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gaybananabread · 7 months

Note

hii! for the tickletober prompts, how about lee dipper with day 12? like the ler (they can be whoever you see fit!) knows/discovers he is really weak to them so they get him. hope you're doing well!

TickleTober Day 12 - Nibbles/Bites

Thank you! I had a helluva time picking a ler for this, but I think Stan fits best. I need to write for him more anyways. This idea ironically happened less than 10 minutes after I finally chose Stan. My brain is weird like that (TvT). I hope you have a fun spooky season, Enjoy!

Lee: Dipper

Ler: Stan

Summary: Dipper is stressing out over the summer spooky season. Stan decides he needs a visit from a special kind of monster.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

Once again, the Gravity Falls Summerween store opened its doors. The odd tradition began again for the year, residents joyful as they picked out candies and decided on costumes. Well, every resident but one.

A certain brown-haired, blue-hatted tween was sitting in the Mystery Shack gift shop, biting at his fingers. Ever since the whole "Summerween Trickster" fiasco, Dipper had been wary of the town's strange holiday. He would never forget the scene of Soos eating that thing…ugh.

Stan was taking inventory, making sure nobody had nicked any of his moderately overpriced merchandise. His eyes eventually drifted over to his worrisome great-nephew. That kid would worry himself into the ground if Stan let him…

"Hey picks-a-lot, those cuticles taste good?" He walked over to the teen, flicking the bill of his hat. The older man didn't mean anything malicious by it. He's just unapologetically mean sometimes. Dipper was used to his Grunkle's antics, brushing the comment off.

Dipper tucked his hands in his jacket, looking down at the register. "Sorry Stan. Just thinking about…stuff." He hadn't realized he'd been biting his fingers again. It was an old habit, one he wasn't keen on picking back up. Yet there it was.

The uneasy expression on his face was barely hidden. Stan didn't really know what to do about the kid's nerves. Normally, he'd sick Mabel on him. The tween was out with Candy and Grenda, so that wasn't an option. What to do, what to do…

"Uh…look kid. You want the rest of your shift off? I've got the shop covered, and you look pretty dead." He gave it to the kid straight. Dipper looked like he was one loud noise away from snapping, his fraying nerves and general high-strung mindset on overdrive. Stan could handle the almost empty gift shop, Tuesdays were always slow.

Dipper nodded, hopping off the creaky cashier stool stool. "Yeah, please. Thanks, Grunkle Stan." He lumbered up the steps to the attic, gently closing the door to his shared room behind him.

What was Stan gonna do with that kid?

The next few days weren't any better. With the rapidly approaching local holiday, Dipper's nerves only grew. Mabel didn't really notice, too enamored by costume ideas and trying to figure out Waddles's measurements.

He didn't really know the absolute cause of his worry. Was it the chance of Mabel getting hurt? The possibility of another garbage candy monster? The fact that he still can't unsee Soos eating his way out of the monster? All are good guesses. He just wished he could pinpoint which one it was.

His antsy demeanor hadn't gone unnoticed by the other Mystery Shack residents. Soos had tried to get him to play some arcade games at the mall, but he just wasn't up for it. Wendy had little to no luck, her attempts to get him to loosen up going nowhere. It was up to Stan…and he had no idea what to do.

He had tried things that worked before, offering him an extra break and listening to his rants about the Journals. Dipper just wasn't up for infodumping at the moment, and he just got lost in thought on his breaks. On the morning of SummerWeen, Stan finally threw in the towel. He did the only thing he had left; asking Mabel what to do.

When he opened the door, Stan was met with Mabel trying to put a superhero suit on Waddles. She was dressed in similar attire, her cape dragging behind her. "Oh, hey Grunkle Stan! You come to see the best heros this side of the Falls kick some butt?"

Stan chuckled, shaking his head. He felt a bit bad for the pig, he doubted those tights were comfortable. Better Waddles than him, though. "Nah, I'll be quick. What should I do to get your brother to loosen up? Kid's been freakin' all week."

Mabel's eyes widened as he said this, her brain quickly piecing together the signs she hadn't noticed. "Crud…he has been anxious." She fidgeted with her hair, giving the pig a moment to nibble on his cape. "I normally talk him down, but if that hasn't worked…maybe make him laugh?"

Stan sighed as she said this. He considered himself a pretty funny guy, but his humor normally made Dipper groan or question his existence. Not the best for making Dipper laugh, though it always gets a chuckle out of himself

His thoughts wandered to the times he had made the kid snicker, landing on a few well-timed zings and one-liners. The last was when he had been messing around with Dipper in the gift shop. He poked his great-nephew's side, and he squealed. He hadn't done anything then, but now? Oh, it's perfect.

"Hey Mabel…your dorky brother is stupid ticklish, right?" She nodded, a smile slowly forming on her face as she figured out her Grunkle's intentions. Waddles nudged her arm, showing off the lovely slobber stain in his cape fabric. "Silly guy, now I gotta redo your cape! Grunkle Stan, do you think you can get Dipper to be less Dipper-ish by 6:30? Our costumes this year are super, heheh"

Stan rolled his eyes, his mischievous mind racing with ideas of how to get Dipper back to normal. Well, as normal as the tween gets. "Yeah, alright. If you hear girlish screaming, cheer me on." He shut the door behind him, leaving his grand-niece to her silliness. That kid never fails to make him smile.

Dipper was in the living room, a costume hung on the chair in front of him. Mabel's costume idea that summer was super heros, with him being the villain. It was actually kinda cool, with the utility belt of fake gadgets he and Mabel had put together. The only problem was him.

He was worried about putting the costume on. First off, it would mean going out and trick-or-treating with Mabel. Nothing's wrong with it, his brain was just telling him it's childish. There's also the fact that he's worried the Trickster might come back. Black licorice was bad enough before, but now he can't look at a stick without getting shivers. They very easily could've died.

Stan was creeping in the doorway, watching the tween's inner dilemma. If he wanted to be mean, he could've scared the crap out of him. But, showing a shocking amount of restraint, he knocked on the doorway. Stan walked over to him, ruffling the boy's hair. "Anybody home up there?"

Dipper, successfully snapped out of his daze, swatted at his Grunkle's hand. "Stan! Knock it off!" The older man chuckled, pulling his hand away and smirking down at the tween. That look…he knew that look. The look that meant Grunkle Stan was up to absolutely no good. "Stan…?"

He barely gave Dipper time to think before he snatched his great-nephew in his arms. It killed Stan's back, but it was worth it to hear the shocked yelp and protests from the kid. "Put me down! Stan- get off! Mabel!"

Stan flopped down in his recliner, holding Dipper in his lap. No help was coming for the boy. Mabel was in on it, as he quickly learned, and nobody else was at the Shack. It was just him, Stan, and the evil look on the older man's face as he wiggled his fingers. Crud.

"You worry too much, kid. You're gonna have more grays than me, and I put up with all'a you!" Those wiggling fingers were getting a bit too close to his stomach for comfort. Dipper squirmed, but with the way Stan held him, he was trapped. "Always thinkin' about these monsters and crazy creature things. You're so stuck in yer head, you didn't even notice the monster right in front of ya…"

He tazed Dipper's side, making him squeak at the unexpected touch. "Stahan, wait, plehehease-" He was so unbelievably screwed. "The TICKLE MONSTER!" Stan finally put his wiggling fingers on the boy's stomach, clawing and digging into the ticklish area.

Dipper squealed, shoving at his Grunkle's hands and writhing in his lap. His negative and anxious thoughts quickly faded to fuzzy, ticklish surprise. He hadn't expected this from Stan of all people. Mabel, absolutely, but Stan? He didn't really know how to react. "STAHAHAN! WHAHAHAT ARE YOUHU DOHOIHING?!"

"What's it feel like I'm doing, ya goofus? I'm tickling the snot outta ya. Now hold still." He spidered his fingers across his belly, making sure to get a few scratches in his belly button. "GEHEHET OFF! GRUHUNKLE STAHAHAN!"

Dipper kicked his legs, wishing the recliner was bigger. He barely had any room on Stan's lap, his legs nearly hanging off the armrest. Stan had him positioned so that his midsection was almost unprotectable, his arms practically pinned to his sides.

The tickling, as unexpected as it was, wasn't awful. He'd never tell the old man, but he was having a bit of fun. It was nice to let loose, to let his worrisome thoughts melt into giggles and squeaks.

The boy's laughter was, in Stan's eyes, adorable. It was nice to see the nervous kid laugh like that. Thinking of the night to come, he imagined the kids' costumes and candy-grab ideas. Candy...an evil idea bloomed in his mind. An evil, ticklish, awful idea. "I'm getting pretty hungry, Dipper. Might just have a quick snack…" He pulled up Dipper's shirt, waiting for the teen to catch on.

And catch on he did.

"Stahahan- Stan don't! Nonononoho!" Dipper's eyes went wide when he figured out Stan's plan. There's no way he could handle those. The tween desperately tried to get away, kicking out and trying to grab his Grunkle's hands.

His Grunkle easily pinned Dipper's hands, smirking down at him. It was almost too easy. Stan lowered his head, nibbling on his great-nephew's poor belly.

Dipper shrieked.

"NAHAHAHA! GRUHUNKLE STAHAHA- STAHAHAP!" He tossed his head back, kicking and thrashing under the ticklish nibbles. Stan's old man stubble wasn't helping. The scratchy texture made it so much worse.

Stan was enjoying himself. Hearing the kid's laughter reminded him of the stupid things he and his brother would do as kids, the fun they'd have. Before it all went south, they'd do this all the time. The best part was that he knew Dipper didn't mind it.

Just to be a jerk, he started making little "nom" noises as he nibbled the boy's stomach. Dipper twisted and shoved at his head, but Stan wouldn't budge. The tween resisted the urge to hit at Stan's head, instead gripping his silver hair. He didn't tug, but just grabbed on, needing something to do with his hands.

The nibbles traveled across his midsection, going from his stomach to his ribs, then back down to his belly button. Dipper was in stitches, the simple action reducing him to a cackling mess. He could barely think, his mind reeling at the assault on his nervous system. It wasn't bad, but it was mean.

Dipper managed to last for another two minutes before reaching his limit. The boy's laughter had taken on a breathy edge, his thrashing slowed with exhaustion. He patted the top of his Grunkle's head, tapping out.

Just like that, the torturous sensations stopped. Stan chuckled, raising his head and rubbing his great-nephew's midsection to try and ease the phantom tickles. Dipper curled into himself as he giggled out the leftover buzz. "Youhuhu…you suhuck…"

That got him a poke to the side. "Watch it, giggles." And Dipper, not having much of a choice, giggled. Stan let him go with a knowing smirk. The tween quickly slid off his lap, rubbing his sides. The clock read 5:30, just in time for him to get ready. "Your sister wants you dressed in an hour. Don't be late."

He left the room, leaving Dipper alone with his costume. Stan knew it wasn't a permanent fix. The boy was always stressing about something. He just hoped that the playful moment eased his worries for the night. Those kids deserve a good night.

The tween looked over at the suit, a small smile still on his face. The negative thoughts from before were gone, replaced with a light and happy feeling. He picked up the dark fabric, sliding the mask on over his red face. Maybe the night wouldn't be so bad after all…

#day 12 #gf tickle #lee!dipper #ticklish!dipper #ler!stan #ler!stanley #augtickletober2022 #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #gravity falls tickle #gravity falls #gf dipper #gf stanley #stanley pines #gravity falls fic

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luxaofhesperides · 1 year

Text

those who serve.

CHAPTER FOUR: a job.

read chapter one, two, three on tumblr or the entire fic on ao3.

10k+ words again..... i remain the queen of not shutting up <3

. . .

“Wait,” Dick says, reaching over to open the glove box, “Before we go, we need these.” He pulls out some hats, squished together to fit on top of the many CDs rattling around. He smooths out a dark blue baseball cap, then hands a black hat to Danny. “Disguises, kind of,” he explains.

Danny looks down at the hat in his hand, then back at Dick. Sure. Why not. He’ll wear a hat as a very bad disguise since Dick seems to think it’s important. He doesn’t really want to know the details as to why they need to do this, so Danny’s gonna roll with it.

He puts the hat on and looks at Dick for further direction.

Instead of getting any of that, Dick slips on a pair of sunglasses and grins at Danny. “Alright. Ready to brave the dangers of a Gotham shopping mall?”

“...Sure?”

“Great!” Dick kicks open his door and hops out. Danny follows much more sedately, getting out of the car more like a normal person, then closing it quietly. He takes a moment to look up at the mall, a large building with strings of lights hanging above the walkways. The parking lot is filling up quickly despite it being a weekday morning and people are bustling about, heading into stores or cafes.

It’s much bigger than the two malls in Amity Park. This is the kind of place Paulina and Star would be spending all their time at if they could, wandering around and buying whatever caught their eye.

Danny would have just hung out in the food court with Sam and Tucker, maybe caught a movie or wasted the hours away in the arcade.

Being here, without them, aches like a bruise. He would give anything to just be a normal teenager hanging out at the mall with his friends. He wouldn’t have to worry about ghosts or avoiding his parents or dreading going home because he’s too tired to fully dodge all of his parents’ weapons.

“Ready to go in?” Dick asks. He moves closer to Danny and his voice is much softer; it’s more gentle and concerned than excited, now.

Danny tries to plaster a smile onto his face, hide his true feelings and not ruin Dick’s day out. “Let’s go,” he says, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie just to have something to do with his hands. It’s better to focus on twisting the fabric than to think of the life he lost long before he ever ran away to this dimension.

He starts walking before Dick can grow any more concerned about Danny. They’re here for a reason and that’s to get Danny daily necessities so he can start working. It’s not for fun, it’s just an errand to run.

He doesn’t get too far before Dick is besides him, throwing an arm around his shoulder to keep him close.

“Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable,” Dick murmurs, “But we need to stick to each other. Just in case, you know?”

“Just in case of what?”

“Kidnappings, usually. Or so we don’t lose each other if we need to evacuate. Or to stick together if a rogue attacks.”

Sure. Why not. This is just what happens in Gotham, apparently.

“Okay,” Danny says, weakly. “How likely is any of that happening, by the way?”

Dick hums, considering the question as they reach the walkway, full of potted plants and a fountain, lined with small stores, cafes, and a bakery. “I’m not too sure about the numbers, that’s something you’ll have to ask Tim. But the risk is definitely higher with us, being part of the Wayne family and all.”

“I’m not part of the family, though.”

“You’re close enough that the distinction doesn’t really matter. Criminals will see you as an easy way to either access the Manor and family, or an easy target for ransom. Though the average citizen is still at risk too, so you’d have been in danger either way.”

Apparently, there was a point in having Tim and Bruce discuss insurance and kidnapping policies. For once, it’s not absurd rich people things; it’s a legitimate concern in Gotham.

“Anyways!” Dick says, smoothly moving along, “What do you want to get first? Clothes? Things for your room? Weapons?”

“Weapons?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re trained in whatever you’re interested in using.”

Danny side-eyes Dick as they enter the mall proper. “I prefer martial arts to weapons,” he says.

Dick just nods. “We can train you in that too. Whatever you want, Danny.”

“Let’s just get some clothes, first.”

Inside, the noise of the morning crowd echoes off the walls of the mall. The ceiling is high and lined with skylights that don’t do anything when most days in Gotham are cloudy. It’s the most people Danny’s been around in a while and all the noise and movement makes him jittery, anxious, and close to clawing his skin off.

“This way,” Dick says, lowering his voice. He easily guide Danny through the groups of people walking around the mall, heading towards a clothing store with dim lights and barely audible music playing. There aren’t many people in there and it’s quieter in the store. Quiet enough for him to feel like he can breathe without feeling his throat tighten with oncoming panic, at least.

“All good?”

Danny slips out from under Dick’s arm and takes a slow, steady breath. “I’m fine.”

“Alright.” Dick doesn’t push, but he clearly doesn’t believe that Danny’s fine. Which, yeah, he’s not and he’s clearly bad at hiding it if Dick can pick up on it immediately, but Danny also doesn’t want to talk about it ever. So Dick will just have to take all the bad lies Danny’s giving him and deal with it.

He moves around the store, hoping to stop the conversation from continuing. He idly flicks through the racks of clothing, searching for things that are in his size.

Most of the clothes in the store is more suited for Sam’s style, really. Danny doesn’t think he can really pull off fishnet tights, especially while working as a butler. He does grab some plain black shirts, both short sleeve and long sleeve, and a gray sweater.

“That’s all?” Dick frowns at the few pieces of clothing Danny’s taken, but he leads them to the cashier regardless of his disapproval. He also takes out his wallet and hands over a card before Danny can protest.

“I can pay,” he says, and Dick shrugs.

“Sure, but I have more money than I want to deal with. I’m more than happy to pay for you, Danny. Don’t worry about it.”

The cashier scans the items, bags them, and hands the receipt to Dick.

Her eyes widen when she does and she makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat. “You’re—!”

“Shhh,” Dick shushes her, a finger to his lips.

She presses her lips together tightly and nods.

That is… a weird reaction. Is she scared of Dick? Is Dick well known enough to the average citizen of Gotham that they clam up and get nervous when they see he’s around? What exactly is his role in the Wayne mob family?

He glances at Dick just in time to catch him lowering his sunglasses a bit to give the cashier a wink, then takes the receipt while Danny grabs the shopping bag and considers going invisible so he’s not seen near Dick any longer. But the cashier doesn’t seem scared anymore, not with the red on her cheeks and the smile she isn’t quite able to bite down.

“Is that going to happen often?” Danny asks as they exit the shop and back into the crowds of the mall, which are steadily growing louder as morning fades into afternoon.

“Hopefully not,” Dick answers, “We’re kinda big in Gotham, so I might get recognized. But that’s why I got disguises!”

“Disguises that barely work.”

“Well, I wanted a wig, but no one else let’s me have one. The few times I’ve bought some, they immediately go missing.”

“Can we leave and just order everything I need online?”

Dick sighs, looking over Danny with a critical eye. “If you really want to, I suppose we can. But part of the reason why we’re here right now is so that you can get used to Gotham. This is a busy place full of people and it’s the best way to acclimate you to the city that’s not throwing you at a rogue or a gang.”

It hits Danny then that this might be part of his butler training. A way to prove that he can handle himself and that the Wayne family mob won’t need to worry about him too much. The weak disguises might be to test if he can keep secrets and not blow Dick’s cover.

Would they do that to him?

Well… Danny can’t confidently say that they won’t, so it’s safer to assume that this is something they would do. Are actively doing, even.

He lets out a slow breath, rolls his shoulders back, and resolves himself to seeing this through. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s keep going.”

“That’s the spirit!” Dick grins, and Danny can’t help the way he twitches, biting down on a reflexive need to respond with no, I’m the spirit. Another downside of being in a new dimension where no one knows his secrets: everyone’s missing out on his death jokes. It’s a shame, really, because Danny is hilarious.

Dick leads him through the mall, keeping an arm around Danny’s shoulders to steer him through the crowd. Danny peeks into the stores they pass, hoping something will catch his interest so he can finish up with this errand and leave the mall sooner rather than later.

He stumbles to a stop when he spots a NASA shirt on a clothing rack, and a black hoodie displayed beside it, Ursa Major and Minor decorating the front.

