#so he sets to work convincing mole instead

[hotluncheddie]

i have been lurking in the shadows…biding my time (stressful semester just regular things for a bad bitch) but FINALLY i was able to write this devious little thought down 😈

eddie who hates cooking for himself, so he initiates restaurant fridays. while steve works on fridays, eddie rolls a d20 to pick a local place to eat and get steve takeout from. they range from higher end eateries to hole in the wall bars, and eddie definitely has favorites. he liked the mexican place that serves mole and loved the fried pickle burgers at the diner a town over. it was a nice way to treat himself after years of struggle.

after vecna, eddie’s metabolism already had slowed down significantly because of the treatment. he had definitely put on a few pounds (more like thirty but who’s counting), but it hadn’t been a cause for concern until the fateful day that he went to urgent care after throwing out his back moving band equipment. the doctor at the urgent care had been dismissive and offered him a pamphlet on the importance of “healthy” living. although he hadn’t been disillusioned to the changes in his body, eddie hadn’t thought they were that major. steve should’ve known something was up when eddie stopped initiating sex, and was barely letting steve touch him. however, steve definitely noticed when restaurant fridays stopped. he himself missed the tasty food his boyfriend would bring him, but he could tell eddie was yearning for something more. it wasn’t difficult to look at their shared calendar or to rifle through eddie’s bedside drawer to find the health pamphlet.

lightbulbs flicker on at inconvenient times, and steve orchestrated a plan to convince eddie of his beauty. that friday when eddie came home, dejected over the inevitable canned soup he was going to have, he found their kitchen table set and lit up with candles. steve was at the head opposite to eddie’s chair, hair teased just the way he liked and the top button of his shirt undone. when the younger man saw him, he got up from sitting to take eddie’s coat off for him and untie his shoes. this wasn’t unusual, steve had a tendency to want to serve eddie every once in a while. what was unusual was the variety of smells wafting from the kitchen.

after seating eddie and pressing kisses to his hairline, he revealed that he noticed how off eddie had been. eddie opened his mouth to protest but instead of humoring him, steve held up a hand and walked into the kitchen. when he came back, he was carrying a tray with some of eddie’s favorite take out items, a feast just for his beautiful boy. as eddie murmured a flushed appreciation and began to eat, steve rubbed his back and ran his hands along eddie’s soft body. biting eddie’s neck and whispering praises while he ate, a hand snuck around to palm eddie’s dick. moaning into the food, eddie cried out apologies which steve refused. he needed eddie to know how much he loved him, so steve swung his body around and pressed his own hard cock and squishy belly into eddie’s calf. he begged eddie to notice just how much he’d changed steve, turning him into a whimpering mess. humping eddie’s leg, he pushed eddie’s shirt up and bit dark marks over the scars and stretch marks there before tugging eddie’s zipper down.

it turns out when you haven’t orgasmed in almost two weeks and your hot boyfriend was practically sobbing on the floor as he sucked you off, you blow your load pretty quickly. steve had barely bobbed down twice before eddie was cumming, hot and heavy as he pressed steve’s head further onto his dick. feeling steve’s hot tears and soft hair flush against his belly and the wet patch between the fabric of their jeans could’ve made him cum all over again, but the two knew that after enjoying the post orgasm bliss they would have to talk.

so they talked, and eddie made it clear that his stress came from the fear of overindulgence. he didn’t want to be greedy or ungrateful for his blessings, and steve explained that all of the proof of his gratefulness was seen not only on eddie’s body, but his own. they were finally in a stage where they could stop choosing fear, and if they had to size up their jeans after enjoying a few too many glasses of wine and bowls of pasta, that was a welcome change. the health pamplet was thrown away, along with the wrappers from all of the takeout. all of the food was gone, and the boys had a lot to catch up after two weeks of abstinence.

AAAAAA i don’t usually write about insecurity since i don’t think there’s anything wrong with fat bodies (despite what the medical industry says), but i hope this meets your liking and that the elements of insecurity aren’t out of turn!! -🦂

my lovely wonderful 🦂 anon!!!! i hope u had a good semester in the end!!!! i love thissssss!!!!

i get what you mean, i don’t love writing insecurities either especially when i want their bigger bodies to just be an element of the story! and bc it’s hot! sexy and fun to describe their bodies!!

but some of the elements you added here is giving me insecure eddie but maybe it’s also about providing for steve, maybe it’s providing for steve as a dom. i think those could be really interesting things to look at!

like once they’ve been together for a while, they start exploring different aspects of their kink. steve realising that he really likes serving eddie, likes being guided and given rules for the bedroom. and eddie really likes it too, like the comfort of it, how steve reacts to him, how he looks, the power to direct it and change things as he pleases.

then steve has a string of bad days, work getting to him. and it starts to be a habit, on friday nights, the moment steve gets home, he can turn his brain off. eddie’s in charge, wether they have sex or not, even if it’s just cuddling in the couch and getting an early night. eddie’s in charge. he chooses steve’s food, tells him to shower, picks out his pyjamas. gets steve to help if there’s any chores that need doing, so it goes faster, and he can get his baby in his arms quicker. 

and then that stretches, happens on other nights now too, sometimes they play for a whole weekend. wrapped up in eachother and testing the waters, the limits of what they like and don’t like.

and all along that, after healing and moving in with steve. over the past few years of them figuring out their careers and routines. eddie still having some meds to take, stretches to follow. his weight creeps up. he lets himself indulge, try new foods, let his sweet tooth run the show a little more. ups his protein and learns to cook veg in a way he likes, tried sauces and gravy’s and stews.

he gets a belly, fills out his jeans, finally has an ass. and it feel okay, he doesn’t think about it too much, more focused on steve and the life he’s building and the new food he wants to try. making his way through what the city has to offer, taking tips from robin for the best hole in the wall places. she found his fav italian place only because some of the menu was in italian and she could actually read it.

so fridays become a thing, he picks the food for him and steve, orders a lot. gets steve between his knees while they wait for it, petting his head or massaging his shoulders. keeping his mouth full of he’s been good or turning his cheeks red if he’s been bad. and then eddie’s eats, enjoys the new flavours, goes until he’s full. sometimes stuffed, sometimes so full his breathings becomes little huffs and sips of air. and he enjoys every moment.

then he throws his back out, idiot. the doctor wasn’t too much of a dick, although he’s still not sure how the conversation transitioned into him getting on the scale and being given the pamphlet. but it did, and eddie went home with and overall ok and painkillers and some strengthening exercises. and a bit of a fog around him.

maybe he wasn’t living the way he should. maybe the soft bubble of happiness was actually all delusion. he couldn’t provide for steve, or be in control the way steve allowed. not when he’d let himself go so much, hurt himself like an idiot. he couldn’t be steve’s dom, not like this.

and eddie has spiralled before, dipped into the pool or darkness that lurks away in his lungs. rearing its ugly head every once in a while. but he’d been a lot better for the past few years, better once he was with wayne and better still out of highschool and with steve. but it always came back, always there to remind eddie what a failure he was - is. and this was no different.

steve noticed, of course. eddie changing his diet, pulling away, their sex switching to nearly nothing within a few days. and steve worried it was him, maybe he asked too much, let go too readily, scaring eddie.

but eddie still made him kneel that friday, picked out his t-shirt and shorts, told him to sit still when he squirmed. but they didn’t have take out that night. eddie made steve a pizza and he had a bowl of soup. it wasn’t so different, he guessed. but it wasn’t their friday. wasn’t that lovely time of the week where steve could float away and enjoy watching eddie, look up at him all round and flushed and beautiful. when he’d feed steve a bite from his plate to taste and kiss him after, sharing the flavours and holding his chin where he pleased.

and it went on like that, eddie still going through the motions, he would get steve off sometimes but wouldn’t let steve touch, wouldn’t say yes if steve rang asking if he wanted anything from the bakery, would indulge when steve got given chocolates as a gift at work. wouldn’t let steve use him mouth or hands on him, wouldn’t even let steve bury his face in eddie’s belly like he so loved. he’s just hold him firm and tell him no and wrap him up in his lap instead, wrists held in one of eddie’s. it was enough but, it wasn’t the same.

and then steve found the pamphlet, and it all started to make sense. he’d tried to talk to eddie but he wouldn’t explain. just said he was tired lately, feeling a little down, but without a solid reason when nothing in their lives had changed steve had been so confused.

but this had. eddie view of himself had. it must have. the timeline added up.

so the next friday, steve made it special. steve needed to get his eddie back. steve ordered takeout and got on his knees…

-

and as u know they stuff eddie silly and steve gets off on his leg hehe :3c

#hotlunch #<3 #steddie #steddie wg #🦂 anon #mwah! #chubby eddie munson

[caedi]

I have a lot of thoughts about what we'll see in the next few episodes of KinnPorsche and need to get them out of my head. I've read most of the book though, so all my theories are very tied up with that.

So here is a brain dump of my theories for episode nine to fourteen, including book spoilers.

Please only click if you don't mind potential spoilers.

I would love to hear if this makes sense to anyone else! I can't stop thinking about it.

Episode Nine: Internal conflict

We've finally met Tawan, and I'm seeing a lot of people on my dash worried that there will be a love-triangle and that Tawan will threaten Kinn & Porsche's relationship.

I can't see that happening in the show. They first hinted at it in episode five and confirmed it in episode eight.

This scene in episode five tells us the gravity of what happened with Tawan - and Kinn's response to this statement is, "Don't worry, I won't let it happen again."

Tawan literally sold information to the Italians, and there was a massive fallout. It was such a betrayal that Kinn shot the man he loved, whether he actually killed him or not.

In the book, Tawan is actively trying to get Kinn back and Kinn turns him down because Tawan cheated on him. He can't trust him. Being cheated on is a betrayal, yes, but that's not even in the same universe as what has been revealed in the show.

So I don't see any way that Kinn will even think about wanting him back. Tawan will test Kinn & Porsche's relationship, but he hasn't been set up as a romantic threat.

Instead, I think his introduction is the next stage of Vegas' plan to dethrone Kinn.

The show has given us a lot of chess metaphors. We know that Porsche is the Queen on the board, and his purpose is to protect the King. Vegas has been focused on Porsche because he knows that while Porsche is on the board, Kinn is protected.

Throughout episode seven, Vegas is trying to get Porsche away from Kinn and onto the minor family's side. Then the bathroom scene happens and Vegas realises that he can't convince Porsche to leave Kinn.

Vegas has been rejected, and if he keeps trying he will literally be shot.

So now Vegas knows he can't get Porsche on his side. But he still needs the 'King' to be vulnerable.

Vegas' next option is to destabilise their relationship from the inside and get Porsche to quit. I think Tawan is working for Vegas to try and cause conflict between Kinn & Porsche. The book tells us that Tawan and his family are in debt, so are easily bought. Vegas also lay the groundwork for this when he told Porsche what happened between Kinn & Tawan, painting Kinn as a paranoid villain.

Fortunately though, Vegas has seriously underestimated Kinn & Porsche's relationship.

We needed episode eight to establish that Kinn & Porsche really care for each other and their relationship is built on a solid foundation. Yes I think Porsche will be jealous and insecure about Tawan being back, but he and Kinn will learn to communicate better and I think we will end episode nine with the pool scene.

Episode 10 to 11: External conflict

Okay, so what could be next? Tawan can't get between them from the inside because, as we learnt in episode 8, Kinn and Porsche have a solid relationship and are in love. But Vegas still can't make his move until the Queen is off the board.

Vegas needs to find another way to get Porsche to leave, and so I think in the next two episodes (episode 10 to 11) he will organise Chay's kidnapping.

In the book, Tawan abducts Chay because he wants Kinn back. This would create drama for our main couple, but doesn't really move the plot forward.

If Tawan is working for Vegas in the show though, he might still abduct Chay if they get intel about Porsche's family from the mole.

Vegas' main aim is to get Porsche to leave Kinn. They'll realise that Chay is Porsche's weakness and they'll be right.

Porsche created enemies the first day that he walked through the doors to the main family house, but I don't think he quite understands that yet. He joined the mafia to protect his little brother and as soon as the mafia hurts his family won't have any choice. He'll have to leave.

Chay being abducted could also be the catalyst for Kinn sending Pete to spy on the minor family, because he will have definitive proof that someone is leaking information to the minor family.

I think episode 11 will conclude with Chay being rescued, Porsche leaving the mafia & breaking up with Kinn, and Pete discovering Vegas' plot and being captured.

Quick little fun happy side note to say that I think Kim will get involved with the family again around this time, but probably not until after Pete has been sent to the minor family & captured. He actually knows which of the bodyguards have been looking into Porsche and may have been able to leak information about his family to the minor family (.... because he asked them to ...)

And if that's how it plays out, well. That's going to be a whole angst fest that I am not ready for.

Episodes 12 to 14: The climax

This leaves episodes 12 - 14 as the climax, with Vegas torturing Pete for information (which in the book happens only after Porchay is rescued) and making his move on the main family.

We also know from the trailer that Kinn won't expect Porsche to be there when he is being attacked by the minor family. Porsche isn't in uniform, and they have their guns pointed at each other.

At this point I don't have any theories about how we will get from Porsche leaving to coming back to save Kinn but I know it's going to break me and I can't wait.

#i wasnt sure if id post this but now im in emergency with a broken finger #please come at me with your theories #i need the distraction #kinnporsche #kinnporsche spoilers #kinnporsche meta #kinnporsche book spoilers #i know theres a typo in one of the screenshots but #not at my computer rn #ill fix it when im back home #book spoilers #looking forward to coming back to this in a few weeks #to see how wrong i was

[grahamcarmen]

RedCrackle week: Day 3: Future

1100- ish words on a quiet little moment in the RED building

“And here I thought we’d both been the only ones in our graduating class to avoid the animal nicknames,” Carmen laughed at Gray, sitting on the couch in what seemed to be a new panda hoodie. At least that’s what it must have been; black sleeves, white torso, and what looked like 2 little black ears on the hood that didn’t quite make it onto his head, which was resting on the back of the sofa.

Gray looked away from the ceiling to give her a wary look. “Ha ha. ‘Rora chose this for me. Wanted to match and-”

“You couldn’t say no.”Carmen sat down, leaning back into the open shoulder of his arm stretched out on the sofa, letting a small grocery bag slide to the floor. “and now?”

“Somewhere in this house are two little red pandas hiding with the rest of team red.”

“You’re definitely not a RED panda.” She gave the ears on the hood a little flick with her fingers.

“Well she changed her mind about matching, wanted something red,” his lips almost twitched into a smile before he grimaced instead. “So she suggested I be a koala.”

“What? Why?” Carmen said in a half baffled breath.

Gray gave her a flat look. Ah.

“She thought I should live up to my nickname in some way. She got so excited about it. Barely convinced her I was fine with the original plan even if she was a red panda instead.” He raised a brow at her. Carmen had never been able to shake the nickname she gave him. It suited him too well and after everything she’d taken each and every opportunity to say it, safe in the knowledge he thought so too now.

Even in the good-natured tiredness that he’d almost been made a different type of mascot for Aurora.

“Don’t think you’ve escaped either, they made sure to get you one too.” Carmen chuckled.

“So, you mentioned them being with the rest of team red?” 

Gray gestured to an open box next to the couch, propped up with a makeshift slingshot. A plate of rice krispies with sprinkles in the center of the trap. 

“Zack set that up when I told him I was actually having trouble finding those little ankle biters. However, he and Ivy have seemingly been recruited.”

"What makes you think that."

"Zack screaming 'sorry Gray we've been recruited' with one of the treats in his mouth before running off might be the reason." He sighed.

Carmen clicked her tongue “After making those rice krispies with you too?” She jabbed a thumb in the direction of the messy kitchen.

Gray preferred eating out or convenient foods. However, meeting with Antonio more often however had opened him up to a couple recipes as long as they were quick and straightforward.

“Mole promised me it was only like 3 or 4 ingredients, kiddos said they wanted to MAKE rice krispies for some reason and the redheads promised to help as long as we got other snacks.”

Gray looked at the box trap resentfully. "So yeah. Still knowing those two that still might work. Maybe."

Carmen nodded at the mountains of bags surrounding, in front of, and on the counters. “But what do you need pie crusts for?”

“I don’t know, I think Ivy said she was gonna help them make a pie.”

“And the water balloons?” she said with a sneaking suspicion already forming in her mind.

“It's summer.” Gray shrugged.

“It's winter.”

“I don’t think that makes a difference here.” He said matter of factly and rightly so, the weather here was always warm. Still...

Carmen glanced at the bag of pop-its fireworks she’d left on the floor after having been sent an emergency text asking for some by Ladrien. She thought she was starting to get the picture.

“And you’re making yourself comfortable here because?” She pushed the bag under the couch with her foot before propping herself up on Gray's arm.

“They said I could wait for backup.” He turned his head towards her and gave her a lazy soft grin. “As long as I gave you this.”

He handed her a small vanilla colored business card. The kids had insisted on getting professional looking stationary on which to write schemes and “calling cards” like any self-respecting thieves they’ve seen on their cartoons. They’d hastily assured her that they were talking about good thieves like her.

[Hey Carm, Ivy and I are hiding too :D You should find us fast kids are getting restless and this’ll probably turn into prank war 2.0 and we really should get started on our marathon soon. It's like 8 movies. Good luck!]

Carmen narrowed at the slight warning in the middle of the happy sentences. “Gray did you…read this by any chance.”

“Told me I couldn’t if I wanted backup.” He hated to be left in the dark but the extra help, her presence, had been more important. “And I thought as long as I knew what OUR plan was going to be…”

“Well, you’re really gonna need it so…”Carmen rested her forehead on his temple. “I guess I could help you out.”

“You guess?” He turned his head to look at her with joking irritation.

Carmen leaned in and kissed him softly, grinning when she felt him smiling into the kiss. She could forgive his current incurious mood when she knew he actually had them working together in mind.

“Guess I made the right choice then.”

She nodded to the red hat bobbing gingerly behind the couch. “Look I even found our first team red member,” She said, lifting the hat to reveal a sheepish Ivy in what seemed to be a green- blue t-rex onesie complete with a tail.

“Ivy.” Gray said flatly, craning his neck to the side to meet her eyes.

“Graham Cracker.” Ivy said, still crouching.

“Ivy, we were just about to go find you guys.”

“Yeah well ‘rora insisted on sending a messenger. They wanted to make sure to give you fair warning, so they asked me to deliver this.”

Carmen eyed the hat in her hands and then the onesie.

“Ladrien insisted. He’s got good taste huh.” Ivy said with a broad smile, handing over another professional vanilla colored business card with red chicken scratches on it.

Carmen squinted at it and read aloud.

[Dearest adults! SHADOWSAN HAS JOINED OUR TEAM AND YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES BEFORE THE FIRST-]

smack

Carmen’s eyes widened, feeling some drops of water hit the side of her face.She turned to see Gray and Ivy, stunned and soaked, bits of balloons clinging to their hair.

Both of their stunned looks quickly shifted into determined frowns.

“Prank happens?” Carmen offered the next words on the card awkwardly.

“You little anklebiters!” They said in unison as they darted after the peals of laughter from the hall.

Carmen took her commlink from her pocket.

“Player, hope you’re not busy. Gonna need some help evening some odds. Seems some members of team red have declared war.”

“Prank war 2.0?”

Carmen grinned, secured the red hat still in her hand onto her head and followed.

#red crackle week 2022 #red crackle #carmen x gray #carmen x graham #fic #no pop its were used until the debacle was over #forgive the messy stitching of the sentences I don't usually write all my hodge podge ideas

[notgoingwell]

The twist wasn't predictable they were foreshadowing it the entire time ,this whole episode was character work. The parallels of butcher and Homelander becoming their fathers and repeating the sins of the past etc. It's fantastic and so much better than twists that make no sense happening just for shock value and no one expecting them because they're just a mess. This twist ties into the narrative so well and propels the entire story in a different direction

Been contemplating whether I should respond to this or not, seeing how I haven't rewatched the earlier seasons prior to this one, and my judgment might therefore be interpreted as poor gripes that hold no weight. But everyone is entitled to have their opinion, and considering I already bashed on one aspect, let me elaborate on how I came to said conclusion:

Keep in mind before I dive into my tangent: Your emotional response to anything is valid and an individual experience no other person can criticise or take from you, yet can easily vary.

Here's where ours may differ:

I personally checked out somewhere amidst season 2 in terms of investment for this show but finished it nonetheless. (My main gripes, eloquently phrased by someone far better with words: here!) Season 2, for me, just didn't hit the marks. The characters felt foreign to those we got introduced to in Season 1 – barely any of them had well-written, fully-fleshed-out character arcs that made sense, and didn't feel contrived. 

While the boys has always been a satire on modern culture – Season 2, and now 3, on top of everything, feel like a one-sided shoehorned political stance made by the writers of the show. (Once again, best explained by someone more eloquent than me: here!) My interest for season 3 only got sparked by a promising-looking trailer – that, judging by it, would finally pick up the "main" motivation again, and progress the story, rather than running the same circles/concepts Season 2 did – and, of course, a new, popular addition to the cast. The latter aspect, evil tongues might argue, was used for marketing purposes, considering this actor ranks high in popularity – he could convince viewers who felt dissatisfied with Season 2 to tune back in and additionally increase viewership.

