#And Al knows he has it - why he had to get a new coat for the first time in ages because of it! - but he’s never tried to take it back

[teamfortresstwo]

Love picturing Vox being comforted by things that remind him of Alastor

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Like a deer in headlight ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : After finding out that Alastor indeed had ears atop his head, it was now time for round two of your game - his deer tail.

Pairing : Alastor x Reader

Word count : 3313 Words

Genre : Fluff, Suggestive(?)

Warnings ➵ Possessive and out of character Alastor,

he accidentally hurts and scares Reader

a/n : Continuation of my Alastor x Reader story, > Deer in headlight < , got asked for this by a few people, so here ya'll go! Hope it's as good as the first one!♡

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It had been a week since you had discovered Alastor's ears and he had let you touch them for the first time. Sneaking on him a few times to caress or play with them, maybe even a little tug or kiss to them when none of the others were looking. The relationship between you two also changed to something different, you couldn't exactly put a name to it, but it was more than friends, but definitely less than lovers. It confused you. Alastor confused you. Once he is nice to you, cooks you dinner, and lets you play with his ears while he writes a new script, the next time he rather distances himself from you, makes jokes here and there as if he himself didn't know what to do nor how to act.

The others also had picked up on the change between you two, Angel was teasing you about it a lot, Husker just warned you to be careful, Niffty was herself like always and Charlie was super happy about how close you two seemed to have gotten now.

So now to your new mission at hand, round two of your self-proclaimed game. Figure out if Alastor has a tail and if yes, get around to touch it! But this time it seemed to be harder than before, Alastor had his guard up a lot around you now, even when he let you play with his ears. Every time your hand wanders away from his ears down to try and peak under his coat, his hand either guides yours back up to his head or he entirely gets up and leaves, making sure you cannot find out if he has a fluffy little tail.

So now you were sitting at the bar, head resting on the counter as Husker slid your favorite drink over to you. "No look yet huh sweets? Was surprised you even got around to touching his ears without injuries." Angel now sat down beside you, softly patting your back as you let out a tired groan. "I just don't get it! I mean he saw that in the it wasn't that bad when I touched his ears! So why is it so bad now if I figure out if he has a tail too!" Pouting, you sit up a bit now taking a sip from your glass. "Maybe he doesn't have one, none of us ever saw one at least. Or maybe if he has one it's a different feeling for him than his ears?" Husker was cleaning a glass now as he spoke to you. Maybe he was right but.. you really wanted to know if he had a cute matching tail. Eyes going around the foyer now as you notice Alastor making his way up the stairs.

"Al! Wait up!" Jumping down from the barstool to follow him up the stairs, he waited for you on the stairs before walking up beside you. Eyes glancing over to him, he looked calm as always, his signature smile adorning his face, staff clutched in one hand as he walked alongside you. "How can I help you today dear?" Looking over at him now, you simply followed him to where he was going. "Are you doing a broadcast today? May I listen again?" Raising an eyebrow slightly Alastor looks over to you, nodding in agreement as he leads you to his radio tower. Over the last week, you had listened to his broadcast live two times already, which made you happy that he allowed you to join him. Opening the door for you, you enter first as you immediately take a seat at the table, Alastor had put up a second chair for you. Still, you noticed how his eyes had a glimmer of suspicion at how you suddenly wanted to listen in today.

Waiting for him to start the broadcast, your head was leaning on your hand as you watched Alastor with a smile. Suddenly an idea came into your head, trying to suppress the grin that was threatening to grow on your face. Alastor was focused on his broadcast, talking about something you weren't even listening to anymore. Reaching your hand over now, your fingertips softly graze his ears, as Alastor lets out a surprised yet quiet yelp, before turning his head to you with a warning glare. Returning his gaze with a smirk now, as you stand up from your seat and slowly walk over to him, he was glaring at you now. You were so close to fucking up, but this was a chance. Reaching your hand out to the back of his coat to pull it up. Quickly the > On Air < sign switched up, as Alastor grabbed your wrist in a rather right grip. Turning his head to you now, his antlers had grown in size, a red X on his forehead, and eyes turned to dials. You definitely fucked up now.