“Hm? Find something you like?” Dick asks as he urges Danny in. He follows Danny’s gaze and makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “Here, let’s see if they have your size.”

He’s rummaging through the racks before Danny can respond, pulling out shirts to check their size. As soon as he finds a medium, he’s holding it out to Danny, who takes it without thinking, moving on autopilot.

“Wait,” he starts, “We don’t need to—”

“Of course we do! We’re here to build up your wardrobe. What’s the point if you’re not getting things you actually like?”

And then he grabs one of the hoodies for Danny too, as if to make a point.

Dick holds it up and looks at the design with a critical eye, then asks, “Do you like space?”

“Yeah,” Danny says. There’s so much more he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. This isn’t the time or place to start gushing about how much he loves space; he needs to buy what he needs and then leave. That’s all he needs to focus on.

“Well?” Dick prompts, “What do you like about it?”

“Can I just buy these and go?” Danny asks, “Talking about space is too distracting.”

“Oh. Well, I guess I can ask again later, yeah?” And Dick actually looks disappointed. He’s got this kicked puppy dog look that makes Danny feel incredibly guilty, but he won’t allow himself to be distracted. He’s on a mission and he’s going to see it through.

They spend another few minutes browsing that store. There’s more clothes here that’s to Danny’s taste and he pulls a few pairs of pants he can wear that don’t scream ‘teen hooligan’. Which mostly means there are no holes or rips in them. He checks the prices and tries not to wince at the prices; mall stores are always more expensive, and while it’s not a big deal to rich mob families, it is to Danny, who has spent most of his time in this dimension homeless and penniless.

The cashier of this store barely glances at them as they scan tags and stuff clothes into a large bag. They don’t notice anything about Dick when he shoves Danny’s hand down and holds out his own card, again, and pays.

Shockingly, Dick’s bad disguise works. Though it might just be because this store is much busier than the first gothic store they shopped in.

Danny hurries out of the store, hoping that he can stop here for the day. He doesn’t get his hopes up too high, though, when he catches sight of the way Dick’s eyeing the food court.

He’s trying to come up with excuses to avoid the area—full of people and noise and too much everything—when Dick’s smile suddenly falls and his eyes go cold as ice.

He grabs Danny a second before the first gunshot rings out.

Immediately, the mall is full of shouts and movement as people rush to get away; either to find a way out of the mall, or into a store where they can hide. More gunshots follow, and a skylight shatters, raining glass down onto the frantic crowd.

Dick grabs Danny’s arm and pulls him away from the food court. Danny keeps pace with him as they sprint through the mall, searching for safety.

Behind them, Danny can hear people screeching and laughing. Before them, at one of the mall’s entrances, he spots a group of people dressed in dark, torn clothing, and strange metal bands around their bicep. Some hold large guns while others have spiked baseball bats or machetes.

From the sounds if it, there’s a group at every entrance.

They’re trapped in.

Dick hisses a curse under his breath and ducks through the crowd, dragging Danny behind him, and ducks into a small space between two stores. There’s a door that leads to an employee only area, but it’s locked.

Most of the crowd goes quiet after that. Danny looks behind them to see people cowering in stores, frantically typing on their phones; he hopes at least one of them is able to contact someone who can help. A few are still out in the open, crouched behind benches and massage chairs, holding onto each other.

“Aww, don’t be so scared,” someone croons, “We ain’t gonna hurt you too much. So long as you give me your wallets, we’re all good.”

A robbery, Danny realizes, an extreme robbery.

He’s not a hero. He doesn’t want to be a hero when he doesn't need to be. There are, apparently, many heroes in this world who can help but none of them are here. It’s just Danny and a bunch of civilians, at the mercy of whoever this gang of thieves is.

It’s just Danny and Dick, stuck hidden away, because Dick is a bigger target than anyone else.

“We’re going to be fine, Danny,” Dick whispers. He’s tucking his phone back into his pocket and taking off his hat and sunglasses. “Don’t worry.”

Danny’s not worrying. He’s concerned for the safety of everyone else, but he’s not worried about himself. What are they going to do, kill him a second time? Fat chance.

The problem is that the only way Danny can do anything is by going ghost, and he can’t do that with Dick holding him back.

Outside their hiding spot, glass shatters and more gunshots go off. “Don’t be greedy now!” someone shouts, then cackles, “Just pass over what you’ve got in that cash register and we’ll be on our way.”

From farther away, someone says, “Don’t get smart with me,” and smashes a counter. From the sound of it, they actually smashed their fist through the counter.

Most people don’t have that kind of strength.

“Dick,” Danny says, and Dick shushes him.

“It’s fine. Help will be here soon.”

Danny focuses his hearing, trying to make sure no one is getting hurt or killed. The gunshots and destruction are just intimidation tactics. As long as people cooperate, this day won’t end with a body count. Footsteps get closer, loud against the tense stillness of the mall.

He shifts his weight, then steps forward, placing himself in front of Dick.

“Danny, what are you—”

“Dick.” He can hear the echo in his voice, the sound of something inhuman rising to the forefront. “Stay behind me.”

There’s no time for any warning, for any reassurance. Three gang members walk by and find them.

“Well look what we have here!” one of them jeers, swinging around a baseball bat, “Two little pigs tryin’ hide from us!”

“Come on out, piggies, before we have to drag you out,” another grins, all teeth.

The third is a large man who doesn’t seem very… cognizant. He twitches, breathing heavily as his eyes dart around. All three of them have a strange gleam in their eyes, one that reminds him of the mugger who went after Alfred.

Are they drugged?

Danny slowly steps forward, eyes fixed on them. They make condescending whistles and clicks, treating him like a scared animal. They don’t know how tightly Danny’s holding onto his humanity, how badly he wants to let go and make them beg for mercy.

A hand grabs his. “Don’t, Danny.”

“Well, shit!” one of the gang members says, “That’s a Wayne! How much do ya think he’ll sell for?”

They don’t wait any longer. They rush in and grab Danny by his shirt, dragging him out. Danny takes a moment to glance behind him to see Dick caught by one, arms twisted behind his back. There’s a furrow in his brow, a look of barely concealed panic on his face, and he catches a single comment about making good use of a pretty boy like him before the rush in his ears drowns it all out.

The first one doesn’t even have a second to understand what’s happening before he’s on the ground, knocked out cold. Danny slips up, his humanity pushed back, and claws at the end of his fingers cut through the skin of the his temple, leaving the gang member to bleed onto the floor.

Cold mist wafts out of his mouth and he runs his tongue over the sharp fangs in his mouth.

“Danny, don’t!” Dick cries, and then he’s twisting his body into a strange shape, easily slipping out of the grasp of the gang member who holds him. He swings a kick up, knocking them out quickly, and reaches for Danny but Danny’s already moving.

The big guy slams his fists into the place where Dick was standing. Danny hisses at him a few feet away, dropping Dick back onto the ground, safe and sound.

“Touch him and I’ll rip every bone out of your hand,” he growls.

The big guy doesn’t care. The big guy might not even understand what Danny’s saying, too lost in his drug induced delirium. He charges, bellowing, and Danny grabs one of his arms and throws him onto the floor. Before he can get up again, Danny slams his foot onto his chest and holds him down, slowly pressing the air out of his lungs. He’s baring his teeth in a snarl, leaning closer, ready to rip into his flesh and make him cry when Dick smashes a baseball bat into the big guy’s head and knocks him out.

Danny doesn’t let up. Doesn’t move at all, still too lost in the instinct to protect, to end the threat through any means necessary, to feel more than a distant glimmer of panic. He knows he doesn’t look very human at the moment, can feel his more monstrous, ghostly features take over.

But Dick doesn’t look scared. He has his hands up, carefully reaching for Danny.

“Hey, come on. It’s fine. We’re fine. Help is almost here.” Another gunshot rings out, breaking the silence, and Dick glances over to the entrance. “Help is here, actually.”

“Either you give up now or I make you wish you had given up. Make a choice, fuckers! I don’t have any patience left for you.” The voice that speaks is strangely mechanical, and when Danny looks over to take note of this new player, he has to wonder why anyone would ever wear a full face red helmet.

“That’s Red Hood,” Dick says, “He’ll take care of them and get everyone out safe, okay? So can you come over here, please?”

Red Hood. Was this one of Gotham’s heroes? This is one he hasn’t heard about yet, but Dick doesn’t seem all that worried, so Danny steps off of the big guy’s chest and allows Dick to pull him over to the side.

No one pays any attention to them once Red Hood throws himself into the fray, a whirlwind of violence as he takes out every single gang member who rushes at him. A few try to run away, but well placed shots take out their knees and leave them curled up on the ground in pain.

He catches a few whispers from a nearby store, as someone says, “God, he’s hot. I kinda want him to punch me like that.”

Danny tries not to make a face at that because 1) he’s dealt with the Phan Club and he’s used to those kinds of comments and 2) Red Hood is literally punching people into the ground. With great force. A lot of violence. The brutality with which Red Hood is dealing with the gang is honestly impressive.

While he doesn’t want to be punched like that, he does want to know how to do something similar. It would be a good move to add to his arsenal.

It takes only a few minutes to deal with all the gang members on this end of the mall. The atmosphere relaxes and Danny sees more than a few people slump over in relief, leaning against walls and collapsing on each other.

“You’ll be fine now,” Red Hood says, “Just sit tight for the police to get these guys, and then you’ll be out of here.”

A few people call out their thanks as he walks by, and Danny thinks that he’s going to leave, deal with the other gang members scattered around the mall. But a few more steps and it’s clear that Red Hood is making a beeline right for him.

Tensing, Danny shoves Dick behind him, feeling a growl begin to build up in his throat.

“Woah, woah, Danny! It’s fine! Red Hood’s not going to hurt us!” Dick hurries to assure, trying to step out from behind Danny. He doesn’t manage to take more than a single step in any direction before Danny is herding him back.

Red Hood slows down as he approaches, no longer marching towards them with danger written in every line of his body. “Huh,” he says as he comes to a stop just a few feet in front of Danny. He keeps one hand on his gun, ready to pull it out of its holster at any moment. “Dick,” he greets, but it sounds less like Dick’s name and more like an insult.

“Hood! So glad you got my message.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not every day I get to save a Grayson in distress. You owe me for this, by the way. I could be home watching telenovelas right now.”

“Aw, come on, Hood, would you really abandon me like that?”

Red Hood laughs, and the hamlet makes it come out staticy and unnatural. “I’d shoot you for fun, Dickface.”

Danny hisses at Red Hood and delights in the way he shifts nervously, not stepping back but clearly apprehensive. He should be nervous; threatening someone under Danny’s protection right in front of him is bold, to say the least.

“It’s okay, Danny,” Dick says again, trying to soothe him. He doesn’t try to move around Danny again, just stays and puts a hand on Danny’s shoulder. The single point of contact grounds him enough to pull his ghostly features back partway, leaving only the toxic green of his eyes and the fangs in his mouth. “Red Hood’s not going to hurt me. He saved us, didn’t he? He’s one of Gotham’s heroes, he’s a good guy.”

“Excuse you, Dick, but I am a crime lord not a hero.”

“A crime lord who helps people! Who is considered Crime Alley’s hero! Just admit it, you’re one of the good guys.”

Red Hood being a crime lord is much more believable than him being a hero. It also makes the familiarity between him and Dick seem less strange; surely, as a crime lord, he’s dealt with the Wayne Mob before. They’ve probably made deals between themselves and done super illegal things together. Dick is the eldest Wayne child, of course he’s friends with crime lords like Red Hood.

The hero thing is something he takes with a grain of salt. From the sounds of things, it’s really just a matter of perspective, and Danny is solidly on the side of not a hero. Sure he saved them, but he could have just had beef with this gang to begin with and decided to get rid of them when he had the chance. He’s like Red Huntress in that way: focused more on attacking threats than protecting the people in danger.

“Hey, kid,” Red Hood says, looking down at the big guy Danny took out, “Are you sure you’re human?”

“Oh my God, Hood, you can’t just ask people that!” Dick groans, slumping onto Danny’s back.

Red Hood crosses his arms. He doesn’t look away from Danny. “It’s a valid question. No one normal can just knock down a guy like this so easily. You take any drugs?”

Danny blinks, thrown by the sudden question. “No?”

Red Hood tilts his head. “Are you being drugged by someone else?”

“Definitely not. At least, not that I’m aware of.”

“Wait,” Dick says, “You think—”

“Well, these guys,” Red Hood kicks the big guy, “have been running around Gotham hopped up on Venom. Or something close to it.”

“Have you talked to Batman about it?”

“Why the fuck would I do that? This is shit in my territory. This is affecting my people. The big bad Bat can keep his nose out of this. It’s my case, alright.”

Dick shrugs, and Danny shifts, trying to keep balanced under the movement. “It’s not staying in your territory, though. They came here in the middle of the day. And speaking of the day, is Signal here?”

“He’s taking care of the other side of the mall.”

“And he’s alright on his own?”

“Relax, he’s a big boy, he can handle himself. If he needed any help, he’d let me know.”

Dick pulls Danny back, smoothly stepping to the side so they stand together, Dick’s arm heavy around Danny’s shoulders, clearly holding him in place. “Signal is another one of Gotham’s heroes. He’s our daylight hero,” Dick explains.

He remembers Duke mentioning Signal at dinner. “Duke likes him, right?” Danny asks, “Signal and… Nightlight? Nighthawk? Something like that.”

“Nightwing,” Dick corrects with a strained smile. Red Hood snorts, and quickly clears his throat to act as if he wasn’t about to laugh when Dick shoots him a poisonous glare.

“Yeah, him.”

“Well, as fun as this has been, I think it’s time for us to go! Bye, Hood, try not to cause too much of a mess once we leave.”

“Don’t worry,” Red Hood says, “I’ll make sure the blood is easy to clean up.”

“Great! Bye!”

And with that, Dick steers Danny away, turning their backs on the dangerous, gun-wielding crime lord. They go back to where they were originally hiding and instead of stopping at the locked door, Dick kicks it open and keeps walking. There’s no time to ask questions when Dick is rushing them through the back, following the green signs pointing towards the emergency exit.

It’s a relief to be back outside. A few rays of sunlight manage to get past the gray clouds that cover the sky, and all the noise and chaos of the mall suddenly feels far away. Sirens fill the city as police cars speed down streets, heading their way, but they’re not here yet.

“Sorry about your first day out being such a mess,” Dick says, “We can try again some other day.”

“I’d really rather just do some online shopping.”

Dick laughs, shaking his head. “Totally fair, after today. C’mon, let’s go home.”

. . .

The foyer is spotless. Danny can’t help but feel proud, even if Alfred did most of the work. The section that he handled, after Alfred showed him which cleaning supplies to use and the necessary steps to ensure everything was properly cleaned, is tidy and almost sparkling.

It’s surprisingly enjoyable work. He’s always hated cleaning, from his own room to any place his parents tried out a new invention or did experiments. But this? Cleaning the manor with Alfred? It’s actually fun.

Seeing everything come together after all their hard work is just as rewarding.

He’s glad he’s allowed to wear casual clothes; there’s no way he can do any cleaning in a suit and have it come out stainless and clean. Alfred probably uses his special magic to remain put together no matter what he does.

“Very good, Danny,” Alfred says once he looks over Danny’s section of the foyer. “You pick on everything so quickly. Soon I’ll have nothing left to teach you.”

“I’m not that good, Alfred, you don’t need to lie. Besides, it’s just cleaning. I’m not coming up with meal plans and organizing events and all the way you do.”

“And you’ll find that those tasks are just as easy to complete once you know how to go about them. Don’t discredit yourself, Danny, you’re an incredibly smart young man.”

Danny ducks his head, bashful, and shrugs. “I’m really not, but… Thanks.”

“Come now. With everyone out of the manor, we can tidy up all the spaces they usually occupy. Let us begin in the family den.”

It’s not like they have anything else to do. For once, the manor is empty of everyone but them so there’s no one Alfred needs to tend to. He doesn’t need to worry about preparing large lunches, either, when Danny is still slowly recovering his appetite.

The family den is one of the rooms that Danny can find on his own, so he doesn’t trail after Alfred, helplessly lost. It’s a nice change of pace. They stop once on the way to grab a vacuum and a duster from a small supply closet in the hall. Danny grabs the vacuum before Alfred can and carries it the rest of the way, feeling inordinately pleased at being able to help Alfred before he can insist on doing everything on his own.

The door is already open when they arrive. It’s one of the few doors in the manor that is almost never closed, except for when they have a lot of food out and don’t want any pets stealing some, according to Alfred. Danny has yet to see any pets, but he’s looking forward to it. There’s so many places they could be hiding and it has Danny glancing around everywhere he goes, hoping to catch at least one of them. He’s hoping for one of the dogs. Maybe a cat.

Damian is the one who primarily takes care of the pets, so Danny doesn’t get to have that responsibility, which he’s only a little upset about. It’s fine, really.

He misses Cujo.

There’s a lot he didn’t realize he was going to lose when he ran away. It just hadn’t been on his mind, not when Jazz was yelling at their parents, and Jack and Maddie were shooting at him, Fenton Thermos at the ready to trap him again. There wasn’t any time to focus on anything besides the panic, the pressing need to go as far away as possible, the fear fear fear taking hold of him and leaving room for nothing else.

It was Jazz who had opened the portal, who screeched and threw things at their parents, creating a distraction as she pretended to be afraid of the ghost who had escaped. But it was Danny who flew in, thinking please take me away to someplace they can’t hurt me.

The Ghost Zone is strange. It’s only a part of the Infinite Realms. More than ghosts exist within that space, living within the fabric that holds the universe together. Full of that much ectoplasm and emotion and constant movement, it’s like nothing else. Danny didn’t know before that moment, hadn’t had the time to realize it until it was too late, that the Infinite Realms are alive.

It heard his plea. It reached out to him, crooning a dizzying song that shook every string crossing the universe, and gave him what he asked for.

Danny didn’t remember much after that. He felt his core spark, wrapped in the embrace of the Infinite Realms, and then he was taken away. The brief flashes he does have of the journey don’t help him piece together what happened. All he has is the fading memory of being surrounded by stars, of aurora borealis dancing around him, of a sudden cold as he was ripped away from home and left in someplace foreign.

He woke up in this universe where he doesn’t exist. Where no one he knows exists in any way. There are no ghosts, no ectoplasm, not Fentons or GIW or Amity Park.

There’s no one, and Danny stares down at the floor, clutching the vacuum in his hands as he’s hit by the sudden grief of losing everyone he’s ever known.

He knows that there’s no way for him to return to his universe. What was once his home is far out of reach. He’ll never see anyone he loves again. Not just Cujo, but Jazz and Tucker and Sam. Frostbite. Pandora. Even Walker and Wulf.

“Danny?” A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, the touch light and gentle. “Are you quite alright?”

He sucks in a shuddering breath and tries to plaster on a smile. It falls flat, and he gives up completely. “I don’t think I can ever go back home,” he confesses, and blinks back the burn of oncoming tears.

“That’s alright,” Alfred says, “You have a home here.”

It’s a nice thought, but it’s not the home he wants. Maybe one day it can be; he’s staying for Alfred, but maybe he’ll want to keep coming back for the other members of the Wayne family. They’ve been nice to him so far, despite being part of a mob, and he thinks he can come to like all of them given enough time.