Now, here's my problem that carries on in Season 3:

-This show, since the beginning of Season 2, has felt like plot points our characters have to meet instead of them naturally progressing. 

-The characters either don't develop or keep running the same circles differently, best example: Maeve, Kimiko, Frenchie, Hughie, A-Train, Deep. They keep inserting subplots that scatter in multiple directions with no ends, no connecting tissue to our main story – and if there is, then that's their justifiable contribution to the story. Maeve has been a strong character in Season 1 and gradually became less interesting in Season 2. Now, she's reduced to a bland character who merely helps set the plot in motion – her only purpose is to supply Butcher the Compound V doses for them to juice up. Kimiko and Frenchie were interesting characters with intriguing backstories who each had an important role in the team. Now, they're the sidelined lovey-dovey couple who the writers seemingly have no idea how to incorporate into their story, other than making stuff up to justify their involvement in the plot. -> Cue: Kimiko's very impulsive decision-making regarding her powers, the call-backs to her brother, Frenchie's sudden Russian mafia subplot, etc. They both just feel like empty tag-alongs, that show up when needed, and then disappear.

A-Train, in my opinion, should have died when he dragged Blue Hawk. Not only did his obnoxious, too-on-the-nose story lead nowhere, but he also survived and lived to see another season.. yay? And Deep has not seen development since he got kicked out of the Seven. Or Noir...Or Ashley.

-Starlight has been a mole ever since Season 1, and, if I recall correctly, has been found out there as well. Yet they keep portraying her in the same light: The anxious hero sitting on hot coals, threatened and put in nerve-wracking situations to up the stakes for the boys, waiting to bust, yet they never go beyond with her. As do her and Hughie's conflicts in their relationship, they keep cycling back. She lost all appeal to me when her character got reduced to a social media star rather than a selfless hero with real powers – lo and behold, her mighty leverage: Followers. (Who Homelander could not be bothered by one second and then frightens the next.)

-Speaking of: It might just be me, but he gets less scary as well. I genuinely loved him in Season 1 – the unhinged, unpredictable "hero", rein by the only woman who comes through to him and holds some form of control over him. Only for her to be killed by his hand, to eliminate his weakness. But do we get the rampant unstoppable force of nature? No, we revert back to the same state with a different person holding the reins: Stormfront. Even now, in Season 3, we still have not seen him as the unhinged monster – several characters talk about him a certain way, but it doesn't line up with what we see as the audience. 

Also not a big fan of humanising him by establishing his origin with Soldier boy – he's a disconnected, apathetic Supe with a god complex. I would've preferred if they'd let him be the product of his environment and not a carbon-copy of his ruthless father, who happens to be him, had he lived in another time with fewer insecurities and issues: a rampant monster.

-This leads me to the focal point of this tangent: Soldier Boy. We all knew he'd be the new season's baddie. They wouldn't hire him for him to make a few limited appearances. We knew, they knew, promotion proved it. Soldier boy's supposed to be Steve Rogers, a man from another time, if he were a cruel, selfish nob who only ever got positive recognition by the media. (Which, admittedly, is a fascinating yet frightening take, especially him being confronted by all these modern developments, ex: Technology, Gender roles, sexuality, etc.) Going from this alone, he'd HAVE to be greatly tied into past affairs and serve a purpose for being brought back into current times. Seeing how the Homelander's genetic experiment turned out to be a massive focus last season, it was a reasonable guess these two would have some sort of connection. He's a new character from old times, played by a famous actor – of course, they'd play the father card. 

To me, it was predictable. 

"Foreshadowing is a literary device used to give an indication or hint of what is to come later in the story. Foreshadowing is useful for creating suspense, a feeling of unease, a sense of curiosity, or a mark that things may not be as they seem. In the definition of foreshadowing, the word “hint” is key." – meaning: if you can guess it before diving into the story, it defeats its purpose and thus doesn't work.

They strived to subvert expectations but played right into them, which is why I proclaimed it a disappointment. As you might have noticed, I didn't like Season 2 and have not been swayed by the current airing one yet. I hoped for a turn as they did with Stranger Things when things went downhill, but was met, as of yet, with the same concepts presented differently. With characters gradually losing their appeal and motivations, with shoehorned politics, very convenient solutions presented in a moments notice, and a rather dull storyline, all baited by the appearance of a beloved actor. The dad-twist feels to me like the key element they build their story upon while padding the rest with subplots. 

I'm entitled to my opinion, which is not immune to criticism, but affected by biases and emotional responses. I respect that yours is different, hence why you perceive and draw varying conclusions. Both are good, both are valid. If you enjoy the content they put out, then I'm happy for you! This novel-like response is not to diminish your view or to take a defending stance regarding my previous statement(s) but to heighten the derivation on how I came to my conclusion.

I hope you enjoy the rest of the season, have a lovely day and thank you for your mail in my inbox! :)

#answered asks #anon #the boys #the boys spoilers #the boys season three #Soldier boy #Mine #the boys 3 #Homelander #Hughie Campbell #Hughie #A-train #A train #deep #The Deep #Kimiko #Stormfront #Starlight #Annie January #Jensen Ackles #Billy Butcher #Frenchie #discourse

[hauntedestheart]

InstaSpy (FxM Body Swap)

Synopsis: An undercover mission ends a secret agent’s career in a way he never quite expected.

When a kidnapping ring began targeting upper class children the elite circles of blue bloods knew better than to go to the government about it, instead they went to “The Agency,” a covert operations organization so top secret it didn’t need a more descriptive name. Unfettered by the law and with access to technology hidden from the rest of the world, The Agency was a global powerhouse 

Unfortunately, this case had them stumped. Kidnappings were always tricky because they, by nature, are also hostage crises. Even if The Agency could find the location of the kidnapper’s secret hideout (which they’d been unable to do, the tracks were always covered too well) they would need to get someone on the inside first to free the kidnapped victims first. Ordinarily this would be accomplished by setting a mole up to be captured, but these kidnappers were too smart and had seen through their every attempt. The Agency was in an unwinnable position.

However in a lucky break, a goon captured by The Agency had spilled that the ring’s next target was one Amelia Ballard, daughter of a wealthy megaconglomerate CEO, and Agency strategists came up with a bold but unorthodox plan.

Previous attempts had seen The Agency attempting to fabricate backstories for Agents to trick the ring in to targeting them, but the kidnappers had always seen through this ruse. These people would only go for a tried and rich kid... which is exactly what The Agency would give them.

The plan was simple: An Agency scientist had developed a machine that could swap consciousnesses between bodies, which could be used to plant the mind of an agent inside of Amelia Ballard. This would give the Agency the man on the inside that they needed while (technically) posing minimal risk to a civilian.

The Agent selected for the mission was named Elias Thompson (or “Agent E” as he was called), who had saved the world more times than he could count on his fingers. But it wasn’t his reputation that got him selected for the mission, it was his age: at just 26 years old he was the youngest Agent on the field, which had convinced the higher ups that he would be the idea Agent to pass himself off as an heiress.

Elias had been a bit confused when he’d scanned Amelia’s file: other than their ages, the two had little in common. The 23 year old woman was a flighty socialite who’d never worked a day in her life and spent her days jetting around on her father’s dime and posting tacky photos documenting her cushy life. By contrast Elias was as straight laced as they came; having been raised in the Agency, work was all he knew.

Still, Elias was a professional and he’d accepted the mission (not that he’d ever really had a choice). He wasn’t thrilled about the idea of becoming a woman and pretending to be a vapid airhead for an indefinite period of time, but he swallowed his complaints and told himself it was for the greater good.

Amelia had been similarly displeased, and she handled it far less well. Her father had insisted that she undergo the process for her own safety but that hadn’t stopped her from throwing a childish tantrum the day of the switch before entering into the machine, and it had only grown worse once she’d come out the other side in Elias’s body. 

Her exact words had been “smelly,” “hairy,” and “nasty,” and they’d had to sedate her to prevent her from kicking up an even bigger fuss. (Elias noted with some pride that even without him in it, his body had put up a hell of a fight.) The Agency workers in the room had had a good chuckle at the sight of the usually stoic Agent E behaving like a petulant child, but they’d assured the real Elias that his body was in good hands and Amelia would have access to counseling to help her cope with the shift.

And so the mission began. Elias had been taken, just as they had planned, but he hadn’t expected his kidnappers to be so thorough in their search of him and they’d taken away the hidden tools he’d been planning to use for his escape. In the end it took him over a month of captivity to finally find an opportunity to strike, but when he had, he struck hard. By the time Agent E was through with them, all of the criminals were in custody and likely to go away for a very long time.

It had been hard work, and dangerous, but Elias was a true professional who was always glad for an opportunity to serve his country. Still, he was looking forwards to getting back to The Agency, back to his body, and back out on another mission.

Or so he thought...

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

“What do you mean it’s been requisitioned?” Elias shrieked at the lab tech, wincing at how shrill he sounded. Over a month later he still wasn’t used to how high his voice was, nor did he think he wanted to be used to it. “I only agreed to swap bodies with this woman for this one mission.”

“Command came from high up the food chain,” The sympathetic looking employee replied. She pressed some buttons and a memo appeared on the high-tech screen. “Your mission is officially listed as cleared but I’m under instructions to not reverse the swap.”

Elias scanned the forms and it confirmed what the woman had said. Still... “They aren’t allowed to do this!” He protested.

“Actually we are,” The screen before Elias flickered to life and was filled the face of Tessa, the mid-level Agency director who was his direct superior. Elias’s training kicked in and he immediately straightened to attention at the sight of her, and she smiled dispassionately at him. “Hello Agent E, welcome home. I imagine you’re experiencing some confusion.

“You’re bloody right I am!” He said, his anger causing his usual unflappable decorum to slip. “What’s this I’m reading about my body being ‘requisitioned?’ Why am I not getting it back?”

“Agency heads have determined that your body would be of more use as a financial asset than as a field asset,” Tessa responded mechanically, as if she were reciting this from memory. “As such it will not be returned to you and will remain in possession of Amelia Ballard.”

“Financial asset?” Elias asked, confused. “Director, please, talk to me like I’m a person. What does that mean?”

“It means that a non-insignificant amount of money has exchanged hands to ensure that you stay exactly as you are,” Elias swallowed nervously, and Tessa’s eyes shot right to his throat. She could always tell exactly what he was feeling. “Really, you’ve done us a great favor. It hurts us to have one of our top agents out of commission like this but the funds that this exchange secures will be invaluable to our cause.”

“But this my body we’re talking about!” Elias shouted. “You can’t just take it away, it’s not a piece of company property!”

Tessa looked down at him condescendingly. “It is and it always has been. From the moment you signed on with this agency you took an oath to use yourself as a tool for the greater good of our society,” She was reciting a portion of the oath, and Elias grimaced. Picking up on his frustration, Tessa sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. 

“Listen, Agent E, the Agency has taken good care of you and will continue to do so. But this is out of even my hands now, the contracts have already been signed and I looked them over personally and they’re airtight.” She seemed genuinely apologetic, but if anything that just made Elias more upset. If they knew this was wrong, why were they still doing it? “Don’t worry, we’ll find another place for you in The Agency.”

“I don’t want to find another place, I want to be me again,” He hissed. “If you don’t fix this, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Tessa quirked an eyebrow at him, and he quieted down. “Go to the police and tell them that your body has been snatched by a shadowy agency? Even if they believed you, you know that local government is in our pockets. Be reasonable Elias, and have a little dignity.”

“You’ve taken away all of my dignity!” He cried out, gesturing down at his very female body. His mind whirled as he tried to figure out a way out of this solution, and only one presented itself to him. “I need to talk to Amelia right now.”

Tessa smirked, as if she knew something funny but wasn’t telling him. Elias didn’t like that, but he had no other choice. 

“You’re free to do so if you please, I believe you’ll find her by the safe house pool,” She said. “You’re dismissed to go and speak to her but please head to the debriefing room once you’re through. There’s still some things we need to take care of.”

“I’ll be there, and I’ll be there looking like me,” Elias said confidently, and with a salute he turned and stomped off .

Tessa smiled sadly at him, and her face flickered away.

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

Amelia in Elias’s old body had been sequestered in the Agency compound’s safe house, a decadent piece of property designed to keep their often upper class wards content. Though Elias found the place ostentatious he had always admired the large swimming pool, and apparently Amelia agreed because she was currently floating in the middle of it on a ridiculous pool floaty.

Elias was momentarily taken aback by seeing his body in such a relaxed state; arms folded behind his head, sunglasses on, a beer by his side, it was a picture of serenity. It was like looking into an alternate reality; the real Elias would never waste a day laying around in the sun.

Time to get back to normal, he thought to himself. “Ms. Ballard!”

The version of him in the pool lolled its head over and lowered its sunglasses, squinting at him through the sunlight. Then, Amelia’s face lit up with recognition, and she waved at him.

“Oh my god! Hi! One sec,” Taking one final swig of her beer, she discarded her sunglasses and then slipped from her flotation device into the water. With broad, powerful strokes she swam to the edge of the pool and hoisted herself up, looking like a scene from a commercial as water dripped off of the super spy’s body and his muscles gleamed in the light. 

Elias took a moment to observe himself from the outside and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his body still in one piece and still in shape. His body was a finely tuned instrument of nothing but lean, powerful muscle, and he relied on his strength in mission situations to pull off tricky stunts and fight endless hordes of faceless minions. Visions of returning to find his form broken to bits or horrendously out of shape had haunted his nightmares but thankfully it looked just as good as the day he’d left it- if anything, it looked even better. 

His skin was practically glowing with the healthy tan he’d never quite had time to develop (spending a lot of time in underground lairs and secret labs didn’t do wonders for the complexion), a fact that was highlighted by a conspicuous lack of body hair. Had she... waxed him? By contrast she’d let his hair grow out (long hair was a liability in his line of work so he kept it to a strict military cut) and floppy, boyish cut gave him a distinctly “prettier” appearance. Clearly she had been pampering him with some of that “self-care” that his coworkers were always blathering on about.

Well, he thought, at least I know she’s been taking care of my body.

“Oh my god, you’re back!” She shook out her hair (a pointless amount of hair, Elias though) and snatched up a towel, using it to pat her face dry. “Cute, how was it?”

“The mission was a complete success, the kidnapping ring has been completely dismantled and all of the hostages have been rescued,” He reported dutifully. “You and your family shouldn’t have any more problems with them.”

“That’s so cool, I love that,” She smiled and nodded at him, then returned her attention to toweling off.

He frowned at the way she was holding his body– her more feminine body language and gestures seemed out of place on his masculine form and it made him appear as if he were a bitchy gay man. He didn’t like that one bit, nor did he like the look on her face. She seemed… a bit too content to be swanning around in his body. He waited for her to say something else, but it seemed like she had already forgotten that he was there.

“Well, we thank you for your service,” Elias cleared his throat and continued, trying to keep the conversation moving in the proper direction. “But given that there’s no present danger I think it’s about time we got back into the lab and reversed the swap so both of us can get on with our lives. Shall we?” He gestured back towards the Agency building in the distance, and Amelia fixed a bewildered look upon him.

“Oh yeah about that,” She bit her lip and cocked her head to the side slightly like a confused puppy. “I thought someone was going to talk to you about that. I’ve decided I don’t wanna switch back anymore so we’re just gonna stay like this, okay?”

Elias blinked in disbelief, a bit taken aback by how casually she had said that. Still, he had faith in his training and knew he could get through this if he could just get all the facts and formulate a plan. He drew himself up to his full height (his current body was significantly shorter than his true body, which irked him to no end, but every inch counted) and smiled charmingly at her.

“Someone did mention something to that affect to me, yes,” He admitted. “But I wanted to speak to you personally. Don’t you want your body back?”

“Mm, not really,” Amelia said flatly. “I like yours.” She smiled at him, and he repressed a shiver.

“What?” He sputtered, but then quickly recovered. “But as I recall you ,were furious about the swap when it happened! Surely you’re eager to return to the body you grew up in.”

She giggled but the bubbly, girlish sound was strange in his deeper voice. “Oh my god I was sooo pissed off, wasn’t I? That whole body swap thing was so inconvenient for me, I had to cancel all my plans and everybody thought that I was kidnapped. It was embarrassing as hell. But then I did some deep breathing and decided to take some words of advice from my idol Kendall Jenner and just tried to make the best out of the bad situation.”

“That’s when I realized something: you’re actually a really hot guy,” As she said this she placed one hand on his chest and ran it over his pecs, rubbing them shamelessly in front of him. Elias choked. “I would totally have banged you, I just didn’t realize it at first because you had no sense of style. So I decided to make you my new project!”

“Project?” He grimaced, not liking the implications of this one bit. “What have you done to me?”

She began listing things. “Let’s see, well first off I started using real shampoo and conditioner (I cannot believe you actually used two in one, that’s like, a hate crime) and grew your hair out because the military thing was not working for you. Then I went to the spa and got a full deep pore exfoliation treatment which trust me, you needed. I did some manscaping too, teeth whitening, eyebrow shaping, a mani/pedi obviously… it was hard work but it was so worth it for the glow up. Oh, and check this out!”

She twisted her body sideways and stuck Elias’s ass out into the air, and Elias blinked in confusion. He knew his body inside and out and that was definitely NOT what his bottom had looked like when he’d left it! The red fabric of the swimsuit clung to his butt cheeks almost obscenely and it seemed perkier somehow; fuller. It’s not like Elias’s ass had been flat before, he was dedicated to keeping in shape, but this was… something else.

“What the fuck?” He exclaimed, finally breaking his cool.

“It’s nice, right?” Amelia grinned, mistaking his shock for praise. She slapped her hand onto his firm butt and squeezed it shamelessly. “I think the gains are really starting to show. Honestly I was completely gagged the first time I took your clothes off, you’ve got a total rig going on. My trainer and I have developed a great workout plan that’s gonna take me to the next level though, we’re taking this from hot to fuck-me-sideways gorgeous.”

On the word “this” she gestured to his body and when Elias’s eyes focused in he realized his entire body had undergone such subtle changes as his ass had. His lean frame was starting to bulk up a bit: thicker biceps, tighter abs, more prominent pecs. These were show muscles she was developing, not true strength training, and he now resembled a model rather than someone trained for combat. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that the look did suit him, but it was an impractical build for a spy and he’d have to spend time whipping himself back into shape once he returned.

“I don’t wanna get too big of course,” She added, flexing one of his arms and poking at the muscle with her other hand. “I’m not trying to be a body builder or anything like that but I think there’s so much potential here.”

“Potential?” Elias gaped at her audacity. “You know I’ve snapped a man’s neck with those hands, swum through a hundred feet of water on a single breath to escape a sinking underwater research facility. My body is at the peak of is potential because it is trained for utility, not aesthetics.” 

“And I totally love that for you, that’s super cute,” She said dismissively, still engrossed in examining her body. “But this is me we’re talking about, and I have higher standards,” She lifted her eyes back up and looked at Elias again, but he noted that her hands were still petting his abs. “Oh anyways I was telling a story: so after making your body presentable I decided it was time to go public with the change and I made new socials. My old brand was getting boring and this was exactly the shakeup that I needed. I got into contact with my team and gave them the tea on the situation–”

“This is highly classified technology we’re dealing with!” He interjected, and she rolled her eyes dismissively.

“Okay and?” She flicked her head back as if she still had long hair. “They’re a social media management company, do you think they care? The point is they hooked me up with some sponsors, helped me boost my following, and now I’m kinda blowing up! So obviously I can’t leave your body now, it’s important to my brand now.”

She grabbed a phone from a poolside table and unlocked it, going straight to Instagram. She held the phone up for him to see and he snatched it from her hand (his hand, he reminded himself) and glared at the screen: just as she’d said, the follower count was astronomically high. 

His stomach churned with disgust as he scrolled through the page. Photos of his body wearing trendy clothes and sipping on (sponsored) tea, videos of him in the gym working out, and many, many images of him in various states of undress. Out of morbid curiosity he clicked on a post and saw the comments section was full of complete strangers thirsting over his toned body. 

The account was all shallow thirst traps without a shred of substance, it was humiliating and could blow his cover as an agent! How was he supposed to go on covert missions when there were pictures of him plastered all over the internet? This was NOT what his body was meant for! Rage bubbled up inside of him and though he did his best to swallow it, the anger began to get the best of him.

“So this is what’s so important, huh? Your master plan?” He seethed. “To just go around posting half-naked pictures of my body?”

“Of course not,” She said defensively, then a wicked grin contorted the handsome face she was wearing. “There are naked ones too, I’m not a tease. Premium, of course.”

“WHAT?” He screamed, his eyes bulging out of his head.

“Videos too,” She purred, and Elias did not like the sound of his voice purring. “Come on, you’ve seen your dick. It would be a waste not to show it.”

