand tapping against her right arm.

Both of Harley’s brows went up.

“Oh? Are they scared somethin’ might happen to ya?” She asked, tone already very firmly suggesting she knew the answer.

So did most of the rest of the table, though Duke hadn’t actually heard the explanation last night. Not like he needed to, having met Sam for more than five minutes.

Sam didn’t disappoint. She gave another elegant half shrug, her smile turning fully dark.

“Oh, more the opposite. They think I’ll run off and join her if I see her,” she said innocently. Across the table, Tucker snorted most of a laugh.

A moment later Harley joined him, tossing her head back and laughing.

“Yeah, that sounds like Ida’s girl,” she agreed, wiping a dainty tear from her eye, “she was a real spitfire in her younger days, the stories she told Ivy when they were protestin’ together were wild.”

Sam was practically glowing with pride, and Jason had to admit that he would kinda like to meet her grandmother. He’d met her parents, and… well, maybe awesome skipped a generation.

Harley suddenly stopped, head cocking as she noticed something, a sly smile creeping across her face.

“So if they think you’ll run away with Ivy… whadda they think’ll happen if ya run into me?” She asked with a delicately studied innocence, examining her nails.

“Only good things,” Cass offered, grinning past Jason at Sam. Sam grinned back, giving Harley a shrug and a similarly innocent smile.

“Y’know, they’ve just never mentioned it. Clearly there’s no concerns there,” she agreed, and Jason snickered, raising his glass in a toast.

“None here,” he noted and Sam laughed, clinking her glass against his. Dick raised a hand, fighting a laugh.

“One concern for the integrity of Bruce’s skull?” He offered innocently, and laughed when Jason threw a napkin at him.

“If Bruce’s skull was gonna break it’d have done it years ago,” Steph opined as the voice of experience. Jason raised his glass to her too, but she was a little far to clink.

She grabbed hers up and raised it back anyway, and Sam filled the gap, clinking hers to Jason’s and then to Steph’s to pass it on.

“It’s good for him ta get his eggs scrambled,” Harley agreed from the other end of the table, raising her glass too, “and I’m gonna guess you did some percussive maintenance too that I’ll ask about later.”

“Bruce might still have a concussion,” Duke offered, not completely certain where he sat with this kind of joking, but the kid was new.

You had to watch Bruce try and kill himself going out on patrol with more bones broken than whole a couple times before you gave in to his indestructibility.

Shit, maybe he should ask Danny if Bruce was liminal. For all the guy was technically a default human, Jason knew literal aliens with a better grasp on humanity.

And ghosts, now.

Harley gave him a nod anyway and patted his hand.

“I’ll aim low then sugar, don’t you fret. But to answer yer other question, Sam, Batman’s gonna get Waylon out for me cuz he doesn’t want ‘im in Arkham any more ‘n we do. Bats wants us all ta get better, and Waylon does best left alone,” she explained with a shrug.

“Until you leave him unsupervised and he teams up with Riddler?” Tim asked with a slight smile.

Jason shook his head, leaning forward on his arms too.

“He wouldn’t do it for no reason. He asked what I’d done to upset Two Face, but I can’t think of anything.” They didn’t even cross paths often.

Dent had taken Red Hood’s claim on Crime Alley as a given, learned quickly that Jason didn’t give a shit about playing nice, and minded his business.

“You sound like you know him pretty well,” Tucker said with a slight frown, and Jason shrugged.

Yeah, Tucker wasn’t in on the Robin thing yet. Luckily there was an easy answer.

“I grew up in Gotham. You guys keep coming back and you’ll get a feel for most of ‘em too.”

Tucker hesitated for a moment, probably thinking back to Amity and their own ghostly rogues. Then he nodded, settling back to poke at his mostly finished plate.

Tim still didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t know Waylon the way Jason did. They’d never had the chance to talk beyond the usual Robin-and-Rogue.

Jason could prove his point tomorrow. Maybe bring Danny along.

And like the thought summoned him, Jason’s phone buzzed to a text from Danny.

‘DannyP: who tf is Constantine??👀👀🤣’

Bruce sucked in a deep breath, eye closing, and forced himself to exhale.

He fucking hated magic.

So. Analysis.

From what he understood of Constantine’s general capabilities, him being difficult to find by malicious forces was not unexpected. That seemed credible.

Did Bruce count as a malicious force?

A stern self inventory, past the part that insisted he’d never wish harm on a teammate on principle, and… yes.

He would never have followed the impulse, would have stomped it down the moment he found the man, but he couldn’t deny the urge to lay hands was there.

He’d even been devising new layers of paperwork to insist the man fill out. With, yes, malice in his heart. Just a little bit of spite.

If that counted into making the man impossible to contact… well, he’d bear it in mind. And talk with Zatanna and Dr Fate and see it they could fine tune those wards a little more.

No matter how angry he was about Amity Park, he didn’t want anything actually harmful to happen to a colleague. Even this colleague. Although if he had to pick one…

No. That wasn’t a helpful train of thought.

Taking another steadying breath, this one slower and more evenly, he glanced down at the car. Danny wouldn’t hear anything while inside, but that wouldn’t stop him opening a door to ask what the hold up was.

Forcing Brucie’s casual tones on was harder than normal, but that was expected.

“I can’t really talk about that right now. Can you come by to visit tonight?” Bruce paused, checking his watch. Coming up on seven. “In an hour or so?”

The smile dropped off Constantine’s face as quickly as it had formed. Of fucking course the bat wanted everyone to run around to his fuckin’ schedule.

Raising hell for John all fuckin’ night and all fuckin’ day but when John actually got back to him it was all “oh now’s not a good time”.

His more spiteful side wanted to insist on right now, he was a busy man and he had shit to do that Batman wouldn’t even wanna fuckin’ think about.

Shit, John didn’t like thinking about it.

But it was only an hour, and he could use the damn zeta tubes, and it wasn’t like he’d been planning on fuckin’ sleeping. Why would he do that?

And if it unfucked his communicators, he could use that hour to ask the Superboys what the fuck they were playing at in Alaska.

And then he could sleep, Bat off his ass and conscience clean. Fuck it.

“Yeah, whatever. Wanna tell me what’s got your damn panties in a twist in case there’s shit I need to get ready?”

So of course Bat-tastic said the two worst words Constantine had heard in his life.

“Amity Park.”

Fuck.

Bruce didn’t enjoy the sharp little intake of breath, followed by no sass whatsoever. It wasn’t easy to make John Constantine speechless.

No, this was definitely just satisfaction that the man knew the gravity of what he’d done. That whatever reasons he’d had, he knew Bruce would be waiting for a damn good explanation.

That there might be one.

Bruce didn’t like even considering that an ally would have done something so serious just because he didn’t want to deal with it. Even Constantine.

When the man hadn’t spoken almost a minute later, Bruce took pity on him.

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

Constantine managed a weak agreement and he nodded, satisfied at least that the man would still be there. And if he wasn’t, Bruce could work out a way to reach him again.

Someone had obviously found him to tell him Bruce was looking for him. And apparently there were consequences for Constantine too if he tried to avoid him.

He hesitated for a moment before getting back into the car. He’d been planning to ask Danny gently about Amity Park, to try and work out what had happened.

Something light that might make him lower his guard. Then turn the subject to Jason. How precisely Danny was helping him. What he knew of the pits.

They wouldn’t have time for a full interrogation, not even in the tail end of rush hour traffic, but it would be a start.

But did he want to tip his hand now? Before Constantine gave him the truth about Amity Park, when all it would take was a matter of hours?

Danny likely knew that Brucie was a mask, but it might be useful to keep it on just a little longer.

Light subjects only then. From what Dick and Tim had reported, Danny was equally likely to just drop some huge revelation to see what Bruce would do.

Yes.

Perhaps he could bait that tendency by being innocuous.

Bruce slid back into the driver’s seat, giving Danny his best, emptiest smile.

“So sorry about that. Just a business contact I’ve been having trouble tracking down, so I didn’t want to let him slip away again.” Honesty, in case he could tell.

They would need to get a better idea of Danny’s power-set. If Duke couldn’t do it alone, perhaps Tim’s observation skills could help.

Danny barely glanced up from his phone, shooting Bruce a quick grin before returning his attention to the screen.

“Yeah? Didn’t know anything got done over the new year, I’d have thought everyone was too hung over.” It sounded like a joke, a cheerful prod.

Bruce swore internally anyway, because he was right. Clearly he knew more than an average student.

He didn’t let it show, chuckling along good naturedly.

“Oh I’d have much preferred getting this done with before the new year, but some people are a little hard to get hold of,” he explained jovially, starting the car and backing out.

Danny hummed an agreement, not looking up from his phone. A sharp glance (he could always say he was checking the boy was strapped in) did not show him the screen.

When had Danny strapped in? Bruce would swear he hadn’t when he’d sat, but it was there now.

Clearly his apparent absorption was a trick. Intended to remind Bruce of a typical young adult, make him lower his guard.

Danny stifled a laugh just as they were leaving the garage, and Bruce barely resisted another effort to look over. The screen would still be tilted away.

His opponent was a cunning one.

Or he was overreacting. It could be a real innocence, not a calculated one. A young man paying more attention to his phone?

He wouldn’t have thought it sinister if it were Tim, Dick, Duke, any of their friends.

No.

He couldn’t take that chance. Not with Jason. He couldn’t afford to relax his guard.

It was unfair to Danny, unfair to both of them.

He’d lost Jason once by not paying close enough attention, and Bruce would be the very first to admit that he’d never gotten his boy back.

Jason had returned in body, mind, and soul, just like he’d wished and prayed for for so long. But there was a distance now that Bruce had no idea how to bridge.

He’d thought he was on the right path last night, but a constant nagging in his gut told him he was wrong.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw Jason’s shocked, white face when he’d apologised. It was a blessing he’d had enough to keep him from his bed.

He’d been so sure it was the right move. The next step to closing the distance between them. Offering Jason the public apology, the acknowledgement that Bruce had failed him.

But that was why Bruce would face gods and walk backwards into Hell before he let anything else try and take his baby boy from him again.

“Y’know, you could just tell Jason you love him.”

Bruce nearly crashed the car.

Luckily they were at a red light, so his reflexive slamming hit the brake, not the gas, and the car barely lurched.

When he was sure his heart was still beating, he chanced a glance over at Danny.

The boy was half smirking down at his phone, clearly aware of the consternation he’d caused, and looked up when he felt Bruce’s eyes on him.

And shrugged, like it was nothing.

“Dude, you’re brooding so hard there’s basically a black cloud over your head.”

Add mind reading to the list of suspected powers.

Bruce felt his eyes narrowing before rigid control snapped back into place, keeping his expression Brucie-open.

“What do you mean?” He asked, in a tone he knew gave nothing away.

Danny snorted like he’d told a joke.

“Man, I’m just saying. Jason barely thinks you fuckin’ like him, it’d save you both a lot of trouble if you’d just sit him down and tell him how you feel.”

Bruce hesitated for a long moment, staring into deep blue eyes that suddenly seemed as deep and unreadable as the deepest ocean. As old as time.

Then he forced his eyes back to the road as the light turned and cars started moving again.

That. Couldn’t be true. It was an attempt at manipulation.

A predator expertly analysing what he thought was Bruce’s greatest weakness, striking to do as much damage as he could.

Of course Jason knew that Bruce loved him. He must have. He had to.

There was no way this stranger who by all accounts Jason had known for barely a week could know more about Jason’s life than his own father.

Danny hummed softly to himself, most of his attention on his phone as he texted back and forth with Jason.

‘DannyP: ur dad is giving me the biggest cop energy rn 😳🚔🚔’

Mostly ignoring just the solid waves of angst emanating from Bruce like miasma. Poor guy was only wrapping himself tighter in his own head for Danny’s interjection.

‘JTodd: Yeah Dickie comes by it honestly.’

That was probably a sign Danny shouldn’t do it again.

‘DannyP: 👀👀 think he’s mad at me’

Danny wasn’t great at following signs. Or sitting quietly, in all honesty.

‘JTodd: No one told you not to fly back.’

‘DannyP: Imma make it worse 😈😈’

Tucking his feet up to the edge of his seat, he slumped down as low as he could, glancing up at Bruce through his bangs.

“Sooooooo, how was lunch with Vlad? You seem to have survived, so I’m gonna guess football didn’t come up much?” He prodded, still half suspecting Masters had been up to something.

Bruce wasn’t overshadowed, didn’t have any of Vladdie’s taint that said it had happened in the past, but Danny wasn’t gonna rule out something new.

And all the clenching the big guy was doing on the wheel and on his jaw looked kinda painful.

‘JTodd: I’ll give a touching speech at your funeral.’

Bruce did finally force himself to relax though, sucking in a breath like he’d forgotten he had to.

Mood. Danny forgot about breathing a fair chunk too. Didn’t always remember to do it at all.

His posture changed too, shifting forcefully back to the more lax, open lines of his public persona, but there wasn’t much point. Danny could still feel his aura locked shut like a steel trap.

Being Batman kinda seemed like it sucked so far, and Bruce hadn’t even been a high school hero. Guess being an adult didn’t really make everything easier after all.

The smile he shot Danny didn’t show any of the inner turmoil though, so kudos there.

“It was great, actually. Your godfather is a very charming man,” he added, and Danny stuck his tongue out.

“Oh we’re so not calling him that. He’s just Vladdie, nothing to do with me at all,” he corrected vehemently, making a face.

Checked his phone.

‘DannyP: ABORT ABORT ABORT MISSION HE LIKES VLAD 😡🤮😱’

Bruce made a curious noise beside him, and Danny huffed. There were some things that would have been simpler if Vlad had just been brain washing him.

“Oh? He speaks very highly of you, Danny. I’m a little surprised you don’t get along.” The big guy was clearly fishing, and Danny would give him something to catch alright.

“Yeah? Cuz all he’s ever said to me was that I’m weak, lazy, unmotivated, and will never amount to anything without him. Oh, and that he wants to kill my dad and marry my mom,” he added as an afterthought.

And watched Bruce from the corner of his eye. He looked honestly surprised, but Danny had already learned not to judge from his face.

He felt surprised too though. Surprised and suspicious.

‘JTodd: He’s a great judge of character.’

Fuck it was hard not to laugh at his just flawless acting when Danny had the cheat sheet into his heart.

They drove in silence for a block, Bruce apparently not sure what to say, and Danny gave him a pat on the elbow.

“Don’t feel bad. I dunno what he’s playing at either, but he’s really, really good at telling people what they want to hear.”

And didn’t that do some interesting things to the guy’s aura. Danny had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.

No matter what he fucking said, it seemed to be convincing Bruce that he was sketchier and sketchier.

‘DannyP: okay but literally every word i say’s making him more and more suspicious and he didn’t even get whammied this is bs 😔😒💔’

He did kinda regret that one pretty much immediately, a sudden wave of protective anger pulsing through his aura.

Making a face again, he focused on wrapping Jason up in his own, soothing him with gentle reminders safe-safe-i’m fine-not hurting me.

Yeah, there were some fucking Issues with a capital I that Danny deadass just wasn’t gonna touch until Jazz got a look in.

No matter what though, he didn’t fucking like what it told him about Bruce. About Jason’s relationship with Bruce.

Maybe he shoulda brought the Fenton thermos. He usually had one on him, but his suit hadn’t come with pockets you could hide a thermos in.

For all Sam bitched about her dress, she coulda carried a rocket launcher and no one would have known.

He was so busy focusing on Jason he didn’t actually notice that Bruce was talking to him again until the man had repeated his name a couple of times, now sounding worried.

Feeling suspicious. Sounding worried.

“Danny?”

Danny shook his head, hair flopping around his face and half his attention still on Jason’s cranky ass.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said still half distracted, and felt the suspicion ramp up another notch.

For all that he couldn’t laugh aloud, wrapping the desire and the need to laugh around Jason seemed to be helping. He settled enough to text back anyway.

‘JTodd: Sorry. Probably my fault.’

Well that was bullshit.

“I said I’m sorry, Danny. He mentioned you had a difficult past, but I had no idea…”

And yeah, that probably was too. Easy to prioritise though.

‘DannyP: ur gonna be Jazz’s final psych project if u keep that up and i will not save u 😤🫡👻’

‘DannyP: 🖕💋he’s a grown ass adult and so am i and i can be a sketchy bitch just fine on my own sir’

And since Bruce was going to take whatever he did as suspicious anyway, Danny might as well get him warmed up for Harley.

“Yeah, well, don’t go throwing a public party to all of high society about it. Trust me, I do not need a second creepy billionaire trying to make me a show pony.”

Another block of silence, but Danny was satisfied that this one was at least less certain. Felt like a big decision was afoot.

Finally Bruce sighed and deflated, and for once his aura matched the gesture.

“It was a mistake, wasn’t it?” It almost wasn’t a question. Danny figured that progress deserved a reward anyway. Kinda.

“Well again, Harley Quinn came back from the Amazon to kick your ass about it, so yes. I think we can both agree that was a bad life choice.”

Bruce’s grip tensed on the steering wheel a little and Danny relented. Fuck him for being a softie.

Even when he was also still kinda pissed, it was hard to ignore the sudden doubt, fear, guilt suddenly stinking up the car.

The anger, much more familiar. Danny knew exactly what to do about angry people, but Bruce’s anger felt a little too familiar. A little too internal-only.

“He said you’d never told him you were sorry before, man. Not even once until you shoved him right into the spotlight. What does it say that you can say it to me but not him?” He asked softly.

Bruce was quiet for most of the rest of the drive, but since he actually seemed to be thinking about what Danny had said, Danny left him to it.

It was as they were finally pulling up to the gates of Wayne Manor that he spoke again.

“I may not have been much of a father to Jason, but I won’t see him hurt again. Not if I can help it.” There wasn’t actually any menace in the tone.

Just a stone cold certainty that was way, way scarier.

Well. Probably for anyone who wasn’t the actual ghost king. Or just uncontrollably sarcastic.

Danny grinned.

“Well if this is gonna be your shovel talk, you should be aware that I’ve already been six feet under. It takes a lot to scare me,” he teased, resting his bare feet on the console in front of him.

Outside, the gate swung slowly open. Bruce took advantage of the pause to stare directly at him again, those blue eyes suddenly piercing and not even trying to hide the intelligence within.

“Noted.”

And okay. Maybe Danny needed to invest in some more one liners, cuz that was way fucking cooler than any complicated threat or pun.

Kinda hated how cool it was, actually.

He let just a little of the eldritch creep into the smile he gave back.

“Oh, and Bruce? Samesies. Seems like Jason has a lot more people who have his back than he thinks he does, but now? He’s also got me. And Harley’s probably the nice one.”

If the guy was going to think the fucking worst of Danny no matter what, might as well use that to try and make him be a less shitty dad.

Shovel talking the Ghost King? That took some balls.

Bruce didn’t seem to be noticeably intimidated though. Just stared at Danny for a long moment, eyes narrowed, before he nodded again.

“You don’t know Harley well,” he remarked dryly, heading on up the ridiculously long driveway to the house.

Danny didn’t actually manage to pull all the way back into human tones before he laughed, the shadows stretching and creaking around the sound.

“Yeah, fair point.” He sure as shit wouldn’t argue it where she could hear him after all.

It took Steph to finally bring the conversation back around to the thermos.

They’d moved on to telling Harley the actual details of what had happened at the gala, from Bruce’s crimes to Sam and Danny’s.

Harley was absolutely delighted by the whole story, and it was Steph who gave Sam a gentle nudge, grinning at her.

“Y’know, I never got around to asking why you even had that giant thermos. I was with you most of the night and I never saw you drinking from it?” She asked.

Sam chuckled softly, reaching into the deep pocket of Cass’s pants and pulling out the thermos in question. She always had one on her.

Tucker was supposed to as well, but if he knew she was gonna be there? Yeah, he tended to forget. Or save the space for something more interesting.

“Oh, this? Yeah this really isn’t a drinking thermos,” she explained, setting it on the table and sharing an amused glance with Tucker.

Maybe side eying Jason. It was gonna be a drinking thermos for him, poor bastard.

Steph’s eyebrows rose and she reached out, taking the thermos when Sam nodded her assent. Turning it over in her hands.

“Wait, so it’s strictly a combat thermos?” She asked like it was a joke, grinning at Sam as she unscrewed the lid.

Tucker stifled a laugh from across the table and Sam grinned back, leaning back in her chair. The table had been cleared of dinner by now, but dessert they’d wait on Bruce and Danny for.

Speaking of Danny…

“Actually, yeah. The Fenton Thermos is pretty much our best tool for the rogue attacks we get in Amity Park,” she explained with a modest shrug.

Steph looked even more surprised, hefting the unexpected weight of what looked like an empty thermos.

“It made a pretty good throwing weapon,” Dick offered from the end of the table. Tucker snickered and shook his head, holding out a hand to Steph.

“It’s not actually meant to be for throwing, but that definitely worked,” he agreed, gesturing for the thermos.

Turning it to show the table, Tucker pointed to the big green button on the side. The big, obvious green button that you could pretty easily press by accident.

“You can capture ghosts with it once they’ve been weakened, and then Danny lets them out back in the Ghost Zone. It doesn’t actually hurt them, but apparently it’s not comfortable.”

“How do you know, if it only catches ghosts?” Duke asked, a slight frown on his face and he leaned forward to see around Tim.

Tucker shot him a smug grin, twirling the thermos and passing it back to Sam. Clearly enjoying his time in the spotlight, and Sam wouldn’t begrudge him that.

Not when she could bully him about showing off for his new boyfriend later. It was kinda cute watching that hero worship turning into an actual proper crush.

Cuter that Tim was being just an average guy, and Tucker was still losing his shit over it. Sweet revenge for all those times the boys teased her about her crush on Val.

“Well, for one thing pretty much all of our ghosts have stopped trying to attack these days, and some of them are actually pretty chill? Buuuut you can also use it to catch half ghosts,” Tucker explained with a smug grin.

Sam chuckled, taking the cap back from Steph and screwing it back on.

“Danny says it’s like being squished into a really tight sleeping bag. Worse if someone else is in there with him, but they can’t really move or fight in there.”

“If someone’s been a real pain in the ass sometimes Danny keeps them in Soup Time for a week or so as punishment,” Tucker added, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head.

“Isn’t that unethical?” Dick asked, down beside Damian, and Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, do the people you arrest only get locked up for a day or so?” She asked dryly and Dick grinned, raising both hands.

“They don’t get locked in really tight sleeping bags. But what happens after they’re let out? They just go back in the Ghost Zone?” He prodded, not quelled by her stare this time.

Good. More fun when people fought back. And, for a cop, Dick wasn’t really all that bad.