But none of them will ever be enough to fill the void that comes from the loss of Jazz, Tucker, and Sam.

“May I ask what brought this on? Is it because this is the family den?”

Danny latches onto the suggestion. It makes more sense than thinking about dogs and missing his own ghost pet. And missing his own section of the Infinite Realms. He shrugs and says, “Yeah, a little. Sorry for getting emotional all of a sudden. I’ll just… start cleaning.”

He glances up to catch Alfred’s frown, but gets to work before he can be told to take a break or, worse, talk about his feelings.

He goes straight to an outlet in the wall to plug in the vacuum; it’s an old model with a cord, and he wonders if this is just what Alfred prefers when he’s sure that cordless vacuums exist. It can’t be that the Waynes don’t want to get Alfred decent cleaning equipment because they all defer to him despite him being their butler.

“If you’ll allow me,” Alfred says, grabbing hold of the vacuum before Danny can protest. “These settings,” he changes a few settings on the vacuum, “are best for cleaning carpeted surfaces.”

And then he gets right to it, leaving Danny behind.

While Danny’s plan to just do stuff before Alfred can tell him otherwise works, he forgot to account for the fact that Alfred can, at any moment, hit him with a reverse Uno..

Alfred makes his way through the family den fairly quickly, moving in straight lines across the room. Danny trails after him, making sure the cord doesn’t get caught on anything or tangled, and takes hold of the duster to clean off picture frames on the wall.

One frame tilts as he dusts it, and Danny reaches out to fix it when he pauses. There’s a strange sound of something scraping against the wall. It doesn't sound anything like a frame, so Danny looks back to Alfred to make sure he’s turned away, then slowly lifts up the frame.

Stuck to the back is two daggers in sheaths decorated lightly with gold accents.

None of my business, Danny thinks, and quickly lays the frame to rest flat against the wall, straightened out.

He rolls the duster down from where it was resting in the crook of his elbow and into his hand. He twirls it around once, spots a flurry of dust falling off of it, and resolves not to do that again.

He’ll… get the handle of keeping things clean eventually.

The vacuum cuts off suddenly, and the silence that follows rings a little in Danny’s ears.

“Danny,” Alfred calls out, “Would you mind lifting the couch so I can clean underneath it?”

“Sure,” Danny says without thinking. He reaches the couch and leaves the duster on the edge of the coffee table. He moves to grab the couch and start lifting it when he realizes that couches are heavy and most people are unable to lift one on their own.

He glances at Alfred. “Umm…”

“You may use whatever powers you have at your disposal,” Alfred says very casually. Danny swears he can feel his heart stop at the words. It’s not that he’s been very good at keeping his ghostliness hidden, but it was mostly used for fights and intimidation, but he was hoping no one would talk about it and they could all just ignore it.

Whatever expression is on his face must be bad because Alfred visibly softens. He doesn’t move to touch Danny again, which is a relief because he feels like jumping out of his own skin and disappearing. Instead, he sets the vacuum down and gives Danny his full attention.

“I am well aware of the fact that you are a meta.” Again, what is a meta? He heard it at dinner with the Waynes, but he hasn’t gotten an explanation. So he can’t say that he is a meta, but he also can’t say that he isn’t. “You don’t need to worry. The Wayne family is very good at keeping secrets.” There’s a hint of a laugh in his voice.

That didn’t sound funny or reassuring, it just sounded a little like a threat. The Waynes probably are good at keeping secrets, such as where they hid the bodies of those who were foolish enough to cross them. Danny really doesn’t want any details.

“Metas are protected, and I will never force you to reveal any details about your powers to anyone, including me. But if you have these powers, then it will be good to use them. Cleaning and other small tasks are a good way of practicing with your powers and giving you greater control of them.”

It takes a moment for Danny to process the words, and another minute for his brain to fully reboot after understanding what Alfred’s attempting to do.

He’s trying to train Danny on how to use his powers through simple, every day tasks. This is Danny’s Karate Kid moment, but instead of learning how to fight with wax on wax off, he’s learning how to butler.

Which might be the same thing in Gotham, according to the things he’s heard.

“Okay,” he says weakly, “Sounds good.” And then, instead of lifting the couch, he turns it intangible and invisible so Alfred can vacuum straight through it.

“Oh my,” Alfred says, eyebrows rising at the display of his powers.

“The couch is still here, you can just… ignore it while I’m touching it.”

Efficient as always, Alfred doesn’t let this throw him off his rhythm. He flicks the vacuum back on and continues cleaning, calming walking through the couch as if he does this all the time. Even Jazz always hesitated before walking through anything he made intangible, unable to help it. Butlers are just built different, apparently.

As soon as he cleans the floor underneath the couch, he nods to Danny who takes his cue to release the couch from his powers. It pops back into the visible spectrum, fully solid and intact.

“Would you mind fluffing the cushions and folding the blankets?”

Danny salutes Alfred and gets to it, shaking out each blanket out before folding them, taking the time to make sure each corner lines up and all the edges are straight and even. He leaves them thrown over the back of the couch, piled on top of each other, ready for the next Wayne to collapse onto the couch and bundle up for a movie.

By the time he’s finished and is satisfied with his work, Alfred has finished vacuuming the entire room. It’s a large room and Alfred hadn’t exactly been rushing through it, so Danny’ not quite sure how he got it done so quickly. It keeps surprising him, how competent Alfred is. No one else he’s ever met has been this put together or skilled, especially in the realm of domestic work.

Alfred gathers up the cord of the vacuum and looks over the family den with a critical eye. When he nods, satisfied with the state of it, Danny lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Shall we head to the kitchen for lunch, Danny?” he asks, reaching down the lift up the vacuum. Which is unacceptable! Danny carried it in and he’ll carry it out.

He uses a bit of flight to cross the distance between them faster, not held back by friction. He swipes the vacuum from Alfred’s hand and gives him a cheerful grin. “Sure! Now’s a great time for a break, anyways.”

They had spent the morning doing laundry, which mostly consisted of separating everything into different loads and starting the washer. The clothesline strung up outside is primarily for bedsheets and blankets, so they didn’t even need to wait a long time for clothes to dry. Even folding everything and putting them in piles based on whose clothes they were didn’t take more than an hour between them. It wasn’t intensive work, as most of it was just waiting around, drinking tea and talking to each other.

Even cleaning barely put a dent in Danny’s energy levels. He hasn’t done enough to be hungry quite yet, but the thought of eating isn’t as uncomfortable as it once was.

Progress. No matter how small it is.

Hell, soon he might even be able to start asking for snacks in between meals. That will probably have Alfred weeping with joy. Internally, of course, seeing how he’s an old British guy who keeps most of his strong emotions hidden behind the facade of professional calmness.

But while he may be fine on eating for a few more hours, Alfred needs to sit down and have lunch. It didn’t feel like it, but they did get a lot of housework done. They did it together, which cut down on how long each chore took, and Danny can’t fathom how Alfred has kept this manor running by himself all these years.

It’s so much ground to cover for one person, especially one as old as Alfred.

And since he’s busy taking care of everyone, who takes care of him?

Danny, now. He’s determined to return the kindness Alfred’s shown him tenfold.

He’s cemented the location of the hallway closet now. Everything is organized neatly within and it takes barely half a minute to put everything away, bodily blocking Alfred from doing anything to help.

“I will say, I’m unused to having so much free time,” Alfred chuckles, “You are incredibly efficient. You’ll be taking over in no time.”

“As if I could ever replace you, Alfred. Besides, you’re the best cook around! No way will I ever be able to compete against you in the kitchen.”

“Don’t discount yourself so soon. You’ve only recently begun your cooking journey. I have no doubt that you will take to it as quickly as everything else.”

Danny thinks back to the Fenton kitchen, full of tech and wires and scrap metal and tools scattered around. He thinks of food coming back to life, of needing to keep chains and padlocks in one of the cabinets just in case, of constant ecto-contamination. Their house would fail every single safety inspection to exist.

That kitchen wasn’t safe to cook in, and due to that, nothing cooked in it was safe. Most of what his parents made was edible! But it definitely wasn’t safe.

“If you say so,” Danny says, trying not to grimace. He hopes his own halfa biology won’t lead to a food contamination. It’s never happened before, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

Maybe he could brainstorm some safety measures with Alfred. Just in case.

Unfortunately for him, the very thought of discussing his halfa status and nonhuman biology makes him feel nauseous. Alfred is kind and clearly wants the best for Danny, but in that case, what he considers to be best for Danny might be handing him over to scientists or doctors to learn more about him and it’ll be like he never left his parents at all.

“Come now, Danny, it’s time we work on your confidence in the kitchen,” Alfred says, already turning on his heel and walking down the hallway with purpose.

Danny tries to shake all thoughts of violent hotdogs out of his head and hurries to follow, keeping close to Alfred until the halls begin to look more familiar. Being within the walls of Wayne Manor doesn’t feel so intimidating, but it is hard to be intimidated by a place when he’s helping clean it.

The steady disappearance of his anxiety around staying with Waynes is nice. He’s tired of being scared and he hasn’t felt comfortable anywhere like this since before his accident.

And he’s barely run into anything involving their mob business! That’s more than he’s gotten from Vlad or his parents. They’re actually sticking to the conditions he set, including the keep me out of shady shit one.

Maybe Jazz was onto something when she was lecturing him about enforcing and respecting boundaries. This is great.

This job could end up being really good for him. More than he ever expected.

“Do you have anything in mind for what you’d like for lunch?” Alfred asks as they enter the kitchen.

Danny shrugs. “Anything’s fine, really.”

“I would appreciate an actual answer, Danny.”

“Then… how about something easy to make? So I can try my hand at making my own lunch.”

Alfred nods once, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Something simple. Perhaps a sandwich?”

“Yeah, a sandwich sounds great.” He doesn’t say that he already knows how to make a sandwich; pretty much everyone knows that much. It’s just slapping various ingredients in between two slices of bread. Easy. But if that’s what Alfred wants to make, then that’s what they’ll make.

“Let us begin by going to the garden.”

The thought of going outside perks him up, and Danny’s by the door even before Alfred is. The small vegetable garden Alfred’s cultivated is just outside the kitchen, organized into raised beds full of crop.

He accepts the gardening gloves Alfred holds out to him. They’re large on his hands, but not enough to hinder him as he kneels next to the tomato plants. He watches carefully as Alfred clips off ripe tomatoes, carefully holding them as he positions the garden clippers above the stems.

Each tomato is perfectly round and red and he’s half tempted to bite into one just to see if it tastes as good as it looks. As if hearing his thoughts, Alfred drops one into Danny’s hand.

“Go on,” Alfred prompts, and Danny looks up from where he’s been staring at the tomato.

“Huh?”

“Eat it. I can see that you want to.”

Danny flushes and moves to give it back, caught. “Sorry.”

“No need, Danny. I have helped raised quite a few children and teenagers in my time. I know to offer some of the crop when they accompany me out to the garden.”

He should give it back. He’s here to help Alfred, not add to his workload. He should be focused on working because this is his job, the first and only one he’s ever had, and he doesn’t want to mess it up.

But no one else is here at the manor. It’s just him and Alfred and Alfred has given him permission. So Danny takes off one of the gloves to hold the tomato up to his mouth, thanks Alfred quietly, then carefully bites into the tomato.

His carefulness doesn’t matter at all when the tomato is as juicy as it is. He startles and leans forward to let the tomato juice drip off his chin onto the ground instead of onto his clothes. Besides him, he can hear Alfred chuckling lightly as he sets all the tomatoes he’s gathered into a large, woven basket.

“How is it?”

“This is the best tomato I’ve ever eaten,” Danny says, taking another bite. “Ho’ do you do thi’?”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, Danny,” Alfred reprimands lightly. “I’ve simply had many years of experience tending to vegetable crops in this garden. I know very well what works and what doesn’t. Though the garden has gotten smaller over the years, it is still one of my proudest works.”

He finishes the tomato and shakes his hand to get some of the juice off. He tries to wipe his face off, but it’s hard when he doesn’t have anything to clean up with, so he settles with getting the rest of the drops off and resolves to clean up properly once they’re inside again.

Alfred stands slowly, his knees clicking, and Danny winces sympathetically. He takes hold of the basket for Alfred and rests it in the crook of his elbow.

“Spinach or cucumbers?” Alfred asks suddenly.

Danny blinks at Alfred, then thinks about it. He doesn’t eat much of either, but he’s heard Sam talk about how cooking spinach makes it shrink to the point of there being no spinach. Cucumber would probably go easier, so he says, “Cucumbers. Why?”

“That’s what we will get next to make lunch with.”

Are there cucumber sandwiches? Is that a thing? If it is, Danny’s never hear of it, but he trust Alfred to make it good.

Alfred leads the way to a shadier portion of the vegetable garden where long tendrils full of dark green leaves twist their way around a metal trellis. Hanging from the vines are cucumbers in various stages of growth; some are large and heavy, while others are still small and not quite green, covered in bumps.

“Why don’t you pick a few, Danny?”

“How do I know if it’s ripe?”

“Look for ones that are large and have a good color to them. The less visible bumps in the skin, the better.” Alfred holds on up as an example, then cuts it with the gardening clipper and lays it into the basket besides the tomatoes.

Danny takes the clippers and begins shifting through the leaves and vines, looking over all the cucumbers he finds with a critical eye. He finds one that looks good close to the dirt and takes it in his hand to look over. Alfred doesn’t stop him as he lifts the clippers, so he figures it’s good enough and adds it to the basket.

“How many?” he asks, finding another cucumber ready to be picked.

“As many as you like. We can always get more later.”

Just to be safe, Danny gets five cucumbers. This lunch may be for just the two of them, but the rest of the family requires a lot more food. Whatever’s left over after Danny eats can be used in other dishes for the Wayne family.

He has no doubt they’ll be stopping in the kitchen first as soon as they return. With cooking like Alfred’s around, even Danny would be visiting the kitchen often in the hopes of sneaking a few bites of what he’s making.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to by virtue of being Alfred’s sous chef.

They don’t get anything else out in the garden, leaving with their small basket of fresh produce. He’s looking forward to seeing what Alfred can make with these just as he’s starting to look forward to eating.

He’s not super hungry, but that doesn’t mean he can’t eat as much as a regular human.

They return to the kitchen after putting away their gardening gloves into the small storage box by the door, and Danny sets the basket down on the counter as Alfred goes through the fridge, getting ingredients.

As he’s pulling out plates and a butter knife, he asks, “Would you mind setting out a small frying pan onto the stove?”

“Sure!” Danny chirps, then looks through the cabinets below the counter until he finds what he needs. He sets the frying pan out just as Alfred’s pulling the bread box closer from where it was placed against the wall.

“Now,” Alfred begins, “This isn’t quite a sandwich, but it is very easy to make. You may adjust everything to match your own preferences, or the preferences of others.” He pulls out two slices of bread and sets them on the counter.

“Wait, don’t we need a cutting board?”

“A very good observation,” Alfred says. “But not in this kitchen. When it was remodeled many years ago, I changed the countertops. Instead of granite or marble, these are butcher block counters, which are used as cutting boards.”

“So the entire counter is a cutting board.”

“Precisely.”

With that, he grabs the butter knife to cut a small slab of butter to drop into the pan. “I will be teaching you how to make bruschetta and crostini. These are toasted breads that come with a variety of toppings. We will stick to a classic bruschetta and a salmon, cucumber, cream cheese crostini.”

Alfred pulls open one draw to reveal a knife block and wide range of knives, all different sizes.

“For smaller and softer ingredients like the ones we will be using, you may use a smaller knife. A medium size will be best.” He takes hold of his own knife and Danny gauges its size before grabbing one that seems to be similar.

He sets the knife down on the counter, keeping the blade pointed away from him, and grabs the basket to place in front of them, easy to reach. He follows Alfred’s lead and grabs a tomato, washing it off lightly in the sink, then sets it down in front of him.

“When you are using a knife, always keep the fingers of your nondominant hand curled so you do not accidentally cut them.” Alfred demonstrates, holding his tomato in place with his left hand, curling his fingers so he makes a loose fist. He slides the flat blade of the knife against his knuckles to show how it can’t cut his fingers, then waits for Danny to do the same.

As soon as he does, he’s showing Danny how to cut tomatoes without squishing them or getting juice everywhere. Then he instructs Danny on how to peel cucumbers and cut them.

Once they get everything slices and ready, Alfred flicks on the stove and moves the slab of butter around to make sure it coats a much of the inside as possible. He then takes a slice of bread and places it into the pan.

“We don’t want it toasted too much. Lightly on both sides will do.”

Danny hesitantly accepts the spatula held out to him and hopes he doesn’t make Alfred waste bread. His attempts at making toast without a toaster usually leads to at least one side being charcoal black.

But Alfred is patient and attentive, instructing Danny when to flip each piece of bread to ensure they are lightly golden on both sides. He goes over what to add to make bruschetta, what to add to make crostini, and allows Danny to assemble both.

It doesn’t look very pretty, but it tastes amazing when they sit down to eat.

“You’re a really good teacher,” Danny says, finishing up the last of the bread.

“Thank you,” Alfred smiles. “It helps that I have a wonderful student.”

“Can you teach me more? It can be later if we need to do more cleaning or something.”

“All of that can wait until tomorrow. Would you like to try your hand at baking?”

Danny lights up, grinning, and says, “Yeah! Can we make cookies?” Cooking is one thing, but baking in another. He’s not half bad at baking when he can muster up the motivation to make things. Following recipes is easy and unlike with cooking, baking requires precision and sticking to what’s written. He doesn’t know how to make too many things, but brownies were easy for him during the few times he actually baked them.

“Of course. Shall we make chocolate chip or would you like to do something else?”

“Chocolate chip to start, I think. And then we can see what else we can make, if that’s okay?”

“That sounds perfectly fine,” Alfred says, “Let’s clean up first before we get started.”

Danny all but leaps out of his chair, eager to start, and gathers their dishes to put in the sink. He washes as Alfred takes hold of a dish towel and gets to work drying, putting everything away where it belongs.

The time spent baking goes by quickly after that. It’s much easier and less stressful than cooking, and each time a batch of cookies comes out picture perfect, Danny can’t help but grin.

They’re all placed into various containers once they cool, each one filling up with just half a batch. The chocolate chip cookies where then changed into double chocolate cookies, followed by jam cookies and lemon cookies. The smell of it all fills the air and Danny doesn’t bothering smothering the pride he feels when he catches sight of all the cookies covering the counter.

From there, it’s easy to transition into preparing for dinner as the late afternoon hour brings with it a promise of everyone returning home.

He puts his newly learned cutting skills to use as he helps Alfred make a potato gratin to accompany the carbonara he’s making for dinner. He’s even able to make the salad by himself, although it didn’t require much except cutting and tossing once he added the dressing.

The first people to arrive back in the manor are Damian and Bruce. They appear in the doorway of the kitchen suddenly, and Danny only had a split second to realize that he’s being watched before Bruce greets them both. The sound of his voice makes Danny twist around to look at him, make sure he’s not too close.

Bruce doesn’t move from near the door. He only goes a few steps into the kitchen, enough to get close to the island where the last batch of cooling cookies lays. Damian looks over Alfred, then turns his sharp gaze to Danny, studying him.

He leaves without a word and Danny can only hope Damian wasn’t looking for anything nonhuman about Danny. That’s really the only reason he can think of to explain to scrutiny, and he doesn’t like it.