“My penis?” He paled. “Oh god, you mean you’ve–“

“Yeah of course I’ve played with your dick?” She said matter-of-factly. “Obvi. I’ve been in your body for over a month, was I just supposed to pretend like it wasn’t there? It’s… kinda hard to ignore, if you know what I mean.” She shook her hips side to side for a moment and smirked at the sight of the bulge jiggling in her wet shorts. He felt like she was taunting him.

“But don’t you miss being a woman?” He asked hopefully, grasping at any straw he could to try and get his body back.

“What would I miss? Wearing dresses, putting on makeup? Newsflash, it’s the 21st century. I can still all those things and have a huge dick,” She chuckled. “Look at me now: I’m tall, hot, popular, boys are throwing themselves at me, and having a dick is really fun. I thought it was kinda weird at first but now I’m fully obsessed with it,” To emphasize her point she thrust her hands down the front of her shorts, groaning a little bit as she cupped his genitals in her hands. She rolled them around a bit. “It helps that your is so nice, like, I’ve seen a lot of dicks and this is exactly the kind of dick that I’d want.”

“Get your hands out of there, stop touching me!” He cried out in horror, the final straw finally breaking him. She rolled her eyes, but withdrew her hand.

“God you’re such a prude, ugh,” She grumbled.

“What does your father think about all this?” He blurted out, attempting a different approach. “I can’t imagine he’s pleased with his daughter suddenly deciding that she wants to be a strange man, let alone one who does... this.”

“Daddy always wants me to be happy,” She replied with a shrug. “Who do you think arranged this? He always wanted a son anyways so when I told him I wanted to keep you he pulled some strings. He’s already had the lawyers file a bunch of adoption papers and stuff to make my new body officially a member of the family, and I think he said he was cutting the one you’re in off though so heads up about that.”

Elias was growing increasingly panicked, he was used to weaseling his way out of seemingly impossible situations but he was afraid he’d met his match here.

“Look, I’ll be completely frank with you, this is a bit bigger than just you and I. I’m a secret agent who saves the country on the regular and this,” He gestured towards the body he was in, soft from a lifetime of pampering. “Is a liability. I need that body back, I can’t do my job without it!”

“I mean, neither can I?” She looked down at him with contempt, and he hated she was taller than him now. “This face is my brand now, I’m finally getting the career I’ve always wanted and I’m not giving it up now.”

“You can still post slutty pictures in this body!” He said frustratedly. “I don’t understand why you can’t just go back to what you were doing before all of this!”

“I was a flop before all of this!” She said, and her voice broke as if she were opening up about some deep trauma of hers. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. 

“I know you think that because I’m a rich, beautiful heiress that I’ve had everything handed to me but I’ve had to struggle too. I was the only girl in my sorority with under ten thousand followers on all my social media platforms... do you have any idea what that does to a person? But with your body I’ve finally found my true calling. I deserve this. This is my dream and I don’t see why you have to be such a dick about it. What I’m doing here is important.”

“Important?” Elias was positively dumbfounded by how shallow and selfish this girl was. “You think that you using my body to be a thirst trapping influencer is more important than me using it to serve the country?”

“Um, duh?” She rolled her neck exasperatedly and it was a gesture so irritating that it made Elias want to smack his own face. “Actually that gives me an idea, I think I’ll do a spy inspired photoshoot to post to OnlyFans next. This new body would look really good in a tight black catsuit, don’t you think?”

She picked up her phone and began tapping at it, completely ignoring the fact that Elias was still there. He’d had enough of this! Furious, he snatched the phone from her hand and tossed it into the pool. She gasped and placed one hand on her chest in shock, once again making his hardened body look absolutely ridiculous.

“You asshole!” She shrieked. “That’s it, you’re crazy. I’m out of here.”

She flipped her hair to the side again and tossed the towel at his face, and when he’d finally fumbled it into his hands he saw her walking away with his body. In desperation he tried to grab her arm but with his more powerful body she effortlessly shoved him and he went flying, landing in the pool with a big splash. He bobbed to the surface, sputtering and humiliated, and he died inside as he watched his ass jiggling in his shorts as his body strutted away from him for the last time.

“But- but that’s my body!” He cried out pitifully. “You can’t just take it!”

Amelia stopped and turned on her heels, glaring down at the sad wet agent in the pool disdainfully. Her hip was popped out to the side with one arm placed on it, giving Elias a full display of what he was losing.

“Don’t worry,” She said sweetly. “If you miss your body, you can just follow me on my socials. You’ll be able to see it plenty.”

#male body swap #bodyswap #yeah Idk what this is I was just trying to knock the rust off and I thought this was funny #I liked the idea of a super serious dude losing his body to someone so vapid I love role reversal stuff like that

[subspencer]

Okayyyy so I’m in a hotel rn and in the bathroom there’s a big tub and right next to it is a shower and a wall that separates it BUT half way up the wall is just a giant window so if you’re in the shower you can watch someone in the tub and I literally can’t get the thought of arriving at a hotel on a case and seeing that set up and waiting until Spencer is in the shower before “innocently” taking a bath at the same time and then teasing him by masterbating in the tub while he watches in the shower before yk,,, shower sex 💀 okay it’s late and I need to sleep apparently 😂

okay so i changed it a little bit but ! whew ! it’s finally here (sorry this is over a month late lol <3). reader can be gender neutral. 

cw: mutual masturbation, perv!spencer.    wc: 1.4k

Spencer had this small, annoying rule. Whenever the team was out on a case, sex was off the table. Something about maintaining focus, or whatever.

He was fine with sharing the same room, but no sex. And sometimes, that made it so much worse. He was always at a fingertip’s length away, curled in bed next to you while you slept in his arms. Pressed closely together, but only in the most innocent of ways. 

This self-imposed rule your boyfriend had was, in summation, fucking stupid. Because how did he possibly think that abstaining from sex would improve your focus on anything? If anything, you were wound even tighter after days of busting ass at work and nights without any stress relief. 

He could sense it had that effect on you. Before bed that night, Spencer crawled onto the mattress behind you, planning on doing something small to help with that. He would’ve let you spend hours mindlessly scrolling through your phone, resting your head on his chest while he played with your hair for as long as you needed to feel a little more relaxed. 

Instead, you swatted his hand away as soon as he got near you.

“Fuck off, Spence. I’m not in the mood,” you grumbled. He knew from prior experience that playing with your hair sometimes had the opposite effect of relaxing; it tended to lead to more physical places in no time. Things that Spencer ruled against doing while on cases.

“Fine,” he sighed, rolling off the bed. “I’m gonna shower first, if that’s alright with you.”

“That’s fine,” you rolled your eyes, barely containing your annoyance as you flipped over to your side, continuing to scroll through your phone in an effort to ignore him. The sound of his footsteps rescinded towards the hotel bathroom, and you tacked on, “I just think it’s rude that you don’t want me to join you!”

Spencer laughed at your stubborn display, walking into the bathroom as he shed his clothes. When you didn’t hear the door close right away, you snuck a small peek behind you. You could see his reflection in the bathroom mirror, slowly fogging up from the steam. Still, you got a good eye full of his bare torso, toned and speckled with the occasional, tiny freckle or mole. 

“We’re on a case,” he reprimanded, poking his head out of the doorframe to give you a stern look, right before shutting the door behind himself. “We can do that when we get home!” 

You groaned and flipped onto your back, irritated as ever. If Spencer was so adamant about his no sex on cases rule, then you figured you might as well get some rest. But several minutes of tossing and turning later, you remembered that the hotel room also came with a decently sized bathtub. And what better way to actually relax than with a bath?

You grabbed your towel from its discarded place on the armchair, stripping down and wrapping yourself in it before padding toward the bathroom. Spencer squeaked when he heard the door open, a little out of surprise as he saw your shadow through the foggy glass shower door as you walked inside.

“I told you, we can’t,” he said with the slightest bit of disappointment.

“Relax, Spencer. I’m here for the bath, not you.” You ignored the shower and moved around to the other end of the bathroom, running water into the tub that was situated behind a tiled wall that separated it from the shower.

He sighed, half relieved and mildly offended, and dropped his guard. He dipped his head back under the shower stream, letting hot water run over his face and through his hair, beading down his body. When he looked back up, he noticed something.

A small window on the tiled wall of the shower, looking directly at the bathtub.

You had your back to him, bending down to test the temperature of the running water on your hand as you waited for it to fill up. The tiny bath towel doing barely anything to cover you. 

Spencer tore his eyes away, an instinctual reaction telling him that he probably shouldn’t be looking. But just as quickly, he peeked again, in time to catch you dropping the towel and climbing in. He couldn’t see anything under the foaming bubbles, but he could see your face as you turned to rest your head against the other wall.

Your eyes were closed as you leaned back, sinking into the soothing warm water. He hadn’t seen you look so calm this entire week, and it made him smile to see you this way. But then he saw your chest rise and fall with a deep sigh. Followed by a tiny whine that he could tell you were trying to keep quiet. And suddenly he wasn’t looking at you with adoring eyes anymore. 

He pushed his wet curls back and stepped closer to the window, watching to see what you’d do next. Maybe he was dreaming about it. Maybe he was more affected by his own rule than he thought, and this was his brain getting back at him for not giving in sooner. But moments pass and he knows he’s not imagining it.

Your hands were under the water. The only thing he could see was your face and your knees bent upwards, leaving him to guess what was happening under the surface. Your bottom lip slipped into your mouth, held firmly between your teeth as you lolled your head to the side, and he knew. He’d seen that face enough times.

Hot water ran over his shoulders as he pressed as close to the window as he could; feeling only slightly guilty and inappropriate for observing you do such a private thing. But he’d done that to you several times before, so surely he could justify himself for peeking in. 

A whimper escaped your lips, and his hand moved down to find his cock, absentmindedly wrapping his fingers around it as you continued. One of your hands came up from the surface just briefly enough for him to see you wrap it over your chest, tugging one of your nipples, and he started to move his own against his length. 

He picked up pace, trying to keep his own moans at bay when he saw your legs twitch. A sure sign that you found a perfect rhythm for yourself. Your mouth fell open, and he’d trained his eyes on you hard enough to be convinced he saw your lips silently speak his name. His hips bucked into his palm. His other hand slammed down to the wall, bracing himself against it as he drew himself nearer to orgasm. 

Your eyes screwed even tighter as you felt a knot in your lower stomach wind up. He fucked up; moaned out your name too loudly, and you opened them, quickly finding him in front of you, behind the window. 

Even with the surprise, you were too close to stop. And when you realized what he was doing behind that wall, you couldn’t possibly have. You mewled his name loud enough for him to hear, rolling your hips to grind yourself against your fingers as the knot grew. 

Spencer’s perfect lips parted. Hearing you say his name like that brought him so fucking close. He wanted to forget his own stupid rule. He was half a second from telling you to come in here and join him, to take you against the shower wall. But he didn’t last. As soon as he heard that familiar, high-pitched whine coming from you as you hit your orgasm, he was painting his release all over himself, covering his hands and abdomen and some of the tile. 

His head dropped against his shaking arm that managed to support him through it all. When he collected himself and looked up again, you were gone. The water was still moving from when you must’ve gotten out. 

The glass door opened behind him as you stepped inside, already dripping from your bath. 

“You know, they recommend showering after baths…” you joked, moving under the stream of hot water. Spencer stepped closer, water now running over both of you as the gap between you came down to an inch. You ran a finger over his belly, wiping a small bit of his come before it washed away, and held it up to him before cleaning it off your fingers with your mouth. “Just to make sure you’re all clean.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #blurb #spencer reid x gender neutral reader

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

Continued from this post, Part 3 of my discussion of Essek Thelyss in the context of real-world espionage. This time: what happens to espionage assets in the long run? Do they break contact, and why? What might have been in store for Essek?

At the treaty meeting Essek tells Ludinus to his face that he wants no further contact with the Assembly, not even to learn what the Assembly discovers via their own beacon. He’s far from the first asset to try to sever their relationship, and it ends in one of three ways: they don’t manage to break contact, they break contact but voluntarily return, or (rarest of all) they end the relationship permanently. 

Most attempts don’t go beyond option 1, because intelligence agencies are not in the business of respecting their assets’ choices. Handlers are skilled in keeping the upper hand in their asset relationships and will take any further opportunity to gain leverage by compromising the asset. For instance they’ll often pay for information even if the asset hasn’t requested it, because money changing hands makes it far harder for an asset to frame their activities positively to their own side if they attempt to confess (”You expect us to believe they were blackmailing you when you got $10,000 to hand over the secret manual?” etc.) And when push comes to shove most people aren’t willing to accept the severe punishments for espionage. An asset’s threat to confess is more likely a negotiating ploy than a serious option.

Some assets, especially nervous or ego-driven ones, get the carrot: the KGB did a strong line in awarding secret medals to convince them they were doing important, well-regarded work and that the KGB would protect them - not an empty reassurance, as highly-placed moles like Aldrich Ames warranted elaborate ops involving double and triple agents to avert suspicions. And some assets get the stick: the handler tightens the screws using whatever leverage they’ve gained, implies that they’re already “too far in to go back,” or gives some time for those who were blackmailed into spying to think about the consequences of exposure.[1]

Those who get as far as option two, breaking it off and later returning, are usually driven away by fear but back by finances. Fantasy spies have all sorts of motives but in real life the majority are in it for the money. Assets, as you might imagine, make bad choices. About half start selling secrets just to stave off massive debt from overspending and poor financial decisions (the rest feel underpaid.) So even if these assets stop temporarily, the circumstances that drove them to espionage in the first place are still very much present. In these cases all a handler has to do is shrug and say, “You know where to find us.” Infamous FBI mole Robert Hanssen broke off contact with his Russian handlers when the Soviet Union collapsed, fearing he might get outed in the chaos, but linked back up with them just 10 months later when, surprise surprise, he needed some cash.

And then there are the rare handful who stop completely. There’s a bit of survivor(?) bias here because anyone who passes along secrets, breaks off the relationship before being caught, and manages to get away with it is by definition someone we don’t know about. Those who do manage to break contact long-term are usually able to do so because they left the situation that gave them access to interesting secrets and therefore the controlling agency determined they were no longer a useful resource and not worth pursuing. But even if an asset stops working for an agency, they’re far from forgotten - and far from off the hook. Names and evidence of their espionage would be kept on file for potential use as blackmail, leverage in state-to-state negotiations, or expendable material to prove bona fides in ops involving fake defectors or triple agents. A surprising number of spies are caught/outed years after their espionage ended.

Very few assets permanently sever their espionage relationships the hard way: making a genuine confession and accepting punishment. But it’s not unheard-of, especially if the espionage was brief and the asset believes the damage can be repaired. In 1989 Army signals analyst Michael Peri disappeared from his post in West Germany along with a portable computer containing numerous classified documents. Eleven days later he returned to his previous post with the computer and voluntarily confessed to the theft and sort-of defection to East Germany. When interrogated, Peri - who had been a model soldier until that point - said he felt overworked and underappreciated by his superiors, though he couldn’t entirely explain his decisions either to leave or to return (a sexy female Russian agent might also have been involved). He received a 30-year sentence.

Marine Clayton Lonetree, a guard stationed at the US Embassy in Moscow in 1985, was blackmailed over an affair to hand over details on the embassy compound for a year, but his conscience finally got the better of him and he confessed in late 1986. Being a Marine he faced the very real prospect of death by firing squad, but the court martial ended up giving him a 30-year sentence. It was later reduced to 15 after the Marine Corps Commandant wrote a letter to the Navy Secretary on his behalf attributing the young Marine’s actions not to treason or greed but to loneliness, naivety, and poor judgement.[2]

Going back to Essek’s case, he’s already in the minority of espionage assets because he doesn’t want money in return for the secrets he passes along; though the knowledge the Assembly promises him in return fulfills a similar desire, Essek doesn’t need that knowledge to pay off the equivalent of debt or to maintain his lifestyle. He has no pressures at home that force him to continue spying. With the beacons returned, the fall guys in place, and their tracks seemingly covered, he tells Ludinus that all he wants is to be rid of the entire affair. That rules out option one (he sincerely means to cut the Assembly off) and option two (he won’t be driven back by need.) 

Essek is also in an unusual position in that the worst of the damage he caused is repairable - just return the beacons.[3] A secret, once compromised, can’t be un-compromised. If an asset hands over a cipher machine they can’t fix the situation by stealing the cipher machine back; the foreign agency they sold it to has already studied the machine and learned its secrets, meaning it’s now effectively useless. But returning the beacons restores what the Kryn lost. While keeping dunamancy secret gives the Kryn a tactical edge, and I’m sure the Dynasty would prefer to keep the magical soulstones of their elite hidden from their long-time rival, the beacons don’t need to be secret to work. Essek therefore has a much better chance than most to simply repair the damage, cut off his handlers, and try to forget the whole affair ever happened. He might even think that, now that the Assembly has their own beacon, they’ll have no further use for him and will just leave him alone.

But from the Cerberus Assembly's perspective, this fruit still has plenty of juice in it and they risk nothing by continuing to squeeze. Now that they have their own beacon Essek’s knowledge becomes even more valuable. He has access to hundreds of years of dunamantic spellcrafting - and more importantly the rite of consecution, since the Assembly were probably after beacons in the first place to make themselves immortal. If Essek is caught, it’s treason for him, but the Assembly doesn’t suffer; they were doing it for the good of the Empire, learning about dunamancy to help the war effort. So if he refuses to keep spying voluntarily for the Assembly, they’ll just have to find another way to motivate him. 

As part of evaluating Essek before recruitment, Assembly operatives would have noted that he’s, well, highly motivated to save his own skin. Ludinus’ goal therefore becomes to make Essek see further espionage as the only way to stay alive. So instead of confronting Essek then and there, Ludinus shrugs and goes, “Okay. Sure.” Then he activates the Volstruckers, maybe leaks a little info to the Dynasty about a traitor in their midst, and sets up Essek to stew in fear, feeling isolated and attacked from both sides - targeted by the Assembly for his defiance, under suspicion from the Dynasty, unable to ask for help because of his crimes. Ludinus sits back and waits for Essek to re-establish contact on his own. Of course Ludinus didn’t know that the M9 had confronted Essek and gotten him to confess, making a return to spying impossible even if he tried.

While Essek’s motives revolve around ego, frustration, and rebellion, his situation is more like those of people who end up defecting because they’re unable to pursue their careers or live as they want to back home. He has virtually no social/family ties to leave behind, no loyalty to Dynasty authority, and no religious fervor to defend the Luxon, while the Assembly promises him the company of like minds and free rein in his experiments. Assuming no intervention by the M9 I think Essek would have ended up defecting to the Cerberus Assembly. If he did it early enough in the story he might have even joined the Volstruckers to complete the narrative foil transformation.

If the crew had confronted him at the treaty but not offered mercy I think he would have defected purely out of fear, thinking the Assembly were the only people who could protect him from both the Dynasty and the M9. He was already on edge watching the guy he'd set up to take the fall getting walked away in chains and with the Assembly's Wind of Aeons ship right there it would be the ideal time to make the move. Assuming the treaty confrontation went as it did (the crew makes him confess but lets him live) but the M9 hadn’t shown up in Eiselcross, Essek would likely have fled the outpost and gone into hiding in a bid to outrun his crimes (and probably gotten caught two weeks later given how awful he was at being “Dezrain Thane.”)

Essek is far from the first recruited asset to regret what they did even as they kept doing it. Those who can sell out their nation and not feel even a pang of guilt are thankfully thin on the ground. Most start off doing what seems to be a favor for a friend - or accepting a favor from a friend who wants to help with their “financial difficulties” - and end up so deep they can’t see any way forward other than to keep handing over secrets. He’s one more in a long line of those who compromised information out of frustration, especially through the appeal to shared professional interests (that’s how industrial assets tend to be recruited.)

But he’s also in a much better place to make up for it than most assets. Since he primarily compromised property, not secrets, returning said property can (somewhat, mostly) repair the damage done, which goes a long way towards buying leniency from the powers that be. And now I’m realizing that this post actually needs one final part, which is: how do you try someone for espionage, and should you charge them with it in the first place?

[1]  While spy dramas love sexy blackmail, and handlers will happily collect it to leverage against a balky asset, it works far less often in reality as a main reason for espionage. Social penalties for extramarital affairs pale before actual legal penalties like the death sentence for treason. On the other hand, those with foreign relatives are sometimes coerced by threats against those relatives.

[2]  Lonetree’s case for leniency got a boost in 1994 when Aldrich Ames was finally caught and some serious breaches of embassy security that had been attributed to Lonetree were found to be Ames’ work instead. In 1996 Lonetree was released after having served 9 years total.

[3] Although I did just think of a really messed-up Cerberus Assembly plan: consecute a handful of completely loyal Volstruckers, kill them, and send the beacons back so said agents will be reborn in the Dynasty and work to undermine it from within. How fucked up would that be?? Campaign 3 plot hook anyone?