He’d probably get fired for that pretty soon.

Sam shrugged, taking over the explanation for now and tucking the thermos back into her pocket.

“Pretty much. Most of the ghosts pretty much just showed up to fight Phantom and the trouble they caused around town was part of that.”

“Phantom being Danny’s superhero name?” Tim asked, looking extremely covetously at where the thermos had disappeared under the table.

Sam stuck her hand in the top of the pocket, keeping it on the lid of the thermos. They didn’t exactly have enough to spare.

Of course Tucker swept in when his boytoy had a question.

“Yeah, that’s him. The town used to call him Inviso-Bill until he actually told someone to call him Phantom instead,” he added, snickering.

Sam couldn’t resist chuckling along; honestly, if she ever learned who’d started that nickname she’d send them flowers. It was fucking priceless.

“Yeah. There were some rowdier ghosts, usually when their Obsessions got triggered, but honestly? Once they were beaten most of them settled down. It was just the ones that wanted to brawl with Danny that kept coming back.”

“We didn’t really have anything else to do with them either,” Tucker pointed out with a snicker, shaking his head, “it was Soup Time, back home, or the Fenton family dissection table.”

Their hosts looked suitably disturbed at that, Harley leaning in from her end of the table to be the voice of the room.

“The Fenton family what the fuck? Didn’t ya say the kid was a Fenton?” She asked sharply.

Sam ran a quick mental check of the list Danny had cleared them to talk about. Yeah, the Fenton parents were on it.

Just not the Ghost King stuff, anything about Jason, and anything specific about Ellie. No worries there.

She shrugged again, fingers tapping on the table. From her guess and Jason’s texting, Danny should be back soon.

“The Fenton parents were the ones who made a portal to the Ghost Zone in the first place. They were really interested in dissecting and studying any ghosts they could catch for a long time,” she explained dryly, not bothering to hide her feelings on the matter.

Duke looked a little sick. Maybe she should tone it down some, for the young and innocent among them.

“But that’d include Danny,” Dick pointed out, suspicion rising towards horror.

Sam fixed her gaze on him, not letting him look away.

“Yeah. It did. Which is why the three of us spent our high school years fighting ghosts and protecting the town in secret, cuz if we told anyone we thought Danny would go on the table.”

“They totally took it way better than we thought though,” Tucker tacked on quickly, searching something up on his PDA, probably for pictures of the GAV. “They’re Phantom’s biggest fans now.”

He tilted the screen to show Tim, whose jaw dropped.

Yeah, to be fair, words didn’t do the GAV’s new paint job justice. Tucker passed the tablet on to Tim to show Duke and Harley, and it made its way around the table.

They were probably running out of time.

Sam leaned in, catching the attention of the rest of the table and making eye contact with most of them.

“Some basic etiquette though, before Danny gets back? You never, ever ask a ghost how they died. They might bring it up, but you don’t ask. Okay?”

“Wait, why not?” Tim asked, his brows furrowing as he turned back to her. “Isn’t that the first thing they do in all those ghost hunting shows?”

Which. Well. Sam had a whole special rant about ghost hunting shows and their bullshit, but before she got started Jason cut her off.

“Cuz dying fucking sucks, Timmy. Do you wanna bug Steph or Dick about the times they died?” He asked pointedly, and Tim flushed.

Yeah, that kinda explained the death taint Sam could just about taste from half the table. She wasn’t going to mention it, because she had some damn manners.

Tim seemed to have gotten the point though, stammering a quick apology and sinking back into his seat. Tucker gave him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.

“Pretty much the first thing you gotta learn about real ghosts is that ghost hunters have no idea what they’re doing. They don’t even ecto infuse their tech,” he added with a derisive snort.

Sam rolled her eyes, stifling a grin. Alfred had disappeared, which probably meant Danny was imminent.

“Harder to do without a ghost or half ghost on your team, Tuck. But more to the point, do you guys wanna see the Fenton Thermos in action?” She asked innocently, pulling it back out of her pocket to wiggle.

Once again, Harley spoke for the table.

“Hell yeah. Are ya gonna throw it at Brucie again too?” She asked brightly, and Sam paused, considering.

Finally sighed and shook her head.

“Probably not. I’ll let you handle him,” she decided, smirking as Harley reached back down for her trusty bedazzled bat.

“That’s what the ol’ Therapy Bat’s for,” Harley agreed brightly, getting to her feet. She’d clearly clocked Alfred’s exit too. And the approaching sets of footsteps.

Sam grinned and readied the thermos.

Bruce had almost forgotten that Harley would be waiting until Danny reminded him. An unusual lapse for him, but he had a lot on his mind.

The only thing he wanted to do was get down to the cave and talk to Constantine; to finally get some answers, both on what had gone wrong in Amity Park and precisely what was keeping them out now.

He had the very tiniest bit of hope that one question might also hold the answer to the other; that it was perhaps something Constantine had done, or could undo.

He did not like having to rely on biased secondary sources for data. It was frustrating to run into so many dead ends.

Luckily for him though, Danny had reminded him, which meant he could take Harley aside, find out what she wanted, and get it dealt with instead of going straight to the cave and being surprised.

As little as he liked John Constantine, he wouldn’t subject the man to Harley if he could help it. Harley was something of a kryptonite to many of the magicians; she broke their rules in ways they couldn’t reconcile.

Bruce absolutely did not doubt Zatanna that Harley had temporarily sold herself to a demon prince and within 24 hours annoyed him so much that he gave her back, deal intact.

She was a force to be reckoned with. And privately… Bruce would hang up the cowl if Constantine decided he wanted to give her methods a try on top of his own.

No. Best keep them as far away from each other as possible.

So he was accompanying Danny and Alfred to the family dining room, where he’d collect Harley and take her to his office.

Half an hour to get through whatever she wanted, and then he could go down and talk to Constantine. The perfect plan.

Part of him hoped that Danny had been right, and she was here to explain what he’d done wrong with Jason.

Bruce would be the first to admit that he just… couldn’t seem to do right when it came to his second son.

He loved Jason dearly, but his death was something Bruce had never gotten over. He’d seen Jason so many times, as he died and as Bruce imagined he’d have grown over those years.

It had been hard for him to believe Jason really was himself, even if he looked nothing like Bruce had always expected. He’d always been so small.

No. He’d refused to believe it. Refused to believe the kind, loving boy he’d known could have become this large and angry killer.

It had coloured their relationship ever since. The things Jason had done, the things Bruce had done to stop him.

The fury with which Jason had forced his real identity down Bruce’s throat until he couldn’t deny it anymore. The one person he thought he could never let down again.

Jason was calmer now. Had a lid on the rage, and just plain walked away when he was on the edge of his control. Bruce admired that, as much as he could.

The only thing Bruce knew how to do with his emotions was push them aside and try to keep soldiering on, and it had cost his family so many times.

He’d thought he was getting better, but when it came to Jason… Bruce knew he still wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d upset Jason at the gala, he knew he had.

He’d seen it in his face, even if Jason had covered it before reaching the stage. He just wasn’t sure how.

Bruce prided himself on his ability to read faces. He was certainly no Cass, but it was his most used skill. Jason’s had never been a mystery to him before.

But somehow all Bruce could see in the older Jason’s face was the shadows of the bruises, the beating that face had worn the last time Bruce held him in his arms.

Cold. Lifeless. A death mask that only ever seemed to clear under Lazarus green rage.

He didn’t know when his baby boy had become so unreadable to him. What part of the horrors which Jason had lived through had made him put on a mask so thick Bruce couldn’t see through it.

And he was afraid to ask. Afraid of what he might see under that mask, and afraid to hear everything Jason had been put through because of Bruce’s failure.

He could have asked Danny in the car. At least where he’d gone wrong last night. They’d been alone, without anyone to overhear. And yet…

Bruce couldn’t bring himself to trust Danny. Oddly he found himself liking the boy more since Danny had threatened him, but his doubts remained.

Vlad had been personable, charming, and open during their meal together, and Bruce knew all too well how vile men could put on a front like that.

Normally he would have trusted Danny’s impression of Vlad over his own implicitly; it was part of the reason he brought his children to galas.

Brucie Wayne was too well known, too powerful, too influential. No one wanted to show him anything but their best, the sides they thought he would like to see.

The truest measure of a person came in the way they treated those they saw as beneath them, and for most adults that would automatically always include children.

Danny’s words tracked with the odd moments of quiet regret in Masters’ face when he talked about his godson. Far more egregious than the “misunderstandings” he’d hinted at, but a testament nonetheless.

There had been no trace of a lie in Danny’s voice or face. And yet.

There was no fear either. Not a trace of concern at being alone in the room together before Bruce returned.

None of the wariness one would naturally expect when a young man faced a much older adult who had at the very least made serious threats towards his family and possibly psychologically abused him.

It didn’t make sense. There was no right or wrong way to respond to an abuser, but Danny’s open antagonism of Vlad pointed at something else. A piece Bruce was still missing of what passed between them.

There were too many unanswered questions about Danny Fenton, and the situation with Jason was too delicate to rely on a single unknown factor.

No.

Danny may take advantage of any perceived weakness to steer him wrong, push him to another mistake, widen the rift between Bruce and his son.

It wasn’t safe. Wasn’t the plan.

For all that she’d been a rogue, Bruce trusted Harley implicitly… at least in matters of the heart. On the off chance she was there for anything else, he could still ask her before she left.

Maybe after he was done with Constantine.

Of course no one was around to give him answers when he had plenty of spare time on his hands. No, they had to come all at once.

Fine.

He may have to leave Jason with Danny for now, but they would hardly be unsupervised. The others would keep a watch for him while he got answers.

Bruce was actually beginning to feel pretty good about the evening by the time they reached the dining room.

And then the door opened, Danny walked through, and vanish in a blur of bright blue light.

Bruce threw up a hand to shield his eyes as light flashed across him, and it went dark a moment later.

Sam Manson was holding the thermos again (his head throbbed a warning), screwing the lid back on with a satisfied smirk.

Danny Fenton was gone. Just gone. Like he’d never been there, until.

“I fucking hate you so much.”

That was Danny’s voice, no doubt about it, coming from… the thermos.

What.

As Steph would say.

The fuck.

Harley was the first to recover her voice, throwing both hands into the air and whooping.

“Now THAT is what I call a party trick! You kids ever wanna come out Coney Island way ya can stay with me an’ take a turn at th’ Freakshow if ya want!”

The room froze, temperature actually plummeting as the Amity Parkers both flinched.

(Danny mighta also flinched but he was in a soup thermos, it was harder to tell.)

Tucker spoke up, making a face and exchanging a look with Sam.

“Uh… pass, thanks. Had some pretty bad experiences with clowns and circuses,” he explained, and Harley nodded understandingly.

No matter how much he liked to pretend he was, Joker was hardly the first asshole to wear the face paint.

It was why she didn’t wear hers if she was gonna be anywhere around Jason.

Not like she’d liked the full face stuff Joker did anyway. She could have a lot more fun with eyeshadow and a little lipstick, but some people needed to be terrified.

Harley Quinn’s war paint was satisfyingly terrifying enough that she’d pull it out for special occasions.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” she agreed easily, noted the air began to warm.

So it was one of them doing it. And from the way the two she could see relaxed just after, she’d put her money on Danny. Made sense with the ghost thing.

Anyway, she’d come here for a reason. Strolling casually over towards Brucie, she ruffled a hand through Jason’s and then Sam’s hair.

“Yer all still welcome to come visit though, just call ahead an’ I’ll tell the crew to put the theatrics on hold. I got a whole floor full of puppies and kittens that need some love,” she told them cheerfully.

And paused at a sudden horrible ripping sound, like part of the universe had been velcro and just pulled itself apart.

A glowing green hole opened just behind Sam’s chair and Danny’s head poked through, just a little below Harley’s height.

“You have a fucking what?”

She ruffled his hair too, grinning.

“Yeah, building I inherited had a free floor my aunt used ta rent, I didn’t want anyone upsettin’ my crew and all these lil cuties were just wasting away at the pound so Ivy did me up an indoor park. There’s about thirty of ‘em,” she explained brightly.

Sam snickered, settling comfortably in her turned chair.

“Bet cleaning up after that many is a treat,” she commented dryly and Harley tipped her a wink.

“It’s no trouble! I do the scoopin’ and once a week we load the big bags up on th’ roof catapult and shoot ‘em into the city. At the mayor’s house if he’s bein’ trouble.”

“Harley, I have a theory about who might want you gone,” Duke put in from the other end of the table, all dry sarcasm.

Harley laughed and blew him a kiss, giving her bat a lazy twirl.

“Hey, if he wants me ta stop all he’s gotta do is stop bein’ a pain in my ass an’ I’ll shoot ‘em at the dump,” she told him cheerfully, then turned back to Danny.

Back in the black hair. Didn’t seem like it mattered if he was actively a ghost or not gettin’ sucked inta the thermos. Interesting.

“You need a tow out?” She asked, other hand dropping back to his hair to give a gentle tug.

Danny gave her a slightly suspicious look.

“Do you promise no mind control or creepy clown shit?” He asked warily, and Harley loosed her grip to pat him on the cheek.

“Pinky promise, suga. I’m about to go give Brucie ‘is own private dose of scary clown shit that I’m sure he’ll completely understand that he wants to be in private,” she added more pointedly, giving Bruce a sharp look over her shoulder.

Behind her, Danny shrugged and pulled the rest of his body through the green rip, giving Sam a smack upside the head as his feet touched the floor and snatching the thermos from her.

“Confiscated til you’ll only use it’s power responsibly,” he told her, sticking his tongue out and dropping down into his seat, thermos held preventatively back and over his head.

Which made it all too easy for Jason to reach up and grab it from him, tucking it into the front of his hoodie pocket when Danny whipped around indignantly.

“You’re not responsible either,” Jason pointed out smugly and Danny sputtered but didn’t quite find words to argue.

They were fucking adorable.

If she didn’t have ta go try and beat the sense back inta Brucie’s head she’d have the time of her life just pinching their cheeks and winding them up about what to her studied eye was a pair of oblivious fresh forming crushes.

Young love was just the cutest when it was in that awkward blushy denial phase.

Yeah, Brucie was getting an extra whap for tearing her away from that.

Turning back to the big man, she prodded her bat into the center of his chest.

“So! Whaddaya think, big guy? Wanna give a nice big public apology for ya fuck up or shall we go talk somewhere in private?” She asked firmly, emphasizing those last words into a threat.

Bruce’s attention snapped away from glaring at Danny and Jason to fix on her, clearly analyzing her words. Of all the hopeless little shits…

She was gonna find someone to get him his proper diagnosis. Had to at this point.

Couldn’t be her, she was technically a conflict of interest, but holy fuck the man screamed emotional disregulation with a hefty side of autism spectrum.

At least he’d know what direction he needed help in, as if he wouldn’t promptly ignore any advice that included “talk about ya damn feelings”. Too bad for him.

She gave him another firm poke with the bat and he nodded sharply, gaze snapping from her around to the door.

His shoulders settled just a little, posture relaxing in what she knew was relief as he motioned for her to follow. Still looked tense as hell, but she’d probably only get a dime back for bouncing a nickel off him now.

That was real relaxed for Brucie.

Maybe he was finally self aware enough to accept that he needed some help with all the emotional stuff.

Good. Maybe she’d only do one kneecap.

As Harley followed Bruce out of the room, Sam’s phone began buzzing dramatically in her pocket. Abandoning her quest for the thermos, she pulled it out and glanced down.

Grinned wickedly. She’d been expecting this for a while now actually.

“Aw, look, my parents saw our selfies on Twitter,” she cooed sarcastically, Manson Party Voice making a brief return.

Danny scooted just a little away from the still buzzing phone.

“So are you gonna get that?” He asked as Alfred brought him a perfectly reheated plate. “What? Oh, thanks.”

Sam shrugged, hit speakerphone, and set it on the table. They’d posted those pictures pretty much solely for the incoming reaction.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” She said sweetly, still in her public facing voice.

Her mother did not sound nearly as composed.

“SAMANTHA. Where ARE you?! What are you wearing?! Where are your clothes and WHY, in the name of all that’s good, are you anywhere near HARLEY QUINN?! Have you been kidnapped?!”

Sam rolled her eyes hard enough that Tucker faked a fatal injury across the table. She flipped him off as Tim and Duke stifled laughs.

“Yes, mother, I have been kidnapped and just answered my phone completely normally. I’m at the Waynes’,” she added quickly, before her mother could jump to conclusions.

And gave her some new conclusions to jump to instead, but who cared. Still, something seemed to be sticking in her mom’s mind.

“With Harley Quinn?” She asked suspiciously after a moment’s silence.

Which, to be fair, was kind of a good point.

“Apparently she’s a family friend? Like Grandma and Ivy,” Sam added delicately, a vicious satisfaction rising through her.

She’d gotten to say her piece at the gala yesterday and had thought she was done, but. Well. Years of restriction and so on.

She was definitely still having fun winding her parents up.

Her mom’s sharp intake of breath was clearly audible even over the phone, and then the shouting started again.

“Samantha MANSON do not even THINK about going anywhere with that woman! You have responsibilities! School! Your work! We’re coming to pick you up RIGHT NOW, and… where are your CLOTHES?!”

Alfred cleared his throat from behind them, where he’d stayed from delivering Danny’s dinner. Sam half turned and he raised a brow, inclining his head slightly.

She scooted her chair out of the way to let him get closer to the phone, waving a hand in open invitation.

“If I may interject,” Alfred said calmly, not a trace that anything was even slightly amiss, “the young lady’s clothes are in the dryer at present. They will be finished shortly.”

Another long silence. Her mom probably realizing that Sam had her on speaker. And that she would still be on speaker the next time she spoke.

Finally she choked out a terse, “thank you. I do hope she has been behaving herself. We will be there to pick you up in half an hour, Sammy, and we will Have Words.”

Which Sam kinda doubted, given where the hotel was and how long it had taken Danny and Bruce to get back, but time would tell.

At least they weren’t hiring a helicopter.

It sucked to have to leave, but she’d have needed to head out soon anyway. Her flight back to university would be leaving this evening, and at least this way she could hang out with the others until her parents arrived.

No reason not to needle them more though.

“Aw but mom, I’m having such a good time hanging out with Cass,” she sighed, switching from Party to Heartfelt Woe expertly.

Down beyond Jason, Cass stifled a giggle. It clearly sent Sam’s mom into another spiral of conflicting emotions; delight, hope, ecstasy, and ongoing horror at the presence of Harley.

Who, technically, was no longer present in the room, but telling her mom that would only make her feel better, so Sam wasn’t gonna bother.

Honestly, if she wanted to run away and be an ecoterrorist with Pamela Isley, she could just ask Grandma to text her. She didn’t need kidnapping.

Still, apparently the risk of a close contact with Poison Ivy outweighed her mom’s desire to see her cozy up with the Waynes.

It’d have been real sweet if it had been a worry for Sam’s health instead of a worry about what Sam would do to other peoples’ health. The lack of trust stung, truly.

“We’ll be there in half an hour, Sammy. Get your clothes back on and say thank you for having you,” her mom warned, tone sharp and clipped.

And then hung up the phone before anyone could argue, because while she never used to listen to Sam before, she did somehow still know her. Ah well.

Sam sighed, stuffing the phone back into her borrowed pocket.

“Guess my parole has ended. I’ve gotta get back for my next semester anyway, but you have my number?” She asked Steph, looking from her back to Cass.

Both women nodded enthusiastically, Steph sighing and slumping forward into the table.

“Do you really have to go? Harley probably won’t be done with Brucie by then, you’ll miss the best part!”

But in all honesty, Sam wasn’t too upset about that. She’d made her feelings perfectly clear via thermos, and if Jason wasn’t satisfied with Bruce’s real apology she could always come back.

So she shrugged, grinning.

“Guess it’s my turn to get the video recap once it’s all over. You guys’ll film it for me, right?” She asked, looking from Danny to Tucker.

Both of whom gave her a thumbs up.

“We should make a new group chat,” Tucker mused eagerly, already pulling his phone up, “one for all of us.”

“Then we’d know which galas you were coming to!” Steph agreed at once, her own phone magically appearing in hand.

Dick snickered, leaning back in his seat.

“Said like Steph’s ever let Bruce drag her to one against her will,” he teased and Steph flipped him off.

“Hey, if you’d had the good sense not to let him adopt you you wouldn’t have to do them either,” Steph told him primly. Dick rolled his eyes.

“I’m his ward, not adopted,” he argued mostly futilely, and Sam snickered.

“And still have to go apparently. Doesn’t the ward thing end once you’re a legal adult?” She asked innocently.

Dick gave her a deadpan stare.

“Ma’am, if you want to try and wrest an orphan from the hands of Bruce Wayne you be my fucking guest, I gave up years ago.”

Which, fair. Their rifts had been legendary enough to make the circuit. She toasted him with her phone and settled back.

“Point taken. If being a cop didn’t make him give you up nothing will,” she added slyly, and Dick mimed grievous injury, slumping forward onto the table as the others laughed.

Grinning her triumph, Sam turned back to Alfred.

“So if you just show me where the laundry room is I can grab my clothes?” She offered, trying yet again to be helpful.

Being from a rich family didn’t mean having no damn manners, no matter how often it looked like it.

The old man gave her another of his extremely arch expressions, an eyebrow rising as if to question her impertinence. He had to be fucking with her.

“I shall bring your clothes to the downstairs bathroom on this hall when they are done so that you may change, Miss Manson,” he said coolly.

She’d never heard anything like it.

It didn’t sound like he was upset or offended the way people usually did when their voices iced over that sharply. Just… not an ounce of wiggle room.

Not a sliver of a hint that anything he was saying would not happen exactly as he’d decreed it. He sounded more imperious than a king, and she’d seen those.

Sam kinda imagined that’d be what Clockwork would sound like if she ever met the guy.

Duke misinterpreted her decidedly impressed stare with a wry chuckle, apparently misinterpreting her expression.

Fair, since he couldn’t know she was comparing him to the living manifestation of Time.

Well. Ghostly manifestation. Same difference.

“Miss Manson’s probably the best you’ll get out of him,” Duke said almost apologetically, grinning. “It’s gonna be that or Miss Samantha.”

Which admittedly was enough to make her turn to face him, curiosity peaked.

“What do you mean?” She asked, glancing back up at Alfred.

She couldn’t read anything but serenity in his face, but mild amusement practically radiated off him. She’d have to ask Danny what he saw in his aura.

Dick took this one too, sitting back in his seat and grinning at her.

“Alfie’s serious about the whole “proper titles and full names” thing. I’ve been trying for almost twenty years to make him call me “Dick”, and I think he’d be slower to give that up than Bruce’d be to unadopt me,” he explained cheerfully, arm tossed over the back of his chair.