“Did you make these?” Bruce asks, picking up a lemon cookie. It’s supposed to be dusted with powdered sugar, but they hadn’t cooled enough before both he and Alfred got caught up in preparing dinner.

Danny nods, a small thing, barely noticeable, but it makes Bruce smile. Not a big, theatric smile meant to distract. This one is smaller, more genuine and soft.

“May I?” He lifts the cookie up, waiting for permission.

Bruce is the master of the house. He doesn’t need to ask for permission. It’s not like any of the cookies are for Danny, anyways. He doubts he has the stomach to handle one, let alone the five batches he made.

He glances at Alfred, hoping the butler will take over. But Alfred simple keeps himself busy at the stove, firmly keeping himself out of the conversation.

“Um, sure,” Danny answers, hesitantly.

“Thank you,” Bruce says, and takes a bite. Danny watches him carefully for any signs that it’s bad, that he doesn’t like it, that he’s disappointed that Danny doesn’t live up to Alfred’s skills. But he doesn’t. He eats it calmly, then grabs a second on. “These are delicious.”

Danny’s shoulders slump; he hadn’t realized how tense waiting for an answer had made him.

“If that is all, Master Bruce,” Alfred cuts in, “Do go wash up. Try not to spoil your appetite before dinner.”

“Alright. Do you know if Tim is going to be here for dinner tonight?”

“I haven’t heard from him today. Perhaps you should reach out to him if you would like him to be here.”

“Right. Right, I’ll… do that. And Danny,” he turns his attention away from Alfred, the lightness of his tone at odds against the dark light of his eyes. It almost feels as if Bruce can see through him, searching for all his secrets. “I’ll be in my study if you need anything, alright?”

“Okay.” Danny turns around and ducks his head, trying to focus but he can barely remember what he was doing before. He just stands, tense, frozen with his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

He hears Bruce move, his suit shifting as he straightens out. “I also heard about the incident at the mall, yesterday. Dick only told me about it today.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Though this isn’t required of you, if you’d ever like to learn self-defense, let me know. I have trained in many different martial arts and I would be happy to teach you.”

That… wasn’t at all what he was expecting to hear. He was more prepared for an interrogation about what he is. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Bruce fired him for being inhuman. Half-human. Whatever.

He opens his mouth to say something along the lines of no thanks I don’t plan on being seen in public ever again, but what comes out instead is, “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t. We can get started this weekend.”

Danny’s traitorous body nods even as he mind goes what the hell do you think you’re doing. This was not in the plans. This was not in any plan! There was no previous discussion about that. Danny was fine with the kidnapping policy and the very specific types of insurance he was given.

Having Bruce teach him self-defense feels like something from a fever dream. But here they are, Bruce leaving the kitchen with an agreement from Danny to have weekend self-defense lessons.

“Alfred,” he says, blankly, after Bruce leaves.

“Yes, Danny?”

“Is it too late to fake my death and run away?”

“No need for such dramatics. Self-defense is important, especially in Gotham, and Master Bruce has trained every child that has been in this manor. He will teach you well.”

That’s not really the problem.

The problem is that Danny doesn’t know his limits against regular humans. He has no idea how much strength to use against them. He’s even worse about staying human during a fight. The last thing Danny wants is to go full angry ghost against Bruce for the high crime of trying to help him.

But if Alfred says it’ll be fine, then Danny will need to trust in that. Surely Alfred will talk to Bruce about Danny’s powers and they’ll be better prepared to face him.

He’ll just have to do his best to be a normal-ish person and hope things work out. Knowing his luck, however…

At least he has cookies to accompany his misery.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dp fanfic #alfred's apprentice au #butler danny au #fic #my writing #sooo much worldbuilding here. v excited to share my plans for danny and everyone and gotham #can guarantee that no one can predict what i'll be doing with this fic #in the last three chapters #(pls let three more be enough)

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andheresthething · 1 year

Text

Crazy For You, Oh Boy

Summary: Nightowl dotes on you when you come to visit.

[Established Relationship] [Long-Distance Relationship] [Domestic Fluff] [Reunions] [Pet Names] [Kissing] [Cuddling & Snuggling] [Literal Sleeping Together] [Sexual Innuendos] [Househusband Energy] [No use of y/n] [Fem Reader]

•·················•·················•

Notes:

This is super rambly and drawn out but it's just loads of Nightowl fluff. Would appreciate feedback as I'd like to keep writing lil fics for my favorite Blooming Panic boy, carpal tunnel allowing.

Also, obligatory character playlist plug because I love it. Title comes from a lyric from a song on there :)

Reposted from AO3

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You impatiently stared out of the window as the car turned into the parking lot of an apartment complex. As it comes to a halt, you could not have gotten out of it sooner. Grabbing your backpack, you thanked the driver before closing the door. You went around to the back, opened the trunk, and hauled out a duffel bag. As overworked as you were, your wallet be damned if you paid for a checked bag, not that you really needed it anyway. Slamming the trunk closed, the car drove off. With your backpack on and the world's heaviest duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you practically ran towards the entrance of the building.

Once inside, you rocked your feet back and forth as you waited for the elevator to come to the ground floor. While your destination was only one floor away, your cargo would kill you before making it up half a flight of stairs, not to mention how much a long, cramped flight takes out of you. After an agonizing wait, the elevator arrived with a ding. You hopped in and repeatedly pressed the door close button, knowing full well that doing so would not speed up the process at all. Pent-up excitement was being taken out on your phone via death grip as the elevator went up. Another ding allowed your phone to live another day. With an exit now available, your speed walking to your destination rivaled that of senior citizens at the mall at 7 in the morning. Halting yourself in front of the door, you knocked.

“Hold on!” Nightowl shouted from the other side. Some faint chaos bleed through the door for a moment before the door swung open. You immediately flung yourself onto the person in front of you, enveloping him in a bear hug forceful enough to push him back a step or two. “Woah, hey there, cutie. I missed you so much,” he laughed, reciprocating the hug with the same amount of love.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you more, sweetheart,” you spoke into his neck. The two of you stayed in the hug a moment longer before moving slightly apart, still enough to hold each other. Nightowl leaned down for a kiss, that you happily gave. Though short, both of you had been dying for it.

“Glad you’re back home, things just feel so off when you’re not here.”

“I know, just a few more months, and we never have to do this again,” you smiled at him, lifting yourself slightly for another kiss. When you broke apart, a playful pout was on his face.

“Why can't you just stay here now,” he whined, tightening his grip on your waist slightly. Even after finishing his graduate program, he still acted like a little kid at times. You loved his playful demeanor, though.

“Because my sadist job is trying to kill me before I can leave,” you responded, starting to sway the two of you. “At least the new one will be much better.”

“Mmh, can’t wait till then. But, in the meantime, I will be a chivalrous gentleman and take your bags so that you can take a nice, long shower. I’ll order some food after, and we can have a quiet night in.”

“Ah, you’re truly wonderful, darling.”

“Only the best for you, cutie,” he said, giving you a peck on the lips.

Letting go of each other, you immediately dropped your bags onto the floor and handed Nightowl your phone. While you kicked off your shoes, Nightowl took your bags back to the bedroom. You quickly made your way back to the bathroom. With as often as you visited, it was easier to get a second shower brush and share toiletries than lug your own back and forth. Given that Nightowl wasn’t the 20-in-1 type of guy, you didn’t have to worry about your hair being dry and skin breaking out.

As you took your long-deserved shower, Nightowl put himself to work unpacking your things. Putting your clothes in his closet, your phone and laptop on his desk and charging them, accessories on his own stands, and whatever else you had brought in their rightful places. While the majority of the time he wouldn’t do these things for himself, for you, he spends a full day getting his place clean up for your arrival. Not to say that he was a slob, but the life of an architect could be very demanding. He sometimes joked with himself that if his carrier fell through he would be the perfect househusband for you.

Eventually, your shower ended and you went across the hall in your towel to get changed. Walking into the bedroom, you’re greeted with Nightowl laying on the bed, scrolling through the several options on DoorDash. He looked up at you and grinned. “You’re looking good, cutie. I unpacked everything for you while you were in there.”

“Absolutely wonderful you are,” you hummed, making your way over to the closet to pick out something to throw on for the night.

“For you, anything,” He stared at you, nothing but adoration filling his eyes as you grabbed your clothes. “Want me to close my eyes?”

“If you don’t mind,” you responded. Although you have seen each other in every state of undress imaginable, he still felt the importance of privacy whenever wanted. You appreciated his care, especially given your history of mediocre relationships with people who couldn’t bother with those sorts of things. When he closed his eyes, you quickly got yourself dressed in a random t-shirt of indeterminate ownership and the sluttiest pair of plaid pajama pants you could find. “You’re good now,” you spoke, starting to dry your hair off with the towel you wore into the room. At your command, Nightowl opened his eyes to look at you once more.

“I think I like this combo better than the towel.”

“I tried with the pants.”

“And you succeeded,” he chuckled. “So, did you think over what you want for dinner?”

“Hmm,” you began as you continued to dry your hair, “You craving anything?”

Nightowl shook his head, “Not really, I’m good with whatever.”

“Then can we get something from that one Chinese place over by that one bookstore?” you asked cheerfully.

“Sure thing, cutie. The usual?”

“Yes, please. Thank you, love!”

Nightowl went back to his phone to place your order while you went back to the bathroom to hang your towel. When you returned, he set his phone down and patted the spot next to him. You lay down next to him, moving closer to lay your head on his chest.

Nightowl wrapped an arm around your waist. “How was your flight?" he asked.

"About as good as it can get with two babies on board."

"Aw man, sorry you got stuck with that.”

"At least your neighbors don't have kids."

"I don't think I could have made it through grad school if they did. I hope the shower relaxed you some though," he said, starting to rub your stomach with his thumb slightly.

"Not as much as lying here with you right now," you smiled at him.

“Pretty girl on my chest and she’s this sweet? I won at life being able to have you all to myself.” Your face went pink at his words. Although he said things like that all the time, it never failed to make you feel like a dumb teenager when he did. The best you could do was let out a small whine in response. “Aww, and you’re all flustered by that? You’re killing me here, cutie.”

“Oh, shush, it’s just 'cause I haven’t seen you in months.”

“Sure, if you say so,” he hummed.

The two of you continued to talk about random topics as you waited for your dinner. Due to the wonders of technology and neither of you possessing the ability to be okay with not calling every day, there wasn’t anything exactly big to catch up on. A little while longer went by until Nightowl got a notification that the driver was at the building. The two of you got up, he to acquire the food, and you to grab drinks and pick out the entertainment you would be promptly ignoring. After a decent look in the fridge, you grabbed two beverages of choice and plopped yourself onto the couch.

You waited a moment longer before Nightowl came back with the food. He brought the bag to the couch and rummaged through it to hand you your food along with a pair of chopsticks graciously provided by the restaurant. You, starving, started eating before he even got around to opening his food.

“God, I’ve missed this so much,” you started between chews, “Seriously, this place has the best Chinese food I’ve ever had.”

“And here I was thinking you meant eating takeout with me,” he joked.

“I suppose I missed that too, but I don’t know, this lo mein is pretty fucking good,” you shot back. With his free hand, Nightowl placed a hand on his chest and leaned back, closing his eyes.

“Oh, I can’t believe she loves egg noodles more than me!” he remarked. You giggled a bit in response.

“Fine, perhaps I love the current activity more than egg noodles.”

“Just the activity?”

“You’re not gonna make me say this, are you?”

“How else would I know if you don’t say it out loud, to my face?” The little antic of his was one reminiscent of one faithful night in the call channel of the Bloomic server. Over time, you learned that he loved to pull this type of line either to get you flustered over little things or annoy the shit out of you.

“Fine, I definitely absolutely, love you, Nightowl, more than egg noodles or eating egg noodles in your presence,” you playfully groaned out.

“You hear that? She loves me more than egg noodles!” he shouted. You smiled at his response. Though a cute moment, it was quickly ended by a banging from the wall in front of you.

“Shut the fuck up in there!” A neighbor shouted through the wall. The two of you stared at each other in surprise before Nightowl yelled a quick apology back.

“That’s the second neighbor you’ve pissed off by boasting about my love for you,” you said after a moment.

“I would happily piss off several more if it means I can brag about you,” he said, going back to finish his food, “Granted, as long as it doesn’t get me evicted.”

You chuckled. “Good call.”

As time went on, you continued mindless banter accompanying the completion of your meals. Even once finished, the two of you sat together and talked for what seemed like forever. You even managed to squeeze out some information, albeit, fairly vague, about the dates he had planned for the two of you during your stay. At some point, all the travel and excitement of the day had gotten the better of you. While you did try to hide it, a yawn gave your state of energy away to Nightowl.

“I saw that, cutie. A queen needs her beauty sleep.”

“Says you.”

“I’ll have you know that I still get my full 8 hours every night,” he asserted.

You chuckled, which turned into another yawn. “Maybe so, but you still live life in another time zone.”

“When you’re here, it gets a bit more normal.”

“Really?” you thought for a moment, “Huh, I guess it does. Wonder why?”

“Maybe it’s cause I worry about your well-being in terms of sleep so much that it rubs off on me,” he pondered.

“If taking care of me gets you to take care of yourself, then I'm all for it,” you smiled at the sweetness of it all.

Nightowl got up and started collecting the empty containers, “You go on to bed, I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm, you come first, cutie.”

You got up from the couch, “Absolutely the best to me.”

You cupped his face, giving him a peck on the cheek before making your way to bed. Little did you know, but that small act of affection melted Nightowl’s heart. Blushed, he took a moment from cleaning up to compose himself. He didn’t exactly know why he reacted with the fuzzy, teenager-in-love feeling, but he welcomed it nonetheless. He picked up the pace to join you just slightly sooner.

While he was finishing up, you had practically thrown yourself into bed, the exhaustion finally hitting you. You got yourself comfortable and passed the time looking around the room, studying what’s changed since you last visited. Though a tad boring, you didn’t exactly possess the brain power to check your phone and retain anything.

Eventually, a blonde figure caught the corner of your eye. You turned to face your beloved Nightowl as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him. He turned off a small desk lamp, allowing the fairy lights over his bed to illuminate the room. You sleepily pat the spot next to you, which he happily filled, snuggling as close to you as he could. The sparking of the lights above the two of you reflected in his brown eyes. Even in your extremely groggy state, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your boyfriend.

“You ready to sleep?” he mumbled, seeming to try to hide a yawn of his own.

“Yeah,” your eyes were already fluttering closed. Nightowl brought an arm around you and planted a kiss on the top of your head. “Maybe tomorrow you can be the activity I love.”

“I will most definitely make sure that becomes true,” he smiled, “Goodnight, cutie.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

The warm lights illuminated the two of you drifting off to sleep together for the first time in months. All became still in that apartment, and for a night, all was right in the world.

#blooming panic #bloomic #blooming panic fanfic #bloomic fanfic #nightowl #blooming panic nightowl #bp nightowl #bloomic nightowl #blooming panic x reader #nightowl x reader #bp nightowl x reader #bloomic nightowl x reader #sfw

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dabisqueen · 2 years

Text

Rockstar Dabi (Touya) x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 6.9K

⇢ series plot: after receiving a VIP ticket to a concert of the most popular rock band, you go and it proves to be a life-changing event.

⇢ current plot: With you being back at home again, Dabi is spiraling out of control. And then one day, you receive a mysterious phone call.

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, kissing, fellatio (m receiving), fingering, kind of dubcon, a*** sex, creampie, orgasm, substance abuse, angst, hurt, major character... oops,.did ì say this??

Personal note: it's been half a year since i started this series and it has finally come to an end (maybe). I don't know how to feel. Sad, happy… all of it actually. I am so glad you all joined me on this Rollercoaster ride of emotions and hurt. Hope you enjoyed it.

Thank you @/hunajan for being my beta again!

It was late at night when Tenko came back and shuffled his way down on the plush carpet of the hallway. He was just unlocking the door when he heard a rhythmic thumping and muffled moaning coming from Keigo's suite.

It happened often enough that Keigo had groupies over. So without thinking much about it, Tenko stepped into his suite and locked the door behind him.

The next morning came way too early, with the band having to move on to the next city. After packing his bags and ringing for the luggage boy, Tenko opened the door and stepped outside into the hallway. He was surprised to see Dabi and Hawks entering the hallway together from Keigo's room.

It took a few moments before realization was hitting him. Hard.

"Dabi, what's going on?" Tenko looked around, not seeing you.

"Well, what did it look like," Keigo laid his arm around Dabi's shoulder, a pleased grin spreading on his face. "We spent the night together."

"Dabi, what the fuck did you do?" Tenko looked at him, his crimson eyes glowing behind unruly bangs.

But the lead singer scoffed in response, "C'mon Tenko, don't play innocent."

“What are you talking about?” He replied with a frown.

"That you were trying to steal my girl!" He spit back.

"Stealing...?" Tenko’s eyes were large in shock, "Dabi, what the fuck is going on?"

"Don't pretend, Keigo showed me the pictures!" His finger dabbed in Tenkos direction, his face starting to contort with anger, "You fucking kissed!"

"We kis—what?" Stunned for a moment, he then turned to Keigo, rage in his voice, "Keigo, you idiot, what have you done?"

Keigo shrugged, "Just showed him the truth."

"What truth?" The drummer narrowed his eyes.

"That she's just another girl trying to get some dick.” He grinned, but his smile never reached his eyes.

Tenko’s eyes flicked back to Dabi's bright azures, "She didn't kiss me, for fucks sake! It was me who gave her a peck on the cheek!"

Dabi crossed his arms on his chest, cocking his head. "Oh really. What about taking the cab together?"

“I hopped off before she reached the mall." He growled. " I can't believe this shit. Dabi, I asked her for advice regarding this girl I'm dating!"

"You're… dating someone?" He looked baffled, "I thought you and her–"

"Yeah, what did you think? That we were cheating on you?" His crimson eyes glared at Dabi from underneath his pale bangs. "How lowly do you think of me?"

His words stroke like a jolt of lightning, leaving Dabi swaying on his feet, a crippling cold gripping his heart. He stayed voiceless, letting the silence take over.

"But Keigo said…" he finally muttered.

"Keig– what the fuck!" Tenko rasped through gritted teeth, "What have you done?"

"Whatever, this is annoying. He's better off without her anyways, see ya later," and he pecked Dabi on his cheek, squeezing his butt before walking off.

"And you think you're better for Dabi than her?" Tenko yelled after him, "Keigo, I swear to God, you're gonna fucking pay for this!"

Then he spun around to face Dabi, who stood in front of him, pale, all color drained from his face. His chest heaved up and down, his mind having a hard time processing what just happened.

"Dabi," Tenko rasped, growing impatient. "What mindset were you in when you did this?"

"I–I think I had a few drinks." He stammered, still trying to wrap his sober mind around the news.

"Just a few drinks, huh?" Tenko cocked his head, pale locks falling off to the side.

"M-Maybe a few more. And I took some…" Dabi's eyes flicked to the floor and back to his band mates.

"Goddammit Dabi, you need to stop taking this shit." Tenko was slowly losing his composure. "It's gonna ruin your life. It's gonna ruin you!"

Dabi lowered his head, his stomach in knots.