"D̷̢͙̟̼̘̊̒̑͑͝ë̸͇͍͓̲͇͂̾̓͝a̴͙̻̞̫̞̾̑̈́͑̕r̸̖͎̼̳͍̀̉̌̉̒ ̶̜͉̦͔̒̋̌̒̕ͅw̵̛̲̭̰̼͒̑̎͝ͅh̴͚̮̬̜̔̉͗̀̅ͅa̴̭͖͍̩̣͐̀̇͂̿ţ̷̛̪̣̥͓̓̆̕͠ ̴̢͓͓͙̯̂̀͋̀͘w̵̘̣̫͚͛̋͛̊͠ͅë̴̢̡̛̥̦͇́̄̉̈ř̶͓̜̗̻̓̊̐͘ͅẽ̷̮̻͈͕͎̓̌͐̈ ̵̠̝̫̺̲̑́̍̈́̈́ÿ̴̳̩͍͎̙́̌́̿̈́o̶̰̭͎͈̣̅͛͑̌͘u̶̢̝̥̞̪͋́̒̎͝r̶ ̵͕͉̫̻̤̎̐̋̾͘į̴͕͈̮̅̎̈́̀̌ͅn̸̠̳̮̤̻͆͛̔̎͋t̸̖̻̲̘̭̐̎̂̏̕e̵̞͎͎̭̗̓̍̓̉̈́n̶̬͈͎̤͉̈́̈́̈́̇̾ţ̶̱͓̥̲̅̔͋̀̚i̶̡̲͕̤̩̒̏͐̈́͝ǒ̷̗̰̯̩̻́̔̄́n̸̡̧̞̩̥̔͆̎͆̅s̵̪̣̱͔̎͒́̽͠ͅ ̷̝͍͈̥͌͂̿̏͘ͅr̶̹͚̦͉̞̈́̈́͂̋̀i̶̡̨̛͉͇͇̾͐͊̍g̸̨̛͉͎̰̖͋̒͒̓h̴̜̫͕̪͊͊̈́͝͠ͅt̷͉̳̩̰̜͗̈́̓̽̒ ̴̨̬̱̰̠̒͂̍́̏n̸̬͍̬̣̗̿̃̅́͑ǫ̸̠̰̈̊͌͗̚͜͜w̴̧̜̺̖̓́̎͗͆ͅ?̴̠̖̯̤͚̓̀̎̂͆"

Gulping once, you try to pull your arm back from his grip, which just makes him tighten it. Hissing lowly, you squeeze your eyes shut, it was slowly stinging a bit from how tight his grip was. "Al.. You're hurting me!" Alastor finally turned back to himself, letting go of your red wrist now, a print of his fingers visible as you cradled your hand against your chest. "I'm going to leave for now.." Head down as you hurriedly leave the room, closing the door behind you as you dart for your room, ignoring Angel's calls who just walked past you. Throwing yourself on your bed now, you looked at your wrist scared now. He had never used his demon form for you, there was no way of denying that he had scared you. Closing your eyes to push away the tears that were slowly building up in your eyes, as your consciousness drifts away.

"Dear, wake up." A hand on your shoulder was softly shaking you awake, lifting your head to take in your surroundings before meeting Alastor's eyes. Sitting up quickly, you scoot a bit away from him as you watch him with wide eyes. "Alastor..! What are you doing in my room?" Watching him now, as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed, making sure to not make you any more uncomfortable by getting too close to you. "I'm sorry about back there, I lost it a bit, I shouldn't have." Despite smiling, you noticed that Alastor was genuinely apologizing to you. "I'm sorry, I crossed a line there, I used your trust in me listening to your broadcast live, I'm truly sorry." Laying your hand near his own carefully, letting him decide if he wants to be touched right now. Looking down, he softly takes your hand, as he presses a kiss against the red fingerprints he had left behind. His eyes were closed right now as his lips linger a second longer than they usually do. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." Raising to his feet now, he gave you a soft smile, before leaving you stunned in your room.