Alfred treated him to a slowly raised eyebrow too.

“As you say, Master Richard,” he agreed placidly and Sam pressed her lips together on a smile.

She didn’t have to turn around to know exactly what face Danny would be making. The last thing he needed was another scary old man full naming him.

And right on cue…

“Uh… can I specifically request Mister Fenton then?” Danny asked and sure enough when she turned, yup, he even had his hand in the air like a child.

Alfred treated him to that calm stare as well.

“May I ask why, Mister Daniel?” He asked, clearly prodding despite every line of both face and posture oozing nothing but polite respect.

Danny fully flinched, which was interesting. He barely reacted whenever Vlad said his name.

Sam adjusted her opinion of Alfred along a couple “scarier than Vlad” levels.

“I have name-related trauma from another billionaire who refuses to call me anything but that,” Danny admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s a really not-fun association.”

“Vlad again?” Tim asked from across the table, sounding sympathetic.

Danny pulled a face at him, sort of grimacing more than a smile.

“Oh yeah. And let’s just say he also does it in super bad situations, so I’d be happier to just never hear it again.”

Sam peaked back over her shoulder at Alfred, wondering what he’d do with this news.

If Danny was gonna be a fixture in Jason’s life (and let’s be honest, he’d be a fixture in Jason’s bedroom by the end of the month), and Jason was a fixture in Alfred’s… they’d see more of each other.

Everyone knew Bruce had been basically raised by Alfred. If he was half as emotionally constipated…

But there was an actual human expression on the old man’s face now, and it looked a damn sight like shame. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

“My apologies, Mister Fenton. Would you perhaps prefer Mister Danny?” He asked, which would have seemed completely innocuous on its own.

Dick slammed both fists into the table, making half the table burst into giggles.

“Fucking SERIOUSLY?! Is it just me! This is bullshit Alfie!” He declared dramatically.

Tim looked equally gobsmacked, jaw on the proverbial floor as he stared at Alfred, and even Steph looked put out and impressed.

Danny, deeply confused but relieved, stuck his tongue out at Dick.

“Hey, if you want another overly possessive and creepy billionaire determined to control your life you’re welcome to take him off my hands,” he declared smugly, and Sam snorted a laugh.

There was a decided devilry in young Damian’s face too, which vanished almost immediately after it appeared as the youngest spoke up.

“Honestly, Richard, you must admit that Danny’s situation is decidedly more grave than your own,” he said simply, a strong undercurrent of smugness under the words.

Tim threw both hands into the air so hard he almost tipped his chair over.

“Him too?! Come the fuck ON!” He proclaimed to the world at large as Duke snorted half a glass of water out of his nose in a choked laugh.

Tim gave him a hearty slap on the back that was probably supposed to help, the younger boy still wheezing and gasping for air, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him.

There was clearly something of an inside joke going on, and it wasn’t exactly a complicated one.

Danny had already settled back in his seat, perfectly happy with the consternation he’d caused, and Sam joined him.

Watching the dramatics of the extended Wayne clan was even better at home than it had been at the gala. For a show this good, she’d have bought tickets.

As she closed the office door behind her, Harley took a moment to give Bruce another, slower once over.

It had been a while since she saw him last, and between what Selina had told her and what the kids told her, she wanted a read on his headspace.

He looked… well, like he had a stick up his ass a mile high, but that was pretty much default for him when he wasn’t being Brucie. Never learned how to take a breath, that guy.

But from the way he moved straight to his desk, not even pausing to see if she shut the door before dropping into his seat, she’d put money on “tired”.

Not just regular nightlife tired either, if he showed it this easily. Freshly shaved, dressed immaculately, face done up with minimal but flattering makeup.

He’d put himself together pretty today, but something was cracking underneath.

Once she was satisfied she’d gotten the big picture, she sauntered after him and hopped up to sit on his desk, foot pressed firmly to the middle of his chest to go for the details.

“So, Brucie, do ya know why I’m here?” She asked expectantly. It’d tell her a lot about where they were starting from; it was hard to fool the big bat, and none of ‘em had been trying.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her foot, but wisely didn’t move to touch it. Clever boy. He might win a physical fight if they got serious, but he also knew she was damn good at what she did.

If they threw down, she wouldn’t be helping him untwist that mess in his head. And he wouldn’t be walking away unscathed either.

No good with some fresh heroes who weren’t in on the Secret around. She could assume he’d made the calculations, but none of them showed. And wouldn’t it be nice if he hadn’t needed to?

Instead he sighed, leaning further back in his chair and rubbing both hands down his face.

Harley adjusted her estimate from “tired” to “fucking exhausted”. Not a good sign.

“I hope it has something to do with Selina texting you last night about the gala,” was all he said though, cryptic fuck.

Harley pushed with her toes just enough to make the chair roll back.

“Specifically, Brucie. If you can tell me what ya did wrong I’ll make it easier on you,” she teased, waving her bat playfully.

Like they didn’t both know the real damage would be with her words. Bruce preferred the bat though. In all ways, which, ha! She could still rock a killer joke.

He gave her one of his grouchy bat glares too, then slumped. Practically pre-broken. Something had to be up.

“I gave a speech. I… apologized to Jason for not being there when he…” he trailed off and Harley nodded, willing to accept that. Hard topics, and not one they’d discuss today.

Not that she wasn’t waiting with baited breath for Bruce to FINALLY decide he wanted to unload some o’ that trauma. But hey, baby steps.

He looked back up a second later, the mask gone as he met her eyes. He looked agonized.

For Bruce, anyway. Perfectly normal to anyone who didn’t really know how he ticked. But those lines around his eyes, the tension in his jaw?

Harley knew. From watching him when he’d thought he’d failed long ago, and from comforting him when one of the kids got hurt more recently.

“He looked like he’d seen a ghost, Harley. I’ve never seen him so shaken.”

Which Harley did have to bite back an entirely inappropriate laugh at. Jason looked preeeeetty happy to be canoodling with an actual ghost in the dining room right now.

She kept it on lock though. Totally professional.

Honestly, she was a little impressed Bruce had noticed. Jason was infamously his blind spot.

Humming softly she nodded slowly, fingers drumming along the shaft of the bat as she regarded him.

“And why do you think he did that, Bruce?” She prodded gently.

She was gonna have a check in with Jason later, not least for all the deets on his adorable new “friend”. Somewhere private, where the others couldn’t see.

But from what she’d seen tonight… Jason looked good. More relaxed, at ease with himself in a way that really tugged at her heart.

She hadn’t seen a lot of Jason since his return; she hadn’t stayed in Gotham long after breaking free of the Joker. But she’d come back when Selina called, and heard Waylon’s stories.

Of course he hadn’t come back as the happy, cheeky kid full of sunshine and magic. Even if he’d survived the warehouse he’d have changed.

The kid who’d cried at the thought of letting Bruce down so hard she’d foiled Joker’s plans herself so it wouldn’t happen… had been let down even more.

Even from a distance she’d read it in every inch of him; festering rage, pain, moving more like the big Bat than ever. Like his body was just a weapon he was barely connected to.

Like nothing else mattered but his mission, and he’d run on broken legs without even noticing. Like he didn’t think there was anything about him worth protecting.

(It may have factored into one of her own visits back to Arkham, even if Mister J had left her alone.)

The poor guy had been so full of anger ever since he came back, and for all that she’d been Joker’s when he died he’d never blamed her.

If anyone else on Earth knew what it was like to have your life torn to the ground by that bastard, to have nothing left even after you crawled away, it was Jason.

Harley wouldn’t have blamed him for hating her just as much as the clown himself, but he hadn’t. Not even full dark side. Not even that first time, Tim’s blood still on his suit.

He’d tensed to fight, admitted he’d heard about the big split, and believed her when she swore it was true. Even accepted her number, though he hadn’t called for almost a year.

They weren’t close, not like she was with the baby bats these days, but Harley worried about him.

There was something broken in Jason that still hadn’t healed, that he kept gashing himself on its sharp edges. Something that might finally be scabbing over.

So yeah, this was 1000% not the fucking time for Bruce to be all up in his bullshit.

At least he seemed to know that too, shaking his head and slumping forward against her foot so he could rest his head in his hands.

“I… I don’t know. I thought I could show him how sincere I was. Have witnesses who’d hold me to it. Not force him to be alone with me when it’s clearly not what he wants,” he admitted bitterly, shoulders slumping.

Harley let out another low hum, tracking every inch of his posture with alert eyes.

Yeah, that was true. Fucking stupid, especially from a guy as sharp as Brucie, but true. And fully consistent with his character.

Then she sighed, pushing him back upright, foot rising up almost to his collar to make him look at her.

“Did ya think about asking Jason what he wanted?” She asked dryly, fully aware of what the answer would be.

Watched Bruce’s face pinch in annoyance. Probably at himself, which would be good. Sometimes the answer literally was that easy.

He still shook his head, even if he didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I thought…” he sighed again, running a hand through his hair, but didn’t try and hunch. “I didn’t think. I assumed he would see it the way I did.”

Which he’d clearly already noticed Jason hadn’t. Honestly, Harley was almost proud of the man. He wasn’t usually this emotionally aware.

No wonder he was exhausted. Lotta introspection, using all those brain muscles he abjectly refused to hone.

Harley nodded and crossed one leg over the other, switching out which foot kept Bruce pinned to his chair.

“It’s one helluva lot ta throw at someone in front of an audience, Brucie,” she agreed plainly, and watched with interest as that moment if irritation sharpened.

Almost pulled him back to bat face.

“You sound like Danny,” he grumbled, not actually arguing. Might have tried to cross his arms if her foot wasn’t in the way.

Harley wasn’t having any of it. She knew she’d liked the kid.

“Good, he’s got two braincells ta rub together. What’s more important: that people see you say you’re sorry, or how Jason feels?” She asked sharply, her patient tone evaporating.

To his credit, Bruce didn’t hesitate.

“Jason.” This, there was no question of. Good.

“And who knows best how Jason feels?” She pushed on, eyes narrowing when he hesitated.

“Don’t make me use the bat, Brucie,” she warned him, and Bruce sighed again, shaking his head.

“I know what you want me to say, Harley. But Jason… his emotions are unpredictable. Out of control. I doubt even he knows what they are half the time.”

Which, frankly, they weren’t going to get into at the moment, if ever. Jason’s emotional state was Jason’s business.

Harley fixed Bruce with an unimpressed stare, raising an eyebrow.

“Good thing I didn’t ask anyone to control it, huh? But who. Knows. How Jason feels.” It was barely a question anymore, the tapping of her bat against the desk more an empty threat.

She wasn’t against percussive maintenance, especially where Brucie was concerned; he responded better to violence than words half the time.

Kinda like he needed the stubbornness actually knocked out of him before he could listen. It was why she wouldn’t recommend him to any ol’ civilian friends still in the biz.

Not that they’d have appreciated her recommendation.

He stared her down for a moment, defiant even with the bat to hand. Harley let the other brow rise slowly and crossed her arms, leaning forward to lean on her knee.

Bruce could outstare a cat, but he couldn’t impress or intimidate her and he knew it.

He said nothing, still staring her down, and she could see where his brain had turned off and the stubbornness kicked in.

Fine. She’d played this game before, and she knew what he expected to come next.

Sometimes she even let him have it, a little rough and tumble so he could wrestle himself out of his head by wrestling her. But today, there were way more interesting things for her to do with her time.

Nothing short circuited a pattern of habit like the wrong response. Or a response that pulled up an older pattern.

Still staring him dead in the eye, she stuck her finger in her mouth, licked it wet, then leaned forward to shove it in his ear.

Bruce jerked back, hands almost rising defensively even as he made a disgusted face.

“Harley! Stop!” He protested, already losing a little of that stoic wall, and Harley grinned. It’d worked since they were Jason’s age in college and probably always would.

In his bat-suit, Bruce could take any torture, any indignity and never break. Without that cowl though, he was the same dweeb who’d joined the cheerleading squad with her because Harvey pouted.

It was really a very good thing she’d been on her way out of the rogue business before she cracked his identity, but since he’d always known hers he probably had plans against her.

He didn’t use them though, and she appreciated that, even as she licked her other finger fast and stuck it in his other ear.

“Say it, Brucie, or I’ll lick every pen in this office,” she threatened, watched a smile almost crack. And watched him sag, one of her wrists in each hand, his expression sobering.

Not closing off again though. Now his exhaustion was plain to see, along with the lingering sorrow and regret.

Looked like that little tussle would be enough for today. Probably.

“Jason knows what he’s feeling best. I am sorry, Harley. I never meant to hurt him,” he confessed almost in a whisper, and Harley let her own dramatics subside too.

It wasn’t what he needed anymore.

Hooking her foot in under the arm of the chair, she pulled him back in towards her.

“I know, kid. An’ lucky for you, Jason’s got a lotta people in his corner, and he’s a resilient boy. He’s gonna be alright.” His relationship with Bruce could only get so much worse, honestly.

No matter how the two disasters kept rubbing each other wrong, there was still love there. That was what had hurt Jason so much in the first place.

If he hadn’t loved Bruce, he wouldn’t care what the man thought of him. If he hadn’t thought Bruce loved him once, he wouldn’t care that the Joker lived.

Maybe one day she’d knock their heads together and make them talk it out.

Today, Bruce gave her a helpless look.

“I don’t even know how I hurt him, Harley. I should have asked, I know I put him on the spot, but I never thought… how can I stop if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong?”

Harley sighed softly, straightening back up and tugging her hands back easily, propping them on the desk behind her.

It was a tough one, not because the answer was hard, but because it’d be hard for Bruce. But he might finally be ready to hear it, if he’d done this much of the work without her.

“You know what I’m gonna tell you,” she prodded gently and didn’t push back when he pulled the chair in enough to brace his elbows on the desk on either side of her hips and bury his face in his hands.

Muffled the hell outta his voice, but she could still make out the words.

“Talk to him.” Which, yeah, she had a chuckle at the irony, petting mussed black hair.

“Yeah, yeah, the Bat’s one weakness, clear communication. But you don’t know Jason as well as ya think ya do, Brucie. He’s not the kid you brought home.”

He pushed up at that, frown on his face and mouth open to argue, and she placed a finger across it to shush him.

“I know ya think you know that. But he’s really, really not. And thinking ya still know him the same way is how you keep hurting each other.” She gentled her voice, kept it soft, but he still slumped like she’d punched him.

She went back to petting his hair. He preferred punching.

“Stop trying to surprise him. Ask what he wants. And if you can’t tell him how you feel…” she paused for a moment, let Bruce huff out the beginnings of a grumble, and chuckled softly.

No surprise there.

“Then try writing it down. Write him a letter, and keep it to yourself until you know what you want to say. As many as it takes, and toss ‘em right in the fire. And if ya still can’t say it aloud, hide one in yer underwear drawer or somewhere personal.”

That prompted him to look up again and Harley cocked a brow, grinning.

“What better way ta make one of your nosey lot read it?” She asked, grin settling to a smirk when Bruce’s lower lip slid out in a pout.

Not that fake pretty boy play one he did for cameras, the real Bruce Wayne Does Not Like You’re Right.

Catching it between forefinger and thumb she gave it a gentle tug.

“Seriously though. Try it. It’s easier than tryin’ ta improvise. And always, especially double important if yer gonna be in public, talk ta Jason first. No more surprises, or how’s ‘e gonna trust you?”

He knocked her hand away, but his eyes did that far off thing they always did when he was calculating, so she assumed he was taking it on board.

Finally he nodded, glanced at the clock, and frowned. Rigid mask falling back into place, her old classmate disappearing again.

“I’m afraid I have a meeting, Harley. Cape business. Was that all?” He did actually sound kinda sorry, so Harley forgave him for switching himself off before they finished.

“Fine. But I’m stickin’ around fer a bit, so we’ll talk about the apology thing later,” she warned, giving his chest another sharp poke and then trying to neaten the mess she’d made of his hair with her fingers.

Gave it up as a bad job.

“An’ put the cowl on, ya look like a drowned bat.”

He raised a pointed eyebrow at her, the gesture saying more clearly than words whose fault that was, and let her push him back far enough to stand.

“Thanks, Harley. I probably won’t be back tonight,” he told her, voice already lowering into that bat growl Selina went crazy for.

Hopping off the desk, Harley waved him away and bent to scoop her bat off the floor.

“Yeah, yeah. I gotta check on Waylon tomorrow anyway, but I’ll drop by when I have a minute.” She paused at the door and grinned over her shoulder at him. “The little one didn’t even try an’ stab me today.”

Bruce gave her a tight smile back, already at the clock. Ready for his Grand Descent. Dramatic bitch.

“High praise, from Damian,” he acknowledged, and Harley laughed, heading back out into the manor.

Maybe she’d join the kids for dessert.

Bruce had to admit he felt lighter as the door closed behind Harley.

She hadn’t told him anything he didn’t know, not really, but just. Knowing she was here. That she knew why Jason was upset, and would help him fix it.

He was always grateful that she’d been one of the rogues who turned… well, not exactly straight, he kept up with her exploits in Coney Island, but good.

She cared about people, and protected what she considered hers fiercely. Luckily for him, that included his brood.

And. Maybe. Just maybe.

Danny might have had a point.

Perhaps Harley could help him work out why it was easier to tell Jason he was sorry to a room full of people than it was at his son’s hospital bed after a bad patrol.

He changed in the elevator on the way to the cave, the spare suit from his office easy and familiar to put on.

A good thing too, since just as he arrived and settled in front of the Batcomputer to pull up anything he thought he might need (and telling himself it definitely wasn’t evidence against a colleague), the zeta tube activated.

::B069 - John Constantine::

Tonight was finally going to be his night.

A hundred feet up in the dining room, Danny Fenton stiffened abruptly mid conversation, senses prickling as someone new crossed his aura.

Well. Someone different. There was no mistaking that potent, crackling cloud of mixed wards and magic. It had been a while since they’d been to Amity Park, but it certainly wasn’t someone new.

A slow, thoughtful smile spread across his lips and he settled back in his chair, ignoring the surprised looks from his companions as he considered this development.

It certainly answered his earlier question.

A hand rose slowly to cup his chin, fingers drumming along his jawline as a slow chuckle slipped free.

Tonight might just be more interesting than the gala after all.

“So that’s John Constantine… huh.”

———————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @somuchyikes

#dp x dc #danny fenton dead and loving it #dead on main #danny x jason #jason x danny #yeah this might as well happen #chapter 11 #answers time #somehow bruce is temporarily still in the dark #bruce heavy chapter #getting into the angst a wee bit for brucie #sucks to suck buddyboy

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shares-a-vest · 7 months

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@flufftober Day 6: Corn Maze

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) Word Count: 882 Rating: T | cw: Canon-Typical Swearing, Some very questionable flirting over a corndog Flufftober is perfect for my Joanie Munson AU. You don’t need to have read anything previously! All you need to know is Steve and Eddie (a trans man in this AU) have a daughter named Joanie. Fluffy (and silly) shenanigans ensue. This is my first post of Flufftober. I've started later than I had intended, but hopefully, I can get to posting every other day.

“Eddie, what the fuck!”

A woman walking past him gasps and hurries along into the corn maze, a great labyrinth that takes up most of the Smith family’s cornfield. It’s a Hawkins tradition at the beginning of each Autumn, something Steve went to for years as a kid. It was always a special occasion, one that he has been buzzing about sharing with Eddie and their daughter ever since the season changed.

But, in going to fetch a trio of corndogs, Steve now finds himself wishing he’d never bothered to come here.

Eddie shrugs and he just about wants to throw a corndog in his stupid face.

He closes his eyes, bristling even more at the increasing volume of the children scattered about.

“Eddie…” he begins, breathing slowly as he white-knuckles the wooden paddle sticks containing their intended fairground treats, “I was gone for five fucking minutes.”

He opens his eyes to find a woman about their age glaring at him as she huddles a little boy in close by her leg. Not that the kid could have possibly heard him through a gigantic set of blue earmuffs.

Eddie folds his arms in defiance and rocks on his heels. He gestures to a kid in the puffiest red puffer jacket Steve has ever seen. The kid is spinning about, whipping his head all around like he is looking for someone.

“Bet that kid is lost,” Eddie scoffs.

“Our kid is lost, Eddie!”

“Joanie isn’t lost… technically…” Eddie fumbles, seemingly no longer so assured, “She said she’d come back.”

He gestures vaguely towards the illuminated and autumnally adorned entrance to the maze, murmuring to himself. He soon chews at his bottom lip.

“Damn it, she probably is lost, now. Jesus Christ.”

Eddie stomps his booted foot into the dry grass.

“Could you young men please stop cursing!”

They turn in unison to find an elderly woman, holding the hand of a pigtailed girl about Joanie’s age. Steve takes a step closer to Eddie on instinct. He can practically feel his partner roll his eyes. He has to stifle a laugh as the old woman clutches at her brown turtleneck, a set of pearls nowhere in sight.

Eddie watches as she walks away, grandkid in tow.

“Get bent, Grandma,” he gripes, voice low.

Again, damn the handful of corndogs that prevent Steve from clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle a bark-like laugh.

Eddie smiles, mischievous dimples dotting his cheeks.

“Sorry I lost our daughter,” he offers, holding out his hand.

Steve moves to take it, juggling the corndogs precariously into one hand. But Eddie reaches for one with wiggling greedy fingers.

“No, I wanted a corndog,” he whines, offended.

Steve tsks and rolls his eyes as he shoves his treat-filled hand in Eddie’s face.

Eddie soon plucks one from his grasp, that gleeful smile back in full force as they make direct eye contact. He proceeds to lick up the length of the corndog before biting down on a good third of the thing. Steve shudders.

“You didn’t like that?” Eddie wonders aloud through a mouthful of food before gulping down awkwardly.

“No,” he snaps, taking Eddie’s hand before any more protesting.

Lucky the chiding old grandma didn’t see that one, Steve thinks as he drags his partner into the maze.

They make their way through the cornfield, a dizzying cycle of dead ends, wandering and possibly lost children, yappy dogs and spilled refreshments. But Joanie is nowhere in sight, still, and Steve can feel a headache coming on, pressing in just behind his eyeballs.

Eddie hums contentedly next to him and squeezes his hand, two corndogs long-devoured.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” he says, blinking up to the overly sunny skies above.

Steve pinches his nose.

“It will be nice when we find Joanie,” he snips, “And we better find her soon, it’s like Children of the fucking Corn in here.”

“Better get your change purse ready for that swear jar, Stevie,” Eddie teases, leaning into his personal space.