"Man, you need to lose your insecurities. She only wants you!" Tenko inhaled deeply before continuing, "She told me so herself."

And Dabi knew his band mate was right. He felt the truth like a hard punch in the gut, shocking and painful enough to make his stomach acid rise to his tongue.

"I'm so fucking stupid." He started to clench his fists.

"Where is she anyways?" Tenko looked towards Dabi's suite.

"She left last night." The black haired male admitted quietly.

"Fuck." Tenko dug in his pants to retrieve his cellphone. "Ok, lemme call her."

Dialing your number he held it up to his ears. After a few moments, he hung up and stared at Dabi, expressionless. "It says the number is unavailable."

"Shit–" Dabi breathed shakily and pulled out his own phone, repeating the steps.

He cursed under his breath, his heart descending to his stomach when he heard the robotic message saying that the number was no longer in service as well.

"She blocked us." Tenko groaned, raking his hand through his coarse hair, "Fuck man, you really messed up big this time."

Dabi's pupils were blown wide as he moved his eyes over the screen of his phone. Silence engulfed both men again as they looked at each other.

"Cmon, there's no use in standing here. We need to leave, the plane's waiting." Tenko squeezed Dabis's shoulder in reassurance. "We'll find a way, ok?"

And with one last look into Dabi's face, Tenko turned to strut off, stuffing his phone back in his back pocket, leaving Dabi behind, head hanging low.

He knew he fucked up this time. For good. He turned frantic, panic arising within him. A panic that was numbing, like a cold heat spreading through his body and gripping his heart tightly. His hands started shaking, it felt like he was gonna explode, that he was gonna go crazy, a dull pain and tightness spreading through his chest.

He gasped for air as he pressed the flat of his hand over his heart, cold sweat starting to spread on his forehead. His legs started to tingle and he dropped to his knees.

With sweat dripping down his temples, one hand still pressed to his chest, he started rummaging around in his bag. He continued wheezing until he finally found what he was looking for.

With trembling hands, the pressure on his chest still increasing he retrieved the pouch with a saccharine looking powder in it, ripped it open to dust the powder on the back of his hands.

Dropping the sachet on the plush carpet, half its content spilled on the long soft fibers, he lowered his head to snort up the powder – first in one nostril, then in the other.

It instantly hit the back of his throat, where it dripped down, while his nose and back of the mouth turned numb.

Relaxation spread through his mind and body and he leaned his back against the wall, head falling back as his eyes closed shut. A warm euphoria consumed him, all fears, all worries fading until there was nothing there anymore.

A weary smile crept across his face, that soon turned into a wide grin as he started chuckling, his entire body soon shaking with mad laughter before he brushed his nose off with the back of his hands, got up on uneasy legs and grabbed his bag.

Sachet of powder laying on the plush carpet long forgotten, he turned towards the elevator, preparing to meet up with the others.

When you finally stepped in front of the front door to your apartment, it felt like a major relief.

Setting the small suitcase on the floor, you lifted a hand to gently knock against it, too exhausted and tired to search for your keys.

Your roommate found you standing on the other side of the door, eyes red and puffy as you looked up at her.

“Oh baby, what happened? Are you okay?” She took your luggage and helped you inside, assisting you with getting your coat off.

“I am…” Your voice tipped.

Your eyes grew hot again, while you wondered if you even had any tears left to cry. But then your lower lip started to tremble and you sank your teeth into it – but the dam broke nonetheless and tears started streaming freely down your cheeks. Your roommate reached out to squeeze your hand and pull you in for a warm embrace.

She didn't say anything but the gesture was enough. She patiently waited until you found the strength to speak.

“We—split. This time for sure…” You sobbed as she squeezed you tighter against her.

She nodded, trying to comfort you with a reassuring smile.

"Cmon, Don’t cry. It's not worth it." She guided you towards the couch, stuffing a pillow under your arm after you sat down and turned to drape a warm blanket over you.

The couch slightly dipped in when she took a seat next to you, wrapping her arms around you for an embrace, palms stroking reassuringly over your back. She didn't say anything, simply held you, her chin resting on your head as she let you cry.

She stayed like this until the turmoil inside your stomach had subsided before getting up to prepare a hot tea for you both.

For the duration of the next few days and weeks, you stayed inside your apartment. Your roommate was your pillar of hope, your strength. She took care of everything, the cooking, cleaning as well as comforting you whenever she could. At night, she would sleep by your side, stroking your face when you had woken up again, crying over him.

By the time the crying bouts were over, you were left hollow inside - only loneliness, shame, fear, and hurt left. It felt like you had a gushing wound in your heart, like you were suffocating. And it hauled you down deeper into a frozen lake of emotions with every day passing by.

Regardless of how often he or Tenko tried to call or write you a message, there was no reply. Everything was answered by silence, and Dabi knew he deserved it. Still, he missed you so much, missed your voice, your laughter, the way your warm body felt when you leaned against him. He knew he had found the one person who could save him. Who he truly had fallen in love with.

Realizing that it was too late for all this, a deep feeling of hatred overcame him – one towards himself. The pain and rage inside him grew so deep and dark, it was like a black hole that consumed his soul, leaving him empty and without the energy to live.

Distraction came in form of a variety of pills and crystalline powder which were easily handed to him whenever requested. They helped him forget the agony he was feeling, helped him forget who he was. Taking them made him feel less worthless, even if it was just for a short period of time. Not being able to cope with the resurfacing heartache he was feeling when they wore off, he started requesting them more frequently.

And they were handed to him more than willingly. Because a rockstar in a constant state of haze and fake euphoria was better than one in distress.

The burn still lingered in his nose from the cocaine, the pungently bitter taste of it dripping down the back of his throat before he chased it down with a bit more whiskey. Alone in his dressing room, he didn't even hear the chanting of the crowd outside, not caring about them anymore.

Even the cigarette he had lit did nothing to calm his nerves and he considered taking another gulp from the bottle to numb all the emotions he didn't want to deal with.

Sucking in his cheeks, he took another drag, letting the smoke billow out of his parted lips.

Fuck this shit. Flicking the cigarette carelessly to the floor, his trembling hand reached out for the prescription pills sitting in front of him on the vanity. He noticed how boney his fingers had become. He didn't recall them ever being this thin, but at the same time he didn't remember having eaten I relentless days.

He chuckled to himself, and tried screwing open the orange prescription pill bottle. His fingers slipped and he grabbed the lid tighter, ripping it off in one hectic movement. The bottle toppled over, its content spilling on the counter. Plucking up several of the pills, Dabi laid them into his open sweaty palm, rolling them around a few times.

Wrapping his free hand around the neck of the whiskey bottle, he popped the pills into his mouth and lifted the bottle to take a few deep gulps, washing them down with the amber liquid.

Slamming the bottle back on the vanity, he stumbled back, stopped swaying before grabbing his guitar and kicking the door to the hallway open.

The tour was overall plagued by repeated instances of rough performances on Dabi's behalf, with him swerving around the stage or staggering his way through the concert and stumbling through the vocals.

Standing on the stage, Dabi's eyes peered cold and emotionless into the black void of the sky. The sounds of his own voice, the ones of his bandmates and the instruments barely reached his ears.

He wasn't even sure which song they were playing, and Keigo continued to steal concerned glances at him.

At one point, the bassist turned toward him and asked: “You need a break, man?"

But Dabi only clung onto the microphone stand and mumbled into it, not even looking at his bandmate, "No man, I need a fuck."

The crowd didn't even notice Dabi swaying, they were too immersed in screaming, too frenzied over his comments, not noticing the severity of the situation.

After the concert, Tenko and Keigo rushed Dabi back to the hotel, avoiding the waiting paparazzi, hungry to see yet again another rockstar spiraling towards their demise.

After they arrived and parted, Keigo draped his arm around Dabi's neck and guided him out of the elevator.

"Cmon, let's celebrate," he cooed, placing a chaste kiss on his temple.

"I want to sleep—" Dabi grunted in response, arms hanging low at his sides as he let himself be led to his suite on shaky legs.

Arriving at the room's bar, Keigo pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured the amber liquid into two glasses.

"Here, have some, it'll make you feel better." He nudged Dabi before bringing one glass to his own lips.

Dabi took the drink and lifted it into his mouth, taking a big sip. His gaze had become hazy, staring off into the distance as he finished its contents.

Setting the glass back on the counter, the blonde leaned in closer and grazed Dabi’s ear with his lips whispering, "Did you mean what you said onstage, Dabi?'' before sucking his lobe into his mouth.

Dabi closed his eyes, a shaky exhale leaving his lips, while Keigo continued his eager ministrations.

"Keigo, what are you doing," he growled, his focus unsteady.

"Just giving you what you requested," Keigo's hand weaved into his bandmate's soft raven hair, pulling him closer as his lips started trailing down his pulse, placing soft little kisses on his skin.

When he paused, he muttered "I want you," before cupping Dabi's cheek and turning his face, lips hovering over his.

Then the bassist's mouth was on his, firm lips pressing against Dabi's as his tongue slipped in, tasting him, the burn of the alcohol on his tongue.

Visions of you flashed before Dabi's eyes and his stomach churned while he tried so hard to forget you. He just couldn't. Not your smile, your scent, your everything. There was only one way to end this nightmare.

Plagued by the pain in his chest, he gave in to Keigo's advances, lazily working his mouth against his bandmate's before he was pulled off the stool. He started stumbling towards the bedroom in Keigos embrace, his bandmates hips pressed against his body, making him feel the hard erection he was having because of him.

On the bed, Keigo was quick to remove Dabis shirt, latching his lips onto his nipple and starting to suck on it while the other started moving back and forth over the growing bulge in Dabi's pants.

"Keigo–" Dabi had his eyes closed, panting heavily while Hawks sat back on his heels, taking his own shirt off.

"Shush, lemme make you feel good, " Keigo cooed, moving to scoot his own pants off.

He stared at Dabi lying below him, dick straining against the fabric of his pants.

Placing his palms on Dabi's stomach, he started to brush up and down, savoring the touch, Dabi's warm skin underneath his palm.

"I always fucking miss ya," Keigo breathed, leaning down to start peppering gentle kisses on the skin on Dabi's stomach. "Every minute…"

The dark haired man stayed quiet, his forearm draped over his eyes. But the bulge and his strained breathing told Keigo what he needed to know – that Dabi wanted him too.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, I'm gonna make you forget it all." He paused and added quietly, "And forget her."

It sent a pang through Dabi's chest, but it was quickly gone, the drugs and alcohol taking over, clouding his mind.

He felt Keigo's fingers swiftly undoing the belt and buttons of his pants, calloused fingers sliding underneath their hem and pulling them down.

Keigo was enthralled by what he saw in front of him. Even though they'd been together many times before, he'd always held his breath when he saw Dabi's cock. Girthy, slightly curved and adorned by metal piercings, it was simply mouthwatering pretty.

Sliding the pants off Dabi's legs, he went back up, gulping once before dipping down to kiss Dabi's length.

"Oh fuck," Dabi sharply inhaled between gritted teeth, eyes still closed.

Keigo took Dabi's length into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down a few times before releasing it with a wet pop, continuing by spitting on his fingers.

With his hand resting on Dabi's thigh, running soothing circles in it, two of his fingers spread his spit around Dabis' pink hole.

With a hiss, Dabi felt Keigo's finger slide inside him, past the tight ring and he arched his hips, trying to ease away from the stretch.

While Keigo kept muttering "Doing so fine, I know you can take it," he kept sliding his finger in and out, first one, then two, scissoring them to try to stretch the tight muscle. Keigo spit on Dabi's hole before plunging inside again, adding a third finger.

"I can take care of you," Keigo slurred, totally enthralled, "I will make you happy again. You will be happy with me again…"

Dabi threw his head back, a hoarse whimper leaving his lips as he felt so utterly stretched out. By now, he was a panting mess below Keigo, his thick cock throbbing and twitching on his abdomen with every slide of Keigo's fingers.

His bandmate pulled out and spread Dabi's legs apart, kneeling in between them.

"Are you ready, babe," Keigo purred, pushing his boxers down to free his aching cock.

But Dabi couldn't answer, his arm falling off to the side, his empty gaze fixating the ceiling, his breath coming out in short puffs.

"Ok," Keigo took his cock in his hand, letting a glob of spit fall on it to lubricate himself.

Lining it up with Dabi's entrance, the tip pressed against his hole. And bracing himself to either side of the other man, he slowly started slipping past the tight ring.

"Oh shit,” Keigo muttered, his head falling forward, eyes screwing shut when he felt Dabi's tightness around him.

Dabi's brows knitted together as he choked on his gasp, his hands fisting the bedsheets till his knuckles turned white.

Keigo pushed inside a bit more, then pulled back out. It was torture for Dabi, who moaned and groaned as sweat beads formed on his forehead. Deeper and deeper with each push it slipped until Keigo was buried balls-deep inside of him.

"Fuck, how I missed this." He panted, "How I missed you."

Looking up, he was worried seeing Dabi with his head turned, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes screwed shut.

"Dabi," he whispered, "I promise, I'm gonna make you forget," and with that, he started moving.

It was heavenly for the bassist. Not a pussy on earth could compare with the tightness and the heat of a man and Keigo groaned as he continued moving. With every thrust forward, Dabi's head bobbed against the headboard, his eyes staying closed.

Keigo increased the pace, the urge to make Dabi feel good so overwhelming — he wanted it to be like it was in the past, having his bandmate lay underneath him with lust blown eyes, the pleasure so intense for both of them, that they couldn't hold out for long.

He wanted to make him his. Smacking his hips forward, he grabbed Dabi's pierced dick and finally got a response when the man underneath him gasped for air, his eyes flying open.

"Hi there, pretty," Keigo cooed and started pumping Dabi's cock, letting a glob of saliva run off his tongue to drip on its tip, smearing it around for lubrication.

"Fucking feels so good – shit," Keigo grunted, leaning down to place a sloppy kiss on his neck, then latching onto his nipple.

He continued rocking back and forth, the sound of his balls slapping against Dabi's ass as well as of his dick sliding in and out of him echoing through the room.

Sweat beaded off his forehead as he felt himself hurl towards his high, feeling Dabi's cock starting to twitch in his palm, seeing his balls tensening up.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, addicted to this all – to Dabi.

He leaned back, pistoning inside of Dabi now, mouth opened into a silent groan as his balls suddenly tightened. A deep growl left his lips, his hips stuttered and he came, filling Dabi's insides with hot ropes of cum while he continued pumping Dabi's cock.

Dabi bit his lips so hard it drew blood as he also reached his high, thick ropes of hot cum spurting onto his abs, shooting up all the way to his throat.

Keigo panted heavily as he leaned down, starting to drag his tongue over Dabi's chest, lapping up the salty cum while he kept pumping his cock, squeezing the last drop of his essence from its tip.

He continued licking all the white cream off Dabi's body, slowly softening inside until he slipped out with a soft pop.

Collapsing next to him, his flaccid cock rested on his thigh, glistening with cum in the dim hotelroom light.

"Fuck, I love this." He turned his head towards Dabi, reaching out to grab his hand, "I love you."

But Dabi didn't respond. He laid there, empty gaze staring at the ceiling.

After a few minutes he started to stir, scrambling off the bed and stumbling towards the bathroom.

"Hey, need me to–" But Keigo's question was cut short as Dabi disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Keigo sat up on the bed, eyes wide. He didn't know what to feel, what to think when he heard the sounds of his bandmate gagging into the toilet.

He continued sitting there, color draining slowly from his face while the continuing noises of Dabi vomiting were muffled by the closed door. When it went quiet, Keigo climbed out of bed and stood up to approach the bathroom door.

It was locked and Keigo sighed, hesitating a few seconds before turning and getting dressed.

One last time he knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He heard a movement and the toilet being flushed. Keigo's eyes closed for a second, contemplating before turning towards the door towards the hallway.

Just as he opened the door to step outside, he paused, raking a shaky hand through his blond hair before muttering, "What have I done…"

Dabi stood in the bathroom, the sound of the door falling shut behind Keigo reverberating through the room.

He looked into the mirror, azure eyes staring back at him. They were empty, there was no life in them. And that's when the words sounded through his head.

You're worthless, a nothing.

The glass shattered as his fist hit the mirror. He panted heavily, his fist repeatedly slamming into the mirror before he sank to the floor.

Worthless, nothing.

Dabi wailed out, as he scrambled to his feet, naked, stumbling into the bedroom.

His chest tightened again, the room spinning around him as he fell to his knees. Closing his eyes to block out the turning room, he pulled open the drawer of the nightstand, rummaging around in it until he found what he was looking for.

With trembling fingers, he popped open the small orange cylinder and lifted it up, several pills dropping into his mouth and he strained to swallow them dry.

Then he leaned his naked figure back against the bed frame, waiting for the drugs to kick in.

It had been weeks now, the pain had dulled out, and you had found your way into regular work life as well.

Your roomie was the best support you could hope for — always there to turn off the radio or TV once the LoV music was played or news about the band was distributed. She protected you from anything that would remind you of Dabi and the time with him.

Yet, she couldn't shelter you from the multitude of billboards splattered all across town announcing the upcoming special end-of-tour concert taking place in your town. They went up one day, thousands of led lights flickering to show the brilliant blue logo of the LoV.

And with that came back the memories. You caught yourself more than once with your eyes growing hot, telling yourself over and over again that you shouldn't cry, that this wasn't worth it.

[With your roommate being at work on this Saturday, you were left at home alone, with the knowledge of it being just another day of busying yourself and trying to keep your thoughts revolving around one topic. Him.

You sat on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, too afraid to go outside, too afraid for the memories to resurface again. Burying your face in your arms, you thought about how to survive yet another day of loneliness when suddenly your phone rang.

It chiming seemingly endless before it stopped and frowning, you checked your screen. An unknown number. Ignoring it, you placed the phone back on the table– when it started ringing again. It was that same number and with a deep sigh, you slid your thumb over the green icon, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Who is this?” you greeted.

"Please don't hang up, it's me, Keigo." A low, melodic voice spoke.

Your heart started running a thousand miles per hour and you needed a moment to steady yourself.

"Hey Keigo." You simply answered.

"Please - please just listen. I know this comes as a surprise, but…" You could hear him taking a deep breath, composing himself. “I— I need your help. Dabi needs your help.

Silence engulfed you, the ticking of the kitchen clock echoing like thunder through the room, pounding against your skull. You had to take a moment to process his words.

"Are you still there?" Keigo asked with a breathy voice.

"Yeah, I—I’m here.” you sighed, your nails digging into the fabric of your jeans.

"Please, I'm begging you…" His voice broke, and he had to clear his throat. "Dabi… he's not doing good."

"What do you mean?" You tried to keep your heart from skipping a beat at his words.

"It's bad. I'm—I'm scared." You heard his tone turn panicked.

A cold pressure constricted around your head as you rubbed a hand over your face. "Ok, tell me everything. But Keigo–"

"Yes?" His answer came timid but immediate.

"I want you to be honest. No more lying. No more pretending." There was no room left in your heart for more betrayal, "Understood?"

"Yes, anything you want." He whispered.

You closed your eyes, another storm starting to rage inside your heart. "Ok, now, what happened?"

Keigo didn't leave out any details — how he miscalculated everything, never expecting it to go down this bad.