Laying back down against your pillows, your gaze was on the ceiling as your cheeks became a soft shade of red. What was he thinking? Turning onto your side now as you hug your pillow against your chest, looking to where Alastor sat just a few minutes prior.

The next day arrives, as you make your way down the stairs to the others. Charlie was right now explaining something to Angel and Husker, hyper as always. Vaggie was simply sitting on one of the couches with a book right now, while Alastor was nowhere to be seen. "Hey Vaggie, have you seen Alastor?" Leaning over the back of the couch now so the girl could see you as she looks over to you. "He went out rather early today, saying something about Overlords meeting and visiting a friend in Cannibal Town." Raising your eyebrows slightly at that, friend in Cannibal Town? Definitely Rosie. He probably decided to tag along with her a bit after the meeting, as she was also an Overlord. Thanking Vaggie, you go over to the other three to let Vaggie read her book in peace.

"Okay and then when Heaven agrees we could- Oh good morning!" Waving to you immediately now as Charlie noticed you coming over. Greeting them all with a smile and good morning now before Charlie starts to ramble on about her plans. It was nice seeing such a hyper and happy girl in hell, it was definitely a change to how people normally were down here.

"By the way sweets, would you mind tagging along to the city today? I wanted to go visit some clothing stores you would definitely like!" Angel laid his hand on your shoulder now as he asked you, before even thinking you agreed. It had been a while since you had last been to the part of Pentagram City where all the clothing stores were located. Besides Alastor isn't here today to try any of your attempts to see his tail nor to play with his ears. After quickly getting changed, Angel led you to the stores he was talking about. And he sure was right, you found so many good clothes to your liking in many different styles. One thing hell didn't lack was good fashion, probably thanks to Velvette from the Vees.

Leaving the store now with a lot of bags in hand, Angel decided to pull you to his favorite > cheap yet delicious < restaurant as he called it. While looking around a bit, you couldn't help but notice a certain red-haired demon walking down the streets, alongside Rosie, as their arms were hooked together, laughing. You knew they were simply good old friends, yet you couldn't do anything about this weird feeling bubbling up in your stomach. Reaching your hand out, you softly tug on Angel's shirt, head hung low. "What's it, sweets? Ya suddenly don't seem so good." His hand softly raised your chin now to look at you, noticing your pained expression. "Are ya hurt?" Taking a good look at you to make sure you weren't visibly hurt anywhere. Raising your head again, your eyes on the two other demons, Angel's eyes follow yours before letting out a sight.

"I know they're only friends but.. I feel weird seeing them I don't even know why myself!" The bag you were holding dropped to the ground, before hiding your face in your hands. "Sweets, if you ask me that sounds as if ya're jealous.." Angel's hand softly patting your head now as you raise your head, eyes meeting his. "But.. That would mean.. And he would never reciprocate.." Tears were building up in your eyes, before you knew it Angel pulled you into a comforting hug, softly patting your head. "It's going to be okay sweets." Staying there for a good minute or two, before you calmed down again. What you didn't see was a certain dial eyes watching you, as Angel had his arms around you and your body against his chest.

Deciding to head back to the hotel for now, Angel said he would take you to the restaurant another time. Back at the hotel you for now decided to head back to your room for a little rest. The shopping bag is thrown onto a chair before flopping down on your bed. A sigh leaves your lips. The last few days really weren't the best for you and were slowly wearing you down.