“Fuck the swear jar,” he grumbles, picturing the menacing bedazzled glass candy jar luxuriating away in the apartment on the kitchen countertop.

Just as they round another corner, Steve braces himself for the disappointment of being yet another dead-end. But Eddie runs square into a bright pink backpack adorned with a unicorn.

Eddie and Joanie both shriek, pitches matched in shrillness.

“Where did you go?” Eddie says, voice wobbling not just from the sudden fright as he suddenly sounds more concerned than he has let on this whole time.

Steve crouches down to their five-year-old’s level, the lone corndog still in his hand.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yup,” she grins, pulling the straps of her pink backpack tight as she puffs out her chest, “Finished the maze. Can we go get food, now?”

“Oof, yeah,” Eddie nods, sticking an agreeing thumb in her direction, “All this walking has made me hungry, again.”

He arches his back, cracking it like a damn cement mixer before standing upright and eyeing the last corndog, his worries instantly forgotten. Steve frowns.

“I want fairy floss!” Joanie yells before disappearing back around the corner they had just turned down.

Eddie follows along - but not before yanking the rather dry and cold corndog from Steve’s hand.

#this is probably late (it's the 7th aus time)#flufftober2023 #day 6 #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steddie as girl-dads #themed banner and divider coming soon - i'll edit them in when i can :)

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 9 months

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Check

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: Mike's friends show up to invite you to a party - they have horrible timing.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Fluff. More fluff. Then some more fluff. Shenanigans. Cats. Mention of animal abuse. Mention of a strange situation involving someone's bro kissing his bro's mom. Yep.

A/N: Hello, and a very warm welcome to the next installment of the Cockblocking Chronicles! In this episode we have... no sex! Unsurprisingly. Also we have some... cockblocking. And a lovely little guest appearance of some of our favorites - and maybe some less favorites - and THE TURTLES!

If you like this fic, please let me know 🥰 and reblog so that others may see it too! <3

@deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @geralts-yenn @ylva-syverson

“Hey, Mikey! Is this the new girl?” You shriek at the sound of the unfamiliar voice and scramble to get under the covers without flashing whoever is behind you.

“I hope so, otherwise he’s got some explaining to do! Hey, when were you going to introduce us?” someone else says.

“We’ll let you two get dressed. Boys, coffee?” The three guys laugh and leave the room.

“Sy, Will and Evan. In that order. Not that it matters now, because I’m going to kill them...” Mike snarls through gritted teeth. He lets his head hang on your shoulder, relaxing a little now that he knows his friends are really gone.

“We can’t catch a break, can we?” Your voice finally – after all those weeks – betrays you, and Mike’s grin lets you know that he heard. So now he knows; you want him just as bad as he wants you.

“Apparently not...”

“You’re all dead to me,” Mike says as he walks into the kitchen, dragging you along behind him.

“Does he sound frustrated to you?” Will asks the others, who laugh. “He sounds frustrated to me…”

“I am frustrated, for fuck’s sake! I’ve been trying to nail her for weeks!” The kitchen goes quiet, and the guys just stare at Mike – except for Sy, who actually facepalms. “Probably shouldn’t have phrased it that way...”

“Ya think?!” you say as you smack Mike in the back of the head as hard as you can. But even you have to admit... “He’s not exactly wrong, though.”

The guys look at you as if you just told them the earth is flat – even Mike.

“Listen, this guy has been striking out since the very first date,” you continue, laughing when you see Mike’s face morph into a pout. “First it was cats, a week later parents, then he got grounded for three weeks, then it was a cop, now you guys… Cut him some slack.”

“Cop?” Evan asks, unable to hide his laughter.

“Yep. Got busted fooling around in the Camry,” Mike sighs. It’s no use lying, these guys know him well enough by now.

“Don’t you fuckin’ da-argh!” Sy interrupts your conversation with his exclamation of terror. When you look around, you see him sitting at the kitchen table, with Big Sy in his lap, who is purring contently.

“That’s hardly the massacre I was promised, Mike,” you joke as you watch the rather peaceful scene in front of you. The boys laugh at your words.

“Well, I ain’t gonna volunteer to show ya,” Sy says. The drawl in his voice is subtle but present. He’s not from around here, though you couldn’t put your finger on what part of the south he’d be from, exactly. “Someone hand me my coffee.”

You watch as Evan hands him the cup sort of carefully, never taking his eyes off Big Sy, who gives him a death glare from Real Sy’s lap.

“Mikey’s is the meanest,” Will clarifies without you ever asking. “He will swipe at just about anyone – except Mike – when he gets the idea we’re even so much as thinking about touching him. He’s completely okay with it when Sy’s not here, though.”

“Ours will let us take them off his lap, at least,” Evan adds as he bends down to pick up Nova. “Hello little attention seeker.”

“Forgive my frustration,” Mike chuckles, “but what are you fuckers even doing here?”

“Michael, language!” you hear right before the front door closes. Not long after, his mom walks into the kitchen holding heavy-looking bags of groceries.

“Ma’am, let me help you with… Motherf-!” Sy’s attempt to get up to help Mikey’s mom doesn’t go over well with Big Sy, who apparently digs all of his pointy little nails into Sy’s thighs before finally jumping off his lap.

“That’s what you get for still calling me ‘ma’am’ after all this time, Sy,” Mike’s mom laughs. “Are you okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” Sy answers with a grin as he takes one of the bags from her. The boys seem to feel perfectly at home here, because when they help Mike and his mom put the groceries away, they don’t even have to ask where things go – you, on the other hand, are standing around, feeling particularly useless.

“Sweetcheeks,” Mike suddenly says – much to the amusement of his friends, “can you grab Nova?” The furry projectile is trying to make her way into the fridge, which anyone would know to be a terrible place for a cat, only she doesn’t seem convinced of that at all.

“Come here, single brain cell, I’ll give you all the cuddles you so crave,” you coo as you pull her off the shelf she’s managed to crawl onto.

“Even if you didn’t have to work, eat, sleep, pee or breathe for a single second of your life, that would still be impossible,” Will says as he gently nudges Nyx out of the way with his foot. Soon, all the cats come running to the kitchen, gathering around Evan’s feet – even the ones that were nowhere near the kitchen to begin with.

“Let me guess,” you say as you watch Nyx and Larry trying to get into the cupboard Evan just opened, “that’s where their food comes from?”

One look into the cabinet proves you’re right, but Mike confirms it nonetheless: “Part of it. Just the canned food, wet food, dried fish, some kibble. The rest is either in the fridge or the freezer. I swear these cats eat better than I do – Tiger what the fuck?” He looks down at the cat that’s currently climbing his jeans.

“Mike!” The guys – and you – laugh when his mom smacks him in the back of his head. “Language!”

“Why are you always getting me in trouble? You’re not even mine!” he says as he grabs Tiger, who immediately jumps out of his arms.

“Wait, some of them are yours?” you ask, still cuddling Nova.

“Yeah,” Mike answers with a nod to Nova, “that one, Big Sy and Nyx are mine. The dorm allowed pets, but I didn’t take them with me. It was way too small. I was here every other day to check on them, though. Drove my mom nuts.”

“And now he lives here again,” she sighs as she makes herself a cup of coffee. “Let me interrupt this lovely conversation by asking you three–“ She gestures at Will, Evan and Sy “- why you are in my kitchen.”

“We stopped by to ask if Mike was joining us tonight at the lake, we’re staying in Will’s dad’s house – your girl is invited, by the way – and these two wanted to see how the kittens were doing,” Sy answers, nodding to Will and Evan at the kitten part.

“And you don’t want to know how the turtles are doing?” Mike’s mom replies in a way that’s somehow suggestive of something you can’t put your finger on.

“I came here to help you with the groceries,” Sy answers with a wink. From the corner of your eye, you see Mike gritting his teeth.

“Turtles are upstairs, if you three would come with me,” he says, ignoring you completely for a moment. “Oh, shit. Eh. I meant four, sorry Sweetcheeks.” Always nice to know where you stand.

As soon as Mike closes the door to his bedroom, he’s at Sy’s throat. “You need to stop flirting with my mom, because one of these days I’m gonna fucking punch your lights out, okay?”

“Alright, ease up, Mike,” Sy says, grabbing Mike’s arm and twisting it, forcing him to turn away. He’s on the ground in no time. “First off, I would love to see you try. Second; you know we only do it because it riles you the fuck up, right?”

“Let me go, you dick,” Mike grunts, turning back around as soon as Sy takes his hands off him. “Promise me you told me everything.”

“I swear to god, nothing more happened than what we told you.” The promise sounds oddly solemn for… yeah, for what? You look at Will and Evan, who both shake their heads, then at Sy and Mike, who look at each other.

“He kissed my mom once,” Mike says with the single most disingenuous grin you’ve ever seen.

“She kissed me,” Sy corrects him, with a hint of smugness on his face that Mike – luckily, probably – doesn’t notice. Inside your brain, it’s chaos. You’d absolutely pay to hear the whole story behind this, because how can it be anything but good. Do you blame Sy? Maybe not? He’s young and stupid, and Mike’s mom is a pretty attractive woman. But still… Kissing your friend’s mom?

The boys don’t seem prepared to tell you more about it now – Mike goes so far as telling you that he might tell you some other time, which also suggests he might never tell you at all, even after you insist you can’t drop a bomb like this on someone and then not tell them the whole story. Unfortunately, Mike – the fucking bastard – uses a distraction technique on you that’s absolutely foolproof: letting the turtles out of their pen.

Four weeks ago, the babies were unruly balls of floof, slowly waddling around on shaky little legs. Now, they’re fast. And absolutely no quieter than they were before, especially once the scratches on the outside of the bedroom door start.

You’d noticed it before; that door was in desperate need of replacement. Now, you understand why said door isn’t going to be replaced until the cats have actually scratched a hole all the way through it: because it would be pointless.

“It’s the second door,” Evan says as he sees you looking. At the same time, Mike pulls the door open and Big Sy, Nyx, Nova and Momo stroll in. Sy immediately finds Sy and begins walking in impatient circles around his ankles.

“They really want you to sit down so they can terrorize you, don’t they?” you ask him.

“Yep,” he says, “except when Mikey was still with his ex. He wouldn’t show up in any room where she was, so I was safe most of the time.” You don’t know why, but you shiver the moment Sy mentions Mike’s ex. Of course you knew you were hardly his first girlfriend, but you don’t like the reminder that there was someone before you. That said, the fact that one of his cats completely avoided her didn’t seem like a good sign.

Mike’s mom interrupts again, carrying a large plate of snacks into the room. “Please, stop talking about her, she was awful.”

You don’t even get the chance to ask if it was really that bad, because Mike looks at you with some form of guilt in his eyes. “Remember the – and I quote – horrible troll from the movies?” He sighs when you nod. “That was her. I was too blind to see it. And by that I mean – and I hate to have to admit it – she has massive tits and they made me fucking stupid. Never understood why Big Sy hated her that much. He’s not cuddly per se, but he’s alright around people. Well, a few months into dating her, I caught her when she kicked him off my bed. And I mean kicked.”

Without thinking – and with a look of sheer terror on your face – you reach out a hand to Big Sy, who’s contently purring in Sy’s lap. For a while, the red giant rubs his head against your hand, before getting up and walking over to you, lying down in your lap, begging for more attention. “Oh, God, sweet thing, who could ever kick you?” you say as you pet his head, and he even lets you give him belly rubs. It takes you a minute to realize the room has gone suspiciously quiet.

Mike – currently trying to keep three of the turtles from crawling on his head, while little Mikey has taken residence in the front pocket of his hoodie – looks at you completely stumped, as does (human) Sy. “He doesn’t do that,” Mike says as he points at the sprawled-out heap of red fur in your lap. “Ever.”

“I think this one passes the test, boys,” Sy laughs, finally breaking the strange tension in the room.

“With flying colors,” Mike says with a massive grin on his face.

#mike hellraiser #mike hellraiser fic #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike (hellraiser) x reader #hellraiser mike x reader #mikey x reader #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters

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little-svt · 10 months

Text

little!Vernon x caregiver!Seungcheol | ANGST+FLUFF

Wc: 1.1k+

Taglist: @kiki-woo @fishsquishh ~ feel free to ask if you’d like to be added to our taglist!! ⋆˙⟡♡

Shadow

Days off, most often, were either spent sleeping or out, and it seemed almost fifty-fifty this time, some of the members choosing to go out and drink and the others; Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Joshua, Jun, Wonwoo, Seungkwan and Vernon having alone time or drinking at home. The ones who hadn’t locked themselves in their rooms had gotten quite rowdy by the time evening had come, their dinner finished off with too many bottles of soju. Effectively, they managed to drink just as much as they would have if Soonyoung had convinced them to go out with the rest of the guys.

Vernon had been lugging around his kitty for most of the afternoon, the white plushy keeping him company even from beside him on the sofa as he’d eaten with his hyungs. With the chaoticness of the dorm sometimes when the guys grouped together could make it more lonely than you’d think if no one noticed he was regressed. But with his kitty there, he felt a lot better, it also being a signal to the other members that he was feeling small. Even if he wasn’t fully regressing, like today.

Seungkwan and Jeonghan dragged Cheol, Joshua and Vernon into their drunken shenanigans, Jun and Wonwoo managing to slip out while everyone was distracted to have some peace and quiet. Likely to game, phone or otherwise.

It was another night of drunk karaoke and Jeonghan forcing Joshua to teach him how to make a dish that even Joshua didn’t know how to make. Vernon managed to keep to himself, smiling every so often as he listened in on their jokes, loitering at the edge of the kitchen instead of being glued to his phone, unaware and off in his own world like he usually did. He was drained and, for some reason, just a touch emotional. Hence the subconscious choice to have his kitty with him for the afternoon, even though he was never often clingy with the couple of plushies he did own.

The same typical business, the other members had barely noticed when he started walking around with his plushy, so quietly trying to get the attention of his Hyungs. He wanted their comfort. Or to go to bed. Or both. But he didn’t want to be alone.

“Hyung?”, Vernon went to his closest friend, Seungkwan, who had tugged on Jeonghan to get him out of the kitchen and back on the mic, only succeeding in being bumped around. So Vernon gave up and toddled back to the other side of the kitchen.

“Hyung??”, he tapped on Joshua’s shoulder, but Seungkwan’s tug of war with Jeonghan knocked him back. But thankfully right into Cheol’s sturdy arms.

“Woah there.”, Cheol had caught him, but there was a touch of alcohol on his breath. Vernon turned his nose, worried, though Cheol himself hadn’t had much to drink.

“Yah! Stop shoving around the kitchen. You almost knocked Hansol on his ass!”, Cheol helped Vernon stand straight, taking him by the shoulders and directing him back to the living room while the others drunkenly teased, bickered and jerked each other around.

“What’s going on with you?”, Cheol was light hearted when he shook the boy, his arm around Vernon’s shoulders but the tone of his voice was steady and serious.

“I don’t-“, Vernon paused, “I-“, he ran his thumb over a wet patch on the fabric of his plushie, his face contorting into a panicked expression before his lip began to quiver and silent tears paved multi-lane highways down his reddening cheeks.

“Hey.. hey, hey. What’s going on??”, Cheol sat up straight and leaned forward to look Vernon in the eye, or try at least as his eye line was fixed on the floor.

In just a couple moments of scanning, Cheol also spotted the purple stain on the previously snow white fabric.

“Yah…. Those *********”, he grunted, standing and pulling Vernon and his plushie up with him.

Vernon let himself be tugged along, confused and teary eyed until they stood in the laundry room, Cheol finally releasing his hand to dig for something on a shelf.

“Here it is…”, he retrieved a chunky pen and held out his hand again.

Buffering for a moment, Nonnie’s puffy eyes looked between his hand and Cheol’s before resting his hand in his Hyung’s palm again.

“You’re too cute~”, Cheol groaned, more than a little annoyance in his voice as he shook the hand off and again held out his palm, “Your kitty, Hansol.”

This upset Vernon deeply. His day had been anything but as he planned and his kitty was already collateral damage. But even so he still needed it and clung to it, defensively as if Seungcheol had asked him for his kidney.

“I’ll give ‘im back, Nonnie. I’m just trying to fix him up for you since those knuckleheads stained him… I know he’s important to you, alright?”, Cheol promised, his resting expression melting from something harsh to one that made Vernon reconsider and recognize that he could always trust his hyung.

Slowly, he released the tension in his arms, not realizing just how tightly he’d been squeezing to it and let Cheol go to work on the ugly purplish stain. After a few minutes, he then opened the washer and set it inside.

“Wait!”, Vernon finally spoke again, distressed, shouted even, his hand reflexively reaching out.

“Yah, I’m not gonna drown ‘im, he just needs a quick bath. We can watch a movie, I’ll have one of those numskulls dry him up and he’ll be all done… good?”, Cheol raised his eyebrows in question, getting the youngests’ permission before going ahead and starting the washer, shooing him out of the back room before the scary noises could start.

Reluctantly, Vernon allowed himself to be pulled back to the living room where the big noise coming from two men in particular was a lot more welcoming in the arms of someone he felt safe with. Just as Cheol had promised, he let Nonnie pick out a nice movie and curl up next to him on the sofa.

“Yah, why is Hansol taking up the whole sofa? Let me sit!” Seungkwan drunkenly huffed, crossing his arms in fit but quickly, Cheol shuts him down.

“Hansol, lay down comfortably. Come here and don’t pay attention to him. He’s just jealous you get all of Hyung’s attention tonight.”, He lifted his arm and nodded to reassure Vernon that it was really alright.

“And, Boo, go sit on the other sofa, it won’t kill you.”, Cheol grinned, a little more friendly than before.

Seungkwan gave up pretty fast. Though he was a little dense when he was drunk and a little confrontational always, all of them had a soft spot for their second youngest maknae.

“He loves you too, ‘non”, he smirked as Boo plopped down on the other sofa, with a silly pout on his face.

Vernon’s night was going a little better thanks to a certain hyung, so he rested, much more comfortable and a lot less alone in his regression. Even regardless of the rowdiness of his fellow members, it was calm.

🧸Endnote: this was a fairly unconventional duo for me to write but after observing their friendship over my time as a carat I’d have to say their relationship is so soft and sweet! Cheolie and Nonnie best boyos!! 🥰💖 ~ 🐶🐰🍓

🧸Masterlist🧸

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aurumacadicus · 1 year

Note

Steve/Bucky/Tony

They are all Dragons, Steve and Bucky courting Tony but because they are from a different Dragon Tripe Tony doesn't get that they are courting him and think they are so nice to him, while Natasha watchs on she. She is courting Pepper and she told her she is courting her and things are moving along nicely between them

Natasha is from the same tripe as Steve and Bucky and they don't get how she is doing will with Pepper and they are not moving along with Tony (because they forgot to tell Tony they are courting him yheir way)

Just the most shenanigans between everyone :D

I love your work so much

💝

Asdfksdjfh you know I’m always down to write them being idiots in love😂

Pepper frowned at Tony’s larder. It was much too full for one dragon--several bags of dehydrated meat, casks of beer and fruit wines, crates of fruit and vegetables. She’d watched him take the gifts happily, at first--he liked gifts, and he liked food, and gifts of food were the best of both. She knew he especially liked accepting gifts from Steve and Bucky, because he was carrying a torch for both of them, and it made him feel special.

But now his larder was too full, and winter was coming, and he wouldn’t be able to throw enough parties to get his friends to help him eat it. He was going to have to throw it out. And Steve and Bucky were planning to visit again--they’d certainly bring more.

Pepper turned, watching as Tony fussed with his human form, worrying over his hair and the way the scales still lingered around his eyes. ‘Like human wrinkles,’ he’d lamented, as if it didn’t make clear how self-conscious he was about being older than Steve and Bucky. She grabbed Natasha as she began to shuffle past her into the larder. “We need to talk to Steve and Bucky.”

“Why,” Natasha complained immediately.

Pepper slanted her a sharp look. She motioned at the larder.

Natasha looked, uncomprehending, before squinting back up at her. “I fail to see the problem? Unless you think this isn’t going to be enough for all three of them for the winter.”

“I am once again reminding you that our kind sleep more during the winter,” Pepper told her. “Also, Steve and Bucky won’t be staying the fucking winter if we don’t talk to them.”

Natasha blinked, absolutely confounded. “Why wouldn’t they? All this food gifting has led to this.”

“Do you remember the first time you brought me a side of beef, and I asked if you were calling me too skinny in a way that made you want to die?” Pepper asked her pleasantly.

Natasha preferred not to remember those times. “He’s got to gain weight for an egg,” she reasoned, a touch frantic at Pepper’s severe frown. “Even if you guys do sleep for a month.”

“We do not sleep for a whole month,” Pepper began, realized she was being derailed, and scowled, grabbing Natasha’s shoulder to drag her in close. “You know courting gifts in our colony are jewels. Tony has not received even a chip of sapphire, his family jewel. He doesn’t know he’s being courted, he doesn’t know Steve and Bucky expect to be invited to winter with him, and it’s going to hurt all of their feelings. And Tony hates waste, so you know he’s going to be upset when halfway through the winter, he has to throw out half this food, and Steve and Bucky are going to be hurt when they learn about it.”

“They could just ask him, like I asked you,” Natasha muttered petulantly.

“Steve and Bucky are fucking stupid,” Pepper whispered harshly, shaking her. “You know they’re fucking stupid. They started out posturing instead of giving him food, Natasha.”

Natasha winced, because Tony was oblivious even on the best of days, and posturing merited less than a short blink of confusion before he brushed it off. It had been Jim who had told them that posturing wouldn’t work, mostly because he felt bad after the second time Tony had responded to it with, “...Anyway.”

“Tell them to bring him a chip of sapphire,” Pepper hissed, danger dripping from each syllable.

“Pepper, I look old,” Tony whined, turning.

Pepper gave him an unimpressed frown even as she unclamped her hand from Natasha’s shoulder, ignoring the spots of blood that welled up from her claws. “Shut up, Tony. You still look like a lovable twink.”

“I can’t be a twink,” Tony exclaimed, offended, as she walked over to him. “I’m over three thousand years old!” He paused, then sagged again. “I’m old.”

“I’m telling Jim you said you were old,” Pepper said flatly.

“Noooo he’s five hundred years older than me he’s going to whack me with his tail,” Tony wailed.

Natasha took the opportunity to sneak to the front of Tony’s cave so she could intercept Steve and Bucky. She needed to tell them to get Tony the biggest fucking rock they could find so Tony could see they were earnest.

#aurumacadicus answers #roseroundglasses #new trope/plot meme #stuckony #blackpepper

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axolotlelle · 8 months

Note

you can't show me "Post-battle emotional high" fic prompt and not make me think wolbahn Grand Melee shenanigans... 👀

Anon you have inspired me... Have some filth

"Quite the show we put on back there."