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

#Critical Role #Essek Thelyss #Critical Role spoilers #not really but just to be safe #CR meta #I guess #is that a thing people tag things with? #anyway let's talk about espionage! #I can't stop thinking about Volstrucker!Essek #jesus can you imagine that confrontation #Caleb staring him down? flanked by Astrid and Eadwulf? #then again I think Essek hates Trent in every timeline so #but still seriously #the narrative foils! #the foilssssssss #it's been a long pandemic

[heli0s-writes]

lights up*

A/N: Stucky (primarily Steve)/Reader. 2k words of idkwhatthisisi’msorry. There was a prompt from six months ago that I wrote this for but I lost the message and I can’t remember! All mistakes are my own, please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

You wake up in scattered shock.

Knee-jerk reaction to fast hands sliding between your thighs, fingers carelessly ticking sensitive skin.

You wake up to a groggy voice, slurred with sleep and raspy-raw.

“Baby,” it croaks from between your legs, “Honey, sweetheart, sugar. Please, please, please let me eat your pussy.”

Wha—

A few disbelieving blinks as you scrabble for your bearings—can’t see shit—still dark—head throbbing.

“Oh god, I wanna sosososo bad,” and then hands are between your knees, spreading your legs apart. “So… damn... tasty. Uh-huh… Come to daddy.”

Who the fuck is—damn it, Bucky.

In the dead hour of four-something when nothing should be moving so intentionally, an unsteady moan tumbles out of him when he starts groping for your ass.

“Buck!” You whisper, kicking your leg to shake him off. Grabbing the covers with one hand, you reach under with the other, swatting his head and trying to get a firm hold on him. Slippery fucking man.

He pauses for a second before his body goes limp, half hanging off the foot of the bed and you groan at his weight. Idiot boy. Two hundred pounds of horny somnambulist dropping like an anchor on your poor legs.

Fiddling now with how to get him back up to his regular spot, you try to do it quietly, the warmth radiating next to your left shoulder a compelling incentive. Even with your wits barely about you, you know better than to wake—

“Whassit? Whas goin’ on?”

Steve. Ah.

“Nothing,” you sigh, reaching over and stroking his arm absently, one foot tapping against Bucky’s waist to urge him upward. “He’s just sleep-talking again.”

Steve makes a groggy noise of comprehension. “Sleep-talking or sleep-fucking?”

“Just sleeping now. Ugh… didn’t mean to wake you.”

He’d come in late again—meetings and paperwork keeping him well after hours. Not even able to do it from home, which would have been nice. At least here you could make sure he was eating, or drinking enough water, or at least be in the presence of good company.

Instead, you and Buck watched a movie, took a few rounds of shots (because he likes the taste and how you look dancing all over the coffee table), fooled around in the kitchen, and turned in around two—Steve nowhere in sight. Some jobs were Captain-Only, which meant you’d have to make peace with being useless.

That’s generally not a task that goes over well. The amount of untamed energy Bucky exudes without Steve’s guidance is… close to being categorized as a natural disaster and trying to stay up with him is always a double-edged sword. Lots of fun, sure, but he requires less sleep than you do and can finagle you into getting piss drunk with a single smirk.  

“Wish you’d been more responsible.” Bone-tired and Steve’s still bossy. His arm is heavy as it snakes over your tummy. “You know he needs direction.”

“Hey, I tried.”

“Issat right? That why your panties’re on the counter? Shirt in the sink, too. Come home close to four and still gotta clean up after the two of you.”

His raspy breath tickles, plump lips crushed just below your ear—enough to start a chain reaction of shudders.

“Go back to sleep,” you huff, embarrassed. It was only a few hours ago so your head’s still a bit fuzzy—vague memory of playful touches before hearing, hop up, baby, from Bucky. And you, tittering and zealous the whole way, kissing him like he’d never been kissed before.

YouTube blinking on the T.V., stuck on some ad because the streaming’s a snail’s pace from when Steve set up the internet and tried to pinch pennies at the same time. Bucky’s specially crafted “Wine, Dine, and Sixty-Nine” playlist refusing to load even half a song afterwards so neither of you could spare your neighbors from hearing all the noises.

Hopefully the laughter was loudest, and not the primal fucking, or the crashing when you slipped off the counter and knocked Bucky on his ass.  

You giggle at that. Years and years together and some nights still feel brand new.

“Have fun without me?”

There’s no real jealousy in Steve’s voice, but there is greed behind the question. A single night away and he acts like he’s never been kissed either.

Your eyes start fluttering when his fingers curl around your hipbone. Je-sus. Hell. It’s too late—early—for this.

You grumble his name, asking him to save it for a couple more hours when your brain doesn’t feel pried free, but, Captain-Only mode activated and he’s not deterred. A bloodhound on a fresh trail.

The hand on your hip turns inward and you’re suddenly aware of him pressed against your body, that hot line of him, pulsing on your upper thigh. He tilts forward, one knee rubbing up your leg. Bucky stirs a little and makes another declaration about how he’s fit for the CEO position of Eating Your Ass, but nothing more after that.

“He do you good?” Steve wonders, apparently not giving a fuck about whether Bucky’s dead or alive down there and instead only worried about repositioning you, rolling you on your side, “That why you’re so happy to get me out of the house? So you two can fool around unchecked as much as you want?”

“Steve, you know damn well—"

His hand slips around the side of your neck, four thick fingers drumming over the ridges of your throat. “Watch your mouth,” he whispers, “before you get yourself into any more trouble.”

He gets mean without enough sleep. And no one would ever guess, but other than working over some poor punching bag that’ll never see the light of day after he gets his hands on it, Captain America likes to fuck it out. You and Buck have properly come out of a few sessions barely alive, feeling like two ends of a slinky that’s taken one too many tumbles down a flight of stairs.

You squirm as he palms your bottom with his free hand, kneading the bare flesh a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts can’t cover.

“Gotta be quiet,” he tells you gently, “Can’t wake him, can we.” Christ help you. What a time to play a game. You mumble under your breath, “Do I have a choice?”

A prod at your already sore entrance, and Steve says, annoyingly convinced, “I think you’ve already made your choice.”

He stills for a second when Bucky flops around on the mattress and then he starts pressing his mouth to your back, your shoulder, other hand holding you steady with expertise. It’s Steve’s favorite position when he wants to be in charge—you, writhing and turned away, usually leaned about 50 degrees and pawing at Bucky’s chest—this morning, feebly snatching sheets instead.

It doesn’t take any buildup. He’s achingly ready; you’re willingly wet. Clothes moved just enough out of the way and his two fingers slide upward, pushing barely to spread you before he quickly replaces it with something much thicker. It’s only been a few seconds. He’s too fast for you to get a word in edgewise, your brain still muddled, body cooperative.

“Huh,” Steve mumbles, slowly feeling his way into position, “A bit fucked loose, aren’t you?”

“Steve,” you hiss in reply, clenching up reflexively the same time mortification bursts across your scrunched- up face. “Don’t say that.”

“Hush, baby.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder.” And he’s evil incarnate, you swear. Satan himself packaged up in the neat body of a demigod. He rolls his hips slowly until the tops of his thighs are pressed against your ass, fingers holding so tight you think he’s going to spear right into bone. “Stay still or you’re gonna knee Buck in the cheek.”

You twist your head around, instead, shaking your chin free from his hand, hoping that once he sees your pitiful expression, he’ll find it in his heart to maybe not pound you into oblivion with bells on.

Of course, Steve’s not looking anywhere but down the line of your back and further to where he’s opening you up, bottom lip tucked into his teeth.

You constantly rib him about how he’s making up for all the years he spent with the two working eyes of a mole so now he’ll break his neck to watch. Bucky’s confirmed it multiple times to Steve’s chagrin, cackling at the way Steve goes purple defending himself. You love the stories they tell and retell; you try to spend most your time making up for all those years you weren’t there to find out.

Who isn’t in this relationship? Violently horny like teenagers, the three of you, spending every idle hour mishandling for each other like it’s the first time. Excitement primeval like animals in heat, apparently instinctual enough for one of you to do it in his sleep. Years and years and it still feels brand new.

The bed’s rocking surprisingly moderately for Steve’s usual pace, and it’s a bit heartwarming to know that he’s doing it because he really doesn’t want to wake Bucky, but he ramps up his game. He starts whispering again, meaner, hotter, the damn mouth on Steve Rogers continuing to give you hell this early morning.

He pinches your nipple hard, letting you gasp at the brief sting before he goes back up to your chin, your mouth, and then he puts the entire hand over it.

“Quiet. Not another fucking word out of you. Gotta teach you how to behave this morning, don’t I?” He’s working himself up, working you over, even pulling you back on him by the hips and then wiggling you up and down on him like he’s adjusting you on a saddle. Motherfucker.

Your toes curl, knees grinding, legs folding up to get simultaneously closer and away from him and it feels—it feels so excruciatingly good—the effortless glide of his cock, the burn of friction dragging itself out the more you wriggle. Whatever indelicate sounds falling out of your mouth are getting mashed back in, Steve ramming himself into your body, shaking your brain further loose.

He’s probably louder than he intends to be—you know how he gets when he’s close— bombs could be dropping two feet away and Steve Rogers would hear nothing but the roar of his own wanting, chasing it until he crashes into bits. You’re chasing too, both hands clamped around his wrist, arching your back to near breaking.

“Yeah,” he rasps out, “That’s it, that’s good, baby. Ugnn—back up on me, stay—right there.”

More uneven jerking, he releases your face and starts rubbing your clit, saying, you like it like this? Like me givin’ it to you good like this? And you’re shaking in his arms, the both of you tipping over the edge.

-

“I wasn’t serious,” Steve says later after a few moments, lips all soft and gentle on your neck, rather than fierce like before, “Bout you bein’—” you can feel him shrugging, “Y’know… fucked loose.” He whispers the last part like it’s a sin.

You snort, “You turning decent on me? After railing me to death?”

“You sound pretty lively to me.” He pokes your side, “I just… woke up and remembered how much I missed you last night.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got both of us here—shit!”

“Steeeeeve,” and the sound of it slaps both you back to reality. Sleep-smashed, more tipsy than any alcohol could make him, Bucky’s giggles break the steady pattern of muffled conversation. His vibranium hand pats around for a new destination, undeterred by the disruption of his previous mission.

You can’t believe it. He’s still asleep.

“Steeeevie,” Bucky mewls again, “Lemme— lemme suck your dick, sweetheart.”

What a menace. Your shoulders start quivering as you poorly hold it back, pfffftppblffpt’s kickstarting Steve into a tizzy right alongside you.

Bursting laughter finally wakes him up. Bucky yelps once, twice, flailing like a cat caught unawares and rolls himself right off the goddamn bed.

Two hundred pounds of newly conscious pervert wallops the hardwood floor and you’re sure the entire apartment complex—if they didn’t hear the ruckus last night—certainly heard it this morning.

#marvel #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #smut #marvel smut #reader insert #mcu

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Carnival date headcanons with kalim, cater, epel, jack, and malleus please?

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Kalim’s so excited to explore the carnival--he wants to see and do everything at least once, hauling you from one attraction to another with sparkling eyes. He can scarcely stay at a food or gaming stall for long without something else grabbing his attention and rushing over to it, your hand clasped in his.

Just as he wants to experience it all, Kalim also wants to taste it all. He’ll put down the Madol to buy a ton of snacks, and he insists on feeding it all to you! You just can’t say no to your boyfriend when he plucks off a tuft of cotton candy and holds it out to you, or stuffs some funnel cake in your mouth.

Kalim doesn’t mind the “kiddie” attractions; he treats them just the same as the more adrenaline pumping rides. He’ll jump around in a bouncy castle or spin around and around on the merry-go-round happily, a wide grin plastered on his face.

He doesn’t realize that carnival games tend to be rigged against you, so he just keeps shelling out money when he doesn’t win until he finally does! Kalim really wants to nab that grand prize for you though Jamil will scold him later for frivolously spending! When he finally does, he’s so proud of himself that he beams like the sun as he hands over a massive otter plush and claims a victory kiss.

Cater will want to take as many cool looking photos as he can to commemorate the date! That means lots of couple selfies sharing snacks, making silly faces in cute accessories, and posing with prizes from carnival booths.

He elects for something savory while you’re exploring the carnival! There’s nothing like a carton of nachos or fries drenched in cheese, shredded veggies, and greasy meat! Of course, it gets a bit messy to eat--but rather than use a napkin to wipe things up, Cater cheekily kisses your fingers and licks up the remains of your snack.

Cater likes the idea of playing carnival games, but he’s not very successful at winning them. In fact, he would rather use a ring for taking an aesthetic picture rather than play ring toss! (You get a lot of confused looks from the stall runners when he thanks them for lending him “props” for his MagiCam account.)

Instead of games, you visit the balloon artist, who twists up a crown for you--and though it looks goofy, Cater insists that it’s a piece befitting royalty! He drags you into the hall of mirrors, and you spend hours there in the maze, bouncing into a thousand of you and Cater in silly balloon crowns. When you finally find the exit, the sun is setting--the perfect backdrop for one final date selfie.

Epel wants to go on all the high excitement rides! No merry-go-round for you guys, it’s all about the roller coasters and bumper cars! He’ll let his hair down and scream as much as he wants as you’re plummeting from a drop or smashing his car against yours.

For a carnival snack, you share a caramel or candy apple--but because the apple’s so round, it’s hard for you to find a place to bite! Eventually, you and Epel agree to try chomping on the apple from opposite ends at the same time to keep the fruit from slipping around on its skewer. It kind of works, but the sticky sugar clings to your hair and Epel’s! You use a moistened napkin to help clean one another up before you chow down on your shared treat.

He gets pissed off while playing carnival games! The people running the game stalls tease Epel, calling him a little kid and implying he won’t be able to win a big prize no matter how hard he tries. Joke’s on them--Epel manages to score a win while they’re distracted laughing! With a snide grin, he lets you know that you can pick whatever prize you like from the stall.

At the end of the day, you’re both tuckered out and don’t feel like going on another roller coaster, so you agree for your final ride to be on the ferris wheel. You reach the apex and look out to see a shimmering sunset, the sky red like an apple and the sun like an wobbling yolk sinking into the horizon. Epel sneaks a shy peck on your cheek while you’re distracted--and that sets both your faces aflame.

Jack allows you to lead him around the carnival and determine which attractions and rides you want to engage with. He only intervenes when he thinks it’s a bad idea (like if you ate before trying to get onto a roller coaster) and will propose an safer alternative for the sake of your safety and wellbeing.

He’s not a fan when it comes to most carnival foods--they’re deep fried and dipped in too much sugar, and Jack insists he needs to stay in shape for Track and Field Club! You manage to convince him to grab a bag of popcorn to munch on throughout the day, and you take turns tossing pieces for the other to try and catch in your mouths.

Jack’s a beast (both literally and figuratively) when it comes to carnival games! He can score hoops, whack moles, dunk tanks/hit targets, and win tests of strength easily, netting you an entire army of new giant prize plushies!

You spend most of the date on your feet, but if they start to feel sore, Jack volunteers to give you a lift to let you rest. Be it princess carry or piggyback ride, he makes sure to handle you carefully as you thread through the carnival grounds with you clinging to him.

Wherever Malleus walks, the crowds instinctively part for him (whether in fear or in reverence, you’re not certain). This makes it far easier for the two of you to navigate the bustling carnival crowds, though if you ever do get separated, it’s not that hard to spot a tall, horned guy in the middle of a sea of people.

He’s fascinated by the variety of snacks offered at carnivals and spends a long time choosing what he’d like to eat. In the end, Malleus settles for his favorite: ice-cream! You follow suit, grabbing a different flavor than him--but curiosity gets the better of both of you, and you end up briefly exchanging cones to sample one another’s choices, resulting in indirect kisses!

The game stall employees call Malleus out for using his insane magical abilities to cheat (”Oi, oi, oi, you can’t just levitate the ball like that, young man!”), so he’s forced to play without them. Though Malleus is generally elegant, he lacks the skill needed to win any of the games. He does eventually accumulate enough attempts to get a pity prize, but he still gets gloomy and sulks about his loss.

Some of the kids at the carnival mistake Malleus for a costumed performer because of his horns and pointed ears! They swarm around him, asking for pictures and jokes or clinging to his legs, finding his regal way of speaking to be funny! You do eventually shoo them off, but that didn’t stop you from giggling when you saw one of the greatest magicians in the world getting mobbed by children--and taking it quite well, too!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Jack Howl #Epel Felmier #Kalim Al-Asim #Cater Diamond #Reader #self insert #curiouser and curiouser #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland requests #Jack Howl x Reader #Epel Felmier x Reader #Kalim Al-Asim x Reader #Cater Diamond x Reader

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #123

AN: @flamingbluepanda always says they love Joe and Nicky and how Nicky loves Joe and Joe loves Nicky. They’re wise words, so I wrote this. I used @sunshineandchemistry art for Joe painting. 

There are many things Nicky doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how information travels from the device in his hand to somebody else’s on the other half of the world. He doesn’t understand why his body always insists on pressing the mental-mute button from 1-4 every afternoon or how Booker’s neck doesn’t ache every single morning. He definitely doesn’t understand why his heart is suddenly pounding in his chest, spreading nervous-like jitters from his tongue to his toes that reminds him of those early years, when just peeking at Joe, Yusuf, from the corner of his eyes would have the words tangling in his mouth, making him come across as a total fool. 

It’s strange; he isn’t that boy anymore. He grew up. He married that man who brought out all the emotions in him. Several times. 42 times, to be exact. He’s had centuries more experience than the boy clutching the cross around his neck, whispering prayers to the stars. He’s not that kid anymore. 

His body begs to differ. 

Joe’s painting. He’s in nothing but his plaid-striped pajama pants that cling to his hips and stretch across his ass in an obscene manner that Nicky loves. They’re still playing the game where they both pretend he didn’t re-stitch the pants before gifting them to Joe a year ago. Nicky suspects the only reason Joe hasn’t given in is because he enjoys the ego boost whenever he walks in-front of Nicky in those pants. It’s a good enough reason for Nicky. 

But as tantalizing his husband’s beautiful ass is, it’s not what’s currently messing Nicky up. 

Well, not entirely. 

What’s currently messing Nicky up is Joe is painting shirtless. Joe never paints shirtless. Joe likes to wear over-sized t-shirts under jackets under an apron and his “lucky” pants when he paints. Not to mention socks under boots. Nicky has heard the ‘Paint is a bitch to scrub off of toes’ rant so many times, he could recite it in a coma by now. 

The point is, when Joe paints, he has more layers than The Grand Canyon; meaning that whatever muse crawled into his dreams last night must have bit hard for Joe to even consider skipping the sock drawer. 

“Morning,” Joe says. Nicky blinks. He’s been standing in the doorway of Joe’s studio for at least two minutes and 34 seconds if Joe has noticed and verbally acknowledged him. Did he really just spend two and a half-minutes staring at his husband? He doesn’t even remember thinking anything besides Yusuf since laying eyes on his shirtless husband. 

Nicky clears his parched throat, follows the smooth flick of Joe’s wrist to his paint splattered fingers and says, “Good.” He feels like there’s something missing in that sentence, like it’s only half-spoken and for the life of him, he cannot remember what goes next. Not when Joe tilts his head to the right, catching the first rays of the rising sun with the gentle slope of his cheek.

He looks like a god: all warm skin over defined muscles.

Nicky could worship him forever. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there. Watching Joe paint is its own form of art that could entertain Nicky for hours. When working on small details, Joe grips the brush practically by the bristles, nose occasionally skimming the canvas. Nicky’s half-convinced he does this because the fumes stimulate creativity. It’s a theory Joe vehemently denies. When Joe isn’t working on the smaller details, he’s two feet away, right arm outstretched with a paintbrush in a more comfortable and higher-up grip, left leg a step behind. He’s on the balls of his feet today, something he would never do if he had his paint boots on. 

The jitters fade into a manageable swirl of emotions inside his stomach with every stroke on the canvas. No more does he feel like the boy stealing glances. Instead, he feels like the boy who stared at Yusuf, bursting with love and adoration. As for his pounding heart? Nicky doesn’t think his heart rate will go back down until Joe showers and puts some regular clothes on. Maybe not even then. It’s fine. He’s not going to complain about the way the muscles in Joe’s back ripple every time he picks up more paint with his brush. Or the way streaks of blue paint have slowly accumulated on Joe’s torso. 

When the sun begins to hit Nicky, Joe sets down his paint palette on the table and paint brush in a cup of cloudy black water and picks up the canvas he’s been working on all morning. He flips it and...

It’s him. 

It’s his eyes staring back at him in the soft tones of watercolor. It’s his mouth, quirked up at the corners. It’s his nose, standing out on the flat canvas. It’s his mole being the only splash of gray amongst the blue. It’s him. 

Joe, Mr. 11 AM-is-the-same-as-6 AM, stumbled out of bed at 4:30 AM today, skipping the sock drawer, the boots, the shirt, the apron, the “lucky” pants, because he had to paint this, paint him. 

Suddenly, he’s that boy hearing ‘I love you’ from Yusuf for the first time. He’s the boy with tears welling and blurring the world. He’s the boy tripping over a simple ‘I love you too’. 

He’s acting like a fool. He needs to swallow the lump in his throat, blink away the tears and form the easiest words in the world; the truest words in the world because he’s not that dumb boy anymore. 

He is. 