You heard him break down when he uttered under his breath, "Dabi was literally the only person who knew me, and how I felt."

He continued explaining how he felt all alone when his friend replaced him with you, "It was selfish of me, I admit. I am sorry that I thought it was the only way for him to get back to me."

He paused and you let him.

"I've had a bad past, just like Dabi. We were each other's only pillar of support. I needed him so badly–" you heard him choke on his own words, heard how he teared up.

You heard him swallow and closed your eyes for a second, trying to process all he was telling you.

"But I didn't want him to be like this!" There was pure agony in his voice. "I realized that Dabi needs you."

And then he added quietly, "Not me."

The sounds of fabric rustling in the background could be heard as he moved, followed by silence. Several moments passed in which you could only hear the quiet breathing of him on the other side of the line.

"Keigo, it's a good thing that you realized you did wrong and learned from it." You paused before continuing. "I get that you felt lonely. Still, what you did wasn't ok."

"I know." Keigo said. "I am so, so sorry. I did wrong and I realize that."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you heard him silently starting to sob. You stayed mute, waiting for him to say something and he did.

"I'm scared. Dabi withdrew himself completely and his condition has gotten worse." He swallowed down another silent sob, "I—I have a bad feeling about tonight. Can you please come to the concert and speak to him?"

You were not surprised as tears started stinging your eyes with all that you just heard. It was a lot and you needed some air to breathe.

"Keigo, I need to think about it, ok?" You said with a shaky voice.

"Yeah, I understand." He exhaled, "But I'm begging you – you're the only one who can help him."

After he agreed to send a courier with the ticket and pass, you said goodbye and hung up. Your hands rose to hide your face in your hands. Because even though it was silent, the knots inside your stomach twisted harder, the heat in your eyes almost unbearable.

All the memories — moments and images – everything came crashing down on you. The pain in your chest turned numbing and you bit your trembling lips, your breathing turning ragged.

You kept telling yourself that it couldn't be that bad, that you hadn't heard any bad news about the LoV in a while. But then again, you hadn't really followed them either.

A feeling of unease rose inside you and you started pacing back and forth in the living room. A message notification sounded and you hastily picked up your phone, seeing that Keigo had sent you a message.

Courier dropped off the envelope. It's in your mailbox.

Followed by a picture and the following text:

You can still hate me but please help him.

At first you didn't recognize the person depicted in the blurry photo. But then your hand darted up to clasp over your mouth. It was Dabi. Except it wasn't him, rather a mere shadow of himself, skinny, with eyes and cheeks sunken in, skin pasty and pale.

It was night when you finally arrived at the venue, the concert already halfway over. Showing your ticket and pass to the staff, you were led backstage. It felt weird, like in the old times. Except this time it was different, somehow.

Your heart was beating out of your ribcage, palms sweaty as you entered the fenced off security area in front of the stage. The last song was just finished and the stage went dark. You stopped halfway down the stairs, too taken aback by what you saw in front of you.

The lights went back on and it was only Dabi being illuminated by a circle of light. There was hardly anything left of the once handsome, rugged lead singer of one of the most notorious rock bands alife. He looked more like a shell of his former self - thin, dark shadows lining his eyes, his movements shaky. His unhealthy paleness drastically stood out, even more so in the harsh stage light.

Stepping up the microphone, he waited for the cheers to shimmer down into silence.

Once they grew quiet, a hand naturally grabbed the mic before he started to rasp into the speaker, his voice lifeless and dark, eyes heavily lidded.

"This song…" but his voice broke and he trailed off.

Taking a shaky inhale, he started again, "This song's for someone special. Someone I loved – and lost too soon."

He closed his eyes, the stage lights making his contours pop out in stark contrast. Laying both hands on his standing microphone, he took a few deep breaths, before he started to sing.

(Listen to the song here)

"Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh, oh no, no

Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh, oh no

Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh, oh no, no, no, no…"

His voice was low and gravelly, so full of hurt and pain it sent blazing chills cascading down your body. His eyes were closed, eyebrows knitted as he sang.

"I look and stare so deep in your eyes

I touch on you more and more every time

When you leave, I'm begging you not to go

Call your name two, three, times in a row.

It's such a funny thing for me to try and explain

How I'm feeling, and my pride is the one to blame

'Cause I know I don't understand

How your love can do what no one else can."

You stood there, frozen on your feet while repeating the lyrics in your head, eyes glued to every movement of his lips.

"You got me looking so crazy right now

Your love's got me looking so crazy

You got me looking so crazy right now

Your touch has got me looking so crazy right now."

You realized probably as the only person in the entire venue that this was a serenade that came from his heart, turned into a confession.

"You got me hoping you'll page me right now

Your kiss, you got me hoping you'll save me right now

Looking so crazy in love, you got me looking

Got me looking so crazy in love…"

His veins showed at his neck when he sang, sweat pearling down his face and neck. It was so subtle, that you almost didn't catch it but for a second, a painful expression jolted across his face, a hand darting up to clutch his chest. But then it was over, his hand drifting back to the microphone stand.

When he opened his eyes, they never look bluer than this, brilliantly glowing in the bright stage light. Yet, the usual spark that made them beautiful was gone. And as his eyes roamed over the crowd—

They fell on you. And his face went slack, all expression gone without a trace, suddenly drained of all energy. It was like the world stopped, all noises around you vanishing. It was just his brilliant azures meeting yours, and you felt a connection to him that was stronger than anything you've ever felt. Something invisible, a bond that still existed, far too deeply rooted to ever be severed.

And as his gaze never left yours, he continued singing.

"Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh, oh no—"

He skipped over a tone, paused before he started again.

"Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh, oh no, no

Uh-oh, uh-oh…"

And then he started losing his voice. You felt panic rise inside you when you saw him becoming breathless and starting to sway. It was as if his eyes were pleading for you to help, to stop the suffering.

Keigo had noticed Dabi's predicament and asked into the microphone, “Hey, you okay there man?”

But Dabi didn't answer, his eyes never leaving yours as a dark foreboding gripped your heart tightly. Everyone around you seemed to be oblivious to the fact that something terribly wrong was happening onstage.

He used his microphone stand to support himself, his beautiful azure eyes glued to you and you watched in horror as they slowly dulled over.

Oh my God you thought, your heart racing, beating a thousand miles per hour, oh my God, this isn't happening.

Dabi started swaying on his feet, taking a step sideways, catching himself before his eyes rolled back in his head… and he dropped to the floor.

The entire stadium fell into an eerie silence.

"Touya!" Your chilling scream cut through the quiet as you started running down the remaining flight of stairs.

Everything around you erupted in an instant. Keigo dropped his bass and ran over to Dabi, as Tenko jumped over his drum set to kneel down at his side.

Above all the noises and frantic screaming of the crowd you heard your own voice breaking, screaming Touya's name over and over again.

Panicking fans were jumping the fence and the security had their hands full trying to push back the crowd. Elbowing your way towards the front, your gaze didn't avert the lifeless body on the stage that now paramedics with First Responder bags on their backs were running towards.

You were almost at the front, just a few more feet, screaming Touya's name over and over again as Keigo's head flicked up and he saw you stuck in the crowd.

Jumping to his feet, he ran down the stairs of the stage to where you were caught in the frantic shoving and pulling of the people.

Your heart was beating so fast, it felt like you were running out of oxygen. But then a pair of strong hands gripped yours and pulled you up the stairs and onto the stage. Raising your eyes, you stared right into Keigo's golden ones, wide with fear and glossy with tears.

Stumbling to your feet you started running, slipped and fell, got up again. Hot tears cascaded freely down your cheeks as you finally dropped to your knees next to Dabi.

He looked so peaceful like this despite his pale complexion and sunken eyes.

Paramedics were now charging the defibrillator and you watched in horror as they placed it on his chest. His lifeless body arched up with the first high-energy electric shock surging through him. He slumped back and the men checked his pulse before placing a respiratory mask over his mouth and nose, pumping air into his lungs. Another medic started charging the defibrillator again, its high pitch cutting through the deafening noises around you.

Repeating the procedure while checking his pulse and breathing, other paramedics came running towards where Dabi laid, pushing an ambulance stretcher on a wheeled frame towards them, their free hands holding more medical equipment.

They stopped next to the lifeless singer, adjusting the height of the stretcher to the lowest setting as the other paramedics continued trying to revive him.

The world around you disappeared, the only thing you saw was Touya's limp body, the butterfly needles being stuck in his arm, the breathing mask on his face. As they lifted him onto the stretcher and pulled the straps tight around his body, you knew that it was over. That there was nothing you could do anymore.

And you went numb, a feeling of emptiness overcoming you.

You didn't feel Keigo pulling you up into an embrace as they pushed Touya off the stage. You didn't feel Tenko joining you, following them down the emergency exit to where the ambulance was waiting.

It was like all life had left you, all thoughts and emotions. Even your heart had become lifeless. You didn't feel Keigo setting you down in the Mercedes van, not the door closing, not the car starting to follow the ambulance through the gate down the street.

And you didn't feel the world tilting and turning dark as you lost the battle with exhaustion and fatigue, going limp in Keigo's embrace and slipping into unconsciousness.

#dabi smut #rockstar dabi #rockstar dabi smut #dabi #mha smut #bnha smut #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #bnha #mha #my hero academia smut #my hero academia #dabi x you #dabi x reader

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justblades · 2 years

Text

♡ MAKE LOVE WITH ME ! ➠ 100 EVENT

PROMPTS ; #95 ❝ quiet, baby, the others will hear. ❞

#86 ❝ does it make you nervous when i stare? ❞

WARNINGS ; use of sex toy in public, teasing, implied public sex, bath tub sex (gender neutral! reader)

#95 " quiet, baby, the others will hear. "

you struggle to weave through the bustling crowds in the mall, your knees threatening to wobble in every step that you take. meanwhile the raven haired behind you takes little steps forward, his hand on his pocket with a sinister smirk sculpted on his luscious lips.

and then there goes the vibrating feeling inside you again, but this time, the frequency spiked. clutching on your stomach tightly, you unintentionally bend over to ease the feeling. you look back at shu to send him a signal, to atleast have some mercy on your poor body. but to no avail, he only pressed the 'plus' button twice— granting you a moan bubbling from your throat. the butt plug continues to wiggle inside your hole, you never knew walking around the mall could be this hard.

fortunately, the flock of people around you were busy and occupied, their chit-chatter blends with the soft jazz music playing in the background and they weren't able to hear your suspicious noises. shu finally catches up to you and snakes his hand in yours, intertwining his fingers. "quiet, baby, the others will hear." ending the sentence with a menacing smile.

you whimper at shu's soft breathe tickling the sensitive spot of your neck, the scent of his perfume was enticing as it's your favorite. the amount of times of teasing has gotten you feeling lethargic and all dizzy that you couldn't help but rest your head on shu's broad, well-sculpted shoulders.

"just a little more baby. the toilet is nearby, i'm gonna remove it then once we arrive there." he points to the sign hanging on the mall's monotone ceilings while also assisting you to walk properly. "okay, fine." the moment he hears your response, the butt plug's frequency and intensity decreases. for some reason, now that its vibration and movements have regressed, you're feeling more sensitive than before.

braving through shu's teasing with his wicked ways, you finally manage to sneak yourself with him in a particular cubicle. you heave a long sigh in relief as you strip your clothes off, well prepared to whip out the accessory adorning your asshole.

"i suppose that's enough for today. i'll give you a reward when we go home . . . or should i just give you my dick right here and right now?"

#86 " does it make you nervous when i stare? "

shu and you decided to lavish on an expensive getaway, staying over a five star hotel with the nature's greatest masterpieces showcased on the scenic view from the seven foot tall french windows, the cold gust of wind blowing each second.

as you toss a lavender scented bath powder to the circular, bubbling tub, you flinch when you felt a familiar sensation rubbing your back with smooth, velvety hands. "shu, don't scare me like that." you tell him and pivot around to meet shu with a chaste kiss you've been showering him in all day long. hooking your arms around his neck and adore his features once more, getting lost in his galaxy-like irises.

"the water's gonna get cold if we don't hop on in." he chuckles after his sentence and you sigh in defeat. "i guess you're right." you dip your toes in the spacious tub to test the temperature if it was to your liking and immediately felt lolled into the waters once you did so. a refreshing, calming feeling washes over you once you submerge your whole body into the tub, the lukewarm, lilac hued bath ripples along your movements.

not a minute after shu joins you, positioning himself across you. you hum in satisfaction and close your eyes to indulge in the moment. "come closer to me." your partner's voice chimes into your ears like a sweet tune and you peek with one eye open to be certain you heard him right followed by him motioning to his thighs with an innocent smile. you creep up on to his body and straddle him, you could feel his dick slightly growing the more he felt your body on him, the proximity decreasing by each minute.

but then all of a sudden, he sticks his tongue out and plays with your soft nipples, the very point toying with your body. you try to stifle your heavy breathing with a hand on your mouth and shut your eyes but apparently, shu could see every single expression that you show to him.

"don't look at me like that." you whine and whip your head to another direction and shu halts for a moment. “does it make you nervous when i stare?”

#☹ soliloquartz 100 #luxiem smut #luxiem #shu yamino #shu yamino smut #shu yamino x reader #luxiem x reader #nijisanji #nijisanji smut #nijisanji en #nijisanji en x reader

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swirlysmile · 2 years

Note

Hi babes! Currently obsessed w your writing! I wanted to make a Bradley x reader imagine where the reader is new in town and starts working w penny at the bar, and the reader is super shy and innocent and then she meets Bradley since him and the pilots frequently go there. The problem is that Bradley has a girlfriend and the reader notices ( she can also be a made up character who’s also a pilot for the sake of the imagine) but she gets sent to a mission or to another city and Bradley takes advantage of the vulnerability of the situation to get closer to the reader and have a summer fling w her, yet once the girlfriend is back he goes back to her like nothing and leaves the reader heartbroken. This is literally based on the Taylor swift love triangle; august James and Betty! And how the reader is august and her pov reflects how she lost someone that she never had. I love this imagine so much it’s my first time requesting a rooster imagine 🥺 I absolutely love Taylor and august is my birth month and my birthday is approaching it would mean the world to me if you could make this happen 😌😌💕

NO BC FOLKLORE IS LITERALLY MY FAV ALBUM EVER AND I COULD WRITE A DAMN ESSAY ON BETTY, JAMES, AND AUGUSTINE

word count: 837

warnings; cheating, implies sex but nothing explicit, literally rooster being a bit of an asshat

August

“Hey,” was the start of this all. This whole debacle started because he said hey. You should have known; you saw her.

It did start innocently enough, he was a regular and you worked there. A new job and a new town. Penny was courteous enough to help you at the bar, but he always waited to order for the rare moments when she was busy, or running to grab more rum.

“Hey sugar, two more beers please.”

“Coming right up,”

You didn’t need anything more than that. Sure, you wanted it, but his arm was always around her. All the pilots are sitting at the pool table, and for the whole month you’ve worked at the Hard Deck, they’ve been there every saturday. Without fail.

You’re racing around, but every time you stop and breathe in the moment, your eyes are drawn towards him.

August 1st. That was the day he showed up, alone. No other pilots in sight. She wasn’t there.

“Hey,” He says.

“Rooster, what can I get for ya?” You sound excited to see him, even though you’re almost certain that he’ll ask for a beer.

“Your number?” You’re shocked. He’s laying it on thick, for the first time that he’s appeared without her anyways. “Order a round and I’ll tell you,” You say, a little shocked at your forwardness. “I’ll take a beer, then.”

Sure enough, your number is lying at the bottom of his receipt.

You’d be lying if you had said that you weren’t excited for him to call. When he finally did, you cancelled all your plans. That friend you had made? Hanging out with her didn’t matter right now.

Soon enough though, it wasn’t just canceling when he called. It was in advance. Everyone got a “Sorry, I can't do anything. I have work stuff.” or sometimes a “Can’t. Families in town.”

It was worth it, right?

August 10th. You’ve met up with him a few times, and you’re falling hard. He’s perfect, but if you had thought longer you would have found his fatal flaw.

“Hi baby,” He said over the phone. You’re sitting at your apartment counter.

“Hey!”

“You wanna do somethin’ tonight?”

“Yeah, what?”

“I’ll pick you up behind the mall?”

“Sounds good, Roo.”

He pulls up in that stupidly charming Bronco, and you hop in without a second thought. You wake up next to him, again.

August 14th. He’s being weird. He’ll call you, and talk to you at the bar, but ushers you away from his friends. Like he’s ashamed. You should have pieced it together, you think. From what you knew, his ‘ex’ (who you’ve never really talked about) is also a pilot. Now, however, you know that she was on the other side of the country.

To put his odd behavior out of your mind, you switch sides with Penny. You’re facing away from the pool table because, out of sight, out of mind. You wish it were that easy now.

“Hi, hun.” He greets you when you step out of the bar. Your coworker agreed to take your shift a little earlier than required, and you’re going to take advantage of it.

“My place or yours?”

August 16th. Doubts are settling into your mind. The weird behavior doesn’t change. You haven’t even really met his friends, and everything you know is from him telling you, or you watching from behind the bar. He keeps shoving you away when he’s near them, and it’s weird.

“Rooster, why haven’t I met your friends?”

He looks like a deer in headlights. You’re lying next to him in bed, cuddled up. “I didn’t know you’d want to meet them?” He chokes out, and you nod, accepting his answer.

If you’d pushed a little harder, maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much.

August 20th. This time, it was you initiating something. “Get in the car!” You had said, somewhat jokingly, but he did. So, you drove to the beach. The air was salty, and so was the water sliding between your toes, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better. Running across the beach with Rooster. You never needed anything more, just being with him was enough.

August 23rd. He’s dancing with you in your kitchen, pancakes on the stove inevitably burning. It’s the first night he’s slept over, and he tried to surprise you.

“Flip the pancakes!” You laugh when the charred smell finally reaches you. He’s swatting smoke away and you’re opening windows, trying to guide the smoke out. You’re almost choking when he comes over to kiss you.

August 28th. It’s the last real day of it all. He drives to your house to pick you up, and you go to the movie theater. He smiles at you, but it doesn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t right.

August 31st. He walks into the Hard Deck, 8:15 P.M, and your day instantly brightens. “Two beers, please.” He says to Penny.

His arm is back to being around her.

It was all a lie.

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mdhwrites · 7 months

Note

Ever think Polly felt like a bit of an afterthought at times in Amphibia? Like among the main cast, she's probably the one who adds the least. Among them, we have Sprig being the younger frog sibling who guides Anne into outgrowing her bad traits and being a better friend, Hop Pop being the well meaning authority figure for Anne in Amphibia, Sasha/Marcy being indications of how toxic things were for Anne before Amphibia and Anne learning to forgive, and Anne's parents show what Anne's life on Earth was like, but what does Polly add to Anne that no one else provides? Heck it's telling how she probably has less episodes that actually make her the main lead than even Sasha (despite appearing more than Sasha). Sure you got Frobo, but I doubt it'd make much a difference if Sprig had been the one to befriend and be close with Frobo in a world where Polly didn't exist considering he has similar reckless younger sibling traits like she does. It's even more obvious in season 3 where after Fixing Frobo, Polly barely does anything on the show with virtually no individual focus after that (Sprig and Hop Pop still got focus episodes in season 3B, while Polly's more or less in the background until All In) until All In and even then, it only really amounts to Frobo helping the group escape from Andrias' castle at the start and that's it. The moment where she helps tame the herons doesn't even hit the same impact it does for Sprig and Hop Pop considering she never quite talked about how the herons affect her. We see Sprig talking about how he misses his parents that he lost to the herons in Hopping Mall (and also likely fuels his behavior in Thai Feud to be seen as family by Anne's mom, and gives a touching moment in Sprig's Birthday) and how the heron attack is why Hop Pop buried the music box and acts overprotective. Polly on the other hand never even thinks or talks about it until All In so she doesn't quite hit the same emotional beats as Sprig and Hop Pop do with the taming herons. Like it makes me think the show probably wouldn't change much if Polly didn't exist or simply just merged her and Sprig instead.