"You're not an opponent to take lightly, that’s for sure." Tristanne chuckled, resting her back against the cold wall of stone. "Almost burnt my ears off!"

"A shame! I’ll aim to keep them intact during our rematch." Raubahn smiled as the Viera elbowed his side at the jest. “You did promise me one.”

“I did.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’ll stop in Ul’dah when I can.”

They had found a quiet place to talk after the Grand Melee, away from the prying eyes of Ishgardian nobles. Their warm breath was making white clouds in the cold air of Coerthas, the rush from the fight still coursing through their bodies. It was a rare moment of intimate peace after everything they had been through in the past few months.

The comfortable silence was not meant to last, however. Stepping away from where he stood, Raubahn offered Tristanne his hand. "We'll soon be missed. Let's not make them wait."

"Right."

She hesitated. She enjoyed the few moments she spent with him, short as they were, and she didn’t want this one to end quite yet. Especially after their fight. “Shall we dance”, he’d asked, and her heart had skipped a beat.

Looking up, Tristanne took in Raubahn’s rugged features, scar running across his nose, his lips curled into a gentle smile. By the Twelve, he was handsome. Reluctantly, she tore herself away from her enamored observations and from the wall, grabbing his outstretched hand.

She might have misjudged how much to move forward, or Raubahn underestimated his own strength, but she ended up flush to his chest, heat rising to her cheeks.

As their eyes met, she couldn’t help but notice Raubahn’s flicker down to her lips, just for an instant.

He bent down to kiss her as she rose up to do the same, their mouths meeting in the middle. Tristanne growled, something almost feral taking over as she wrapped her arms around Raubahn’s shoulders, fingers gripping the back of his cape to pull him even closer.

They slammed back against the wall, their kisses growing hurried, messy.

“I need- ah!-” Tristanne tried to talk, but they could barely keep their hands off each other, let alone part their lips. Instead, she decided to make her intentions clear by sneaking a hand under Raubahn’s tunic, cupping his groin. He groaned at the touch, his hips bucking into her palm.

Following her lead, he decisively grabbed Tristanne’s buttock, giving it a firm squeeze that had her blush. His hand was so large, he could probably lift her up through sheer strength. He let go and slipped his hand inside her trousers, then her underwear, feeling the heat of her bare skin. He pet the fur where her thighs met her core, smiling against her lips.

“So soft.” His deep voice rumbled in the most thrilling way. Tristanne shivered, both from the cold and from anticipation.

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m never giving you that rematch.” She growled, hooking her fingers into the side of his smallclothes and pulling down, just enough to reveal his hardening cock. She wished she could get a closer look, but it was neither the time nor place.

“You drive a tough bargain, but I’ll take it.” Raubahn wasted no time, lowering her trousers just enough to give himself access. “Turn around?”

Tristanne sighed but still complied, a cheeky smile on her lips. As much as she wanted to be held up by a very large highlander, she knew that it was not the most comfortable position for either of them, especially with the amount of armor they were still wearing. She rested her arms against the stone, looking back at Raubahn. He seemed to be quite busy playing with her newly revealed tail, petting along the pale fur of its underside.

“And yet you’re getting distracted.” She said in jest. It was enough for Raubahn to look straight in her eyes as he redirected his attention to her core, lowering his fingers to gently part her folds. She could feel how wet she was already, and she would have been embarrassed were more pressing things not on her mind.

Like how Raubahn was moving aside his tunic, lining himself up with her. He pushed in slowly, giving Tristanne time to relax around his girth. Twelve, he certainly was proportional but considering her previous experiences with Roegadyns, it felt nothing short of perfect.

He bent down to plant a kiss on the side of her neck, his hand settling around her hips and keeping her pinned.

“Please.” Tristanne moaned softly. She wasn’t the type to beg but she couldn’t help it, she needed him to move so badly. Thankfully, he was a kind man. Slowly at first, he started rocking against her, drawing high-pitched moans out of her every time their hips met. He wasn’t silent either, she could feel him groan against her neck as his thrusts got faster and faster, until they both got so loud in their frantic lovemaking anyone close-by would hear.

The slap of skin against fur grew hurried, losing all sense of rhythm as they got closer to their climax. She could feel the heat burning in her belly, almost crossing that threshold until-

She tore herself away from Raubahn and her fantasy, looking down as to stifle the tension. They couldn’t let this happen, not with the weight of the responsibilities they each bore on their shoulders. No matter how badly she wanted to give up the pretense, it would only hurt them both.

Better to smile, bury down these feelings, and head back to the Steps of Faith.

#my writing #rautrist #this is smut read at your own risk #wolbahn #hurried half clothed sex my beloved

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amjustagirl · 2 years

Text

Chapter 5: Sparks fly

chapters: 5/15 pairing: miya osamu x f! reader genre: romance, angst, fluff, inarizaki shenanigans wc: 6.5k summary: miya osamu does not dare set fire to his heart. it burns anyway.

(prev / next)

Miya Osamu is not quick to anger except when it comes to his idiot brother.

But Kaiyo is sorely testing his patience today.

“What do you mean you invited her along our trip?!” he demands, chasing her around the counter in her store as Atsumu films his antics on his phone. Osamu doesn’t even care that Shin-chan and Sho-chan are both gawking at the spectacle of all the adults in their lives behaving like children, because Kaiyo is interfering with his life in the most infuriating of ways yet again and she’s not even the least bit apologetic about it.

“Pfft!” she sticks out her tongue to blow raspberries.

He grabs at her fruitlessly as she hops about his shop, nimbly dodging his attacks. “Come back here, you gremlin - ”

“Why can’t I invite my friend on a trip?” she wheedles, blinking doe-eyed at him.

He does not buy her act, not when she’s responsible for tossing Ichika almost literally into Kita’s lap, not when she’s responsible for engineering Sakusa’s first meeting with Asami - never mind the fact that the two couples in question are very happily married with children to boot. He does not appreciate such interference, and yet Kaiyo irrepressibly grasps every chance she has to toss him on the tracks of the marriage train.

“Cos you’re tryin’ to set me up and I don’t appreciate it - don’t think I can’t see what you’re tryin’ to do - ”

“It’s not like I asked her to marry you?!” Kaiyo squawks, using ‘Tsumu as a shield. “Why can’t I have a friend on the trip? She’s friends with all of us, and she mentioned she’s never had much opportunity to leave the city, so why shouldn’t she come along with us?”

“Because -”

“It’s not gonna be awkward if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s gonna have her own room and it’s not like I’m asking you to babysit her - she’s a grown adult, and not Sho-chan.”

“ - gonna play with ‘Asami-chan, don’t wan’ Uncle ‘Samu -”

“Because -”

“Kaiyo’s right - ‘Samu, you’re complainin’ so much you’re gonna give Kaiyo the wrong idea - ”

“- the right idea you mean -”

“Uncle ‘Samu, y’know your face is turnin’ purple - wait lemme take a photo and send it to Ma-kun -”

“ENOUGH!”

Four pairs of eyes turn to stare at him.

Seething waves ease into ripples of resignation. There isn’t actually any good reason why you shouldn’t be invited along other than the fact he sees through Kaiyo’s transparent attempt at trying to set him up with you, and even he wants to stomp his foot and pull out his hair in frustration - very much not helped by the fact that Atsumu is just watching him with that ridiculously cheesy grin - there’s nothing he can do but give in to Kaiyo’s scheming.

“Fine”, he says, grinding his teeth down. “Have it your way.”

Kaiyo whoops. He resolves to conveniently sell out of her favourite onigiris for a week at least.

It’s not that he dislikes your company. Far from it, really.

Contrary to his protests, he likes spending time with you - who else is he going to debate with about the best way to choose tuna, or the best knife to use in the kitchen (Kaiyo was very pleased when you realised you’d always worked with her family knives). Bad days are better when you smile at you from across the counter, he can’t help but chuckle under his breath when you send him videos of Kombu-chan scaring your other neighbour’s dog away from your door before trotting back to you smugly for some treats.

You’re his friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

He’d like to keep it that way.

Back in his high school days when his teammates would chat idly about their preferences in a partner, he’d share that his type would be someone who’s kind, generous and sweet, preferably someone who’d like food as much as he - ‘Tsumu laughed at him and shouted that what he wants is some boring, goody-two shoes glutton - Aran and Kita thankfully always stepped in to throttle him and remind him to be respectful before Osamu could even throw the first punch and beat him into the dust.

He’s not blind. He knows you’re what he wants, if only he were looking.

You’re not the first girl Kaiyo has tried setting him up with. But every single date he begrudgingly goes on inevitably ends with him breaking out the cliched it’s not you, it’s me. His singlehood is probably the only thing his okaa-san is more disappointed in him than Tsumu.

“‘’Tsumu already spawned two monsters, ‘ka-sannn.”

“The more the merrier, Osamu”, she’d always reply. “Surely you can;t blame me for wantin’ my sweet, sensitive boy to be happy - ”

“I am happy.” he’d insist. “Don’t worry about me.”

He’s going to rub it in Atsumu’s face on their joint deathbeds at the age of one hundred and eight (because either going to meet their maker first is a scenario too terrible to imagine) that he’s had a happier life. He already has everything that makes him happy - his restaurant, the first sprouting into the second before branching out into the third. He has his crew, he has ‘Tsumu and Kaiyo and the kids practically eatin’ him out of house and home, he has his customers who stream in and out of his store with bellies full of food, hearts full of joy.

He’s happy.

“Do you ever miss any of this?” he asked you once, jutting his chin out at the expanse of his restaurant, all forty something wooden seats occupied, orders flying in and out of the kitchen while a hungry line snakes out of the front door.

“Only sometimes”, you reply, looking as if you’ve bitten something bitter.

But he’s seen the notes you scribble in the dog-eared notebooks you tote around, on cooking techniques that you learnt from your father and his father before him. He’s seen you record with painstaking care the findings of experiments you two have been conducting in his kitchen to the amusement of his staff.

“Really?” he asks.

“Hmm…there are little things that I miss about it now”, you reply slowly. “Seeing people smile is…kinda nice.”

The clouds clear. The sun peeks through.

But then something sours in your expression when you drop your gaze down to the knife you’re holding. He does not miss the slight tremble of your hands nor the faint lines of scars running up your forearms to your elbows. “What happened?” he’d asked you about it once.

“I was five and kinda clumsy”, you replied, as if it explains everything.

It doesn’t. It only makes him want to pound something into the ground.

He digresses.

His restaurant makes him happy. It’s all that’s needed to make him happy.

After all, he has no desire to be like Atsumu, inviting a storm into his life when he’s unprepared to weather it out. Commitment - he doesn’t want to be responsible for another broken heart. It’d be easy to date around or get married, but what’s the point if he’ll just be a terrible partner, with his long hours and demanding career. He won’t even contemplate children. There’s no time for that when he already has three restaurants under his belt, delicate green saplings he’s determined to nurture into grand, old oaks.

“You are crazy for taking him back”, he tells Kaiyo bluntly the night she begged him to accompany Atsumu for drinks with her brothers, fearful that her newly returned husband might be maimed from the encounter.

She answers with a wry shrug.

“He’s already left you. Twice, in fact, unless you broke your head and forgot all about that.”

He’s been there in the wake of her heartbreak at the hands of his twin brother. First, he had to beat ‘Tsumu black and blue until he learnt his responsibility to the daughter he put in her belly. Second, he had to hold her together when ‘Tsumu left until she welded the broken pieces of herself back together. Despite having her heart broken again and again, she still keeps taking Atsumu back.

“He asked me to jump off a cliff with him” she explained when he remonstrated with her.

“How romantic.”

“Osamu!” she huffs. “You’ll understand one day when it’s your turn to fall in love.”

“Never.”

“You wait and see”, she teases.

He’s about to retort that he’ll never be as ridiculous as she is but he’s interrupted by Atsumu stirring from his drunken stupor from a night out with her brothers, all determined to drink him into alcohol poisoning.

“I’m here”, she goes to him as Atsumu murmurs her name. He looks away when she takes his brother’s hand.

Perhaps she’s finally found domestic bliss with Atsumu, who now seems to be the epitome of a family man. But Osamu isn’t convinced that he can do better than his brother. Outwardly, despite their identical faces, they seem like polar opposites. Atsumu is loud mouthed, Osamu is soft spoken. Atsumu is a dick, Osamu tries his best to be polite. But as Shinsuke has always noted, they share the same DNA, the same genetic sequencing, built from the same material.

How different can he truly be from his twin?

Atsumu’s not the only one with with a fraught marriage. He’s consoled patrons both young and old when they come in with their faces glum, caused by cheating spouses, deadbeats, partners who vanish without a trace. He’s seen what marriage has done to his own friends - Gintama’s in a loveless union with someone who treats him like dirt (just leave already, he says, but his friend only shrugs), and Suna - well, less said about that disaster, the better. Kita has a rock solid marriage, but that’s because he’s practically a god with no faults of his own.

Osamu, on the other hand, has so many flaws of his own. It’s only prudent that he not gamble with someone else’s happiness. Kaiyo can do so with hers, it’s her life, her prerogative, but he’s not going to subject some innocent third party to the ticking time bomb tucked inside him, hardwired to explode.

“‘Samu!”

Something twists in his gut when he finds you waiting on the train platform. Your hair is askew and you’re wearing probably the ugliest flannel shirt known to mankind in an attempt to look like a farm girl, but the bright smile on your face when you catch sight of him is contagious, and he can’t keep happiness from spreading like wildfire, greeting you with a smile of his own.

“I’m so glad you’re here”, you say. “Here, take my suitcase for me. I nearly died lugging it here.”

He stumbles under the weight of said suitcase when loading it into the train and curses aloud. Kaiyo only gives him a thumbs up though Atsumu makes a show of clapping his hands over Shoma’s ears. “What on earth did you pack for this trip, the entire combini?” he demands, when he locates your seats - next to each other, courtesy of Kaiyo, of course.

“Presents for the kids!” you reply, rifling through the huge container of things you’ve deemed necessary for a week-long trip. “A castella cake for Kita-san’s granny, Kaiyo mentioned she has a fondness for that. And I know it’s customary to bring fruit as presents for our hosts, but I figured they get better produce out in the farmlands so I popped into the department stores to get some expensive mochi and sweet treats, hopefully they’ll like that.”

“I hope they don’t like it too much or they’ll end up with a mouthful of cavities”, he says drolly, shaking his head at your generosity.

You roll your eyes at him before admitting sheepishly. “I…didn’t know what to bring for them. I’ve never really gone on a trip like this before. So I may have overdone it.”

“I’ll eat it all if they can’t finish it.”

You smack his shoulder. “That’s your motive for being discouraging, you sneaky bugger”, you accuse him.

“You’re still gonna give me one anyway”, he says, unrepentant.

Despite your outrage, you still plop a sweet into his palms and he settles back in his seat, satisfied. The train trundles on, its swaying lulling you to sleep, your head finding a pillow on the shelf of his shoulders. It’s only to be expected, because you stubbornly hung around the restaurant til closing last night despite having a night shift the night before. He wraps his jacket around you because it’s the decent thing to do, and does not even mind when you mumble incoherent nonsense and drool against his sleeve.

(Okaa-san raised one of ‘em right, at least)

“Aww”, Kaiyo coos, leaning over the top of the seat like a student on a school trip. “How adorable.”

He expects her to snap a photo or do something that would set his teeth on edge, but she sticks out her pinky finger at him. “I offer a truce to my favourite brother in law.”

“I’m your only brother in law.”

“C’mon! It’s a generous offer! I solemnly swear I won’t try anything on this trip”. She pouts when he only glares at her. “What!” she squawks, indignant. “Why don’t you believe me?!”

He’d stand up to throttle her, but that’d mean waking you up from your much needed nap so he tucks you against his shoulder securely before settling for a cat-like swat of Kaiyo’s hand.

“Cos you’re a bundle of trouble”, he states flatly.

“I forget how stubborn you can be sometimes”, she groans, wiggling her pinky insistently. “C’mon, I won’t push but promise me you’ll be a good friend to her and help her enjoy this trip? She deserves that much at least.”

“I’m not an asshole. I was gonna do that anyway.”

Her eyes dance with amusement. “And I promise to behave, if that helps you relax.”

While he’s inclined not to trust her, he links his pinky with hers. “Don’t push her over the mountaintop in some misguided attempt at matchmaking, that’s all I’m sayin’” he quips.

“C’mon”, she yelps, outraged. “I wasn’t even in Hyogo when Ichika decided to fall off that damned mountain, and I was just tryin’ to give Kita a gentle push in the right direction - ”

She trails off as he gives her a look, knowing that she’s not helping her own case.

“Promise you’ll be good”, Osamu warns.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m always good.”

“No interfering”, Osamu says firmly.

“No interfering”, Kaiyo parrots, pouting.

“Swear that you’ll stop your matchmaking attempts on your idiot husband’s life.”

She snorts. “I swear on my idiot husband’s life.”

“Hey!” Atsumu protests, but he’s distracted when Shoma wordlessly starts pasting a whole sheet of food stickers on him.

Fortunately, you continue snoring despite the commotion, even as the train pulls away from the city grid, concrete blocks of apartments and shops giving way to sloping green fields and hills that rise out of the earth. He settles back into his seat, careful not to jostle you, going through orders and paperwork on his tablet until the lightbulb shining overhead is overshadowed by dawn’s arrival.

“I don’t understand why you take so many night shifts”, he grouses as he walks you home.

You hum. Previously, you might’ve told him to just stop coming by the combini which he does without fail, at least once a week, but he always claims that he needs a breather after the intense mornings he has, rushing to the fish market at the crack of dawn, arranging for rice to be cooked, stocked to be boiled, all before it’s even eight o’clock in the morning. So now you just accept his complaints with equanimity.

Today though, summer is well and truly dying. Fall takes its place so the mornings are a little lazier, the sun rises a little later. You stop at the end of the road where the sidewalk ends, and morning traffic begins, tilting your face to the sky.

“I like seeing the sun rise”, you say softly. “I wonder what today brings.”

As the sun climbs over the horizon, spilling its light across the sky like fire in pink shades and gold hues, he takes hold of your shoulder, shaking you gently awake. “Wake up”, he murmurs, snorting under his breath when you squeeze your eyes shut. “It’s too early”, you grumble, but still, you obediently blink open your eyes.

“The sun doesn’t seem to think so”, he jokes, offering you a sip of hot tea from his thermos flask as you rub the heels of your hands into your eyes until like the earth, you slowly awake.

“G’morning ‘Samu”, you murmur.

The greeting pulls at the knot in his gut, though his heart is light with a feeling he does not recognise yet. “Good morning”, he replies, taking the liberty of brushing the hair out of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. “Thought you might wanna see the sunrise.”

“I see it quite a lot these days”, you laugh, but when you turn your head, your mouth forms an adorable o! and he chuckles as he changes seats with you.

“I thought you see it quite a lot these days?” he teases as you press your cheek against the glass.

“Shhh. It’s so different out of the city”, you whisper, breath fogging up the cool window, obviously spellbound.

He wants to steal a bite of your childish delight for himself. “So what do you think of it?”

“Mm? Tis pretty” you murmur, gazing out of the window, eyes aglow.

“Yeah”, he replies, voice gruff. He doesn’t realise he’s looking at you, not the sun.

Kita’s waiting for them at the station with a colourful, glittery sign that spells out WELCOME!, the kanji stark against the dull browns and greys of the village parking lot. Clearly the doing of his wife and daughters, but he waves it sportingly over his head, bowing politely when everyone emerges, a little dishevelled from the long train ride.

“Did Asami make that?” Atsumu chortles gleefully, pointing at the banner.

“Yes”, Kita responds placidly. “By the way, you have a sticker on your cheek, Atsumu.”

Between the two former captains of Inarizaki, you snort at how clear it is to see who comes off the worse in that encounter, as Atsumu struggles to peel the bright coloured onigiri sticker from his cheek (Shoma, the perpetrator, holding his mother’s hand, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth) and Kita gives one last merry jiggle of the bedazzled poster before setting it down in his van, looking every inch the proud father of three daughters.

You bow politely when he turns to greet you. “It’s nice to meet you”, he says as Osamu lifts your suitcase into the back of his van. You could’ve sworn his lips quirk up ever so slightly as he adds “you must be Osamu’s friend”, and you wonder if you’re left out of an inside joke when he glances at Kaiyo from the corner of his eyes and Osamu chokes, but you’re too distracted thumping Osamu’s back in an attempt to stop him from hacking his lungs out to pay Kita’s strange behaviour any mind. You promptly forget that strange incident when everyone’s loaded onto the truck and starts the journey towards the farm.

Autumn in Hyogo is transcendent.

The maple trees on fire, leaf tips tinted gold. The yellow foliage of gingko trees in the gorge you drive past, the hues of orange and amber of fallen leaves, the rolling hills and vast valleys. You’re almost reluctant to leave the van because you’re still awestruck by the beauty of the Japanese countryside in all its autumn glory, but Osamu bumps your shoulder.

“I’ll drive you out to see it all again, if you want”, he offers, so you step out of the van to take charge of your suitcase and offer the proper greeting to your hosts who’ve so kindly agreed to put you up in the guest house.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Ichika, Kita-san’s wife chirps, her trio of daughters clustered around her legs. “I hope you’ll be happy here.”

“I already am”, you tell her truthfully, because with views like that, you forget all your troubles, leave your worries behind. Besides, you already feel at ease with Ichika and her family by extension, because her warm manner is welcoming, and she’s clearly someone Kaiyo adores, your friend tossing herself bodily at Ichika, bawling into her shoulder that it’s been too long, I need to kidnap you from your husband, said husband looking both amused and concerned about the imminent disappearance of his wife.

“I’m glad”, she says, when she finally untangles herself from the octopus-like grip of her best friend with the help of Atsumu, ushering you up a slope where your lodgings for the next week await. Kaiyo’s mentioned her best friend runs a guesthouse that’s comfortable and clean in her multiple attempts to persuade you to tag along, but she’s clearly omitted the fact that the minshuku the Kitas own in their vast rice farm has blossomed into a stately property, twelve sprawling rooms with traditional tatami floors, a communal bathhouse, even barbeque pits on the sides for picnics under the stars.

Shoma’s already disappeared with the eldest of the Kita brood, while Shino’s already set up shop in the family room, video-calling Meian Makoto as her Atsumu glowers, until he’s dragged into a conversation with Kita and his brother. Kaiyo disappears off to greet and gossip with Granny, leaving you alone with Ichika, who brings you to your room.

“You have a beautiful place”, you say. “Thank you for letting me stay with you.”