He sniffs, wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and reaches out for Joe because words are failing him and he doesn’t know how to tell Joe that he loves him too. At least, not verbally. 

He tells Joe that he loves him by wrapping his arms around his husband and burying his face in his neck. He tells Joe he loves him by squeezing tight and dropping small kisses in-between his tiny gasps. He tells Joe he loves him with small nuzzles and both hands splayed over ribs. 

And Joe, his perfect and wonderful husband, whispers the words backs. 

There are a lot of things Nicky doesn’t understand. Some are worth pursuing to uncover the mystery — like why pizza rolls keep on appearing in the freezer or how to use fiber lasers to engrave his and Joe’s swords. His body occasionally reacting to Joe like a boy discovering love? Nicky’s perfectly okay with never understanding that. 

#the old guard #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #joe x nicky #kaysanova #hc #i hope i'm not disappointed when i re-read this tmrw morning lol

[preciousthingsareprecious]

In Line at the Prize Counter

So this fic was originally intended to be part of Dick and Damian week, but life intervened and I didn’t end up finishing it anywhere near on time. That said, I found it too much fun to write and didn’t want it to live forever in WIP form. So, I hope you all enjoy this adventure featuring one Very Done Damian as he’s forced to rescue Dick from a Bomp n’ Stomp. 

Characters: Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne

Words: 4,965

Summary:  When Dick Grayson is kidnapped, Robin is the only one who really believes he's being held at the Bomp n' Stomp entertainment center. So he rolls up his sleeves, and heads into the dreaded building to rescue his brother from the likes of ball pits, twisted slides, and yes even go karts.

AO3 Link

~

Of all the places in the world Damian Wayne expected to walk into, a Bomp n’ Stomp was not one of them. In fact, he had argued viciously against ever entering the indoor playscape when his brother had suggested they spend a Saturday there.

To make matters worse, in an attempt to convince Damian of it’s legitimacy, Richard had called it an arcade.

An arcade .

The nerve of the man to sully that term by applying it to this ball pit filled, gum ridden, dirty carpeted, sticky establishment. A true arcade, like Shelly’s JoyCon, home of Cheese Viking, would never allow it’s door handles to leave a strangely greasy film on Damian’s gloves as he moved his search from a back room back out into the main area.

The inside smelled of old pizza, spilled soda, and that strange almost chalky scent of fog machines. It was, in a word, disgusting. Damian felt a pull at the bottom of his boot every few steps, like the carpet was coated in something sticky. He wrinkled his nose.

No, this was nothing like his favorite arcade.

Granted. It was also closed for renovations, with the promise of things like all new games, flooring, and yes even door handles. Still, Damian thought nothing could quite erase the smell of greasy pizza. That was a scent that stuck.

He shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about greasy pizza and continue working on why he was truly here. Some odious criminal had thought it a good idea to kidnap Richard on his way into Gotham.

It would not be stood for. Not someone snatching his brother. Nor holding him up in a place as terrible as this. To top things off, whoever had taken Richard had deprived both he and Damian of a perfectly excellent evening that should have been spent at the Observatory.

Damian sniffed and picked his way past skee ball games, an overly large wheel with inane words like “Double Prize Winner!!” in bold peeling letters on it, and the playscapes namesake, a Bomp n’ Stomp game.

At the Bomp n’ Stomp, he stopped to peer down at the curious game. It was obviously broken. The machine was little more than a garishly painted box with various holes covering the top. Out of one peeked a chipped plastic facsimile of a mole. Hanging off the machine were two objects strung on cords that looked ready to snap at any moment. The first was a toy hammer, it’s fabric ripped and leaking stuffing, the other a boot attached to a stick.

“Tt.” Damian discounted it and looked back up.

Whoever thought a game designed around attacking moles was a good idea surly must be a criminal.

He’d neared the end of the ‘arcade’ portion of the building and was entering a larger more open space. The carpet changed from soiled red to blue spotted tile. At the change, the ceiling rose at least a second story above him, towering high enough to fit a series of large structures.

To one side of this new area rested a climbing wall. It, out of everything Damian had seen so far, actually looked interesting. Even from here he could see portions that might make for a mild challenge in climbing.

Next there was a multistory play set filled with slides, jungle gyms, large netted areas he supposed children were expected to crawl through, and so many tunnels it would put most professional guinea pig enclosures to shame. A sign outside the entrance indicated that somewhere towards the center of the structure rested a huge ball pit.

Damian really, truly, hoped Richard had not been placed within that. If the rest of the Bomp n’ Stomp was sticky and dirty, the ball pit must be truly foul. He could not even imagine what had happened within it or what--he grimaced-- fluids could have coated the orbs.

He turned to the last attraction, a small go kart area. Perhaps the climbing wall was not the only redeeming quality to the establishment. Provided of course that the carts actually moved quickly.

So far, he had seen no hint of Richard. His brother had not been hidden behind a garishly colored game, and he did not seem to be dangling from the climbing wall. After a brief examination (and admiration of the engines on the small cars) Damian determined that his brother was either being held in one of the staff areas indicated by the back wall or-- He glanced at the huge play place.

After a moment’s hesitation, Damian squared his shoulders. As detestable as it would be to crawl around in there, he would do it if it meant rescuing Richard from being trapped inside. He could not imagine being held within the structure longer than a few minutes. It would be torture indeed.

The truly strange thing about his investigation so far had been that no one had attempted to stop him. There were no guards at the front, nor the back, and the building was empty of signs of life. The power was on, with some games sluggishly lit or playing bites of music, but Damian had not seen anyone besides himself.

He considered this as he made his way to the entrance to the play structure. He knew for a fact that Richard was here, even if Father did not.

Damian pushed the plastic draping away from the domed entrance and stepped inside the structure. He was surrounded by net, his feet no longer on solid ground, but pressed into some kind of foam. Ahead of him was a rope ladder that looked designed to be as unstable as possible. He sighed and began to climb.

Of the three possible locations Richard could have been taken to the Bomp n’ Stomp had been deemed least likely by his Father due to the fact that it was not altogether abandoned. While, over the weekend no one would be inside, the possibility of a worker coming in was high enough Father had assumed any capable kidnapper would discount it.

The other two locations, an empty ice cream parlor, and an abandoned junk yard, had been deemed higher priorities and dangers. But something had told Damian that the Bomp n’ Stomp was the right location, and he had argued that it should be checked out.

So while his family was split between the other two locations, Father had reluctantly allowed Damian to check out his hunch, promising to meet up with him after they'd cleared their own locations.

The ladder exited onto a platform made entirely of the netting Damian had seen from outside the playhouse structure. Tentative, he pressed a hand into the thick black cording, and when it gave less than he’d assumed it would, he climbed atop it.

Balance was a tricky thing on the strange floor, and Damian could not help but think the League would benefit from installing something of the kind in one of their training rooms. It turned a normal floor into something to be treaded on with care or risk getting a toe caught between the net. If he was unlucky he might end up tumbling to the ground or twisting his ankle. Damian couldn’t imagine it filled with children.

He was keeping his ears open for any sounds of either Richard or the kidnappers. From the letter and accompanying picture Father had received there were at least three men holding Richard, but there were sure to be more.

Father had immediately identified the men as being part of a relatively new gang in Gotham. Their motive was both money and an attempt at scaring Bruce Wayne into cooperating with them in the future.

Damian scoffed at their foolishness as he hopped off one platform and onto another. His eyes went wide as, instead of the net he’d grown used to, the floor rolled under his feet.

He bit back a yelp as his feet slipped forward, and he went tumbling, hands pinwheeling out beside him in an attempt to catch his balance. He stumbled back, then forward, then one leg was in the air, followed by the other and Damian was staring up at the faded yellow ceiling of the play place.

For a moment, he lay there blinking up at it. Wondering about the strange flatness, and remembering this thing had another level above him. If someone was above him, would he see imprints of feet? Sections weighed down by a kid stepping over it?

It did not matter. What did, was finding Richard and escaping this cursed place.

Damian felt the floor under him, and realized it was not a single solid piece, but four cylinders that each rolled on their own. Whoever had designed this place was a madman. Putting a trap like this in a place where anyone could fall could only spell injury on a normal day.

He grunted, and carefully pushed himself up, moving off the shifting section and onto firm foam again. Well, not quite firm. It sagged with every step Damian took, but it was far better than the rolling part or the net.

The next hurdle came when Damian reached the tunnels. He had seen them of course, out looking up at all this. Plastic, colored brightly, sometimes one segment a different color altogether than the last, little windows dotting the sides. But he had hoped he’d find Richard before having to crawl through one.

He crouched and stepped inside. After a few moments he realized he was going to have to actually crawl. He wrinkled his nose as he pressed palm to plastic and began moving. At one point his palm stuck and after a moment, he pulled it up to reveal gum pressed into the green of his glove. Richard had better be thankful for what Damian was putting himself through to rescue him.

The space was tight, and as a defensible position it was terrible. If a fight took place within the tubes it would not be good. Even Damian, as small as he was, would have a hard time maneuvering within them. He’d have a better chance of winning a fight in some of the Batcave’s tighter spaces.

They were also impossible to be silent in. Every inch forward created squeaking or creaking or the echoing sound of a knee hitting against plastic with a series of thumps that were anything but rhythmic. Any chance of silently finding his brother was dashed a minute after he entered them.

Once Damian realized that, he no longer bothered trying to move slowly through. Instead he hurried, around turns, down dips, and up tiny plastic hills. He was thankful for the extra padding over his knees and the leather of his gloves. If not for them he was certain his palms would be red and irritated and his knees bruised.

Damian was in such a hurry to get through the tunnels that he missed the slide. One moment his hand was pressed into plastic, the next it fell into nothing. His momentum was such that he’d assumed it was another dip, a temporary fall.

But no.

His next hand hit nothing, with the other was still in air, and then Damian found himself staring down the tube of a slide, and hurtling down it face first. It twisted, and turned, and at one point his chin caught on a portion of the plastic that was raised. Damian winced, feeling the plastic scratch his skin, sure he’d be wiping blood away if he ever exited this terrible contraption.

At last, he burst out. He got one good look at a space enclosed by netting and more slide exits before he saw what was below him. To his growing horror, the ball pit waited. Staring at the pit in bullet time Damian decided this whole place was ridiculous. A death trap made for children . Even Nygma could not come up with something so fiendish.

Nothing Damian could do would stop his crash. Balls of yellow, red, blue, and green exploded around him, bursting up and into the air even as his trajectory took him down, deep into the pit. He was drowning, and yet not.

After a moment he realized he’d stopped moving. The balls around him had coalesced into a kind of solid form that still allowed him to move. It took some work, but eventually Damian righted himself and managed to semi-swim upward, kicking off against the ground before shooting back up. And at last, his head popped out into clear air.

“Robin!?” The surprised voice came from his left.

Damian shifted, careful not to sink again, “Richard!” he cried, then corrected himself, he was in uniform and Richard was a civilian. Even here, the kidnappers might be watching.

“Mr. Grayson, I am here to rescue you.”

Richard actually snorted, an aborted version of what would have been a startled laugh. He was half buried in the ball pit himself. His torso and head above the sea of color. Rope was tied around what Damian could see of his chest, presumably holding his arms back, but otherwise he looked fine.

It was a miracle Damian hadn’t plowed right into his brother during his wild exit from the slide. He’d landed a foot or so away from him, close to the middle of the pit. The problem was, figuring out how to get both himself and Richard out.

Damian glanced around the enclosed space holding the pit. He counted four slides at various sides of the netting, and two rope ladders leading up. One to another tunnel, and the other to what looked like a real ledge.

“So, Mr. Robin , what’s the plan?” Richard asked, his tone far too delighted with their situation.

A scowl crossed Damian’s face, “Do not patronize me. It is your fault we are in this mess at all. Do you know how unsanitary this all is? From the pit to those cursed tunnels. Even the door was sticky.”

Richard gave him a patient smile, “But it’s not all bad right?”

“Tt. It has been horrendous. I do not know how you have survived.” Damian said, and began wading over to his brother’s side.

It was difficult to push through the pit, but he found that thankfully, the closer he got to an edge, the higher the ground under him was. It went from almost nonexistent, to high enough he could stand on his toes beside Richard. It was not ideal, but at least he was no longer at risk of being swallowed whole.

“There has to be at least one redeeming quality about this place.” Richard continued, “Even Robin must have liked something the old Bomp n’ Stomp has to offer. Maybe one of the games?”

“Nothing.” Damian answered, defiant even as he thought of the go karts and climbing wall, “Especially not the games. This place is childish, Richard. Childish and demeaning, and even you would not stoop so low as to drag me here.” he ranted, forgetting that he was Robin with a civilian and not Damian and his brother.

His brother’s smile was full of delight now, “You protest too much. I bet at least one thing caught your eye.”

“I said nothing.” Damian declared again, and sending balls flying, “Now come on, we do not have time to waste speaking of such moronic things.”

Richard cleared his throat, “Uh, Robin, aren’t you forgetting about something?”

Damian turned to see his brother shrug, plastic balls rolling away from him, and Damian caught sight of the ropes still binding his brother.  

Fire lit hit his cheeks. He swallowed down the embarrassment and moved again to hastily slice at the ropes holding Richard’s arms to his sides. Even in his rush, he slowed as the blade neared his brother, the night would only be worse if he accidentally hurt him.

The ropes fell away easily, and soon Richard was massaging his wrists and stretching his arms up into the sky, “That feels great, thanks, Baby Bat.”

Damian ignored the nickname, and Richard’s attempt to reach out and ruffle his hair. He ducked and turned towards the ladder by the platform, “Come along, I would like to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

Richard hummed, “Yeah, I have no idea when those guys will be back, so haste is probably a good thing. Unless you already took them out?”

“The building was empty when I entered.”

Damian scrambled out of the pit and up onto the ladder. He climbed up, only to realize Richard had not followed him. When he turned to frown at his brother, he could see the man had stopped at the ladder, his eyes focused on the rungs.

“Richard?” he asked, voice quiet.

“I’m fine, just a bit dizzy. I’ve been sitting there a while, my arms and legs are tingly and just waking up.”

“What else is wrong.” Damian did not ask, but demanded the answer.

His brother shrugged, “I might have sprained my ankle when they tossed me in?”

Damian nodded, assessing the situation.

“Can you climb?”

If it were Damian in Richard’s shoes, he’d power through the ache, but he did not wish to press his brother into doing something he couldn’t. He could support Richard as they moved, and they could utilize a slide to exit this structure, but if he could not climb, getting him out of the pit might prove challenging.

Richard nodded, “I think so.”

He placed his hands on the rungs and started up. It was not an overly high ladder, but even so, Richard made it a few rungs before he paused wincing.

“Here.” Damian said.

He knelt down and reached out for his brother, “I will pull you up.”

Richard gave him a look that could only be described as incredulous. Damian glared at him in return.

“I can handle lifting you a short distance. Push off with your good foot and let us get this over with.”

After another moment of hesitation, Richard reached up and took one of Damian’s hands. His other, he kept pressed to the bars for leverage. Damian pulled as Richard pushed himself up. Below him the ladder wiggled a threat. However, he managed to grab hold of Damian’s other hand with a tight squeeze.

Richard was heavy, but together and with another awkward step onto the ladder, Damian managed to help drag him up. For a moment, they sat together looking at each other.

“Well.” Richard said, “I guess we should keep going?”

Damian nodded, “Indeed. I believe there is a slide exit in that direction.” he waved in the general area he remembered seeing one. At least he hoped it was there. His internal map of the structure felt a little turned around after his dive into the ball pit.

He helped his brother up, and they began moving through the rest of the structure. Damian stuck close to Richard, who insisted he didn’t need to lean on him yet. Still, he kept one eye on his brother, ready to assist if he showed the slightest sign of wavering.

They reached another area where solid panels switched to a rolled floor and Damian threw an arm out to stop their progress.

“Careful, that part can be deceptive.” he said, pointing down at them, “Allow me to  walk you over them, so you do not injure your ankle further.”

Richard had an odd look on his face, a smile that seemed as if it hid another emotion, but Damian wasn’t going to worry about his brother’s reaction to his protectiveness. He always seemed to blow things like that out of proportion anyway.

They traversed the trap easily, and had just about reached the slide when a question that had been bugging Damian burst to the surface.

“Why were you in that ball pit? Surely there was an easier place to hold you.”

“Apparently, I talk too much.” Richard chuckled, “In truth, I was seeing if I could irritate them into letting me go.”

Damian couldn’t stop a surprised laugh at that, “It does not seem to have worked.”

Richard shrugged, “It was worth a try, it’s worked in the past.”

At last they reached the slide.

“I will go down first, so I can look for trouble and assist you if you have any problems.”

This time, Damian’s trip down a slide was a controlled one. It was a not altogether unpleasant experience sliding at a quick speed, and turning round and round in a spiral.

He couldn’t help but think back to watching Father, back when the man had lost his memory, playing with children on a large playground. A pang of want, not as strong as then, lodged in his chest. He tried to swallow it back as he popped out. Landing on his feet before he hurried forward to get out of the way.

Damian turned his attention away from lost memories and onto the rest of the Bomp n’ Stomp’s interior. His eyes ran from the go karts, paused at the entrance to the arcade portion, and moved over to the climbing wall on the far side of the room. Still empty.

“You may come down, it is clear.” he called up the slide. His voice echoed slightly up the plastic tube, sounding a little hollow and odd.

“Yeah!” Richard cried, his voice bouncing loudly down to Damian.

He could hear his brother swish and bump down the slide as he traversed it, the plastic rumbling as he reached the end. When he came out, he stopped himself with his hands at the exit, and carefully pushed himself to his feet, grinning.

“I don’t care how much you hate these places, we’re coming back.” he declared.

Damian rolled his eyes.

Before he could respond, there was the sound of metal on concrete. He spun on his heel and turned as a large metal door labeled Staff Only rolled up to reveal four very angry looking men carrying guns. By some stroke of luck, they hadn’t noticed Dick or Robin yet.

“We’re leaving now.” Damian said, grabbing Richard’s hand.

He made to run back towards the exit, but Richard yelped, his hand staying behind Damian. He froze, and turned on his brother, eyes looking over him. Richard was wincing and Damian remembered the man’s ankle. It must be worse than he’d let on.

Damian cast his eyes around him for something to get them out of there safely. He stopped when he saw the go karts.

“Can you make it there?” He pointed at them.

Richard’s eyes lit up, “Yes. That’s a big yes.”

Just in case, Damian hooked an arm around Richard’s waist to help support him, and together they hurried at a not quite run for the go karts. Just as Damian was helping Richard over the barrier separating them from the karts he heard an angry yell.

He glanced up to see the men running towards them, a cacophony of voices yelling at them to stop. Damian knew they had moments before the shooting started. He shoved Richard into the nearest kart that had two seats, and ran around to fiddle with the exposed engine. His earlier examination had been brief, but enough to tell him that the karts had safety measures equipped to limit their speed. That would not do.

His fingers were fast and clever, even working on an engine he’d never worked with before. It was moments and he was throwing himself into the open chair. Thankfully, a key was in the ignition and Damian had the kart roaring to life after a moment.

Just as he revved the engine, the gunfire started.

Damian threw the kart to the side, thankful the area the karts were in was somewhat open, and made a large loop, letting the cart pick up speed as he moved.

“Robin--” Richard’s voice was a question, “Just what’s the plan here?”

They were roaring towards the plastic partitions they’d only just hopped over. Damian was confident they were flimsy enough to ram, especially at the speed they were going.

He grinned, “We are going through them. I would suggest ducking. I do not wish for you to get shot while we escape.”

“Damian,” his brother hissed, “There’s an opening to the outside behind us.”

“To an enclosed area. The walls are high there, we would be trapped. This is our best option.” He'd seen the area when entering the Bomp n' Stomp earlier.

Even as he spoke they were nearing the path of no return. The kart raced towards the partition, the men racing towards them. Damian pressed his foot harder against the pedal and then the pointed front of the go kart was slamming through the short plastic partition, breaking apart the multiple pieces that kept it together and sending them flying.

Damian could not help but grin as one piece caught a kidnapper in the side, sending him tumbling to the ground.

He wove the kart through the remaining three as they yelled and one of them got off a shot. The bullet pinged off the side of the kart.

“Whohoo!” Richard cheered as they blew past the last man and sped through the building.

Damian pulled them back into the part of the building filled with various small games. The kart shook as it shifted from tile to carpet. The sound it made changing from a flat rumble to something more muffled.  At the bump, Richard winced again. Damian frowned.

“We will be exiting soon.” Damian said by way of comfort.

He could hear the rumble of feet behind him, and even the sound of another go kart having been started. Damian snorted, unless they’d modified it, he and Richard still had the advantage. To make sure, he glanced behind him.

There was only one kart chasing them down, another two seater, with both seats filled. Unfortunately for them, it did seem to be running quickly. Damian swore as it began closing the distance between them. He threw himself back against the seat as the man who wasn’t driving leveled a gun at them and fired.

The bullet sped past them by a wide margin, but the danger was still there.

“Hold on.” he told his brother and pulled the cart around one of the games, twisting through the maze of Jurassic Park simulators and skee ball machines hoping they’d shake their pursuers.