"Say dear, I thought we had a deal of you not touching others~" A radio static voice suddenly sounded through your room, sitting up you looked around frantically, eyes stopping on a dark corner of your room. Red eyes watching you, a shadow figure beside them grinning at you. Before you could know it, your body was pressed to the bed with Alastor on top of you. "W-What do you mean!? Angel was simply comforting me! Besides you were also all over Rosie!" Thrashing around now, as you try to push Alastor off of you, but he was simply too strong for you. "Oh, so you're jealous sweetheart? Was that payback then?" Alastor head was lowered as he whispered those words into your ear making your eyes grow wide. "He was comforting me because I was crying! Which I by the way was because of you!" Staring into your eyes now, Alastor was at a loss for words. You were crying? Because of him on top of that? Before he knew it, he watched your eyes fill with tears again daring to flow over. Now he had fucked up this time.. Again.

"D-Don't cry! Dearest I'm sorry." Scooting off of you now, he sits beside you not really knowing what to do, he never had to deal with someone besides Niffty crying. And Charlie, but that was a different story. Your hands rubbing over your eyes now, trying to get rid of the tears. Before you knew it, the culprit of your tears grabbed your hand, leading it to his head. Alastor wasn't great with words to comfort you, but this was his way of trying to comfort you after screwing up, which you deeply appreciated. Looking up at him now, eyes red from crying, as your hand starts to softly rub over his ears. "I meet up with Rosie to ask her for advice on what to get you as an apology for last time." Pulling out a little box from his coat now, he hands it to you. Sitting up, you take the red box from his hands, opening it slowly. Inside was a gold necklace with a red pendant in a tear shape. "It's beautiful.." You were at a loss for words right now, you didn't think he would get you something like this as an apology. "Let me put it on you dearest, turn around." Moving yourself now that your back is to him, you softly move any hair out of the way so he can put the necklace around your neck. Hand reaching down as you take the pendant between your fingers. "Thank-" Your words were interrupted by a soft kiss being pressed to your neck, but as you turned around, Alastor was gone, and only caught a glimpse of his shadow disappearing. Hand reaching to the place you had felt him kiss. Did you only imagine that? No, he definitely kissed your neck.

The next day you wanted to ask Alastor about it, but he was nowhere to be seen, as if he was avoiding you, which made you a little bit sad. Did he regret it?

Till now you also were not able to accomplish your victory in this little game. Making yourself question if you were ever going to figure out if he had a little deer tail. Turning around now, you caught a glimpse of red hair disappearing, making you dart right after him. So he truly was avoiding you! Before he could close his door, you put your foot between the door and the doorframe. "Open the door, I won't go away!" It took almost a whole minute for him to open the door, entering the room, the door is closed behind you. Crossing your arms in front of your chest now, you turn around to face Alastor now. "Are you avoiding me?" Static radio error. "Of course not dear! Why should I?" He was obviously more than nervous to be talking to you right now. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because since yesterday you've been running away from me and not shown your face once?" Looking at him skeptically now, he tried to look composed as always with his smile, but you noticed how his smile was slightly strained and his hand clenched just a bit tighter around his staff. "If this is about the kiss and you regret it just say it please, I won't be mad at you." Your eyes were avoiding his now. Oh if only you knew it was the complete opposite.

"Listen dear, it's not that.. It's.. How do I say, rather the opposite? I have been feeling rather drawn to you, wanting to get closer but.. I don't quite know how to handle these emotions." For once Alastor looked nervous, something you had never truly seen on him, he seemed so unsure. Holding out your hand, waiting for him to perhaps take it, which he did. Eyes locked on your hands, as he was softly playing with your fingers, slowly linking them together. "Listen it's okay, take as much time as you need to figure this out okay?" A soft smile was on your lips now, trying to reassure and calm him, but it had quite the opposite effect on him.

"May I kiss you?" Blurting those words out without even thinking about it, both of you were staring at each other with blown eyes now. You question yourself if you heard correctly and Alastor questions his sanity by asking you this, was he completely going crazy now? "If you want to, I allow you to do anything you want, I trust you." Now this surprised him, he indeed wanted to try this but.. he had never kissed anyone before. Not while alive, and certainly not while dead. Slowly his hand lays on your cheek as he pulls you closer to him, angling your head so you are looking at him. Your hands softly grab onto the front of his coat, eyes closed to give him full control. Alastor could either take his time or pull away entirely, it was all up to him, you let him go at his own pace.