“A friend of Kaiyo’s is a friend of mine”, she replies, and you find yourself beaming back at her, her cheerfulness contagious. “And thank you for your kind words! I always try to have Kaiyo and her family come over for as long as they can in autumn, though it’s a pity Atsumu has to leave early-”

“You’re just happy to get Kaiyo to yourself”, the man in question interjects. Ichika just turns her nose up at him.

“- And as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I personally think the minshuku is at its best in autumn when the leaves change colour and the entire valley looks like it’s on fire. Plus, the harvest is over and we can actually relax, but Shinsuke always disagrees and says it’s best in spring for some reason.”

“The farm is at it’s best in spring when the flowers blossom”, Kita Shinsuke pipes up, warmth evident in his eyes as he gazes at his wife. “You should come back in spring, see the farm transform into a sea of flowers in bloom.”

Ichika laughs, curling an arm around her husband’s lean waist. “We’re both biased in our own ways. I love the farm in fall because that when I first visited the farm - at Kaiyo’s suggestion, no less - and promptly fell in love with my wonderful husband right here - ” Kita promptly turns so red in embarrassment, you wonder if he’s impersonating a traffic sign though he just pulls his wife closer, shaking his head with exasperation - “Whereas he’s a romantic and loves spring best ‘cos that’s when we got married, right Shin?”

Kita sighs but answers stoically - “that’s right, dear heart.”

Even though he’s clearly embarrassed, the look of open affection is clear to see. Then they catch each other’s eye and oh - the magical glimmer of lovelight in their eyes, like fireflies on a summer’s night, makes your heart wrench.

“Oi! ‘Chika, she’s gonna keel over from the journey, can you stop mooning over your husband -”

“Miya Osamu, I swear you’re becoming more and more like your idiot brother - ”

“Hey!”

You’re ushered into your room, alone yet overcrowded with your thoughts. You should unpack, take a breather and maybe take a shower before offering some help to prepare dinner. Surely with so many people on the farm they’ll definitely need help with food and it’s really the least you can do. But as you’re about to leave your room you hear a clatter of something clearly metallic outside your door.

“What on earth - Osamu, did you actually bring your own knives? Do you actually think Granny’s gonna let you anywhere near her kitchen, at least tonight - ”

Miya Osamu clearly shares the same thought as you.

“C’mon, ‘Chika”, you hear Osamu grumble as you emerge from your room. “Let me cook for y’all so I don’t feel so much like a damned parasite - ”

“Absolutely not”, your hostess declares with the manner of an offended kitten. “You’re here for a holiday, which you hardly ever take for yourself, I know that ‘cos Kaiyo always complains that you work too hard.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” he says mournfully, arms full of sharp knives but still managing to look like a lost child. You find it absolutely adorable.

(put that thought on ice)

Ichika’s mouth stretches wide into a cheshire grin, turning to address you, the unwitting collateral damage in their exchange. “It’s your first time visiting Asago right? That means you’ve not had the chance to see the Takeda castle ruins, and it’s the perfect time to see it in the fall. ‘Samu will bring you, won’t he?”

Osamu just glares as if she’s mortally insulted him.

“It’s okay, I can just stay here and explore the farm”, you demur, but Ichika starts chattering a mile a minute about how everyone else is occupied - the children at the duck pond, Kaiyo disappearing with Atsumu to make out somewhere in the fields (it’s like they actively want to be caught by Shinsuke or something), she and her husband busy with some chores - so Osamu’s the best guide for you, since Granny and I’ll be cooking dinner, he’ll have nothing to do. She doesn’t take no for an answer, something she shares with Kaiyo in common, shooing you off in the direction of the truck, tossing the keys at Osamu’s head which he catches with well honed reflexes, grumbling under his breath.

“Don’t fall off the mountain!” she calls cheerfully. “But if you do - Osamu, you better carry her back home!”

Osamu just mutters something about how she’s in cahoots with Kaiyo, but gallantly opens the truck door, helping you in. “You wanna see the castle then?”, he asks, revving the engine, reversing out onto the road for the second time today.

“I don’t need to”, you reply. “I don’t know what’s around here. I mean - we can do anything you want, I really don’t mind.”

“It’s not about what I want”, he says, patient as ever. “I grew up around here, been dragged up the castle more times than I care to count. It’s kinda nice ‘specially around sunset. We can go there if you want.”

You imagine Osamu as a young boy, one half of a ragtag duo with Atsumu, dirt smudged on his cheeks, scuffed up knees, more considerate than his loud mouthed brother, the reasonable, responsible Miya twin.

“Would you bring me around to your favourite places around here?” you ask meekly.

His forehead puckers in confusion. “My favourite places?” he echoes. “I grew up in Tooyoka, it’s about forty minutes drive away. You sure you wanna visit it? It’s just another sleepy town y’know? Great onsens around the area, but it’s pretty quiet.”

“I’m just curious” you say without offering any further explanation, expecting him to laugh at your odd request but he glances at you, wordlessly confirming that you’re serious before turning the truck northwards, slicing through the mountains, following the road towards the sea.

As he drives, he offers you snippets of stories, how impressed he was that Kita Shinsuke used to cycle an hour through the mountains just to get to high school and was not only punctual, but always the first one to arrive for morning practice, almost always before dawn, and how Atsumu, in contrast, could never wake up for anything except for volleyball practice, leaving you in stitches as Osamu mimics his brother yelling at him for letting him oversleep as passes the bus stop where the twins used to wait for the bus to school.

“Don’t you want to stop to say hi to your parents?”

“Nah, you asked for my favourite places, right? C’mon, don’t look at me like that”, he chortles, carefully parking the truck before leading you down a row of shophouses, stopping in front of a soba noodle shop. The proprietress bursts into a wrinkled smile when she recognises him through thick glasses and marvels over how handsome he’s grown.

(you find yourself agreeing with her)

“I should’ve known your favourite places would revolve around food.”

“You make me sound like a terrible son. C’mon, food first - I’ll visit them later in the week before ‘Tsumu leaves for practice. We had an early lunch, now it’s time for tea”, Osamu argues, ordering two steaming bowls of soba noodles, topped with freshly grated ginger, crisp spring onions and perfectly golden tempura bits.

“Plus, it’s life changing. It’ll teach you the meaning of happiness.”

“Life changing, huh?” you tease, but your eyes widen dramatically as you take your first slurp of noodles. Handmade buckwheat noodles, grown in fresh soil and water, piping hot soup laden with savoury comfort. It feels like a warm hug from a doting grandma or the feel of a sweater fresh out of the dryer, and if you have to eat your words for doubting him in the first place - well, Osamu just grins and orders another bowl for sharing and doesn’t rub it in.

He pronounces the ice cream he drags you to life-changing as well, narrating how he’d stop by without fail after elementary school, leaning his bicycle against the preposterously ugly cow statue they have in front, ordering two scoops of ice cream at least- cycling through all the freshly made flavours. In homage to the season, he orders kuri, jewelled chestnuts in the pale yellow scoop, along with a blend of satsumaimo, the vibrant purple of the sweet potato twirling around swirls of creamy vanilla. In between licks of the ice cream which he so generously let you hold, he tells you about how he’d wander up and down the food street, trying their wares, figuring out what he liked about each and everyone of their offerings, experimenting in his parents’ kitchen on the weekends even though his grandma disapproved.

“We all hate that all witch”, he says matter of factly, as he leads you down the street. “So it’s karma that I’m doing the exact thing she used to scold my ma for.” He switches to a nasal whine - “How could you let your son be in the kitchen, it’s a woman’s job - “, then he deadpans - “well, my ma and I would make onigiris together anyway to bring over to my grandma - I used to wonder what the odds are of her chokin’ on one, but you know what they say, evil just doesn’t seem to die - ”

“Miya Osamu!” you say severely.

He just snorts. “She’s alive and kickin’, so don’t get all huffy on me right now.”

You reach the edge of a park. “So you sell onigiris just to spite your grandma”, you muse as you sit on a swing.

He takes a seat next to you, kicking up sand as he builds momentum.

“Nah, it’s cos’ they appeal to a wide segment of society and I’m raking in money from low margins”, he deadpans as you roll your eyes at the nonsense he’s sprouting from his mouth. “Hey! I gotta use the business school jargon I learnt so I don’t waste the term I spent there before droppin’ out.”

“Sure”, you say. “Not ‘cos you have a soft heart and want to make as many people as happy as possible, with life-changing onigiris -”

“My life mission has been found out”, he replies, drolly twisting his mouth, before you both collapse in mirth, the clear afternoon air ringing with your shared laughter. Your belly aches so much from the combination of too much food and laughter that you’re almost too distracted to hear his next words, whistling in the wind.

“At least - I hope they make people happy”, he says, staring far away as if he’s able to peer through time and space back into each of his little restaurants if he peers past the horizon. “My onigiris, that is”, he adds, as if there’s any need to clarify what he means. “I think they do. That’s all I set out to do in this life.”

You think of his restaurants, filled to the brim with hungry patrons leaving content at the end of a hearty meal. His onigiris, stuffed with handmade fillings, lovingly made with fresh ingredients, each a palmful of rice squeezed loosely thrice, roughly the size of a heart. Simple yet deeply satisfying, the sort of food one eats regularly both for sustenance and comfort.

“They do”, you announce to your audience of one who just looks at you, bemused.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Well - I mean - ”, you fumble, because you should qualify your statement, stealing a few beats to formulate a response by tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Suddenly, you’re shy because perhaps you’ve spoken out of turn, you’ve never professed to be the best at reading people so you’re not exactly best placed to make hasty generalisations about his customers. “Your onigiris”, you parrot his own words back at him, as if there were any doubt what you were referring to.

“They make me happy. They do.”

Then you glance up almost furtively at him, worried that you’ve overstepped. You’re - yes he’s said you’re his friend - but there’s almost something too personal about declaring that the fruit of the craft he’s devoted his entire life to is a source of joy to you. Perhaps it comes off as a little creepy, perhaps he’s going to think you’re rude.

But he looks at you, gaze steady. “I’m glad”, he says simply.

The coil of anxiety tightening in your chest loosens. You hesitate but his open expression doesn’t falter, so you allow your mouth to fall open into a smile.

There’s a gradual build up of children in the park, some even waiting around you - swings are hot property and school just let out for these kids, he explains, as you take his hand, letting him help you out of your seat. He guides you along a well worn path - ‘Tsumu and I used to play tag there, he points to a muddy field as you shudder in sympathy for the state of his parents’ floor, we nearly drowned catching frogs here, he points to a clear stream, water burbling a merry song.

Tori gates flare scarlet in the distance, framing steps cut into the hill. “C’mon”, he urges when your pace slackens. “We won’t make it to the peak in Takeda, but I think this is a pretty decent substitute. Just in time for sunset too.”

You obediently follow him up the steps even though your thighs burn, unused to the exertion. When you reach the peak, he grabs hold to the back of your top, the fabric tethering you to him.

“I’m under orders not to let you fall off the edge”, he says in response to your questioning glance, clearing a space for you to sprawl out on the grass.

You don’t point out that there are barriers ring-fencing you from toppling over. Besides, the peak of this little hill is hardly anything to speak off, barely overlooking the sleepy town stretching into the sea. Instead, you listen to his recounting of how Ichika and Shinsuke’s ill-fated hike up the mountain the ruins of Takeda castle, gasping when Ichika tumbles off the peak (she was too distracted lookin’ at Shinsuke to watch her footing), cooing when Kita Shinsuke carries her on his back to find their way back towards the farm (she sprained her ankle, but I think she still enjoyed that hike).

“What a nice romance”, you sigh.

“I guess”, Osamu says with a nonchalant shrug.

He scoffs when you ask him teasingly if he ever brought a sweetheart or two up here in his youth. “They all flocked to ‘Tsumu, not me”, he says, without a hint of resentment. “Not that I had too much interest, t’was too wrapped up in volleyball in high school. And I guess it didn’t make sense for me to date then, my pocket money’s better spent on food for myself.”

“And now?” you ask. For some reason, your heart crawls its way up your throat, leaving a burning sensation behind.

“Now? I’m busy. Can’t be bothered”, he replies shortly.

Again, you wonder if you’ve overstepped, if you’ve crossed the boundaries that friendships have in place (you’ve had so few of them, you wouldn’t know what’s right from wrong) but he just cracks a wry smile. “Stop starin’ at me, you’re here to watch the sunset.”

Obediently, you follow his lead, tilting your face up to watch clouds gust across clear skies. You bear witness to the extinguishing of the sun’s rays, its gradual dip towards the horizon. The sky starts to darken until fiery orange and gold streaks from the sun’s farewell are all that remains of the day.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” Osamu asks as you make your way down the hill, back through the town where the truck is parked.

For a split second you close your eyes. You imagine another life where you grew up here in this small town between the sky and the sea. You imagine another life where you were allowed to learn how to kick your legs on the playground swings so you can arc through the air. You imagine being childhood best friends with him, accompanying him as he shyly tells each store owner that their food is oishi! when it deserves praise, following him through tori gates up to the top of the hill where you’d get him to yourself since everyone else would flock to Atsumu. You imagine another life where, on a perfect autumn day like today, you tell him that you like him. You imagine stealing a kiss from him as the sun sets.

You choke.

Your heart thunders against your chest, so hard that you have to press your hand against your ribs to keep steady. Blood rushes through frozen ventricles, a sudden inferno blasting your insides, gasoline churning in your gut. Your brain must have turned into ash, you’ve clearly lost all sense of logic to have such thoughts stray into your mind. You’re a walking cliche, forming a crush on the first guy who’s nice enough to befriend you. You should retreat back in your hole, bury yourself deep enough until the earth caves in and no one is around to witness your shame.

“You ok?” Osamu asks, frowning when he doesn’t get a response from you.

You have to avert your eyes. In the shadows of dusk, the sun leaves its mark, gold flecks in his dark eyes. You need to take a step back, regroup and figure out what’s your next step.

“Yeah”, you manage to say, your mouth bone-dry. “I’m fine. I - I enjoyed myself today. Thank you.”

His lips curve into a smile. “I’m glad”, he replies.

Sparks fly. Fire burns in the night sky.

note: a little early, and i hope you enjoy this chapter too! drop me an ask and let me know what you think!

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #Haikyuu angst #haikyuu romance #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x you #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #osamu x reader #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu #inarizaki #set fire to your heart

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deus-and-the-machina · 1 year

Text

@mcytmarch gift for @fruityenderman

I hope you enjoy!

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Pearl’s coronation had been a bit of a testy situation. A group of discontented farmers, feeling ignored by king and country, rising up to form their own kingdom was unheard of. But at least she had the support of several other monarchs, most noticeably her neighbors.

Speaking of which, it was while she was getting ready that one Mythical J. Sausage had snuck his way back to see her. “Pearl!” the newly crowned king of Mythland’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you look amazing!”

She gave him a cheeky grin back. “Sausage, did you sneak past the lookouts?”

“Mayyyyybe.”

With a laugh, she threw her arms around him and gave him a firm squeeze. “I’m really glad you made it, it’s been so hectic these past few weeks! It’s still so strange to think about, me a queen?”

“Don’t be modest.” Sausage said. “They chose you for a reason! You’re gonna be great, Queen Pearl.”

“Dwah, you’re too sweet.” Still hugging him, she picked him and spun him around, Sausage squawking in protest. She put him down and put her hands on her hips. “Now help me decide, how many sunflowers is too many, do you think? Should I pin some to my dress, or just my hair?”

He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, as if telling a secret. “All of them.”

She grinned. “Aight, all of them it is then!”

Sausage began to help her tuck them into her hair, while she pinned several to the bertha of her dress. He’d always been very reliable with this kind of thing. Often she’d let him do her ponytail or braid before sparring. He’d gotten so fond of it he once gave her begging puppy dog eyes when she said she could do it herself. Sausage was just the nicest, strangest member of royalty she’d ever met. The first prince she’d ever met had been the goofiest one too. Well…no longer prince now.

“Hey, sorry if it’s awkward to bring up, but sorry about your father. Shame to hear.”

He waved his hand as if to dismiss the concern. “Nahhh don’t worry about it. At least your coronation is gonna be a lot happier than mine. But hey! We can tell people we became rulers together!”

“Yeah…” she paused. “Really, you don’t have to put on a brave front for me or anything. It’s not gonna ruin the whole day or anything if you talk about it. I just haven’t seen you since then, so I wanted to check in.”

His eyes were a little watery as he looked at her. “Oh,” he said. “Pearl, that's so nice of you. But really! Just being here and seeing my friend is what’s making me feel better. So I’d rather just celebrate you today.”

Pearl was about to be sappy right back, when there was a thud from her drawer. She squinted. “‘Ello? Anyone in there?” Sausage leaned over her shoulder to squint at it as well. There was a muffled voice and a shushing noise. Pearl and Sausage locked eyes and nodded. She yanked open the drawer to reveal that it was much deeper than it normally was, impossibly so, in fact. And in this endless impossible space, two near identical freckled faces poked out.

Twins Gemini Tay and Fwhip were lodged in an impossible space in her drawer, Gem looking rather bothered and guilty and Fwhip grinning like a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Ehrm,” he said. “Surprise?”

“Fwhip! Gem! What are you doing in there!” Sausage gasped. “Is this some magic thing? Can you show me later?”

“Oi, I swear, none of you can just show up normally!” Pearl shook her head. “Get up on outta there and say hello!”

The twins clambered out, Gem muttering to herself about Fwhip’s inability to stay quiet. “I’m so sorry,” she put her hand over Pearl’s apologetically. “Fwhip had an idea and I needed to make sure he didn’t do anything too stupid–”

“Aw c’mon Gem, you can admit you had fun too.” Pearl teased. “You go along with so much of our shenanigans and I know you love it.”

“...Maybe. Sometimes”

Her twin puffed out his chest. “Pearl, queen of Gilded Helianthia! How would you like me to prostrate to you? Full bow? Half kneel? Getting on my knees? Or just a nice little curtsey?”

“All of them in that order,” Sausage came up behind her. “All of them!”

“Hey! You don’t gotta bow to me,” she shook her head. “Wait until I get my crown at least!”

“Ah yes, your Majesty. Very wise, your Majesty.” Gem elbowed him lightly.

Though her noble friends were…quirky, to put it lightly, Pearl couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather have by her side at this moment, as Fwhip and Sausage circled each other like crooning birds and Gem looked on in exasperated amusement. Without them, her kingdom probably wouldn’t even exist as it did now, with full sovereignty and everything. Their support had been invaluable every step of the way.

Gem walked over to her and began to rummage in her large pockets. Pearl wouldn’t be surprised if there was some spell that made them similarly much bigger than they appeared. She tugged out a yellow rolled up banner and held it out. “For you!”

“Ooooooo,” Unraveling it, she could see it was her flag. Cute duck eyes stared back at her, but unlike the regular flag, the edges of the flag lit up in rotating patterns. “The ducky’s going to a party, I see.”

“Just a bit of magic!” Gem smiled. “Fwhip didn’t bring anything. Sorry.”

“Hey!” he cried from the side of the room. “Don’t throw me under the bridge like that, I was busy ok!”

Sausage shook his head in fake disappointment. “What a horrible friend you are, Fwhip. Not bringing a coronation present? My word…”

“Well what did you bring, then?”

“...Oh.”

“Yeah! Exactly. So you can’t judge me.”

Gem laughed and looped her arm through Pearl’s. “So, is the queen ready to go out and get her crown?”

Pearl straightened her back and tried to loosen her shoulders. It would be about time then. “I can’t lie, I’m a bit nervous. I’m sure it’ll be fine though.”

“We can walk you down!” Sausage exclaimed. “All of us!”

She shook her head. “Nah, I don’t think you’re allowed to. Besides, I can’t let a few nerves stop me! I need to show my people I’m worthy of their choosing.”

“Boooooo, rules.” said Sausage. “This is why being in charge is fun. You can do whatever you want forever.”

Fwhip nodded. “It rules. If I don’t like something it can just not be a thing.” He sounded incredibly proud of this. Gem rolled her eyes.

“Sure, if you want to be revolted against.” She patted Pearl on the shoulder. “We’ll go back to the audience, then. But if we start cheering before it’s the proper time, no one will be able to hold us back, ok?”

Pearl felt a wide grin spread over her face. “I’d have nothing less.”

The three milled out of her dressing room, leaving Pearl to brush down her dress and straighten the last sunflower. When she walks down the aisle, the dirt path through the garden, that is, her friend’s voices would probably echo out loud above everyone else’s. They’d probably wallop and whoop during the speeches and the vows at inappropriate times. But Gilded Helianthia was a new kingdom, a more lax kingdom, so it wouldn’t be as strange. As the crown was placed on her head, Sausage would toss flowers and Fwhip would set off a small popper explosion and Gem a little shower of purple sparkles, and their clapping would be so loud and long it would leave their hands raw and red.

She took a deep breath. Pearl couldn’t wait to hear it all. And stepped out to meet her destiny.

#mcyt march #empires smp #pearlescentmoon #mythicalsausage #fwhip #geminitay

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banannabethchase · 4 months

Note

A mistletoe sequel of sorts, but it's just Claudio in an elf hat popping up behind pairings and waggling a piece of mistletoe over their heads. (bonus points for including Warange as unsuspecting victims)

Tis the Season - also on AO3

Claudio decides to take it upon himself to improve the holiday spirit of the AEW roster. Unfortunately, Yuta is dragged along for the ride.

I…completely forgot about the Warange part. I'm sorry, love! Anyway, this is pure cracky shenanigans. More of a spiritual successor than a sequel, I hope you enjoy! This fic fought me, but I won the battle! This is also for the December prompt challenge day 10: Santa's elves

“What.”

Yuta expected to walk into the BCC room to see Mox bitching at Bryan about his eye. Maybe Claudio sitting on the bench being all hot and weird about it.

He did not expect to see Claudio in an elf costume.

“Yuta!” he says, far too gleeful. “I bought one for you, too.”

Yuta blinks. “What.” He seems unable to say anything else. Words fail him.

Claudio shoves something in his arms. “Come on. Put it on, love.”

Yuta sighs. Fighting this would probably be the most rational thing, but he’s never been accused of rationality when it comes to Claudio. “What is it?”

“A matching costume.” He beams at Yuta, looking so sweet and eager Yuta can’t refuse.

He sighs. Resistance, truly, is futile. “Alright. Lay it on me.”

As he gets dressed, he asks, “So, what exactly is the plan?”

“We are, in AEW, severely lacking in holiday cheer,” Claudio says. Yuta takes a moment to admire the way he’s bent over to dig in his bag, because he’s not above ogling. “I supposed I could intervene.”