“He’s still there.” Richard said, now taking Damian’s place in watching their backs.

“Lean back, you’ll get shot.” Damian hissed, “We need only make it out the front doors.”

Richard followed his lead, just in time as more shots rang out around them. Damian caught sight of Richard's worried expression out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t have time to turn to him. He kept the cart moving forward, dodging games left and right.

At last, the doors were in front of them. Damian prayed the cart would trigger the door’s automatic response. As they sped closer and closer he started to wonder what it would be like to just plow through those too.

Then they swung open and Damian and Dick burst through.

Behind them, Damian could still hear the squeal of the pursuing kart. That didn’t matter however, as Damian’s eyes lit on the Batmobile. Father was already out, Red Robin beside him. It took them a moment to understand the extent of the chaos Damian had dragged outside, but soon they were moving too.

Damian pulled the kart around them, and heard the distinctive pop pop of something exploding. The men in the kart behind them yelled with surprise, and the sound of the kart cut off with a sudden deafness.

Feeling safe, Damian pulled his foot off the gas, slowing his own kart and turning it to drive closer to Father’s car so Richard would not have to limp far.

Turned now, they could see the other kart coated in foam. One of Drake’s newest experiments, and a successful one at that.

As they stopped, Damian grinned over at Richard, “See. As I said, we only needed to make it outside.”

Richard was grinning, and Damian found himself relieved to realize his brother was fine. Their mad dash did not seem to have resulted in his injury.

They sat in the kart as Batman and Red Robin took care of the two men in the other kart, and then moved inside to deal with the other two goons.

Damian leaned his arms on the steering wheel and gave Richard a small smile.

Richard, leaned forward to mirror him, elbow bumping against Damian’s, “Admit it, you had fun coming through there to rescue me.”

Damian considered the thought for a moment, “Never.”

“Ha! I knew you did.” Richard sat up, delighted.  

“I said nothing of the like.”

“But your face did.”

“The go karts were acceptable.” Damian admitted.

Richard reached out and tugged Damian into a half hug, “Good, we’ll do go karts when we come back, and try the rock climbing wall. And I’ll win you enough tickets to get one of those giant stuffed bears.”

“Father could buy me one for less than it would take you to get those tickets.” Damian pointed out.

“That,” Richard said sternly, “is not the point. It will be a thank you, for the rescue and one of the most exciting nights I’ve had in a long time.”

Damian snorted, but leaned a little closer into his brother’s side. Watching as Batman and Red Robin led the remaining two men out of the building.

“I can accept that. I will allow you to bring me back to the Bomp ‘n Stomp when they reopen. Even if the doors are still sticky.”  

#Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #Batfamily #fanfiction #humor #fluff #this one's just fluffy you guys #kidnapping #rescue #Damian is out of his depth but that's not stopping him #Dick is having a Great Time #Precious Posts

[myelocin]

home, as we go | sakusa k.

synopsis: enter sakusa kiyoomi who happens to be a little past drunk, a rooftop with a view, and some talks about the past, present, and the future. sakusa thinks you’re present in all three.

characters: sakusa kiyoomi, you

genre: fluff. warnings: alcohol

wc: 1600+

a/n: thinking ab rooftops again like the emo i am......hi xave

“all there is,” sakusa begins. “is who we were and who we are.” 

“what about who we will be?” you ask.

across you, sakusa ponders at your words. eyebrows a little more drawn together, eyes squinting as he purses his lips to the corner and stares at the drink in front of him a little too intensely. you chuckle, already knowing that the alcohol is already settling into his system. 

pushing your laptop to the side, you grab the pile of papers strewn a little haphazardly in front of you and arrange them inside a folder. sakusa stares, a little too obviously despite him shifting his eyes the second you look back up and lock eyes with him.

he stares at you, his face flushed. 

you smile.

“drunk enough to climb on the roof?” you ask, standing up and grabbing your can of beer from the corner of the table. shaking the can from side to side, you feel the swish of the liquid inside, so you decide this one can still last you through the night. 

“not drunk,” sakusa pipes from across the table, his head already tilting a little too far off the side for you to be convinced. 

“not drunk,” you nod, still unconvinced as you walk in front of him who staggers a little awkwardly behind you. from the reflection of the mirror in the hallway, you catch sakusa run his face through his hands a couple times before shaking his head and blinking rapidly as he follows you  up the stairs. 

he was the kind of drunk that always was in denial about his intoxication.

-

“you sure you wanna climb up here with me?” you ask, patting the open space next to you.

“i think—,” sakusa begins, with a slur, “i think i’ll fall so i’ll grab a chair and stay here.”

you chuckle against the can, looking at sakusa who plops himself down at the chair he positions next to the open window, his arms then folding in itself as he rests his head on it, facing you. the loose curls automatically fall from its place and onto his face at the sudden movement of him sighing against his forearms, a hiccup following suit.

you chuckle again, stretching the makeshift blanket you’re seated on as you move from one end to the next, leaning closer towards sakusa.

“don’t fall.”

“i’m not drunk enough to be clumsy on a rooftop, omi,” you smile.

beside you, sakusa groans, pushing himself up as he settles on a standing position, where half his body is leaning against the windowsill. with his head poking out of the room and into the rooftop, he stretches forward, moving towards you to press a kiss on your cheek.

sakusa smiles because even with your eyes set and steady towards the distance, you still lean in and meet him halfway.

“you smell like beer,” he laughs.

“bold of you to say when you could barely walk up the stairs,” you retort, countering his mirth with a laugh of your own.

“but i was thinking, omi,” you eventually say, your voice softening as your thoughts begin to mellow. “what you said earlier, what do you mean?”

instead of turning to you, from your peripheral vision you see him turn forward and face the view he knows you come and sit in the rooftop for nearly every night. he smiles at the sight; a familiar skyline, the edge of the coast in the far distance, and the flickering streetlights some streets over that still hasn’t been dealt with to this day.

“all there is,” sakusa begins to retell, his voice with a little more control this time. “—is all we were, and all we are.”

“what about who we will be?” you ask him, giving him the same question as you did earlier.

“we just don’t have that yet,” he laughs. “truth is, i think the reason why people forget to live so often is because they think who they are yet to be would mean automatic happiness.”

“you’re being oddly philosophical,” you laugh, turning your head briefly to face him. what greets you is the sight of sakusa kiyoomi with his eyes closed as he faces the coast in the distance, a calm sort of smile illuminating his features.

your shoulders relax, then at your prolonged silence sakusa continues to speak.

“who we will be is really just who we can be. we aren’t that person yet, and that’s okay,” sakusa exhales, opening his eyes again to look at you. “we’re so busy of thinking who we can be that we’re neglecting who we are in the moment.”

“but what about the hopeful who are hurting right now?” you ask despite nodding your head at sakusa’s words. you realize that it really isn’t him who you’re posing the question to, but rather towards the world, the universe, or really any deity that might be with the breeze and listening.

“then that’s who they are for now,” sakusa answers, his voice the silent truth that the breeze carries into your ears. “in the now they are hopeful, and in the future they can become something else.”

“something good?” you ask, turning your head and meeting his eyes halfway as you give him a smile.

“someone victorious,” he nods, and you can only feel your smile stretch wider because you sense nothing but truth and hope in his words.

“is this what you talk about when you’re drunk?” you laugh.

“i’m not drunk,” he groans, before it eventually dissolving into chuckles when he catches sight of your expression.

“earlier you were.”

“i think the cold air did me good,” sakusa replies with a subtle smile.

“think you’re sober enough to sit with me?” you smile, moving a bit to the side and smoothing out the crumpled side of the blanket beside you.

sakusa sighs, then you watch in silent glee as he eventually climbs out of the window and takes a seat beside you. as if instinctively, you shuffle closer beside him: his arm moving to wrap around you, and your head falling into his chest.

warm, you think. sakusa’s always just the right kind of warm.

“hi,” you whisper, turning your head to catch a peek at him. sakusa looks down at the feel of your eyes on him, then smiles as he wraps another arm around you, caging you in. at the feel of his lips pecking the crown of your head, you smile, tilting your head again to press a kiss to his jaw before facing the sky beyond again.

“so who are you in the now?” you ask, your hands settling to grab his that sit in front of your lap. sakusa hums out his thoughts at first, pondering over your question.

“i think i’m just sakusa kiyoomi,” he answers after the initial silence passes.

“just?” you ask, laughing.

“at the end of the day i’m just a person,” he laughs, intertwining his fingers through yours as he settles his chin on top of your head.

you smile, squeezing his hands and closing your eyes at the breeze that flows through. the world is probably listening, you think to yourself.

and to be fair, you realize that he did have a point. at the root of his success, persona, and status he has in the world is just his identity. it wasn’t sakusa kiyoomi the world class athlete, who disliked touch and was the brooding kind of handsome.

“you’re my person, though, omi,” you answer in return, because you realize that it truly can’t get any better than that.

because the person you’ve come to know is a boy who used to have a pet chicken in his youth. who washed his hands with the recommended twenty seconds timeframe you always hear the grownups talk about (despite them not adhering to it most of the time), and slurred after his third can of beer. he, who woke up just minutes before you, loose curls and two moles that reminded you of the story about angel kisses, and always squeezed your hand in a crowd.

“i guess i am,” you hear him mutter, voice soft. and with that, you smile, because it’s the kind of voice he uses when he’s truly smiling too.

“what about me?” you giggle, squeezing his hands. “who do you think i am in the now?”

sakusa shifts a little, so you turn to the side to look up at him.

sakusa grins, a rare boyish grin that spreads across his face faster than you could exhale the air you’ve been meaning to let go. 

“you’re someone who says ‘five minutes more’ when doing work instead of taking the break you know you’ve been needing,” he answers.

“omi, you’re mean,” you reply, reaching up to pinch his cheek.

“you’re something else,” he thinks, but ultimately chooses to keep his silence instead as he smiles at the look on your face as you shift your focus towards the skyline again. when he looks up, he sees colors, then when he tilts his head to catch another peek at you, he smiles even wider because he can practically see the cogs whirring at your head.

he knows you’re probably focusing on something; tongue poking out of your lip, and eyes looking like they’re somewhere far away.

something in his heart exhales, and he feels like home.

“you’re someone i want to marry,” is the first thought that comes to him afterwards.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq scenarios #hq fluff #hq imagines #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi scenarios #sakusa kiyoomi imagines #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa x reader #sakusa scenarios #sakusa imagines #sakusa fluff #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi scenario #sakusa kiyoomi x reader fluff

[mochegato]

Capturing a Dream

Chapter 9 – Who Do You Know

Chapter 1     Chapter 8

*Note: Most of Batman’s dialogue and all of Red Tornado’s is from the show, so, not my words.

This had passed frustrating several rooms ago.  Now, Conner was straight up annoyed.  He searched each room as they passed by them from the hanger to the communications center, searching for any indication of what time it was.  Had there always been this jarring lack of clocks in the Cave?  He could swear he had always been able to tell the time before.  Or maybe it was just that time hadn’t mattered until he was counting down the minutes to Chimera’s return.  As soon as he got the chance, he was going to put a clock in every room in the Cave and start wearing a watch.

She was supposed to be back anytime now.  She was scheduled to fly ridiculously early that morning into whichever city she was supposedly staying in instead of the Cave and Zeta tube into the Cave as soon as she could.  He absolutely had not been pushing to get the Team back as soon as possible after their mission wrapped up so they would be there in time to greet her.  Okay, so maybe ‘absolutely’ was not the correct word there… or ‘not’.  

He hadn’t seen Chimera in person for a little over a week now and he missed her, so nobody can really blame him for being excited to see her again.  But more than missing her, he was worried about her. She had been extremely apprehensive going home.  She had tried to cover it, but he knew her better.  And eventually, after much wearing down as a result of a coordinated effort by him and Robin, she admitted she was nervous of being reminded of the final battle.  He didn’t know how bad the battle was or exactly how badly it had scarred her, just that it had, but if her reaction to the failure exercise was any indication, it was severe.  Being back there without anyone to talk to about it, anyone who could understand her reactions, could be devastating for her.

On top of that, the trip came within a few weeks of Robin’s breakdown after the Haley’s Circus mission and her discovering that Conner had been using shields Lex Luther had given him to enhance his powers.  He had never seen her so angry.  He didn’t think she was capable of that amount of rage and he prayed to whatever god or goddess responsible for watching over them, that she never directed that anger toward him.  He was honestly concerned for Superman the next time she saw him and Conner had kept a close eye on her after she found out to make sure she didn’t go after Lex by herself.  After the anger receded, he could see the disappointment set in.  That was more disturbing than the anger.  While the anger had been jarring, seeing the disappointment in herself for having missed that he had turned to the shields was heartbreaking.  

She looked like she was barely holding it together before she left.  Her phone call on Christmas had done nothing to calm his fears.  She had tried to cover, but he could hear how empty her voice sounded no matter how cheery she tried to make it sound.  He could almost convince himself he imagined it but Robin had been there for the call too and he heard it as well.  He needed her to get back so he could be assured she was okay.  Conner wanted to see her, hold her, feel her in his arms, hear her laugh, so he could make sure she was okay.  He wouldn’t believe she was okay until he could.

Superboy was knocked out of his concentration by Batman’s gravely voice. “…  The mole was Red Arrow.”

“Rolly?” Robin exclaimed in shock.

“No way,” Kid Flash insisted.

“Batman that cannot be,” Aqualad spoke up.  Roy was his best friend.  He would more easily believe himself capable of betrayal than Roy.  “He was Green Arrow’s protégé.  We have all known him for years.”

“Unfortunately, the Roy Harper we have known for the last three years is another Project Cadmus clone,” Batman informed them calmly.  Superboy froze, staring at Batman in shock.  Roy was another clone, like him.  

“We have learned the real Speedy was abducted and replaced immediately after becoming the Green Arrow’s sidekick.  The clone was preprogrammed with the drive to become a member of the League.”  Superboy furrowed his brow.  Had that been their plan for him as well?  If the Team hadn’t rescued him when they had, who knows what they could have made him do.

“We believe when his mission was taking too long, they enlisted someone to help him speed up the process.  With her help, he was finally admitted into the League, at which point his secondary programming kicked in and he attempted to betray the League to Savage,” Batman continued.

“Who was helping him?  Was there a second mole or was it someone assisting from the outside?” Aqualad asked.

“It was a second mole.  His girlfriend, Chimera,” Batman answered unemotionally.

“What?” Superboy exclaimed louder than he meant to, shock and hurt quickly flashing over his face before turning to a glower.

“I was unaware they had started a relationship,” Aqualad stated carefully, a slight furrow in his brow.  Roy had mentioned he was getting very close to Chimera, but had not mentioned that it had progressed to that level.  Not to mention he had thought Chimera was closer with Conner than Roy, but then again, he tended to misread romantic overtures.  But, the idea that Chimera may have betrayed them was disturbing, but then again if Roy could be a mole, could he really be certain of anyone. Certainly the timing of Chimera’s introduction to the Team coinciding with evidence of the mole arising was suspect.

“Chimera isn’t a mole and she isn’t dating Roy,” Robin insisted, whirling on Batman in shock.

Batman nodded.  “We are not certain she was assisting him, but there is more than a little evidence to support the idea that she was.  I’ve been keeping an eye on her since she joined and facts seem to match up.  As for dating, I’m sorry to say she is.  We didn’t tell anyone because she claimed she didn't want to cause strife within the Team, but with this new information, it seems like there was something more to it. We believe she may have been his handler.  She joined the Team to help Red Arrow get into the League and sabotage the Team’s missions subtly.”  His voice was cold.  “Red Arrow has gone into hiding, but we don’t think he’s been able to contact Chimera about it yet.  When she comes back let us know immediately.  Do not alert her that we are aware.”

“There is no way…” Artemis interjected loudly.

“She would never!” Kid Flash exclaimed at the same time.

“Chimera would never betray us like that,” Conner insisted angrily.  How dare Batman suggest Chimera would betray them!  She was like a daughter to him.  She might not realize their relationship was like that, Hell, Batman might not realize it was like that, but Batman treated her like he treated Robin and Conner wasn’t blind enough to miss the protective pats and hair ruffling.  He certainly hadn’t missed how Robin treated her like a sister.  And after all that, Batman would so easily believe the worst of her.

“The clone Roy and Chimera, the Team will apprehend them,” Aqualad stated gravely.

“Negative.  Red Arrow is a member of the Justice League and Chimera was working with him to betray us. We will handle them both,” Batman answered.  He suddenly turned away, bringing his hand to his ear.  “I’m needed in the Watchtower.  Tornado, watch the kids.”  He strode away without further discussion.

“Okay, but we’re going to get to them first, right?” Kid Flash spoke up quietly, so Red Tornado couldn’t hear him.

He looked up quickly, apprehension on his face when Red Tornado hurried toward them before suddenly stopping midstride. They all stared in confusion. “Tornado!” Kid Flash exclaimed, moving to check for any outward signs of a cause.

“What happened to him?” Rocket asked.

Zatanna raised her hands to her temples.  She could feel something strange.  Something was off about the whole situation.  “I’m sensing a low level mystic force at play.  I don’t know if it caused his shutdown, but… come to think about it I was getting the same buzz off Batman.”

“Magic… like Chimera?” Artemis asked.

Zatanna shook her head.  “No. It feels different than Chimera’s magic.”

“Could it be different because it’s a trace, not the full impact?” Aqualad asked.

“No. I’ve sensed Chimera’s faded magic. All the Cave is steeped in it.  I haven’t sensed this before.  Not to mention, Batman said he hadn’t been around Chimera.  How would her magic be on him if he wasn’t and why would she implicate herself?”

“That wasn’t Batman,” Robin said aggressively.

“Robin…” Aqualad started calmly.

“He can still be Batman and wrong,” Superboy growled. “We don’t know if he is being lied to. We just know Chimera isn’t betraying us.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know she’s doing it…” Rocket hedged.  “Batman said Red Arrow didn’t know.”

“That might be an option except he said she’s his handler.  That means she knows what she’s doing.  She’s aware. It isn’t programming.  And he said she’s dating Roy.  Chimera isn’t dating Roy and she isn’t a traitor… And Batman never calls us ‘kids’,” Robin insisted, turning his focus back to examining readouts on Red Tornado.

Aqualad shook his head sympathetically but firmly. “Roy has said he and Chimera were getting close and they wanted to keep the fact secret, which confirms at least that part of what Batman said.  We know very little about her personal life.”

“You know less about mine,” Robin challenged, brooking no resistance.  He knew Chimera.  Maybe he had only known her for a few months, but he knew her and trusted her.  She couldn’t do this.  She just couldn’t.  “I would know if she were dating, especially a team member or hero.  There's a reason she told us she doesn't date teammates. There's…”  He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out how to phrase what he was thinking without revealing Chimera’s secrets.  She did not like to talk about this part of her life.  “…deep seeded trauma there. She didn't just get over that in a few days. She wouldn't start dating Roy without talking to someone. Without NEEDING to talk to someone. Since it's a hero, that means taking to one of us, specifically me or Conner or Artemis.  She didn't talk to me.  Conner?”

Conner shook his head.  “She’s only ever repeated that she can’t date teammates.”

“Artemis?” Robin prompted.

Artemis shook her head and sent a smug look to Aqualad. “Never said a word.  Never even indicated.  Zatanna, Chi, and I had a girl’s night the other day and we had a long talk about dating.  She never mentioned him.”  She glanced over at Zatanna.  “Did she give any indication of dating anybody or liking anyo… Roy?” she quickly corrected herself.

Zatanna looked between the Team anxiously before swallowing and straightening her back.  “No.  No, she didn’t talk about Roy.  And Robin’s right.  She doesn’t date teammates.  Even if she wanted to,” her eyes flicked over to Superboy so quickly anyone not looking for it would miss it, “she doesn’t.  We would know if she went against that.”

Superboy’s head whipped over to them, eyes wide.  Artemis said him, meaning she had mentioned someone else.  Zatanna emphasized that she didn’t talk about Roy, meaning she talked about someone else.  He silently urged either of them to continue talking about that night, release some clues on who she may have mentioned.  Instead Artemis cocked her head to the side and thought for a moment.  “She hasn't been acting different either.  Chi can't keep a secret, other than her identity, to save her life.  Remember Kid Flash’s ‘surprise’ party?  And let’s be honest the identity is probably only still a secret because we haven’t met her in person.  We would know something was going on, even if we didn't know what.”

“Not if she’s been deceiving us from the beginning, if her whole supposed personality was an illusion,” Aqualad noted stoically.

Conner’s brow furrowed in frustration.  Aqualad was seriously proposing Chimera was their enemy.  Chimera had almost died for them.  She’d risked her life and her sanity for them, more than once.  And Aqualad was just turning on her.  One statement and none of what she had done for them mattered. He clenched his fists and stepped forward to yell at Aqualad when Kid Flash’s voice interrupted his movement.  “He’s taken her to the Batcave hasn’t he?  Multiple times?” He glanced up from staring intently at a spot on the floor to look at Robin inquisitively.