So again: Long and unformatted so I'll sum up the main thesis of the statement: Did Polly need to exist? And does she feel sidelined?

And you know... Not really to the first and a bit to the second but I actually chalk that up more to her archtype/role than I do her being bad conceptually, especially since she's actually a good example of her trope and executed her role well. Polly isn't as important as Hop Pop or Sprig though. Hop Pop isn't even as important as Sprig which is usually why when I mention main character status, I include all three and sometimes mention Sprig alone as a true main character away from the Plantars as a unit.

But none of this is really all that surprising with Polly to me. Comic relief are almost never main characters. They can be main supporting cast like Polly is but- "Weh?"

Oh, hey King, wish I could say it's shocking to see you here. Unfortunately... I almost can't personally talk about this without bringing up King because Polly and him are almost identical at the starts of their shows and how they split off as their series go on are emblematic of the shows themselves. They're both meant to be extremely violent children where their role as comedic relief is derived from how they're so small and yet are either so bloodthirsty or so adult. This isn't a new trope, just like Miss Croaker being a tough, badass granny isn't, and King leans more into the adult side of the trope's humor while Polly leans more into the violent side of it.

Both characters suffer from being a part of this trope though and a main character. There are actually a couple tropes I consider almost taboo for me because of this one effect: The trope IS their character. They spend so much time obsessing over the silly juxtaposition of their nature that they don't really get to escape it. Polly actually doubles down on this with her sudden intelligence which just made her comedy stick out more than anything else to me, even if I'm happy she got to find a more interesting outlet for her desires and violent tendencies as a mechanic. It still feels awkwardly grafted onto the character which can happen a lot when you try to go from using someone as a trope to using them as a character. It's why Polly's best episodes are ones that embrace her tomboy or adventurous nature (including Fixing Frobo) because they keep her in character. In fact, adding super intelligence is just doubling down and being irreverent about the juxtaposition. It's admitting it's a children's comedy so why not go all in?

That's not a position The Owl House can accept though for itself, not when it so badly wants to claim it's not like other kids shows, and this is why in S2, King effectively inverts the balance of his character. He becomes his trope 10% of the time and now daddy issues and a proper child 90% of the time. It causes him to commonly feel out of character with what came before and him gaining wisdom at the end isn't doubling down for comedy like with Polly's intelligence, it's just making the eight year old suddenly a damn near Buddha compared to effectively anyone else in the series. With how little time is spent getting him to that place, it's hard to say it feels earned, especially when his character didn't make the change from S1 to 2 with any real grace honestly.

It's also part of why I like Polly more. Is she fairly one note and could have potentially been cut? Maybe. But at least she's consistent for the most part and while her jokes are a bit cheaper than a lot of jokes in the show, they keep them varied enough to keep them somewhat fresh and know to tuck her away when she's not needed. They also remember her age, like with the herons (since the ask did bring this up) as she wouldn't have the same reaction as Sprig or Hop Pop because she was barely alive at the time. She doesn't remember anything about her parents and so she just accepts Hop Pop as her parent and moves on rather than trying to give her the same angst of a character five years older than her (or however many years older Sprig is). Instead, her angst, the few times she has any, is a lot more about being taken seriously and proving herself which absolutely happens to children as young as her. Not in a supernatural way or the like, not because she sees herself as grown up, but because she's finally starting to figure out the start of her identity and what matters to her beyond play.

Side note: I LIKE that she doesn't angst about her parents. Not only is her being accepting of Hop Pop as her sole parent and okay with that befitting the found family and community themes of the show, it's also nice to adopted kids. Yes, Hop Pop is still blood related but he still didn't have to take her in and is still not her biological parent. He had no obligation and if Polly acted like that mattered, it could have been seen as a kind of middle finger to any adopted kids out there who never knew their parents and don't care either because whoever adopted them IS their parent. Not everyone has to have mommy or daddy issues, let alone if the never knew them and while I think Polly once or twice does admit to wishing she at least knew what they look like, she never acts like her family is lesser without them or that she's lesser for not having known them, something I actually like.

Meanwhile, King is hamstrung by the fact that TOH is a MUCH worse comedy and so the comedic relief is going to suffer from it. He has maybe three jokes repeated ad nauseam throughout the first season and while he gets one episode that's okay dedicated to him, Really Small Problems feels like an entirely different character. Then when he drops the mantle of comic relief, he almost vanishes from the show and his heritage becomes not only his whole character but also the whole point of his character. So he goes from an almost one note comic relief character to a one note side character who's almost more a plot device than a character and the transition isn't exactly graceful, especially since some of the retcons in S2 are just straight up incompatible with parts of S1.

And just while I'm talking about this trope, you do have the middle ground between these two with Spike from My Little Pony where his shtick never gets old, or takes a long time to get really old, and his episodes are definitely extensions of his character... It's just a problem that neither element is written great in the first place. Spike wasn't a terrible character but you NEVER wanted it to be a Spike episode and the more Spike was playing into his jokes instead of being just a helpful friend, the more hit or miss he could be. He never damaged the show by his existence like King but he never added a nice flavor and different angle on characterization like Polly does, all while still being constrained by being the child amongst older characters. I will also admit that Spike arguably doesn't entirely fit into this trope because he actually stays fairly age appropriate when it comes to violence and adventure, not that he couldn't have his moments where he felt a little older than he should have.

So yeah, in conclusion I think Polly could have been way worse and that honestly she's used as much as she needs to be. Do I love her writing? Not really, I don't think Amphibia needed a strictly comic relief character when Wartwood has so many that work for that, but she works well enough and they do still very effectively use her to explore additional family dynamics as she gets at least one episode as granddaughter to Hop Pop, little sister to Sprig and baby sister to Anne. She also is consistent with the sillier tone Amphibia goes for 99% of the time and frankly I love the little gremlin too often to think that she failed in her role.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

#the owl house criticism #amphibia critical #pollywood #polly #king clawthorne

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yankstrash · 10 months

Note

the text on the moodboard, i’m gonna need a little blurb on that for the au

one of gabes favorite things to do was take amelia shopping. he loved treating his girlfriend like a princess, and any excuse to watch her try on outfits was a good excuse.

amelia had an event for her sorority coming up, and needed to find a dress for it. gabe, of course, offered to go with her to find one and even pay for it.

normally the two had a blast shopping together. amelias cheeks would redden each time she stepped out of the dressing room in a new outfit and watched as gabe admired her lovingly. today however, all jokes were aside and all the usual playful banter was put on hold, as amelia was having a hard time finding a dress she really liked and growing more frustrated with each one she tried on.

"i really like that one, baby." gabe said in an almost monotone voice.

"no you don't." amelia responded, not missing the tone of his voice.

gabe huffed as he tossed his phone down in his lap, leaning forward in the chair he was sitting on and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"i do. i've liked every dress you've tried on. i don't understand what's been wrong with the last 20."

it's true. gabe really did like everything amelia had tried on, and couldn't understand why she didn't or why this was stressing her out so much.

"you don't. i can hear it in your voice." amelia said.

gabe huffed again as he said, "because i've been saying the same thing the past 2 hours. i liked the first dress, i liked the fifth dress, and i like this dress. just pick one, princess. it's not even a big deal. if it'll make you feel better, we can try again tomorrow at a different mall."

gabe was only trying to be reasonable and helpful, but was only annoying amelia more.

"no! i don't have time for that! the event is tomorrow night and i need to start getting ready by 2. if i don't find one tonight i am shit out of luck and might as well not even go." she finished, crossing her arms.

while gabe treated his girlfriend like a princess, she was in no way a brat. sure he liked to spoil her, but that was his own doing. she's never once asked him to pay for anything and always attempts to pay herself before he shoves her aside and whips his card out. she was not a brat, she was not stuck up; she was nothing short of one of the sweetest girls you'll ever meet.

but alas, she is human, and she has her moments. like the tantrum she was currently throwing down.

"so now you're just not going to go because you can't find a dress? if anything else, you have a hundred in your closet, why not just wear one of them?"

gabes continued attempts at reasoning with her girlfriend only made her grow more annoyed.

"those are all ones i have worn to past events! and i-" amelia paused, taking a breath before continuing. "you know what? let's just go. i'm over it." she hung the dresses she had just tried on up on the fitting room rack and walked out, leaving gabe trailing behind her.

"pretty sure you've looked in every store in the mall, baby. i don't know where else you're gonna look." gabe said as he followed amelia out of the store.

"no, i don't mean 'let's just go' from this store. i mean 'let's just go' as in i wanna go home. i'm stressed and tired and annoyed."

gabe wasn't going to argue. he simply opened her car door for her before getting in the drivers seat and headed off towards his place. that was, until amelia stopped him.

"drop me off at my place, please." she said, not a hint of emotion in her voice.

gabe looked over at her confused. "i thought we were having movie night tonight?"

amelia shrugged as she said, "i changed my mind. i just wanna go home."

gabe was disappointed, but nonetheless did what she asked and drove amelia to her place.

she quickly hopped out of his car once he pulled in and went inside her apartment.

amelia really didn't mean to take her annoyance out on her boyfriend. she knew he was only trying to be helpful, but today anyone or anything was setting her off, and unfortunately for gabe he just happened to be the one on the receiving end of it.

she waltzed into her bedroom and sat on her bed, putting her head in her hands. she gave herself a few minutes to calm down before her thoughts of feeling bad for how she treated her boyfriend consumed her head, and she grabbed her phone to text him.

to her surprise, she had already had a text from him.

from: gabriel ❤️

"you done throwing ya lil fit?"

somehow, even when she was at her brink of annoyance, he always managed to make her smile.

his stupid witty banter. his stupid little jokes. his stupid cute face.

she couldn't resist him.

from: meels 💗

"no give me 10 more mins"

amelia knew her boyfriend would pick up on the humor immediately, so she wasn't surprised when he texted her back saying to come back outside when she was done, as he was still sitting in his car in front of her apartment.

once she gathered herself, she went back out and hopped back into his passenger seat.

she gave him a sympathetic smile as she closed the car door.

gabe returned the smile and asked, "so, can we stop talking about dresses and tantrums and go watch a fuckin' movie?"

amelia smiled brightly at her boyfriend, nodding her head yes.

#princess!gf x gabe perreault

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noras-dc-shenanigans · 10 months

Text

Grandparents | Lost

Danny sniffled, tears prickling his eyes as he sat on a bench in the crowded mall. He’d been out with his Gramma, staying with her and Grandpa for the week while Mom and Dad got all their big furniture moved to the new house. She’d told him to stay outside the bathroom until she was done, because he was too big to be allowed in there with her anymore, but he’d seen a store with a space ship and run right over, slipping in after someone else. He’d stared at it, read as much of the description as he could, before he suddenly realized that he’d left and Gramma would be worried!

So he’d gone running back over to the bathrooms, and waited for her. And waited. And waited. Until finally, heart hammering and tummy feeling squirmy and cold, he’d snuck in and called for her.

But it was empty. Gramma was gone.

Danny had immediately run out and frantically spun in a circle, calling out for her. A few people had heard him, and asked what was wrong, but Danny remembered his sixth birth last year and the man that tried to take him away and ran from them. He’d darted through stores, randomly turning corners, until he wound up completely and totally lost, in an empty corner with some sad potted plants and a bench.

Which led to now, with Danny curled up on the bench, half hidden behind a scraggly tree. He had his knees pulled up to hide his face in, which was why he didn’t hear someone walk over until a soft voice asked,

“Hey, are you okay?”

With a small shriek, Danny threw himself down the bench til he almost fell off the end. The stranger, a tall, tan-skinned man with the same hair and eyes as Danny, lunged and just barely kept him from toppling to the floor. Heart pounding, head dizzy, and too upset for his young mind to deal with, Danny immediately burst into tears and clutched at the man’s blue jacket.

After a moment, the man wrapped his arms around him and sat on the bench, maneuvering the young boy to sit across it, like when he went to see Santa. Then he just sat with him, gently rubbing his back and humming a tune.

After forever (or 10 minutes), Danny calmed enough to let go of the jacket and rub his fists into his eyes. Vision cleared, he looked up at the man, who smiled and said,

“Hello, my name’s Richard, but I prefer Dick. What’s your name?”

After a moment, Danny decided that if the man wanted to take him he’d have done it already, and answered shyly,

“‘M Danny. I lost my Gramma! I was supposed to wait outside the bathroom but I didn’t and I couldn’t find her and I don’t want a bad person to try to take me again but I got lost and I don’t know where to find her!”

He had fresh tears in his eyes by the end, ready to fall, but Dick shushed him and rubbed his back again until he calmed down. Once Danny’s breathing was back to normal, Dick said,

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. There a special office here with policemen in it, and they’ll help you find your Gramma, okay? I can take you there and wait until you find her, if that would help you feel better?”

Danny considered a moment, then nodded his assent and hopped off Dick’s lap. Together, they walked a long, long way, until they found the policeman office, and Dick told the what happened, and they made a special announcement for Gramma. A little while later, Gramma came running through the door, and Danny ran to her, and she hugged and kissed and scolded him for not listening.

She talked to the policeman, and then to Dick, and she said thank-you a lot and gave them both a special homemade candy from her purse, and then Danny had to say bye-bye to Dick and they left.

Later the night, at home, Danny lay in bed with his brand-new red and black bird stuffie from Dick, and smiled into Robin’s fabric feathers.

#danny fenton #dick grayson #there’s a child #loose #in the mall!#DPxDCFamilyWeek

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lexiloos-currentobsession · 7 months

Text

Screaming into the void about my season 3 favs

Mabel

-SAY NOTHING, YOU UNDERSTAND? GET A LAWYER!

Witness

-I geeked out over the camera pan out from Mike on his stakeout to the Los Pollos Hermanos sign

-Also screamed at the TV watching out of focus Gus casually sweeping in the background while Jimmy is in the restaurant

-Hey who’s got your back? ME that’s who

-There’s a moment Jimmy and Kim lock eyes across their office and smile, they are truly happy and all is right in their world

-Kim asks Jimmy for a dollar so that she’s officially his lawyer. This man really gets all his best ideas from her.

-Fun foreshadow/call back: the art in Jimmy’s office is lady liberty

-Howard’s little hop to look over the fence💀

-Jimmy threatens to burn Chuck’s house to the ground… yikes

Sunk Cost

-Jimmy had red string wrapped around Marco’s ring bc it’s too big for his finger. BCS writers really think of everything and then make it symbolic.

-Bill Oakley replying “you moron” when Jimmy says he’ll be representing himself cracked me up

Sabrosito

-Be honest, on first watch did it click for y’all that Gus wanted Hector to demand Gus transport all the product??? That one took me a sec

Chicanery

-Chuck’s 512 - 521 address mix up explanation to Rebecca in the flashback almost makes it seem like Chuck inadvertently gave Jimmy the idea to do the 1216 - 1261 swap all those years later

-We get to hear “I DID IT FOR KIM” again AND we get to watch Kim hear it!!!

-HUEL REVEAL 😤

-The absolute betrayal of Jimmy telling Rebecca about Chuck’s condition after we see him go to such lengths to keep it from her in the flashback… not saying Chuck didn’t deserve it but damn. Feel like this gets overlooked compared to the rest of the episode

Off Brand

-Where are your notes let’s spread em out roll around on them and see what happens

-I thought you were president of the drama club or something? …i’m treasurer

-We get our first commercial starring Saul! (Saul Goodman productions)

-Saul Goodman, that guy has a lot of energy

Expenses

-Jimmy’s emotional breakdown act in the insurance office really had me for a sec. Spoilers but very same vibe as his breakdown to the mall security guy in season 6

Slip

-In the opener flashback Jimmy retrieves the band aid tin from the ceiling in his parents old store that we later see Gene still has!

-Mike searching for the body of the Good Samaritan gutted me

-This condition to me is as real as that chair, it’s as real as this house, it’s as real as you, but what if it’s not? What if it’s all in my head? And if that’s true, if it’s not real, then what have I done?

-We see Slippin Jimmy in action and it’s as wonderful as I imagined

-Who would have thought Nacho practicing close up magic would be such a vibey scene? The YouTube comments on the track validate me.

-Jimmy strumming smoke on the water, that man is up to no good

-Buddy this is the land of the free and the home of the law suit

Fall

-Howard is SUCH a dick to Jimmy in the parking garage HOLY SHIT

-What Jimmy does to Irene is unspeakable so we’re not speaking on it

-Kim’s car accident sacres the fuck out of me every time

Lantern

-Chuck really looks Jimmy in the face and tells him he’s going to hurt everyone around him because he can’t help it and to stop apologizing and accept and embrace it 😦

-Jimmy makes things right for mrs Landry to his own detriment

#better call saul #bcs #jimmy mcgill #mcwexler #saul goodman #brbabcs #kim wexler #bob odenkirk

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ilive4thursdays · 2 years

Text

Alternative Takes: Matter of Time

What if Joyce had gone over to Hopper’s that evening? Scene takes place in episode 3.01* Read this already? My Season 4 Moments Series is here.

Joyce’s stomach ached from something else besides hunger. Seeing Bob’s cartoon drawing on the fridge every night probably wasn’t helping. She’d pretend he was with her often on evenings like these, when the boys weren’t home. Ugh. She wished they were home now. It’d help distract her.

She twiddled her thumbs, changing the channel, finally sipping from her glass of Chianti, absentmindedly watching Cheers on the television.

Maybe you could do it for me— yeah you could. You could come over after work…

She shouldn’t go over there. Not yet. Not now. Not while she was grieving, guilt racking through her each and every night, lonely…

Wanna have dinner tonight? You could give me some more pointers.

I guess he really wouldn’t leave her mind.

Fiiiiine, her brain huffed at her, as she turned off the television and took a final swig from the glass, moving to put her uneaten lasagna back in the fridge.

This was a bad idea. But damn did she need a distraction. How much she didn’t want to be sitting here. By herself. Alone. Again. All her fault.

Was it?

Yes. Her brain always reminded her.

So going to see Hopper and help him with his daughter’s antics.. A good idea. They’re just friends anyway. Hanging out. It doesn’t mean anything. Nope.

But the way he had looked at her at Melvald’s-

Joyce was suspicious. She couldn’t get the warm feeling out of her belly since their hands had met on the prescription counter. She’d felt it earlier too. Before Bob. But she’d pushed past it.

Lately Hopper had been coming in to see her at the store more often. At first it was to check on Will, then to check on her, then after Bob. She felt guilty about it sometimes but loved seeing him and didn’t have it in her to ask him to stop. The shop wasn’t busy. And without the upside down around, it’s not like he had his own work to get to.