Yuta blinks at him. “Isn’t this going to ruin our scary badass cred?”

Claudio levels him with a look both terrifying and disturbingly incongruent with the outfit. “I do not think we need to worry about that, no.”

Yuta groans. “God – fine. I hate you for this.”

Claudio’s face breaks into a smile. “Do you really, though?”

Yuta throws his jeans at Claudio, and adjusts his outfit.

Nyla’s yelling at Serpentico when something rather large and green jumps up behind her.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asks, dropping the fistful of Serpentico’s shirt as she turns to glare at Claudio.

The BCC idiot grins. “Mistletoe,” he says, jubilantly. “You two have to kiss.”

“We sure as shit don’t,” Nyla snarls. She looks around Claudio, where Yuta’s standing. He looks almost pained. Good. “You.”

Yuta’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Make your big Christmas tree ass elf leave us alone.”

“Sorry, do you think if I had any control over him I’d be in this costume?” He gestures to himself. “Please be realistic here.”

Nyla rolls her eyes, and turns her glare back on Claudio when he reaches up higher than she can grab with the mistletoe.

“We won’t be leaving until you fulfill the tradition,” Claudio singsongs. Nyla wishes he’d be a little miserable. About anything. Ever.

She groans. “Fuck. Fine.” She grabs the same handful of Serpentico’s shirt, kisses him on the forehead, and then releases him. “Consider that your Christmas present, you snake headed freak.”

Serpentico blinks up at her through the mask, shrugs, and walks away.

“If you two don’t leave right now…”

Yuta grabs Claudio by the arm and pulls. It might be the smartest thing Nyla’s ever seen him do.

Mox slaps at the side of the vending machine. “Fuckin’ technology,” he grumbles. He pulls back a leg to kick it, but it’s caught.

“The hell are you doing?” Hangman asks, dropping his foot like he’s not sure why he had it in the first place. “Quit beating up the vending machine.”

“You gonna drink my blood about it?” Mox retorts. He hits the side of the vending machine and the Coke finally falls out.

Hangman rolls his eyes. “You jealous or something?”

“All you did in our match was beat me up and hang me,” Mox says, and he can feels Hangman’s eyes on him as he takes a sip of the Coke. “Feels kind of like you were leading me on.”

“You’re stupid,” Hangman says. “Move.”

“Nah.”

He can tell Hangman’s about to lash out, possibly get his hands on him again, but then somebody walks in the room and Mox sort of wants to lose it.

“Don’t ask,” Yuta pleads.

“Mistletoe,” Claudio says, giddy.

“You look like an idiot,” Hangman says. “I thought you three were supposed to be, like, the scariest guys in the company.”

“That’s what I told him,” Yuta says. He gestures to his outfit. “And look at me now.”

“Look up,” Claudio insists, and Mox reluctantly follows his arm skyward.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Hangman says. “Are you really – mistletoe?”

“Lay it on me, Cowboy,” Mox says, puckering up.

Hangman rolls his eyes. “Jesus. You drink one guy’s blood and suddenly everybody thinks they have a right to you.” He leans in and kisses Mox, but it’s more than just a peck. Hangman goes intense with it – deep, demanding, a tongue that makes Mox wonder what else he could do with it. Before Mox can get really into it, though, Hangman pulls back and swipes his arm across his mouth.

“Hey!” Mox can’t explain why he feels mildly offended, but he does. “You didn’t wipe off Swerve’s blood.”

“Swerve’s blood didn’t taste like cigarettes,” Hangman retorts, and Mox has half an urge to hit him.

“Alright,” Yuta says, sliding between them. “You two gotta stop.”

Hangman laughs. “I’m not the one going in for seconds, but okay.” He winks at Mox and backs out of there, and Mox watches him walk away with a little too much zeal.

“Please stop being horny for every person on this roster,” Yuta pleads. He turns around to Claudio. “Can we be done yet?”

“Certainly not, Wheeler,” Claudio says, and Mox snorts as Yuta groans. “We have far more people to encounter.”

“Save me,” Yuta whimpers, but he follows Claudio anyway.

Mox begins to wonder when he lost his spot as the weirdest person in the BCC.

Kris is cross legged, chatting about upcoming tag opportunities while Willow tries a new braid in her hair, when a pair of elves makes their way into her vision.

“Oh. Hi.” She tries a smile at Wheeler, who seems…less than pleased. “You two look cute.”

“Again,” Wheeler says, “Claudio, we look cute. BCC are not supposed to be cute.”

“It works,” Willow says. “For you two, I mean.” Kris feels her tug, just a bit. “Alright. You’re all done.” She scoots down from behind Kris to sit next to her. “You guys have presents or something? Spreading holiday cheer?”

“Something like that,” Claudio says. Kris grins when he pulls out mistletoe.

“Never need an excuse for this,” she says, sliding her hand along Willow’s face until she’s leaning toward Kris, “but, sure, because of the mistletoe.”

Willow’s practically in her lap when she hears Claudio and Wheeler leave, but she’s too busy to say goodbye.

“I’m just saying,” Max says, upside down on the couch, “that if he really cared about me – us – that he would have at least called.”

“Exactly,” Anthony says, relaxing into the chair. He might finally be getting it. “You deserve better than –”

“But!” Max says, sitting up so fast he has to be dizzy. “If MJF was nervous, or scared, then he might not say anything!” That gleeful, endlessly optimistic look on his face comes back. “So maybe I need to reach out to him!”

Anthony prepares to give the speech for the thirtieth time in the thirtieth way that week, but then the door swings open.

“Hello, gentleman,” says a giant in an elf costume, which strikes Anthony to be a little backward. “How are we today?”

“Terrible,” Max says, flopping face down back onto the couch. He starts speaking into the pillow but, thankfully, none of them can figure out what he’s saying.

“He okay?” Yuta asks, frowning.

“It’s the MJF thing again,” Anthony says, waiving it off. Yuta nods. “What, uh. What exactly are you two doing here?”

Claudio moves his arm from behind his back and dangles a – oh boy. “It’s a holiday tradition,” Claudio explains, like it needs explanation.

“Max, sit up,” Billy says, a little too gently.

“No,” Max yells.

Billy sighs and walks over to Anthony. “Alright, then. Pucker up, buddy.”

Anthony lets Billy give him a quick little peck. It’s quite. For a moment. And then –

“You guys are kissing without me?!” Max yells.

When he launches himself into Anthony’s lap, Max gets a little too eager. Anthony’s used to it by now, though.

“Uh,” Yuta says. “We’ll be going now.”

Anthony, from where he’s still kissing Max, gives Claudio and Yuta a thumbs up.

Yuta and Claudio get laughed out of the Mogul Embassy’s doorway, death glared by the House of Black, and insulted by Toni Storm, who appears to believe they’re from It’s a Wonderful Life and are there to be her background stars.

“No, it’s a tradition,” Claudio says, wiggling the mistletoe. “See? You could kiss Luther, or Mariah.”

“Who on Earth is this Mariah woman everyone keeps speaking to me about?” Toni asks, victory curls bouncing around. Yuta’s about to drag Claudio out when Luther leans in and kisses Toni on the cheek. She turns pink.

“My word, butler,” she says, hand over her heart. “How very forward of you.”

“You got your kiss, Claudio,” Yuta says, grabbing a handful of his costume and yanking him so hard backward he stumbles. “Let’s go.”

They walk out of Toni’s room and make their way to their own locker room.

“Can I please take this costume off?” Yuta asks, flopping on the bench. “Today has been enough of a fever dream.”

Claudio walks up to him, grinning down. “Not yet,” he says, brushing some of Yuta’s hair off of his forehead. The hat falls off. “I don’t believe you have had your mistletoe kiss yet.”

Yuta looks up at him. “I kiss you all the time.”

“Yes,” Claudio says, resting a big hand on Yuta’s neck. His heart rate skyrockets. “But we’ve never kissed under the mistletoe, have we?”

“We haven’t,” Yuta breathes.

Claudio leans down and kisses him. He thought, a while back, he would learn to know what to expect. He never does. Claudio pulls him in like a riptide, and Yuta is more than willing to fall to it.

When Claudio stands back up, Yuta smiles at him. “Alright, fine.”

“Fine what.”

Yuta stands and grabs the mistletoe from Claudio’s hand. “I see the appeal.” He dangles it over his crotch. “Come on. You gotta kiss it, right?”

“Oh,” Claudio says, “oh, I see how it is.”

They laugh over each other as they shove each other into the shower, their costumes leaving a path on the floor.

They’re finishing with the shower when the locker room door slams.

It’s unmistakably Bryan who yells, “Who the fuck stripped an elf in here?!”

Mini Playlist: Underneath the Tree- Kelly Clarkson All I Want for Christmas Is You - Mariah Carey Christmas Past, Present, and Future - Ashlee Simpson Step Into Christmas - Elton John

#wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes #sarahcakes613 #HERE HAVE SOME ABSOLUTE HOLIDAY FLUFFNONSENSE #IT'S TRULY SILLY AND FUN NONSENSE #december prompt challenge 2023

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69misato69 · 1 year

Text

Hostile (Alhaitham & Kaveh) ✦ 900 words, fluff and angst

archive of our own ✦ twitter

masterlist pinned on my profile !

alhaitham is wounded during a semi-friendly spar with kaveh and he offers to heal him

cw: blood, flesh wound, kissing

“I guess you’re getting old, Haytham.” Kaveh swung his claymore over the Grand Scribe’s head effortlessly with a sly grin. Alhaitham barely dodged the attack, feeling a few strands of his hair fall loose with the sharp blade. He scoffed in frustration, “Please, do you really think you can take me down with that horrible balance?”

Kaveh chuckled while he twirled his weapon around as if it was lightweight. “Whatever you say, grandpa.” he jested, they paced around each other for a few seconds to rest and catch their breaths. Kaveh could feel Alhaitham’s piercing gaze upon him, studying his movements trying to assess when his next attack would be.

Unexpectedly, Kaveh bounced off the pillar nearby, appearing from behind him and landing a strike that finally touched the scribe, scraping the black piece of fabric that covered his forearm and a thin layer of skin along with it.

“Fuck, what was that for?” Alhaitham winced with pain and dropped his sword, a narrow stream of blood was trickling down his elbow. Kaveh stabbed his claymore perpendicular to the ground, leaning on it nonchalantly, “It’s a duel, not a tea party.” The grimace on Alhaitham’s face replaced itself with an angry look,

“We’re working on defense, you idiot.” he growled, but the blonde was still unfazed.

“And? You need a realistic strike to counter, don’t you?”

“You’re unbearable.”

Kaveh laughed and slowly stepped towards him, “Hey, this was your idea.”

Alhaitham ignored him, he was busy trying to stop the bleeding and cursing under his breath. Kaveh peeked at the wound, instantly rolling his eyes to the back of his head, “Ugh, it’s not even that deep, stop being so dramatic.” he whined. Alhaitham rewarded him with a deadly look, one that was worth a thousand words, so Kaveh deemed it necessary to change his course of action.

He closed the gap between them even more, now approaching the scribe with a softer tone.

“You know, I could help out.”

Alhaitham went silent for a moment. It was true, Kaveh could simply heal him, it would take away the wound and the terrible stinging of his abused nerves that came along with it. All it took were the invigorating vines that would sprout from inside his palm. Though, was it worth giving him the satisfaction? Alhaitham imagined the triumphant smirk that would form on his lips afterwards, and the nagging he’d have to endure until they returned home, it was enough to make the scribe decide against it, “I’ll pass.” he spat out.

Kaveh stuck his head over Alhaitham’s chest, pretending to evaluate the wound further, “You sure? Now that I’m seeing it up close, it looks pretty serious. Could leave a mark.” it was easy to hear that he was holding back a laugh.

“I hate you.”

“Hate is a pretty strong word.”

“I know, that’s why I used it.”

Kaveh pouted, “Come on, let me help. It won’t even take a second.” he lifted his palm to face up, already summoning viridescent seeds until Alhaitham held his wrist with blood-stained fingers, “Kaveh, let it go.” he looked into the blonde’s eyes in exhaustion.

To his surprise, Kaveh didn’t protest. He squeezed his hand into a fist, melting away the cores and then placing it on Alhaitham’s waist. “What are you doing?” the scribe asked calmly, he was fed up with Kaveh’s shenanigans, not just today but he had been for years . Strangely enough, he also felt a sense of familiarity in them. If there was one constant in his life, it was that Kaveh would always be there to annoy him, to eat his food, misplace his belongings and ruin his day in the best way possible.

“I’ll just give you a kiss to ease the pain.” the blonde cupped his cheek with his other hand, the hint of mockery in his voice had now vanished. “Very funny.” Alhaitham derided. He expected Kaveh to break off his serious expression, purring a snarky comment before he pulled away. Yet, he didn’t do any of those things, instead he moved even closer to Alhaitham’s face, examining the sharp features of his beautifully sculpted visage.

“I’m not joking.” he smiled softly, leaning in to press his warm lips onto his roommate’s. Alhaitham was frozen in place, his eyes open wide with shock as the blonde closed his. The scribe had never seen him from this distance, he realized that without the mocking expression and the irritating comments, Kaveh was actually…very pretty.

So, Alhaitham kissed him back, pecking on his bottom lip and allowing Kaveh to push his back against the cold, stone surface. The blonde smiled over their joined lips, trailing the entrance of Alhaitham’s mouth with the tip of his tongue. Then, just as the scribe attempted to wrap his arms around his neck, Kaveh shuffled away with a hazy look.

Alhaitham stared at him in confusion as his roommate turned around.

“Alright, pick up your sword. Let’s go home.”

Kaveh had already thrown the claymore over his shoulder. Alhaitham was distracted enough to reach for the emerald weapon with his wounded arm, noticing it at the last moment and bracing for a wave of pain. It never arrived. He looked down to examine his skin exposed through the ripped fabric, but the wound had already vanished. All that remained were faint traces of Dendro, dissipating into the air.

#genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin alhaitham #genshin kaveh #kaveh x alhaitham #alhaitham x kaveh #kavetham #haikaveh

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scapegrace74-blog · 2 years

Text

Don’t Let Me Fall, Chapter 6

A/N I think we have officially entered slow burn territory, folks. Hopefully you find all this world building and partnership building a halfway acceptable substitute for sexy shenanigans. I now have this story plotted to conclusion, although I won’t say how many more chapters in case I change my mind. For those holding out for a break in all of this built up sexual tension, you shouldn’t have to wait much longer.

The earlier chapters of this story can be read here.

“No, Jamie! Your timing is all off. It goes ba-DUM-dum-dum-ba-DUM! ” Lydia, our routine choreographer was yelling up at my partner, and I couldn’t say that I blamed her. We’d be rehearsing this same sequence for nearly an hour, but something about it just wasn’t clicking for him.

It was hardly the most technical part of the routine. Jamie and I were each holding a single strap while we spun in a wide circle above the stage, a twin-planet solar system. We were supposed to change positions in time with the music’s rhythm before coming back to the mat for the next sequence of moves.

“Alright, take a five-minute break,” Lydia conceded to my great relief.

I wandered over to the drinking fountain to refill my water flask. Jamie joined me, looking cross.

“I dinna ken about ye, Tourist, but I am fit to ba-DUM-dum-dum my heid against yon wall.”

“What is it about this particular move, Jamie? Maybe there’s something I can do to help.”

It was a preposterous idea, me helping my far-more experienced partner. Not a day went by that I wasn’t learning something new that he’d mastered in circus school, but he had been remarkably patient with me and if I could return the favour, I would.

Jamie glanced over his shoulder, as if to ascertain whether he might be heard. I instinctively leaned closer.

“Tis the music, ye ken?” he confessed quietly. I shook my head to indicate I had no idea what he meant.

“Normally, I memorize the timing and count it out in my head as I go. Fer some reason, I canna seem to get the knack of this one.”

I stared at him with dawning comprehension. The truth, once I understood it, was painfully obvious.

“Do you mean to say you can’t hear music?” I whispered.

Jamie frowned, then shook his head slowly.

“I can hear the sound of it jes’ fine, but it doesna reconcile inta any kinda pattern inside my heid.”

I bit my lip as I considered our situation. This was obviously a secret Jamie kept to himself, protecting his weakness by any means possible. Whatever solution we found, it would have to stay between the two of us.

“Well, Tropico has a very tribal-sounding score. Lots of African and Brazilian influenced…” I petered off.

“What, Tourist? What are ye thinking?”

“This piece of music. It’s a samba.” Jamie showed no sign of understanding. “That means the rhythm is syncopated. The stress is on the off-beat. I bet that’s why you aren’t able to follow along inside your head!”

“So yer saying there’s no use? That I canna learn the stupid ba-DUM-dum-dum-BAs?” he snarled, clearly frustrated.

“No, I’m saying you’re just going to have to hear the rhythm another way,” I explained.

“I’m tellin’ ye, Claire, I canna hear music. No’ since I was a lad. Ye canna fix me.”

I smiled broadly. “Trust me, partner.”

After our break, we returned to the straps.

“Alright, from the beginning of the revolution,” Lydia coached. “Let’s hope that break did you some good.”

The music started as Jamie and I were lifted into the air on a gentle arc. I could feel the apprehension humming across his skin. Where my hand crossed his ribs, I began a subtle pulse with my middle finger in time to the music. One pulse for each syncopated beat. Ba-DUM-dum-dum-ba-DUM. Ba-DUM-dum-dum-ba-DUM. Jamie’s movements fell into rhythm with my hand as we spun and transitioned perfectly through the air. Ba-DUM-dum-dum-ba-DUM.

“Perfect!” Lydia crowed. “Beautiful! You’ve finally got it!”

Jamie’s smile of gratitude was beauty incarnate. My heart beat in time to the music. Ba-DUM-dum-dum-ba-DUM.

***

The death spiral. That was what Claire had been calling it since the first time Lydia described the signature move in their aerials routine. It was said in jest, but Jamie was superstitious enough that he wished she’d find another name.

The move was astonishing in its audacity. Hanging by one arm, Jamie would lower Claire down his body until he held her, upside down, by one ankle as they spun above the mat. One very fragile, recently injured ankle. He’d been putting off working the maneuver, trying to buy Claire’s tendon as many extra days as possible to heal, but their time was up. Tropico was going on tour in three weeks.

With each attempt, it became more and more apparent that they were in serious trouble. Claire would serpentine down his body with sinuous ease, but as he grasped her ankle, she would flinch. Instincts at war with themselves, he wanted neither to hurt her by holding on or kill her by dropping her. Fortunately, her safety harness made the decision moot, but very soon it would have to go, leaving him with an impossible choice.

“Maybe if I wrap my ankle,” Claire suggested as they sat side by side on the mat during a water break. “Or apply some sort of topical numbing cream.”

Jamie didn’t even bother articulating what they both knew: Cirque des Étoiles didn’t allow their talent to perform injured. The fact that Claire was practicing while still not one hundred percent healed was testament to the dire situation Tropico was in. One more setback, and the entire tour might be cancelled, at tremendous expense to the company.

“Well I’m not bloody well giving up!” Claire huffed. “We’ve come too far to go backwards.”

Jamie looked down at his left hand where it grasped his water bottle, then over at the mat, mind tumbling over itself.

“Actually, Tourist, going backwards may be exactly what we need to do.”

For the first time all morning, Jamie smiled.

***

“Are you out of your fucking mind!” Lydia shouted, drawing a number of startled looks from performers rehearsing nearby.

“It’s the perfect solution,” Jamie explained calmly.

“It’s the only solution,” Claire added.

“Aye, an’ that’s what makes it perfect.”

Lydia was pacing the mat and shaking her head with every stride.

“It’ll never work. You’d have to reverse the entire routine. Learn every move from scratch. In less than three weeks!” the choreographer ranted.

“It’s not as though I need to unlearn years of training,” Claire explained. “Any move I’m doing right now I’ve only known for six weeks anyway.”

“Maybe that makes some sort of bizarre sense in your unique circumstance, Claire, but this one,” Lydia gestured at Jamie, “has been performing right-handed for years. It’s vital that he has maximum strength and control for all the lift and balance moves…”

“Actually, I’m left-handed,” Jamie threw out casually.

Lydia stared at him, jaw slack.

“You’re what?”

“Left-handed. I jes perform wi’ my right hand because that’s what worked best fer my partners. Until now.”

Jamie looked at Claire and executed a facial contortion that was the bastard cousin of a wink. Claire winked back with a saucy grin.

“Oh my god, you two deserve each other,” Lydia threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine. You win. We’ll reverse the entire damn routine. But one of you is telling Marylebone. I don’t get paid enough for that shit.”

“It’ll work out, ye’ll see,” Jamie looped his arm companionably over the much shorter woman’s shoulders.

“It better. Otherwise, we’re all out of a job. Or worse. All right, from the top, I guess.”

***

“Ye’re harder to find than a parking spot in Mayfair.” Geillis Duncan’s voice echoed from the speaker I had placed on the counter while I prepared breakfast.

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry. It’s been utterly mad here, if that’s any excuse.”

“As yer agent, I approve. As yer friend who misses ye and wants tae hear yer news, I’m still a wee bit miffed.”

Geillis and I communicated via text on a regular basis, so her petulance was mostly for show. We hadn’t spoken live, however, since the day Jamie and I went for our hike together and I accepted a permanent place on Cirque des Étoiles’s roster for Tropico.

“Sae, tell me everything. Are ye ready tae go on tour? How’s yer ankle?”

“The ankle is holding up fine, especially now that we’ve changed up the routine. The harnesses come off next week, so I guess we’ll find out then just how ready I am.”

“I’m proud of ye, hen. Ye’ve really given this aerial thing yer all. Whoever wouldha thunk it, aye?”

I laughed, remembering my incredulous reaction when Geillis first proposed flying to Montreal for an audition with a veritable circus. It was hard to believe less than three months had passed. It felt like I was living an entirely different life. One I found vastly more appealing, for all its uncertainty and strangeness.

“Frank was asking after ye the o’her day,” Geillis said in a surprisingly neutral tone. “I gather things didna work out wi’ yon Slovenian bairn, an’ he wanted tae ken when ye’d be back in London. Readin’ between the lines, I think he wants ye back as a partner.”

A flood of reactions washed through me. Incredulity. Vindication. Curiosity. But not even a glimmer of interest.

“Honestly, Geil, I don’t know if I’ll ever return. Not to perform ballet, anyway. I feel like I finally found the place where I belong, you know?”

Geillis made a noise that was a cross between “aha” and “uhhuh”.

“What?” I asked.

“I’m jes wonderin’ how much of yer newfound love fer the circus is related tae that ginger dreamboat of a partner o’ yours,” she said with her typical bluntness.