Robin nodded in agreement.  “He has.  And he doesn’t let anyone he doesn’t trust completely come into the Cave.”  

“So,” Kid Flash started, “he’s trusted her deeply from the beginning.  He hasn’t ‘been keeping an eye on her’.  And her behavior hasn’t changed… but his has.”

Conner nodded in agreement.  “Which means she’s not the one we have to worry about.”  He glared pointedly at Aqualad, making sure he understood their point.  

“Maybe not about her but for her,” Zatanna offered carefully.  All eyes turned to her waiting for her to explain. “He singled out Chimera for a reason. So either they want our whole team here so they can do to us what they did to Batman, or they are targeting Chimera specifically.”

“Why would they target her?” Rocket spoke up again.

Superboy kept his glare at Aqualad.  “If we’re being honest, she has more power than the rest of us.  They could want to put her at a disadvantage, isolate her.”

“Isolate who?”  The voice floated into the chamber like a kitten’s purr, but cut through the air like a fog horn.

“Chi!” Superboy exclaimed, rushing over to her.

“Hey.” Her smile beamed as she hugged him.

He examined her face quickly.  She was smiling, but she looked exhausted, like she’d been through a grueling mission, one that isn’t dangerous, just draining.  His expression turned concerned.  “How was the trip?  You look tired.”  

Her smile weakened.  “It was good. I missed my friends and family so much.” She slumped against his chest. “Being back was just… a lot.”  She took a deep breath and straightened up. “But it was good.  I’m good.  It’s all… good.”  She let out a defeated sigh, but looked back up with a plastered on smile that lasted until she examined his face, morphing into a concerned frown at the sight.  She raised her hand to run it over his face, but quickly realized what she was doing and dropped it to his shoulder instead with a faint blush.  “How was it here?  How have you been?  How is Robin? How was the mission?”

“I’m fine.  Robin’s fine. It was fine,” Superboy hedged with a strained smile, slinging his arm over her shoulders and guiding her over to the group.

“That was too many ‘fines’ to be true,” Chimera commented apprehensively, looking at him questioningly.

“You really want to throw that stone Ms. ‘all good’?” he commented back with a pointed look.

Her face went slack, her eyes widened at the call out.  “Uh… no,” she admitted turning back toward the group, eyes flicking between them under her lashes.  “Can we not discuss this… now?”

“Later?” Superboy asked hopefully.  He knew her natural inclination was to bury things deep down, until they were so hard to see, she could pretend they never existed.  Internalizing every emotion, every let down.  It was the opposite of his way of handling things. Letting them simmer on the surface, where the slightest touch sent them radiating out into the world around him, usually with screaming or punching.  Chimera hummed noncommittally in response, absolutely no intention of bringing up memories and emotions she wished would disappear.

“It was after the mission that was enlightening,” Aqualad stepped forward.  “We need to talk about Roy.”

His voice was serious and laced with a significance that Chimera didn’t understand.  Superboy’s arm tightened incrementally on her shoulder, pulling her closer to him.  She looked up in time to catch the dark look he was giving Aqualad.  She turned back to Aqualad with a quizzical expression. “Like, Rogers?”

“Rogers?” Aqualad repeated.

Artemis tried to stifle her laugh.  “No, Chi.  Not like Roy Rogers.”

Aqualad looked between them, his brow furrowing in confusion, before he returned his gaze back to Chimera.  “No, Roy Harper.”

“Oh!”  Chimera nodded in understanding.  “Okay…” Her brow furrowed faintly and she looked to the side in thought before looking back at Aqualad with a wince.  “Is that… another actor?  I haven’t really seen many… any westerns.  I really only know who Roy Rogers, John Wayne, and Woody Strode are.  Well, know is a stretch.  I’ve heard their names.”

Aqualad blinked at her a few times, unsure what she was talking about.  “No. Red Arrow.”

Realization rippled across Chimera’s face.  She nodded, her eyes going wide.  “Oh!  Okay. Yeah.”  Robin and Kid Flash talked about Red Arrow a lot, but by his code name, rarely by his real name.  She would never have been able to remember it if she wasn’t prompted first.  Her eyes darted over to Robin to see if he held any answers, but instead of looking back at her, he was glaring at Aqualad as well. She looked back at Aqualad, noticeably more apprehensively.  Her brows furrowed in confusion.  “What about him?”

“Batman said he’s the mole,” Aqualad informed her, watching her reaction carefully.

Chimera’s face immediately fell, her eyes darted back to Robin again.  “Robin,” she whispered.  Her eyes moved over to Kid Flash, next to Robin, and turn pained.  She looked back to Aqualad.  “Is he sure?”

Aqualad nodded.  “Batman said he’s actually a clone of the real Roy Harper programmed to infiltrate the Justice League, but was discovered by Batman before he could do any damage.  

Chimera gasped, eyes entirely focused on Robin and Kid Flash.  “What happened to the real Roy Harper?”

“He didn’t say.”  Aqualad answered.  She tensed to go over to hug Robin and Kid Flash.  Robin and Kid Flash always talked about Roy like he was one of them.  They understood each other in a way few others could.  They would tell stories about him and laugh like their lives weren’t constantly at risk, like they were just normal teenagers.  Those times were some of the few she got to see Robin like the kid he was.

Artemis’ voice cut through her thoughts before she could move.  “But we have reason to believe that isn’t true.”

Chimera turned to her with a hopeful smile. “Really?”  A flash of relief appeared in her eyes.  She couldn’t imagine the toll it would take on Robin and Kid Flash if it was true and she didn’t want to have to see it.  They’d all been in this for a long time together, grew up in it together.  They were like family.  Not to mention she knew he and Aqualad were close as well.  If there was a chance Batman was wrong, they had to investigate it.

“I wanted to let you know because… we know you're dating him.” Aqualad informed her carefully.

Chimera’s eyes snapped back to Aqualad, her mouth hanging open in shock and her body turned rigid.  “That I’m what?” Her voice came out an octave higher than normal.

“Batman told us,” Aqualad informed her calmly. “And Roy has mentioned it as well.”

Chimera flinched back and shook her head.  “What?  I've never even met Red Arrow.  Why would he say that?  Why would Batman?”

“That’s why we have reason to believe Roy isn’t the mole.  Because Batman told us you were dating Roy at the same time he said Roy was the mole. He said they thought you were his handler,” Robin bit out bitterly.

Chimera’s heart stopped.  She gaped at Robin.  Batman… Batman said he thought she was betraying them.  Batman thought she was a traitor.  Batman was her mentor, as much as she had one, or at least she had thought of him as hers.  She had thought he might be more than just a mentor as well, but that must have just been her.  More than that, he was a League founder.  If he thought it, the rest of the League must as well.  They would all believe she was a traitor.  They would all turn on her, even her team.

Her breathing picked up.  She couldn’t handle this.  But she couldn’t even blame them for it.  This was her fault.  This is the price of anonymity.  This was the tradeoff of keeping yourself guarded.  You keep people from knowing you, but then they don’t know you.  They don’t know who you are, so they don’t know who you are and who you’re not.  She never let them know who she is, so of course her team will believe Batman.  

She was going to lose them and even if she proves herself, there will always be that doubt and once you’ve lost that trust, it never fully recovers… as her trip home proved.  Everything seems the same on the surface, but if you pause to examine it more closely, everything is different.  The way they look at you, the way they relate to you, the way they see you, has changed.  Robin wouldn’t trust her anymore.  He’d put up a wall between them, the same one he put up with anyone he didn’t fully trust, keeping them at a distance with a false smile.  And Conner!  He’d pull away too.  Still friendly, but not friends.  Still there, but not the same…

“…imera!  Chimera!”

Chimera felt a squeeze on her shoulder and a hand on her cheek, bringing her back to reality, stopping her descent into panic. She slowly moved her eyes to the arm belonging to the hand on her face and followed it back to its owner, looking up to see Superboy’s soft, concerned eyes.  He gave her a supportive smile and nod to let her know they were on her side. “That’s why we knew he was lying,” Superboy assured her.

Chimera let out a shuttering breath and buried her face in Superboy’s chest.  He wrapped his arms around her protectively, nuzzling into her hair.  “We know you better.  We know you would never do that.  No matter what he said, we know you,” he whispered into her hair.

Aqualad looked between them and nodded once, satisfied for now with her innocence. “Roy… Red Arrow is the key.  We need to find him and see what he can tell us. If Chimera is innocent then he may be as well.  Regardless, we need to find him before the League does.  Artemis, Superboy, Zatanna, you’re with me.  The rest of you, see what you can do about Tornado.”

“Wait, what’s wrong with Red Tornado?” Chimera’s eyes peeked out from Superboy’s chest.

“I’ll stay here,” Superboy responded with a sharp edge to his voice.

“We’re potentially going up against Red Arrow.  We need you with us to bring him in if…” Aqualad took a breath.  “If he decides to fight us.”

“I thought you didn’t think he was the mole,” Chimera asked uncertainly, subconsciously clinging a bit closer to Superboy.  If they still thought Red Arrow was the mole, did they really still think she was his handler as well?

“I don’t…” he looked away in contemplation.  “I don’t know.  But we need to speak with him to figure out what is going on.  Hopefully peacefully and it is best to be cautious,” he added. His voice was even, but anybody familiar with him could hear the strain in it.

Chimera gave him an understanding smile.  Although he didn’t speak about Red Arrow often, and almost never with Chimera, she knew they were close.  Believing his friend capable of something like this must be hurting him deeply. She looked up to Superboy.  “You should go,” she whispered.

“They can handle Red Arrow,” he argued back quietly.  “I can stay until you’re…  I can help with Tornado.”

Chimera shook her head.  “I’ll have Robin.  I’ll be okay until you come home.”  She glanced subtly over to Aqualad.  His shoulders were more tense than usual, his grimace more pronounced.  He was trying to hold it together, but he was suffering. “Aqualad needs you more right now.

Superboy huffed and looked over to Aqualad and the others Aqualad had singled out for a moment before looking back into Chimera’s eyes.  “Fine.  But I don’t like it.”

Chimera rested her head back on his chest, watching the rest of the Team. “Nobody likes what’s happening right now.”  She closed her eyes and squeezed him for a moment.  “Be safe.”

She stepped away from him, avoiding his eyes.  “You too,” he whispered, letting his fingers linger on her as she walked away to join Robin, Kid Flash, and Rocket.

“The problem’s hardware, not software,” Robin mused, examining schematics on a holographic display.  He didn’t even look up when Chimera stopped next to him.  He reached out, giving her a one armed hug.  She slung her arm around his shoulders, returning the squeeze. “But where do we start?”

Zatanna paused on her way out of the room.  “I have an idea.”  She glanced quickly behind her to see how far away the rest of her group had gotten. She bit her lip nervously, not wanting to upset Aqualad with her tardiness.  “Chimera, you remember the android he had in his quarters?”

Chimera perked up immediately.  “Yes! New hardware for his existing software. Brilliant idea, Zatanna.  Good luck with your mission,” she called to Zatanna as she ran to catch up with the rest of her group.  “Hey, Rocket, do your force bubbles move?  Might make moving the body easier.”

<><><><><> 

“I heard we’re dating,” Chimera started out with a sarcastic smile, extending her hand to shake Red Arrow’s.  “It must have been a terrible relationship if I can’t even remember you. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I don’t think this relationship is working out for me.  I think we should see other people.”

Red Arrow huffed out a laugh and smiled against his will.  He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck.  He looked up at her sheepishly.  “Yeah, sorry about that.”

Chimera shrugged and moved past him to sit on a bulkhead.  “Not your fault.  And not the worst end to one of my relationships, so...”  She offered him a smile.  Red Arrow smiled back and moved to sit next to her for the planning meeting, but was cut off by Superboy taking the spot before Red Arrow could sit.

Red Arrow raised an eyebrow at him, but backed down.  He wasn’t looking to start a fight with the only heroes he knew that weren’t under mind control. Instead, he took a seat between Robin and Kid Flash.

“Would anyone care to enlighten us as to why you have Black Canary tied up and gagged?” Aqualad asked, bringing the conversation back to the issue at hand.

“Yeah, about that…” Kid Flash started with a grimace, warily eying the hero that was bound and gagged at their feet.

“Can we start from the beginning?  I don’t think I’m the only one who doesn’t have a clear picture of everything that’s going on,” Chimera requested.

“The entire Justice League is under the complete mental domination of Vandal Savage,” Red Tornado spoke up from his android body.  “Red Arrow seems to have been his means.  His method was something Savage referred to as Starotech.  An alien bio organism infused with nano technology and magic.  It shuts down the mind’s autonomy allowing Savage to reprogram the individual to suit his needs.  Even my inorganic brain was not immune.”

Chimera straightened up in surprise.  “Wait, so Red Arrow was the mole?”

“I was the mole,” Red Arrow confirmed with a grimace.  “I just don’t know why.  If it was the Starotech, then they wouldn’t have needed to have a handler for me or key phrases that would shut me down and ready me for new orders.”

Superboy watched him curiously.  “Batman and Tornado said you were a Cadmus clone, like me.”

Red Arrow sighed and looked down.  “That explains it.  I must have been pre-programmed to infiltrate the League.  I was probably given occasional new orders as well.  I think one of those orders was to focus suspicion on Artemis and Superboy.  More recently, I think Chimera was added to the list, in a much more explicit way.”

“Why?” Superboy straightened, glaring at Red Arrow.  His arms twitched to circle around Chimera and pull her closer to him.

“They didn’t tell me,” he shrugged.  “I never knew why I did any of it.  I wasn’t part of the team, I was a tool.”

“I’m an easy target,” Chimera spoke up quietly.  “He was already implicating Superboy and Artemis.  Robin, Kid Flash, and Kaldur have known each other or of each other for years and see each other regularly enough to know if something was off. Zatanna and Rocket joined after Kaldur started noticing indications of a mole.  That leaves me.  And since you know almost nothing about me, I don’t even have a mentor to vouch for me, it makes doubting me easy.”  

Superboy ran his hands up and down her arm to comfort her.  Chimera leaned into his side slightly, keeping her focus on the conversation.  Superboy looked over to Kid Flash and Red Tornado.  “So where does Black Canary fit in?”

“Oh! Riiiiiight.” Kid Flash awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.  “We were transferring Red Tornado’s consciousness from his regular body to his android body when she interrupted us.  She attacked us and we had to stop her.”

“So she’s infected as well,” Artemis observed.

Aqualad frowned at the ground in concentration.  “If it’s an infection, then we need a cure.  I will contact Queen Mera about creating an immunization based on Starotech.  We have Black Canary we can test the cure on.  Let’s move.”

Robin wormed his way next to Chimera as they moved to the communications hub for the ship.  He pulled her into a quick side hug.  “You know, we don’t need to know everything about each other to trust each other.  And I do trust you.”  He spoke quietly so only she could hear him.

Chimera closed her eyes as she hugged him back. “I trust you too, birdbrain.”

Robin rolled his eyes and shoved her away.  “I take it back.  I hate you.”  Chimera cackled with laughter.  Robin reluctantly joined her, trying to keep his annoyed facade.  They tried unsuccessfully to school their expressions when Aqualad glared at them until Queen Mera answered, drawing his attention away.

<><><><><> 

Waiting was torture.  It always was.  Waiting for something to happen when there was nothing you could do until then except think about the upcoming event, was agony.  Chimera looked around the room.  The Team was scattered each in their own space, waiting for Black Canary and Red Tornado to finish their preparations so they and Red Arrow could go in first and distract Savage, while the Team put the vaccine patches on the rest of the Justice League one member at a time.  

Everyone was in their own head, bodies tense, and emotions on edge.  They were going up against people they’d looked up to their whole superhero careers, parental figures, mentors.  People who taught them how to fight, how to strategize.  They knew more than the Team did and it was still unclear how much of their previous fighting knowledge they retained or if the person controlling them would have to come up with their own moves and techniques.

The Team was clearly dreading the former option, including Chimera.  With so many different powers to go up against, she had cleared out the miracle box so she would have options for which powers to utilize.  Changing was going to be tricky and she was going to have to keep Trixx well fed so she would be able to keep up her illusion of her suit not changing, but there was too much of a possibility for failure not to at least try.

She hoped she was hiding her apprehension better than the rest of the Team.  No matter how much they tried to hide it, Chimera knew their tells.  She knew Artemis set her jaw like that when she was anxious.  She knew Aqualad clenched and reclenched his fists like that when he was nervous.  She knew Kid Flash held his arm like that with his other hand when he was afraid.  She knew Robin stared intently like that when he was apprehensive.  She knew Zatanna bit her lip like that when she was unsure.  She knew Superboy glowered like that when he was worried.  It was slightly different from his many other glowers.  And she didn’t need to know Rocket and Red Arrow to see their nerves in the darting of their eyes.

She looked between them and furrowed her brow until she perked up, something occurring to her.  “So… it’s like a video game, right?”  All the eyes in the room darted to her with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance, but she continued on undeterred.  “I mean, they’re like characters in a video game, being controlled. That means there’s someone with some kind of controller.”  She looked over to Aqualad.  “Do you think there's any way that we could get our hands on that controller?” she asked with a devious glint in her eyes.  “Just for a few minutes?”

“Oh my God!  Yes!” Kid Flash exclaimed, immediately seeing where she was going and excitedly bouncing.  “Can we? Can we, please?”

“We will not take advantage of our compatriots and mentors in such a demeaning way,” Aqualad answered sternly.

“Yeah, yeah morally reprehensible reshmensible.  But, do you think we could?” Kid Flash asked again, his eyes bright.  In an instant he was next to Chimera, both giving Aqualad overly wide smiles.

“No,” Aqualad said firmly.

“Angelic smiles aren’t working,” Chimera noted in a stage whisper.  “Deploy kitten eyes.”  She and Kid Flash immediately switched to sad, pleading eyes, aimed directly at Aqualad who barely noted them before rolling his eyes.  Chimera harrumphed when she realized hers wouldn’t work since she had sunglasses hiding her eyes.  Instead, she elbowed Zatanna who looked confused for a second before grinning and schooling her face to offer her own kitten eyes.

Superboy quickly looked to the ground to hide his smirk, but Artemis and Robin made no attempts to hide her laugh that echoed throughout the room.  “Oh my God, you guys are such dorks,” Artemis eked out between laughs.  

“Yes,” Kid Flash agreed, “dorks who love video games.” He turned back to Aqualad.  “Pleeeeeeeeease.”  He held his hands out in front of him in supplication.

“Are you two going to take this seriously?” Red Arrow snapped.

Chimera rolled her eyes and offered a kind smile. “Come on, tell me you don't want to see Batman punch Green Arrow.”  Her smile turned enticing.  “We can make that happen,” she singsonged at him.

Red Arrow scoffed.  “I don't need remote control to do that.  I just have to tell Batman any of the things Green Arrow has said behind his back and then suggest a spar between them.”

Chimera waved him off.  “Fine.  Green Lantern or Wonder Woman punch Green Arrow,” she offered instead with a knowing smirk.  “I’m not even a protégé and I definitely have JL members I’d like to see get punched a few times.”  She shrugged in an overly casual way.  “Or, you know, one member anyway.”

Red Arrow cocked his head to the side considering the image of Wonder Woman decking Oliver.  “Now that you mention it...”

“Oh my God!” Chimera exclaimed, eyes widening in excitement.  “Dance Party!”

“Yes!” Kid Flash jumped on to her thought process, mirroring her excitement.  “The Flash breakdancing.   Hawkman doing the Carlton.”

Red Arrow looked over to Chimera with an analytical look.  After a few seconds, his face broke into a reluctant smile.  “Batman doing a scene from Phantom of the Opera, that’s angsty, he’d like it.”

“Yes!!” Chimera exclaimed, jumping with excitement that he had joined.

“Green Lantern and Aquaman doing the Kid ‘n Play,” Robin gave a small smirk, nerves still there, but lessening.

“Do you think we can get Martian Manhunter to do the Macarena?” Superboy pondered, coming up behind Chimera and resting his arm on her shoulders.

“It’s our imagination.  We can get them to do whatever we want,” Chimera laughed.

“I would pay to see Wonder Woman do the worm,” Artemis smiled coming up next to Zatanna and bumping her hip with her own.

“Can we get my dad to do something?  What should we get him to do?” Zatanna added with a hesitant smile.

“How about the Running Man?” Rocket offered, joining the rest.

“Green Arrow doing Gangnam Style dance,” Red Arrow gave Chimera a playful smile, joining the group to stand next to Chimera.

“My flute records.  I can take video for posterity,” Chimera grinned back conspiratorially.

“I’ll take you up on that,” Black Canary grinned as she came up behind them.  “I think it sounds like fun.  Plus, I need more blackmail material.  If I come across the opportunity, I’ll let you know.” She winked at them before turning to Aqualad with a serious expression.  “We’re ready to go.”

Aqualad’s expression immediately transformed from light to serious.  He stepped forward to address his team.  “It is time. Are we ready?”  He looked around to the Team waiting for nods from the group. Once he received them he watched Black Canary, Red Tornado, and Red Arrow step up to the Zeta tube.  With them in position, he turned to Chimera. “Open the portal.”