Worried she’d talk herself out of it, she grabbed her keys, walking straight to her car. The drive over to the cabin felt both like seconds and hours. Her brain was struggling. It’s not like she wasn’t ready to date. But it’s also possible Hopper didn’t mean to touch her hand like that? Didn’t mean to make that look?

Whatever. This certainly wasn’t a date. She reassured herself.

He just needs help with raising teenagers. And really, who doesn’t? She was just going over to help. Strategize a game plan.

She parked behind his police car and hopped out, heading straight for the door. It wasn’t super dark out yet, just after dusk. She knocked softly, suddenly regretting not calling first.

Hopper opened the door, surprised to see her.

“Hey.” He beamed.

“Hey.” She blushed. “I ah- I don’t know if I’m still invited over but I’m here to help.” Trying to maintain an ounce of confidence, she strode past him through the door instantly.

“So,” she sighed, putting her hands together and repeating. “I’m here to help! Where are they?”

Hopper laughed, shutting the door and turning to face her.

“Where are who?”

Was he joking?

“You know, the kids. Who keep kissing? I’m here to offer my version of a heart to heart. Whatever I can do to help.” With that, she saluted him.

He smiled, sitting down on the chair, starring up at her now crossed arms. She’s very serious tonight.

“Joyce, they’re not here.”

Her face slanted, awkwardly. “What? Where are they?”

He shrugged, “The mall? Not sure but Will might be there too?”

“Oh right, right.” She was pacing now, feeling both embarrassed and unsure. “Well.. sorry I barged in.”

I gotta get out of here.

“Woah, woah! Hey!” He chuckled, standing up as she headed towards the door. “I wanted your help. I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

A beat.

“Well, ugh, what can I help with? Do you wanna practice your speech again?” Her cheeks flushing.

He shook his head, confident she’d stay now, walking away from her and towards the kitchen. “What can I get ya?”

She saw him pull out whiskey and nodded. “Sure, that.” She wasn’t knowledgeable on the forms of liquor. Maybe it’d help her relax.

He laughed, poured a glass for them both.

“Oof,” Joyce sighed, laughing a little as she sat on his couch, kicking her feet into the air, unsure. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Hopper laughed, “You’re here to help me!”

She smiled warmly, taking the cup from him as he returned to his lazyboy beside her. “Yeah but you clearly don’t need it, they’re not even here.”

“For now!” Hop huffed, laughing again. Smiling. He was always smiling at her.

Joyce felt a deep blush invade her space again but she wasn’t unhappy to be here now.

“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“Nonsense,” Hopper replied. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Joyce adjusted herself, sensing him leaning further into her.

She stretched away from him, trying to think. “Well.. do you want to read your speech again? Or we could rehearse possible rebuttal arguments from the teens?”

He just stared back at her, taking her in. She could feel his gaze intimately, like he was asking for something. She didn’t want to acknowledge wha-

“What?” She laughed, nervous.

He was still smiling.

A beat. Finally.

“Why won’t you have dinner with me?”

She rolled her eyes, setting her glass on the coffee table and moving further down the couch. He shifted off his chair and onto the couch to sit next to her.

“No, really.” His face turned more serious.

“I’ve had dinner with you.” She snorted. Rolling her eyes gently.

“No,” he was laughing again, “Not like dinner with Will and El and Jon and me. Just me. You and me.”

She knew where this was going and it both dropped a pit into her stomach while igniting something else inside of her.

She stood abruptly, needing space. “What are you talking about? We can have dinner.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said calmly, “a date.”

She frowned, perplexed. “You didn’t say it was a date?”

“Yeah, well. That’s the whole truth.” He shrugged. Still smiling. Damnit.

She huffed back at him, annoying herself as she started to pace by habit. She couldn’t help the nerves.

“Well… Jesus, Hopper. What would El say?” She mumbled, teasing him. Trying desperately to keep the mood light. She’d heard Will say it a million times: Friends don’t lie.

“I don’t want to be just your friend-“ Hop started, standing up, moving towards her.

“Woah, woah!” Joyce exclaimed. “Stay over there, buddy!”

Hopper laughed. “Buddy?”

She nodded, still moving, finding herself in his small kitchen.

“Why, Joyce?” He smiled. “What’s gonna happen? What are you so worried about?”

She shook her head, speechless. Wordless. Her throat was dry.

“Hmm.” Hop smiled again, coming into the kitchen too. “I need to know, Joyce.”

Her face was hot. Her body flush against the cabinets now on the other side of the kitchenette as he approached her.

“What?” She said, barely audible.

He set his arms on either side of her, careful not to touch her but so close. He gently moved his mouth towards her right ear, “Do you want to have dinner with me?”

That did it.

Joyce couldn’t resist. His cologne and chest and faint whisper were too much to deny and she knew, as much as she’d been avoiding this thing between them, it had indeed only been a matter of time.

She grabbed his shirt, tugging it close to her and kissed him. It was slow for only a few moments before turning feverish as she ran her fingers through his hair.

She felt Hopper grip her thighs, lifting her up and angling her towards the cabinets, desperate to be close to her. He stepped between her legs after placing her on his counter, a better angle for his height. He started to slip his fingers under her shirt, desperate to touch her. Joyce moaned.

Suddenly the front door opened. A giggly Max and El barged in chatting incessantly before gasping.

Hopper and Joyce broke apart instantly. Joyce fell, gracefully landing to her feet.

“Knock!” Hop yelled, annoyed and tense, adjusting himself accordingly and moving AWAY from Joyce.

“Sorry!” Max exclaimed, looking between Joyce and Hopper. She was smirking.

A beat.

“We’re ah - going that way,” Max finished, pointing towards El’s room.

El, still by the front door, a stupid smile on her face looking at Joyce.

“Hi!” She grinned.

“Hi.” Joyce returned the sentiment, a bit embarrassed.

“Hey, hey, hey.. what’s going on here?” Hopper murmured, pointing between her and Max, who’d already entered El’s room.

“Oh!” El said, still smiling, frozen in the same spot. “Sleepover. Can we have one?”

Max interjected from the next room, “But if you need us to go out for a bit, all good, we can come back in like 10-“

“No!” Both adults exclaimed, red faced.

“No?” El frowned, confused.

“I mean..” Hop started, rubbing his hand over his face trying to cool down. “Yes, you can have a sleepover. No, you don’t need to go anywhere. Just go to your room and keep the noise down, got it?”

“Cool,” El nodded, moving towards Max. “Door open or..”

“Closed!” Hop groaned. Then lowered his tone. “Please.”

“Night!” Max hollered. El shut the door behind them leaving a jostled Joyce and Hopper in his living room.

“Joyce!” Jim sighed, seeing her make a mad dash out towards the front door. He followed her to her car.

“No, no, no, no…” she murmured to herself, stopping, now turning to him. “This was a bad idea, Hop. I shouldn’t have come over here.”

“Joyce!” He exclaimed, trying to keep up with her, a gentle hand landing on her arm. He finally noticed tears on her cheeks and cupped her face to turn it towards his.

“I need you!” She cried, face dropping towards the ground.

“You have no idea-“ he started, realizing his adrenaline was misplaced. “Joyce?”

She shook her head. “No- I need you. In my life. I can’t- we can’t-“

“Yes, we can.” Hopper insisted. “Come on, it was only a matter of time-“

“Matter of time?” She sighed, “No, Hop. It’s gonna ruin things like it did the last time.”

He gently tilted her chin towards his face and breathed deeply, trying to calm her nerves. “No, it’s not like last time. We were kids. There’s no Vietnam, no Lonnie.. no parents. There’s just you and me. It’s always been you and me.”

He smiled down at her, still sensing trepidation.

“Please.” Hopper breathed. “I want you. There’s no one else like you. I think in a messed up way, the universe brought us back together somehow. You’re all I think about. You and El and Will and Jonathon- please tell me I’m not alone in that.”

Joyce sobbed, unaware she’d ever been holding so much in before. They embraced for a long moment. Hopper rubbing circles on her back to calm her.

“I’m dangerous.” Joyce finally shared, still beneath his shoulder. “I screw up relationships. Or get people killed.” She whispered that last part.

“Hey,” Hopper murmured, moving her chin up toward his. “This isn’t your fault. We’re in this together.” Their foreheads merged, breathing together, realizing, perhaps for the first time in a long time, they didn’t have to do all of this alone anymore.

She hugged him for a long moment until-

“Hungry?” he whispered, suddenly nervous.

She nodded against him as they moved to get into her car. “It’s a date.”

Notes

I rewatched season 3 recently and finally noticed Hopper tried to asked Joyce out even multiple times the first episode. Then to see Joyce sad and eating alone on her couch that evening (some plans!) I just couldn’t help but write this. They live in my head rent-free.

*PS it’s my timeline- for purposes of this story Max and El’s sleepover happened earlier.

More-

Season 4 Moments Series

#joyce x hopper #hopper x joyce #jim hopper #jopper #joyce byers #stranger things #stranger things 4 #netflix #stranger things fic #jopper fanfiction

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beneathashadytree · 2 years

Text

SNOW DILEMMA - MIRKO/RUMI USAGIYAMA X READER

Warnings : there’s no plot whatsoever and this isn’t proofread, lots of ass jokes and a couple of curse words, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : crack lmao

Word count : 2.2K words

Additional notes : This was a request by @welovemonstergirls over DM. Thank you for requesting! It took me a while to finish the requests I had before yours, but the request itself only took me around two days to fully flesh it out like you wanted. I hope you enjoy this!

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp.

Masterlist

Rabbit Hero Mirko realized that she hated snow.

Maybe she hadn’t really realized it before, since she’d always correlated snow with cuddles with her lover in bed on Christmas Eve, or with kisses under the Christmas tree in the middle of the mall, but now, with her head plunged in the snow as she struggled to get out, she decided she hated the white fluff.

“Fucking hell,” she hissed, her gloves snagged on a branch buried underneath the layers of snow, feeling a distinct chill as the wind whipped at her butt. She’d dove after her scarf and gloves when a particularly strong gust had blown them away and down the hole, but she’d miscalculated how tight it was, and now found herself unable to get out. Wriggling her butt from side to side in hopes of unwedging herself, she only took one glance at her watch and grew more panicked.

Rumi’s plans for Christmas had been to (begrudgingly) spend it on patrol, since it was her turn this year. Though her lover hadn’t really show any discontent, she knew damn well just how they felt about them spending Christmas apart. And it only grew more apparent as they parted, the sad smile on their face doing little to hide how much they’d miss her this time of year. Rumi would have to be an absolute idiot to let that slip by.

It was only with a stroke of dumb luck that Hawks had asked her to switch years with her, since he’d nothing to do this Christmas and didn’t want to spend it doing God-knows-what; an opportunity she jumped at in hopes of making it home in time for Christmas dinner.

And yet here she was, face down and ass up, with the clock nearing 7 PM and her hair certainly more disheveled in its updo than it was when she set out on the journey. She thanked her lucky stars that she, at the very least, had great cold tolerance and wasn’t out there freezing to death (still, though, it wasn’t a very pleasant feeling). Swearing to herself at the thought of her beloved sitting at the head of the dining table on their own, she roughly kicked her legs back, finally managing to break through the snow and widen the hole enough for her to pull out.

Inhaling deeply, Rumi shook the crumbled snow on her hair, running a hand ontop in an attempt to tame it. Though it was mostly in vain, she bet she looked fairly decent now, at the very least. Stretching her legs once again, she decided she’d simply activate her quirk. It’d save her the time she’d take to get to their house, and probably even manage to make it before they got back from their usual trip to the convenience stoor next door.

With a new spring in her step (quite literally), she kicked off on her way once again. No sooner had she hopped a few hundred meters, did her sensitive ears pick up on a rustling sound coming from behind. She stilled in place, ears twitching for a moment as she tried to discern where the sound had come from. It probably wasn’t good news though; at this time of year, most non-hibernating animals snuck out of their shelters and began their hunt for food as soon as twilight fell upon the forest. It could be anything that was tailing her.

A low growl came from the bushes where she’d first heard the rustling of leaves, and the hair at the nape of her neck stood up, her ears pushing back as fear grew in the pit of her stomach. “Yeah, that’s not good news at all,” she mumbled under her breath. Humans, quirk-users and non-quirk-havers alike she could handle, but animals were far too unpredictable for her to deal with. And honestly, she wanted to live past the ripe age of 27.

With a small panicked cry, she finally met the eyes of the beast that came charging at her from behind. A large grizzly bear that seemed to be twice her size was bounding her way, and she barely had time to leap off the ground before its jaws snapped around her tail.

The pro-hero landed on a fir tree branch above, before reconsidering for a moment and jumping onto a higher one, just as an extra safety measure. She didn’t want to find out the height of a wild bear when standing on its hind legs; no sir, not today. For a few moments, she quivered in her snow boots, clinging onto the tree trunk as the bear seemingly glared up at her, mouth stained red with mottled flesh, and drool slipping past its bared teeth. Before too long, it finally gave up on the chase, turning its back on her and going the opposite direction, probably in search of less troubling prey.

Rumi shakily breathed out, warmth flooding back into her body as she did. She hadn’t realized just how terrified she’d been at the mere sight of the great beast, and she hoped she wouldn’t get to experience it again. Feeling a little safer now, she she shifted back across the branch, reading herself to hop off—but it seemed that her luck was running out even quicker than before, as the branch suddenly snapped underneath her weight and sent her tumbling downwards at the ground at a speed to high for her to get to twist herself mid-air and readjust.

Less than two seconds later, she found herself slamming headfirst into a snowman she hadn’t even noticed before (and God, did she wish she had). A chill ran down her spine as the snow dug into her skin and between her clothes, but what felt even worse was how compacted she was. Whoever had made this snowman was quite skilled at the art of forming perfectly round and stiff balls, she bitterly thought to herself, as she once again found herself ass-up and stuck.

This time, though, her feet were swinging in the air as well, so she was even incapable of catapulting herself out as she had before. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” she huffed, voice all muffled amidst the snow that surrounded her head from all around. The only viable option Rumi could see was to elbow her way out, but even that was proving to be difficult with the way her arms were tucked into her sides. “Kids usually make the sloppiest snowmans, and now they’re experts all of a sudden?!” she groaned, before shaking her head in the small space, “Focus, Mirko. Think of the weakest part to break through.”

She wiggled her hips as she did, hoping that doing so would create enough force to break the perfect sphere, but to no avail. If anyone were to see her like this, ass-up and legs protruding at an awkward angle, she would’ve died of shame. All she could do as she struggled was sincerely hope that the path was abandoned as it had been for the past thirty minutes.

She gasped, suddenly remembering what her destination was. “Oh, crap,” she whined, panic causing her to twist a little in place, trying to glimpse at her watch. As she did, the snow finally began to crumble at her waist, the snowman falling apart due to her rapid heated movements.

Tumbling out into the open air, she wheezed, breathing properly for the first time in a good couple of minutes. A quick glance at her wrist informed her that it was creeping onto 7:15, and this time she didn’t even bother to tidy herself up before quickly kicking off and bounding between the trees. It didn’t matter if clumps of snow stuck to her nape, or if her hair was sticking up everywhere like she’d just got electrocuted; she had no time to lose, and just over w kilometer to go. Her powerful legs carried her, almost soaring in the forest in a way that had her chest swelling with pride. It felt good to race against the wind in her own way.

Rumi’s happiness was short-lived, however, as she soon found herself slamming head-first into another perfectly-shaped snowman, before she could stop herself. “I’m starting to really hate kids,” she grumbled bitterly, her legs poking out in the air uncomfortably, her muscles burning as she refused to be held back anymore, “And if an adult is behind this, I hope they don’t get tax returns this year.” With a great thump, she propelled her upper body out of the snowman-prison, landing gracefully on her feet.

Only half a kilometer to go. There was little she could tell herself to comfort herself, but repeating that one sentence helped her a bit. Pushing the tree trunks gave her a little more force behind her jumps, and cut the remaining distance some more. Before she could rejoice in finally seeing the chimneys of the village houses in the horizon, that ominous growl came from behind her again.

“This has to be some kind of sick joke.” Rumi’s eyes blew wide open, fear tingling down her body as they met the bottomless eyes of that same bear whose snout was drenched in the remains of its dinner, apparently. “What kind of beast hunts the same prey twice?!”

Frustration rang in her voice as she frantically looked back and forth, before finally finding a tree whose trunk was slightly hollowed out halfway. Maybe it was a squirrel’s shelter, and she’d hate to intrude on a harmless creature’s home, but at this point in time she was past caring for more than staying alive. Digging her heels into the ground, she kicked off it like it were some sort of launch pad, landing herself in the darkness of the tree trunk.

Only she still couldn’t manage to fit her entire body in. Her butt still remained outside, legs wriggling helplessly. Try as she might, she could neither push herself further inside, nor could she push herself out and seek safety somewhere else. Something like a whimper escaped her lips, feeling more than just terrified as her ears twitched nervously upon hearing the thudding of the bear as it approached her.

Any second now her muscles would completely lock out of fear, and Rumi scrambled to squeeze herself inside the hollowed trunk (which, thankfully, was empty at the moment). A deep growl came from two of three meters behind, and she could feel her legs tremble with both the effort and the adrenaline.

“Everything’s pint sized today,” she groaned, trying to shimmy her hips a bit, and only managing to move an inch of two. Now for her thighs to fit in, she’d have to stretch her torso inside the tree to give her some leeway. Her blood rushing through her ears, she could almost hear her heart pounding in her chest as she tugged her upper body this way and that. Just as the bristle of fur was almost on top of her, she managed to fit in with a ‘pop’—right before a large, clawed paw batted at the trunk. As it shook, Rumi heaved a sigh of relief, which sounded more like a shudder than anything else.

She couldn’t see much in the dark of the tree, and so she waited for a couple of minutes to pass, before pulling back her fist (or as much as she could in the tight space), and punching the bark to enlarge the hole. Making a cleaner exist than her mortifying entrance, she made it back onto (relatively) solid ground, mumbling a quick apology to the tree. She didn’t have much of a choice, yes, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

Another quick glance at her wrist watch reminded her that it was 3 minutes to 7:30. If she jumped—not hopped—the remaining distance, and then leapt downhill, she could make it right before the half-hour chime. With the wind whipping her hair and anxious sweat making her clothes stick uncomfortably to her skin, she bounded across what remained of the forest path, her speed increasing potentially as she did.

Before Rumi could stop her aching leg muscles, she found herself tumbling down the short hill. “Fuck!” she managed to cry out, eyes wide as she realized that she was probably going to crash into their front doorstep—literally too, seeing as theirs was the first house at the end of the footpath. Wincing in preparation, her entire body shook as she rolled over and into the wall with a violent thud, squeezing her eyes shut with the impact.

And when her darling stepped out, frown on their face and eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the loud sound they’d heard, and looked to their right, they couldn’t help but double over with laughter at the sight of their girlfriend’s ass sticking out of the snow, muddy snow boots dangling off her feet and a series of muffled “ow, ow, ow”s coming from the pile of snow where her head ought to have been.

“Well, this is certainly an… interesting Christmas gift,” they wheezed out, their laugh only growing louder at the expletives yelled at them from beneath the fluffy white, “Welcome home, Rumi.”

Taglist: @thispersoniscrazy @wifeofkyojuro

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