“Jamie?” I clarified needlessly, buying time while I pulled my thoughts together and then stashed them in a well-hidden place. “He’s a thousand times the partner Frank ever was, and I’m honoured to call him a friend, but that’s where it ends.” I was silently glad we weren’t on a video call because my face felt hot all of a sudden.

“Jes business, no’ pleasure, then,” Geillis confirmed. “Well, thas’ a shame, because abs like those deserve tae be ridden inta a mattress, regularly an’ wi’ vigour.”

A mental picture of Jamie’s truly spectacular abdominals flittered across the screen of my mind. I cursed Geillis for putting it there. I’d be blind not to notice how perfectly put together he was, but when we were performing, I had no problem seeing his body as nothing more than the apparatus I was working with. Making me conscious that the apparatus was in fact a living, breathing, disarmingly attractive man was a dirty trick.

“Hey,” I realized belatedly. “When did you seen Jamie’s abs?”

“Weeeel, after ye mentioned him a time or twelve, I googled him,” Geillis confessed. “He’s got quite the female following online who gave him whole slew of nicknames.”

“Nicknames?” I was sure to regret asking, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Oh aye. There’s The Great Scot an’ Circus Maximus. Those are some o’ the tamer ones. My personal favourite is The Flying Fuck.”

I spat my mouthful of protein shake across the countertop.

“Word is he had a thing wi’ his former partner,” Geillis continued undaunted. “Some French-Canadian strumpet who left him fer another man.”

I’d heard that Anna-Louise was dating her new partner on Allegro. Jamie never mentioned her name, so I had no idea how he felt about the break-up. It couldn’t be easy knowing the general public was discussing your private life like the plot of the latest soap opera.

“Well, be that as it may, it isn’t like that with us,” I insisted “Jamie hasn’t shown the slightest romantic interest in me. We’re partners, pure and simple.”

Geillis hung up soon afterwards, making promises to buy tickets to Tropico when we passed through London. I robotically completed the rest of my morning routine, cleaning the kitchen, donning my workout gear, brushing my teeth, but all the while my mind was playing over my conversation with my agent. After my early infatuation with Jamie, I had convinced myself I’d transitioned rather well to a purely professional regard. With all the other changes happening around us, it made sense not to rock the boat.

If Jamie was interested in me, I told myself, he would have to make the first move.

#my writing #outlander #fanfiction

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seiya-starsniper · 1 year

Text

they say our love's just like Magic

For @dreamlingbingo 2023: Square B3: Creature: Phoenix

Title: they say our love's just like Magic

Rating: T

Word Count: 3964

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Additional Tags: Idiots in Love, Getting Together, Card Games, card tournament shenanigans, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Human, Johanna Constantine is a good friend, Johanna Constantine loves money, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Dreamling Bingo

Summary:

Honestly it's not that Hob doesn't want to see Dream. Hob’s been playing Magic: The Gathering for almost five years now, and Dream has been a consistent staple throughout that entire time. They’ve gotten more friendly in the last couple of years, and Hob’s even snuck a surprise win or two from the other card player.

The thing is, Dream’s also one of the most beautiful men Hob has ever laid eyes on.

AKA - Hob and Dream play Magic The Gathering competitively, and Hob's got a massive crush. Johanna's just along for the ride, and to make money off resale.

AO3 Link [Here] or you can keep reading below the cut!

"Hurry up, Hob, we're going to be late!" Johanna's voice rings through Hob's entryway.

Hob sighs as he pulls on his jumper. It was way too bloody early in the morning for this. "Jo, sign ups don't open for another hour!” he yells from his bedroom. “If you think they're going to run out of spots…"

"I heard Dream's going to be showing up today." Johanna interrupts, appearing suddenly at his bedroom doorway, holding Hob’s sneakers. “Come on, then! There’s going to be a line!”

Well shit. Hob throws on his messenger bag, grabs his sneakers from Johanna and runs towards his front door.

"I knew all I had to do was say your boyfriend's name and you'd come running," Johanna grins as they dash to the tube.

"Shut up, Johanna,” Hob snarks back at her.

The thing is, Dream’s also one of the most beautiful men Hob has ever laid eyes on.

Hob had walked into a Jace Beleran cardboard display the first time he laid eyes on Dream almost three years ago at a tournament. Then his girlfriend at the time, Alianora, had shown up shortly after to look over Dream’s shoulder as he finished up his game. Hob thought he’d actually died and gone to bisexual heaven looking at the two of them. Except heaven did not smell like day old body odor, so he was definitely still alive.

Hob had been knocked out of his rounds earlier that day, so with nothing better to do, he’d joined the crowd forming around Dream and Alianora to watch the other man in his Constructed match.

Hob’s always gone for a more aggressive playstyle, favoring red and green decks with plenty of easy to summon monsters. He tends towards quick matchups, but every once in a while, he’ll get giddy when he builds up enough mana on the field to summon some massive creature with Trample to end a match in one move.

Dream is the exact opposite. His play style relies heavily on counterspells and using his opponents' creatures against him, leading to longer, drawn out matches. With his gothic persona to top it all off, it only makes sense that he goes for a blue and black combination.

All that to say, Dream’s poor opponent didn’t know what hit him.

Hob would later realize that one of Dream’s favorite strategies would be to let an opponent think they’re about to win, only to use an instant on said opponent’s turn to clear the entire field. Dream would then use all his mana to summon some abomination with haste on his turn to win the match. Which is exactly what happened to poor Simon. Or Steve. Hob can’t remember the poor bloke’s name.

From that first match, Hob had been determined then to play against Dream himself. He started brushing up on the current standard sets and strategies, and tested out what he could at Friday Night Magic. It took time but he'd improved his skills slowly, but surely. Enough at least to at least not get knocked out immediately by the competition.

Hob did eventually manage to face off with Dream and he was just as dazzled facing the man head on as he was just watching him play.

But Hob’s not the only player dazzled by Dream. Dream’s reputation makes him practically a celebrity in their local community. Everyone scrambles for a chance to play him at least once, just for the privilege of saying they faced him and lost.

Hob considers himself lucky to have faced Dream more than once. Always in Limited format though. There’s no way Hob would beat Dream in Constructed or Commander, so on days when Dream chooses to competes in those formats, Hob's just happy to watch and cheer.

With that in mind, there’s really only so many tournaments and so many hours in the day so really, getting matched up with Dream is like winning the lottery. Which is precisely why Johanna is here with Hob, at 8:00am on a Saturday morning. Dream’s so popular that any rumor of him showing up to a tournament draws lines before sign ups officially open. It’s insane. Hob knows he’s going to be miserable waiting in line while Johanna runs off to go resell.

Johanna had, up until six months ago, shown absolutely no interest in Magic. She and Hob have been close for years and she’d spent almost that entire time making fun of Hob’s vested interest in the game.

Still, Johanna indulged him through the years, buying Hob packs for all sorts of occasions: his birthday, passing a test, as a pick me up after a breakup. She also didn't mind the larger tournament scene, as long as there were other things for her to do, she'd tag along for events at the bigger conventions so she could walk around and look at the floor while Hob parked himself for the day at the tables.

It was at one of these conventions that Johanna learned of the trading card resale market. Suddenly, Hob's entire rares collection went from "a bunch of useless cardboard" to liquid gold. Come to think of it, it was also at that same convention she’d seen Alianora for the first time. She and Dream had broken up by that point.

Ever since then, Johanna’s stuck to Hob like glue. She’s constantly trolling the markets for rare card finds, arguing with vendors to get the best resale value for cards she already does have, along with cards Hob no longer has a use for, and somehow finding time to flirt shamelessly with Alianora, who still shows up to tournaments to play.

“Earth to Hobsie,” Johanna’s voice trills, snapping Hob out of his trip down memory lane. “This is our stop.”

“Right, right,” Hob nods. “You actually going to sign up with me this time, or are you leaving me to the wolves as per usual?”

“Hob, Hob, the hustle never stops,” Johanna grins. “Promise I’ll bring you back enough to buy at least one box from the new set though, as an early birthday present. I won’t even try to buy Sacred Foundry from you if you pull it.”

“Wow, how generous of you,” Hob rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. Johanna takes his arm and they run up the stairs together towards the convention.

—

Hob barely manages to get a spot in Sealed. It’s not his favorite format, but Dream’s apparently signed up for Sealed today so that’s where Hob goes. Their block doesn’t start for another two hours, so Hob wanders off to find Johanna on the convention floor.

He's so focused on looking for Johanna's signature beige trenchcoat that he doesn't quite notice the figure all in black until he runs right into him, nearly knocking both of them over. Luckily, Hob's got good balance, and he manages to steady the both of them, grasping the slightly taller man in his arms.

"Sorry about that mate," Hob apologizes. "Was too focused looking for my friend and whoa hey, Dream?"

Dream stares for a moment before recognition flickers across his face.

"Hello Hob," Dream greets warmly, and Hob could just melt into the floor. Dream is normally rather stiff and standoffish during tournaments, which leads a lot of other players to mistake him for arrogant. But Hob learned from sticking around to chat with Dream after all the matches were done that Dream just gets super hyper focused when he's in the zone. He's otherwise rather friendly, if given the chance. Still, it's rare to see Dream on the floor of a show, normally the man showed up to these things only to play, very rarely to browse.

"Fancy seeing you here, old friend," Hob replies, grinning. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"A few things," Dream confirms, but doesn't elaborate. "And yourself?"

"Looking for Johanna until matches start," Hob replies. "I saw you signed up for Sealed. Hopefully I'll get to play you later."

Dream's lips quirk in a barely there smile. "We shall see."

Before Hob can come up with an excuse to keep them talking, Johanna tackles Hob from behind. She's got plenty of bags in her arms which tells Hob she was successful at whatever she was doing. Unfortunately, said bags also hit Hob square in the back along with his friend.

"Oof, hey what the hell Jo," Hob groans.

"You'll never believe how much I got from that rat Vinny for that Chalice of the Void !" Johanna's extremely giddy so Hob's guessing she's made her sales for the day.

"Let me guess, Vinny was short of willing to part with his firstborn?" Hob jokes.

"You bet!” Johanna grins. “Happy Birthday Hobsie, I got you two boxes of Guilds of Ravnica!"

"It's your birthday?" Dream asks once Hob has had a moment to admire his new toys.

"Not for another week," Hob answers. "But it's close enough."

“Happy early Birthday then,” Dream says, a genuine and rare smile gracing Hob’s vision. Hob grips Johanna tightly, suddenly feeling faint. He can feel her judgment emanating off her as she pats his elbow.

“You should come with us, we're going out tonight to celebrate!” Johanna declares.

Dream pauses. He looks unsure, like he wants to accept but feels like he shouldn't.

"I…am not the biggest fan of bars, unfortunately," Dream admits, as if this is something to be ashamed of and not the norm for most people Hob knows. "They are a bit too crowded for me."

"Well it's not like the people there smell any better than here," Johanna says, shrugging. Hob sighs. Johanna needed to learn more tact around nerds.

“Besides,” Johanna adds, “Hob's uncle owns The New Inn, so we'll have a private room and everything, so no worries there!”

Dream blinks and turns to Hob. "Your uncle owns The New Inn?" he asks, awed.

"Oh yeah, I guess it's never come up," Hob replies sheepishly. Hob knows The New Inn is a local favorite in the area but he hates telling people about his connection because they always inevitably ask for free drinks. Not that Hob wouldn’t give Dream free drinks if he asked, but still.

"I have never seen you there," Dream notes. “I like it there. It is…quieter.”

“Well, I'm not skilled enough to tend the bar so I'm usually in the back unpacking food and bottles,” Hob replies. “But next time you come by, just let them know you're here to see me and I'll come out and say hello. Not tonight though, since I won't actually be working.”

“I'll go tonight,” Dream says, turning to Johanna. “If there won't be…too many people, it should be fine.”

“Great!” Johanna says. “You should give Hob your number just so we can find each other later huh?”

“Jo!” Hob hisses at the same time Dream says, "Yes that would make sense."

Hob's pretty sure he feels his heart stop in his chest once his brain catches up. He nearly fumbles and drops his phone when he takes it out of his pocket to start creating a contact.

Hob quickly realizes he has a small conundrum. He doesn’t actually know Dream’s real name.

“So am I just putting you in as Dream, or…?” Hob really hopes he doesn’t sound as awkward as he feels.

Dream wrinkles his nose. “I really don’t care for my legal name, so you may keep it as Dream. For now.”

“Ooh, we gotta fight for your legal name huh?” Johanna asks. “Perfect that we’re going to a bar then, plenty of opportunity for bad decisions. Like that time Hob pulled a Mox Amber card and then spilled tequila on it.”

"Excuse me, you spilled the tequila!" Hob retorts as he and Dream switch phones to enter each other’s numbers. Once he’s gotten his phone back from the other man, he fires off a quick text to open up a text conversation with them.

Dream’s phone dings and he smiles when he opens up Hob’s message.

“There we go,” Dream says. “I will see you at the matches later, then.” Hob and Johanna wave their goodbyes as Dream walks back into the crowd of vendors.

“I am the best wing woman and don't you ever forget it!” Johanna crows once Dream is out of hearing range.

Hob can't even come up with a witty retort because he. has. Dream's. phone number. Holy shit. It's already the best tournament of Hob's life and matches haven't even started yet.

—

Hob somehow makes it through his first few matches without mooning over Dream a few tables over. He can tell the other man has put together something insanely good because his matches end pretty quickly. Hob isn’t doing too bad himself. He's already won his first three sets and he only needs to make it through two more to make it to Dream, if he’s reading the bracket correctly.

Alianora shows up about halfway through Hob’s fourth match. Johanna immediately latches to her and they end up coming over to observe Hob play. Hob had seen her earlier with another woman playing a Two-Headed Giant match. Alianora complains about how it’s hard to find a good partner for the format. Johanna, unsurprisingly, volunteers to be her partner for the next tournament she wants to enter. Hob is anticipating many long nights in his flat after today.

Johanna then impulsively invites Alianora to Hob’s birthday celebration. Hob chokes on air and almost accidentally reveals his hand to his opponent.

“Is that not all right?” Alianora asks, worry evident in her face and tone as she looks back and forth between him and Johanna.

“No, no, it’s not that, you’re more than welcome,” Hob says, waving his hand dismissively.. “It’s just that Johanna seems to have forgotten she also invited Dream.”

“Oh!” Alianora’s face lights up. “And he’s actually going? ”

Hob almost forgets to untap in his upkeep. Alianora sounds…happy? Is…is she going to try to get back together with Dream?

“Yeah, he said he doesn’t really like bars, but he likes The New Inn,” Johanna explains, not seeming to realize Hob’s anguish.

“Oh yes, we used to go on dates there,” Alianora says, nostalgia clear in her voice and Hob’s heart sinks. How did he never know that? “It’s been one of my favorite spots ever since.”

“Oh…well that’s interesting.” Johanna also sounds rather disappointed. Well, at least Hob wouldn’t be the only one drinking their sorrows tonight. But first he needed to win this match.

Hob blocks an attack with his Portcullis Vine and then casts Crushing Canopy on his opponent’s Dimir Spybug to put the board back at equilibrium. Now they each have two creatures on the field.

“I’ve never seen either of you there,” Hob says while his opponent debates his next move. “It’s my uncle’s place and I’m usually there most weekends, though usually in the back.”

“Oh that’s so cool!” Alianora gushes. “We used to always go on Tuesday nights, when it was practically empty. I told him not to let our break up ruin his favorite meal, but you know, he’s stubborn so I’m sure he hasn’t been going. I’m so happy you convinced him to not only go back, but also on a weekend! He almost never went out on the weekends with me, even when I begged.”

That is more information than Hob is prepared to process all at once. Hob has so many questions for Alianora, but he absolutely cannot dedicate the brain power to both play well and untangle all his thoughts. So instead he mutters a non-committal “huh, interesting,” and then throws all his focus into finishing the game.

Alianora understands the message instantly. “You’ve got this, Hob!” she cheers.

Hob sees Dream whip his head up in surprise from his own match out of the corner of his eye. Hob waves. Well this was going to be an interesting conversation later.

Hob barely manages to win the match but a win is a win and luckily his fifth match is much easier. Dream’s fifth match, on the other hand, takes much longer than Hob anticipates, but Hob’s a patient man. He knows Dream will win.

Finally, the moment he’s been waiting for is upon him.

“You’re late,” Hob jokes as Dream stands across the table from him

“My apologies,” Dream replies, faking a bow before he sits at their table. “I’ve always heard it impolite to keep one’s friends waiting.”

Hob grins. “I’m absolutely kicking your ass today, Dream.”

—

Dream is kicking Hob’s ass.

He’s down to only 5 life thanks to Dream’s Citywatch Sphinx , and he also has Etrata, The Silencer on the field, so not only is Hob taking direct damage from her attacks as well, he’s also just lost his second monster to his exile pile. He’s practically set up to lose his next turn, whether by direct damage or that damned vampire.

There’s a crowd that’s formed around them, a mix of Hob’s friends trying to be supportive (and also probably hoping he loses so they can go drinking), and a few fans of Dream who love to watch him play. Johanna is having a grand time watching Hob embarrass himself.

“I can’t believe you’re humiliating the poor man on his birthday, Dream!” Johanna laughs as she throws her arm around a now blushing Alianora.

“It’s not for another week, he will survive,” Dream replies dismissively. He glances over at Alianora and raises his eyebrow. Hob sees her mouth quirk out of the corner of her eye. They seem to be communicating silently, and Hob wishes he knew what they were saying. But he needs to focus on his game.

It’s especially frustrating because Hob has Dream down to his last 3 life, but between Etrata, the Sphinx, and an untapped Gatekeeper Gargoyle , Hob has no way of attacking Dream directly. Dream also loading his deck with removal spells had caused all of Hob’s creatures to keep getting destroyed, exiled, or countered. He’s also only drawn mana his last few turns. Ah, the joys of getting mana flooded.

“If I knew how easy this game was going to be, I should have had you put your money where your mouth is,” Dream says mildly.

“You still could!” Alianora says excitedly. “You should definitely bet bar tabs!”

“That’s evil,” Johanna says. “I love it.”

“Traitor,” Hob mutters. He takes his next turn, untaps his mana, draws, and prays for a miracle.

…Holy shit, he may just win this.

Hob takes a quick look at the board to assess the viability of his new strategy. Dream’s mana is mostly tapped out, so the chances of him counterspelling are low, but not impossible. Hob also has more than enough mana on his side of the field to pull this off.

Hob plays Assassin's Trophy to kill Etrata, and prays Dream doesn’t have a return from graveyard card. The raven haired man plays the free mana he is given, and shuffles his deck, but otherwise doesn’t counter. Hob counts his lucky stars before he casts Cosmotronic Wave to ensure Dream can’t block with his Gatekeeper Gargoyle and Citywatch Sphinx.

Now for the moment of truth. Hob had drawn Assure//Assemble on this turn, and while he doesn’t have any creatures of his own on the field, there’s no rule saying he can’t buff one of Dream’s creatures. With Assure, Hob finally has everything he needs to summon Arclight Phoenix back from the graveyard.

“Why are you…” Dream starts to ask but then Hob grins when he reveals what he’s taken from his graveyard.

“Arclight Phoenix is back!” Hob crows. “Your creatures can’t block, and it has haste so no summoning sickness. You’re dead!”

Hob can’t believe it. He barely won, but a win is a win. And against Dream too! There’s a lot of yelling going around but Hob barely hears it over the roaring of his own ears.

“Congratulations,” Dream smiles as they shake hands. “It seems I’ll be paying your tab tonight.”

—

Hob’s had more than a fair amount of shots when he spots Dream and Alianora speaking to one another in a corner.

Alianora is gesturing to the small crowd of people in their party room, and Dream looks…constipated is probably the best way to put it.

“Everything all right?” Hob asks when he makes his way over to them. He tries not to stumble over his words, but he’s had a lot of alcohol on Dream's tab, in addition to all the birthday drinks his other friends have bought him.

Alianora’s expression lights up when she sees him. “Perfect timing, Dream has something he wants to tell you!”

“Alianora!” Dream scolds but she's already wandered off towards the bar. There's a brief silence before Hob coughs to break the tension.

“So…what’s that about?”

Dream sighs.

“Nothing. Alianora is just interfering in my affairs, as per usual.”

“Affairs?” Hob snorts. “You make it sound like something illicit is happening at a birthday party.”

“It’s not that, she just - “

Dream’s next words are cut off by loud cheers.

Dream and Hob turn to look at the source of the noise and it’s Johanna…kissing Alianora.

“Fucking finally!” Hob exclaims before he realizes what he's said. “I mean!” he slaps his hand over his mouth as he turns back to Dream. “Uh…sorry about your ex?”

Dream huffs. “It was me who broke off our relationship, Hob. We were always better as friends.” Hob notices then that Dream is smiling at the two of them. “She is lucky Johanna is so bold.”

Hob snorts. “Yeah, Jo’s not afraid to go for what she wants.” Unlike Hob. “So uh…no new girlfriend then?” It’s the lamest segue in history, but Hob can always blame it on the alcohol later.

“It’s recently come to my attention that I am gay,” Dream replies.

“Oh, great,” Hob says before his brain catches up to him. “I mean! That’s not what I meant! Not that it’s not great to be gay, I’m bisexual myself, so absolute solidarity in liking men!”

Dream then bursts into laughter. It’s a beautiful ringing noise and if Hob weren’t already so far into his crush, he’d definitely have fallen in love at this very moment in time.

“Oi! You two gonna kiss too, or what?” Johanna yells from across the room, drawing back their attention.

“You better!” Alianora chirps. “Dream hasn’t shut up about you for months!”

Oh.

Hob looks back over at Dream, who is now spotting a very rosy color to his cheeks. Hob’s pretty sure he has the same sort of blush on his own face.

“So for our next matchup…” Hob says after a few moments of awkward, but charged silence between them. “If I win, do I get a victory kiss?”

Dream snorts. “If that is what you desire more than free alcohol.”

“Oh, it is,” Hob says, feeling much braver now as he grins at his longtime crush. “And not to push my luck further…”

“I’m sure you will anyway,” Dream interjects, his lips also quirked into a small smile.

“But it is my birthday celebration, and it’s a rule that a man's gotta be kissed on his birthday.”

“Is it now?” Dream asks, feigning surprise.

“Yeah, you got any ideas for volunteers?”

“You’re drunk,” Dream replies. “And an idiot.”

Dream kisses him anyway, to loud cheers.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

#dreamling #dream x hob #sandman fanfic #2023 dreamling bingo #dreamling bingo #dream/hob gadling #the sandman fanfic #mystuff #seiya writes #seiya writes dreamling

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