*Note 2: The android body is from the show as is Queen Mera and some scientists coming up with a vaccine in a few hours, so those cheap cop outs are theirs not mine.

Chapter 10

Tags:

@mickylikesstuff @mystery-5-5 @roguishredaxion @vroomtaka @laurcad123 @just-an-observer-ignore-me @emimar7 @moonlightstar64 @maribat-writing-and-prompts @aespades @yokomisaki @glastwime859 @mysticknown @glastwime859 @fan-writtenen @stackofrandomstuff @jalaluvsu @ultimatetornshipper @charme-de-malchan @lozzybowe @deathwishy @too0bsessedformyowngood @kokotaru @ichigorose  @nathleigh @dorkus-minimus @ira-sairain @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #Capturing a Dream #connette #connerette #konmari #conner x marinette #Marinette x Conner

[min-youngis]

aesthete - j.jk

banner is miNe

~ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (artist!kook)

~ Genre: Fluff (is v soft), Suggestive (?), a smidgen of angst

~ Rating: T bordering on M (yes, i'm an ao3 gal why do u ask)

~ Summary/Excerpt: You can feel it when he whispers that he wants to paint you, his words kissed against the side of your jaw, lips feathering across your skin like his brushes.

Established Relationship

~ Word Count: 1.7k

~ Warnings: implied sexy times, kissing, casual nudity, eM0TionaL vuLnerABiLity i suppose

~ A/N: i would simply like to see a harry styles and bts interaction tomorrow, i think that would be super. disclaimer- this story has nothing to do w that.

i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!

masterlist in my description.

You know you love him. You can feel it when he offers to drop you off at work, because you're en route to his client, and your heart flops a bit at his thoughtless kindness. You can feel it when he takes pictures of you on dates when he thinks you aren't looking, and then again when you catch him setting those pictures as his lockscreen wallpaper.

You can feel it when he whispers that he wants to paint you, his words kissed against the side of your jaw, lips feathering across your skin like his brushes.

His fingers trace a path of comfort up and down your back; earlier, you would've thought it was mindless, but now you know better. Every catch of his nail on your shoulder blade, every lazy dip of his finger tips down toward the small of your back is art. And you don't know how you feel about being something as reliable as his canvas.

You don't answer immediately, choosing instead to silently let your palm settle more solidly against the side of his chest, your head cushioned next to it. Slowly, you look up, resting your chin on his firm torso. There's a stupidly poetic beam of moonlight entering the room, cutting across his face and throwing it into stark definition, even from the awkward angle at which he has to bend to look you.

With his weight solid beneath you, the heat of his body that you had recently been intimately acquainted with effortlessly grounding you, and the soothingly relentless patterns of his fingers on your back, the vulnerability in your eyes isn't easy to miss.

"What if you see too much?"

"With you, it's never enough."

"Comfortable?"

You nod slowly, letting yourself settle in position, body draped on its side over the hardwood floor. Your palm holds your head aloft as you face the empty chair a few feet from you sideways. You can feel heat below you, lying down as you are on a patch of sunlight, can feel heat over you from the midday warmth seeping in through the open window, can feel heat in jungkook's touch as he positions your free arm so its comfortably curled in front of your chest, your fingers grazing your already sensitive neck.

He kisses you once, twice, thrice, countless times on the side of your head, calloused painter fingers taking their time in making subtle adjustments to your limbs. Occasionally, he stops in his calculated movements, walks in front so he can look at you from the perspective in which he's going to be immortalising your body in art. Eyes rake down your naked frame, gaze warming you and making you shiver despite the summer sunlight hitting you directly.

His fingers trail fire as they gently push your upper thigh a little more to the front, burn imprints onto the small of your back as he makes you straighten the curved in arch, leave scorch marks against the side of your neck as he tilts it to rest more firmly on your palm.

And you let him. How could you not? He's treating you like you're made of china. Like you're art. Your breath hitches every time you feel him on you, his palm settling on your stomach to soothe paradoxically keying you up more. You don't say a word. The gentleness is too much, too kind.

"You good?" he softly asks, smoothing down your hair as he kneels behind you. This is intimate; far more intimate than anything you've done before.

"Yeah."

You're only half-lying, you know. But nonetheless, you nearly purr as jungkook's palm slides down from your forehead to cup your jaw, tilting your painstakingly positioned head up to face him. If he sees the muted fear in your eyes, he makes no mention of it.

He dips his head, dropping a soft kiss against your lips that you sigh into, letting you press up into it as much as you need to ground yourself. His warm fingers don't leave your face. Your eyelids flutter open when you pull away, a little calmer, a little more reassured.

"If you feel uncomfortable, we can stop immediately, okay? Just say the word." His tone rings with conviction, with comfort, with kindness; and you know that you're going to pull through with this.

Wordlessly, you nod, returning his soothing smile with a small one of your own before he moves your neck back to its previous position.

He takes his time setting up, smoothing down the pad on the easel, examining his pencils with concentration and care. You've seen him do it a hundred times, but it's different now. When all the preparation is to draw you.

You resist the urge to shift, already a bit restless after being still for no more than ten minutes. But there's an unacknowledged thought in your head, disowned but definitely present. Selfishly, a little narcissistically, and incredibly terribly, you want to see how it turns out. How you turn out.

"I'm starting now," he softly says, gently tugging you out of wherever you've zoned out to.

Giving your fingers one last flex, you nod. "Where do you want me to look?"

"Right at me."

His answer should make you want to wrench yourself off the floor, grab your clothes and send you running for the high hills. All it does is make you smile. "Okay."

You've sat in on some of his projects; watched him as he designed colourful tapestries for clients, landscapes filled with rainbows and elephants for day care walls, elegant, artistic prints for framing and portraits for celebrities. But here, on the receiving end of his focused gaze, is an entirely different ball game. After a point, you don't know who's observing whom.

Jungkook's tongue pokes out occasionally, lips get pursed in a concentrated pout. His foot taps a bit as he compares you to what he's drawn so far, eyes narrowing as he smooths some strokes. His little habits keep you from noticing the strain on your bent wrist, the soreness in your thighs. Above you, the sunlight becomes a little warmer as it gets closer to noon, and the family of red finches that comes to your garden everyday makes its appearance known through the open window.

It's all so stupidly ideal, everything happening around you. Sat on his three-legged stool with one hand on his waist as he stretches his back ever so often, giving you reassuring smiles occasionally, making you giggle when he pointedly looks at your boobs before winking obnoxiously, his oversized grey t-shirt falling over broad shoulders and smelling like paint and patchouli soap and comfort; Jungkook could be the model, the artist and the muse, all rolled into one.

You're observing the way the messy ponytail on his head is slowly starting to come apart, wispy strands brushing against the bottom of his ears, curling against the cut of his jaw, when he finally says, "Done."

You're silent for a second, just letting yourself look at him a bit more, observing as he paints a few more marks on the paper in front of him before he places the pencil down, arms coming up and back straightening as he stands up and stretches, nudging the stool out of the way. It's too soon to revert to the knowledge that you're perceived, and that how you're perceived by him is now so transparent and just a few steps away from you. You're far better off in this quixotic fairytale, where all you have to do is watch Jungkook, no doubt with an overfull gaze of fondness.

He tilts his head to the side with a knowing look. "Do you want to see?"

Slowly, you ease your limbs, massaging your wrist as you come up to a sitting position. "I don't know," you shrug, busying yourself with rolling your ankles to get the numbness out, not meeting his eyes. "Do I want to see?"

You feel him watching you as you pull on clothes, tugging your t-shirt over your head and examining your pants to find the front and back.

"I like it. But I think that's less because it's artistically good and more because I like you."

It's corny. It's so cheesy, and it's so stupid, but incredibly, it's affirming. And it makes you want to see.

Smoothing your hands down the front of your leggings, you turn around to face him, small smile and twinkling eyes greeting you and making you feel a warmth that not a single shade of sunlight could manage during the last hour. His arm is extended towards you, palm open, waiting for yours.

Wordlessly, you convince your legs to guide you to him, feet scuffing on the wooden floor and suddenly sounding too loud. Fingers curl as you timidly place your hand atop his, letting him gently tug you close to his frame. With a soft kiss to your forehead, he twirls you so you're facing the paper.

You hardly notice his arms winding around your waist, barely register his chin resting atop your head.

You're painted in quiet hues of pink, lips curled up slightly in a small smile, eyes dripping honey. The curve of your hip right down to the tapering of your ankles are all softened. You don't even realise that you're tracing out the image, shaking fingers stalling momentarily as you find something new, something you. The scattering of moles on your forearm, the curl of your hair at the bottom, the subtle red of the mosquito bite near your belly button, the brown birth mark near your knee. You still once you reach your slightly smudged feet, chipped blue nail polish thrillingly evident.

"You kept wiggling your toes."

It's such an innocuous statement, an explanation for something so fascinatingly real, and it makes you want to punch and kiss him simultaneously. You're too overwhelmed to reply, though, settling for squeezing his arm silently, subtly moving backwards closer to his chest.

His breath whooshes against the hair on the top of your head as he asks, squeezing back, "Are you glad you saw it?"

You'd nod, if you weren't so scared of displacing the moment, suspended in air and tender.

"Yeah," you whisper, letting your hand fall. Silently, you turn around, wrapping your hands around his waist and trying to convey as much as you can through the hug, head burrowing into his frame as his chest rumbles with fond, muted chuckles. "I love it."

#bts #jungkook #ficswithluv #thekpopnetwork #kwritersworldnet #ultkpop #btsbookclub #btsguild #btswritingcafe #jeon jungkook #kpop fluff #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #kpop imagine #bts fic #kpop fic #jungkook fic #jeongguk #bts jungkook #bangtan boys #bts au #grammys #bts smut #kpop smut #jungkook smut #bangtan sonyeondan #jdjsjs

[jdfreads]

Reading all the Redwall books in publication order: Mossflower

I FINALLY finished Mossflower, after about three months of chewing through it. Not a mark against the book, just my adhd acting up. I finished most of the book in one day actually. (not a critical review, just all the thoughts dumped into a post)

Blurb: The thrilling prequel to "Redwall". The clever and greedy wildcat Tsarmina becomes ruler of all Mossflower Woods and is determined to govern the peaceful woodlanders with an iron paw. The brave mouse Martin and quick-talking mouse thief Gonff meet in the depths of Kotir Castle's dungeon. The two escape and resolve to end Tsarmina's tyrannical rule. Joined by Dinny the mole, Martin and Gonff set off on a dangerous quest for Salamandastron, where they are convinced that their only hope, Boar the Fighter, still lives.

Sidenote, the Goodreads blurb for some reason put Dinny as Kinny, and in my edition its Dinny, therefore Goodreads is wrong and can eat my dick. Also Kinny would be a hilarious name.

Death count of named characters: 21 (the exact same as Redwall. dunno if that's intentional)

Death count of unnamed characters: Dunno! But it was actually a lot less than in Redwall for sure, because they let most of Tsarmina's army go instead of SLAUGHTER.

(Spoilers ahead for a 30 year old novel, proceed with caution <3)

This was a fun one! I honestly liked Martin's quest to go to Salamandastron a lot more than Matthias's quest. Idk, it just felt more action packed. Matthias had a Lot of sitting and pondering riddles, while Martin had Gonff and Dinny who were fun on their own, plus encounters with enemies to fight and outsmart. Getting to see all the backstory for Redwall was cool. We got to see a bunch of elements and characters that would eventually become Redwall. I also enjoyed Columbine as a character, especially since she got some agency in the story and we got to hear her perspective, unlike with Cornflower in Redwall. I like that Gonff was the one with a love interest instead of Martin since it fleshes him out and lets Martin do all the revenge he could want.

God, the strategy in this? Chef's kiss. It really felt like watching a chess game unfold except a lot more chaotic and occasionally they'd find new pieces to use. That's what I've really been enjoying about these books so far, is the military strategy on both sides. Them flooding Kotir was such a cool move, and the fact that it was a double fake out with it failing at first and then succeeding with the arrival of the Wuddship? Fantastic! Amazing! Beautiful!

Tsarmina was a fun villain! She was just campy and evil as hell, plus watching her slowly descend into madness over the sounds of dripping water that no one else could hear? Chef's kiss. Watching her snap Martin's father's sword is just such a good personal moment to build tension and animosity between the two. I really wish there could've been a moment like that with Cluny and Matthias, because their struggle felt far more impersonal, but idk if that would've worked in the story.

I like how it built throughout the story how little the soldiers of Kotir are loyal to her, really helps set up their desertion and surrender at the end. I liked that most of the infantry got to live and move on to a new place instead of dying. Like in Redwall its explicitly stated in text that most of Cluny's soldiers were recruited completely unwillingly from the surrounding forest, and then they were all killed. I just find that really sad.

Some character thoughts:

Gonff: Funky! Love him. If there's an audiobook of this I hope they gave all of his songs tunes and if they didn't thats a crime

Dinny: so hard to understand but still cool, just want to give him a pat on the head

Martin: mmmmm, warrior mouse. wish he was a Touch more feral

Columbine: Better than cornflower and you can fight me on it

Lady Amber and Skipper: mlm and wlw solidarity. I won't be taking criticism at this time

Bella: butch lesbian. friend shaped, would trust her with my life

Gingivere: he fucks

Abbess Germaine: she definitely also fucks. GILF

Tsarmina: Queen of a Thousand Eyes, if humanized has the potential to be the Second Tumblr Sexywoman

Gloomer: I know he's a wordless swimming flesh eating monster rat... but I could fix him

Brogg: so stupid and so trusting. too bad he got crushed by that flying rock, he would've made a good malewife

Bane: greedler with a knife

Fortunata: fox. too clever to be smart

Ashleg: he gone

List of named character deaths (in chronological order):

*=death either from that character’s point of view or in disturbing detail

-Verdauga

-Luke the Warrior

-Barkstripe

-Gloomer*

-Thicktail*

-Scratch*

-Blacktooth*

-Splitnose*

-Fortunata*

-Mask*

-Cludd

-Squint*

-Badtail*

-Boar the Fighter

-Bane*

-Argulor*

-Ratflank

-Bentbrush

-Foulwhisker*

-Brogg*

-Tsarmina*

Next on the list:

Mattimeo

Mariel of Redwall

Salamandastron

(BONUS! Some bits from my notes app:

Tsarmina Fortunata lesbian moment? (Fortunata died almost immediately after this)

BATS ARE CANON!!!!

MARTIN TIMBALLISTO GAY MOMENT! pg 307)

#redwall #mossflower #brian jacques #martin the warrior #redwall show #long post

[ofmythsandmadness]

tired | d.h.

not everything’s so easy. but the quiet is. with him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ WARNING: mention of dark thoughts; it’s not expanded upon, but it’s alluded to that it’s a depressive episode. gn!reader. NOTES: sorry for this random drop of glum. i’ve been trying not to sink too much, but i can feel myself getting into a dark space, so i’m compensating by writing the comfort i know i can’t receive. feel free to check out my other works for something a bit happier. i’d totally understand. :)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

NOT EVERYTHING’S SO EASY. In fact, most of the time, life is the worst game of whack-a-mole, only you’re the mole and you’re trying to escape, but everytime you dare pop your head out, a mallet in the form of miserable feelings comes down and -- BLAM! You’ve been got, again.

Normally, you can bear the mallet, pounding you deeper and deeper into your hole. You’ve made a life that helps remedy the misery. Friends, an alright job, a boyfriend who lets you cuddle him even he’s probably annoyed or uncomfortable...it’s an alright gig, usually. It’s enough.

But maybe you messed up with the holy spirits of the universe or whatever. Maybe you’re just meant for this, meant to trudge along while others skip and leap to greatness, stuck at mediocrity because you’re lack and just...

...you’re tired.

“M’sorry for calling you,” you mumble into the swatch of black fabric that covers you. Two muscled arms lay beneath it, holding you tight to the chest of the one person you can bear to see that day. “I just...I’m sorry.”

“Shush. Don’t say sorry.”

“But-”

“-m’glad you called.” Somewhere above you, Diego presses the softest of kisses into your scalp, and you melt. You want to cry, only because he’s so good to you and how could you ever deserve such love? Are you just sucking the joy out of him by this, dragging him into your problems that you should just be solving on your own? Is this the person you are, just pulling and taking and never giving, until the ones you love most are-

“-stop.”

You start, pulling up just barely in his embrace so you can look at him. His head already rests propped on your shoulder, watching you right back. You want to shirk away from his gaze, eyes wide and worried for you, but you can’t.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re thinking it,” he muttered. His lips quirk, but the sentiment’s serious. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You sigh, flopping your head back down to the bed. The sun just barely peeks out behind your room’s blinds, and a part of you wants to wrench them up and soak the rays in for all their glory. But you don’t move, instead just watching the one drop of light linger on your wall.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

You hadn’t meant to stay silent so long. But when he speaks again, voice reverberating against your head, tears well up and you’re choking on them as they clot and thicken in the curve of your throat.

“I can’t,” you spit out, all garbled and wrong. “I...I just can’t...”

Honestly, you’re not sure if it’s even English, what you say there. But somehow Diego gets it. He pulls you closer into his chest and hugs you like a child, rocking ever so slightly. Kisses litter your head, your neck and the few inches of exposed flesh left on your shoulders. He’s warm; so, so warm. He’s alive.

You want to soak up all of his life. Hold him to your chest as he does now and never let him go. Because even in your tears, even as you choke and sob and weep tears into your pillowcase, you feel just the softest dribble of hope soak through your greying skin.

“It’s okay, baby.” A hand rubs against your cheek, long fingers grazing against the curve of your face until its wiped most your tears away. It’s awkward considering his arms are so tightly pressed around you, but somehow he manages. “It’s okay.”

“I’m so-”

“-don’t say sorry. Don’t say anything. Okay?”

You move to speak again, but somehow Diego knows exactly when to cut your apology off again. “I want to be here with you. Okay? So just lay with me, and know that whatever you want, we can do. If that’s talk, or - or, buy pizza and get wasted off our asses, or...”

You sniffle out a giggle, wiping at your own cheeks. “Baby, it’s a Thursday.”

“So? I’ll-I’ll call in sick for you. Say I’m your, uh, long lost brother or somethin’. Doesn’t matter, I’ll think of something. Or, we can...”

He rambles on, listing about a dozen or so options for you to pick. Honestly some of them are awful -- he suggests vandalism, if you’re feeling ‘like runnin’ on the wrong side of the law’, and you almost blow a lung chuckling at the image of you two committing petty crime together. And even when you think he’s done, he’s continues to prattle on, listing sillier and stupider options as he goes, but you don’t dare stop him.

Only when he pauses to heave a breath, huffing against the tip of your ear, do you dare speak.

“Thank you, Diego.”

“I got more, if you-”

“-not that. Just...” your fingers lace in his, squeezing like he’s your lifeline. Hell, maybe he is. “Thank you, for being here with me. Sticking with me.”

He pauses for a long moment. And then,

“course.”

“Well, I mean...” he says it so flippantly. Like it’s easy, being with you. Sitting in the dark of your bedroom, wasting time when he could be doing literally anything else. “I know this isn’t what you probably wanted to do tonight.”

“I’m with you, aren’t I?”

Your eyes scrunch a little at the cheesy line, “doing absolutely nothing.”

“If this is doing nothing, well -- baby, consider me fucking set for life, cause I’ll die happy right here n’now.”

“Diego...”

“I want to be here. You got that?” You can feel him staring down at you even without looking; his eyes dig into the side of your face, tracing images you wish you could see for yourself, whatever person he’s fallen for looking back at him. “I don’t want to be anywhere else but here. And sure, I know you’re not feeling great right now, but I’m not gonna leave you ‘cause of that.”

More tears well. But they don’t fall this time. You kiss the tips of his fingers, pressing them to your puckered lips.

“I’m always gonna be here for you. Okay?”

You nod, and he falls back against your side. And it’s just you, and him, and that little glimmer of sunlight peeking through your bedroom blinds, dancing on the wall for the pair of you.

Not everything’s so easy. In fact, most of the time it’s a difficult, uphill battle, and half the time your mind is hellbent on convincing you it’s a fight you’re going to lose. And sometimes, you really want to give in and believe it.

But the quiet is easy. When its with him. And it’s a little hopeful, too.

A/N: The end is cheesy, but I didn’t want to leave this off with a sad note. Even if that’s what I’m feeling, haha. I was just saying yesterday I don’t know how to write angst...and then here I go, pumping out this. Buuuuut in my defense, really I just wanted a distraction, and I’m trying to look for more healthy coping mechanisms then what I’ve got now. So, here we are, with a quickly written little shot about the comfort I really wish I had in my life. Sorry if it’s a bit of a bummer. I want to write happier things, I’ve got a couple lined up but honestly, I’m just tired. 

If you liked reading this, feel free to let me know by reblogging and commenting your thoughts. Follow me if you want, and if you’re feeling generous, buy me a kofi! (linked there).

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves drabble #i'm writing this with like a thousand things else to do #but i'm too tired #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves #tua x reader #my writing #i'm posting before i overthink #and read it over bc i know i'll hate it