And before he knew it, he was leaning down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. It felt different than he had imagined, it felt warm and comforting. It was a simple soft peck, nothing too spectacular, but for both of you, it was something special. When he pulled away again and you looked up into his eyes, you noticed movement behind him, your eyes lowering and noticing something moving under the backside of his coat. Eyes glancing with interest now, Alastor's eyes following yours to what you were looking at, a sigh leaving his lips. Before you knew it, Alastor was shrugging his coat off, his shadow hanging it somewhere in the room. And there it was, a fluffy deer tail, that was right now softly swishing from side to side, it was adorable. Alastor was a sight right now. His ears were pointed towards you, a blush over the bridge of his nose while his tail swished from side to side.

Reaching out your hand to touch his tail with sparking eyes, his hand stops yours as he watches you. "Once. It's different than my ears, one pat and that's it darling." Nodding in agreement, he turns around a bit as your hand softly pats over his tail once. It was soft just like his ears. Looking up with a smile now, his head was turned to the front, but his ears were turned to your direction, which looked super adorable. "Well since I was only allowed to pet your tail once, I would like to pat your ears again!" Smiling up at him innocently now, he exactly knew how this would end.

And he was correct, he was now lying on his bed with you, his head on your stomach as you were contentedly playing with his ears. Even though it would probably take a while till both of you knew how to call this relationship, you were more than happy that your one hand was busy patting his ears, and the other one was softly held by the red-haired man. You could get used to this.

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Taglist :

@mysticwitchcraftco @biromanticboba @yellowelectroslime

[alastor-simp]

Panic Attack😰 - Alastor x Female Reader

📻Pairings- Alastor X Female Reader

📻Genre- Comfort and Fluff

📻Tags- Panic Attack, Alastor Comforts Reader, Anxiety Attack, Comfort, Alastor is not used to stuff like this, Alastor tries his best, Fluff, Hugs, Episode 1 of Hazbin Hotel Series

📻Notes- Sorry for the lack of Alastor x Reader stories, been busy with work also wanted to write for my other favorite fandoms like Twisted Wonderland and Love and Deep space. Hope you guys like this chapter.

📻Credit- Divider by @wetandtiny

**Key- [ ] indicates the inner thoughts the reader is having, so you don't get confused**

["Loud, Loud, ITS TOO LOUD!!!!!"] Your thoughts spiraled out of control, as you sat in the corner, voices muffled coming from other parts of the room. Charlie and the others were watching the TV, eyes widen in shock at seeing the news broadcast, showcasing the recent update to the changes to the next extermination, arriving in 6 months instead of a full year. Everyone's voice sprung out, some in anger and others in shock, minus Alastors, watching the whole ordeal with a smile on his face. Oh how he delighted seeing the utter panic in everyone's eyes, until his eyes snapped to yours, those feelings of glee drawing to a massive halt, oh dear.

The pupils in your eyes had dilated, tears starting to form. Your breathing was painful, almost like someone was suffocating you. Claws scratched at your chest, wanting the tightness to disappear. Your head felt like it was underwater, everything sounding muffled, yet only the voice in your head was clear. ["Why? Why is this happening? You had found sanctuary here when you arrived in Hell, having missed the recent extermination, feeling somewhat at ease that it was only going to come happened again next year, and now? Now its going to come again in 176 days!!! No NO!!].

Body shaking, you continued to claw against your chest, breaking the skin, blood coating your fingers. You needed to get away, away from everyone, they don't need to see you like this. Getting up with shaky legs, you slowly walked away from everyone as they continued to talk about what had just happened. The fact you could even move was shocking, considering how much you were shaking, as you still felt like your body was begging for air, lungs constricting with every step you took. Multiple voices spoke inside your mind, swirling around like a tornado, as you hurried to your room. A black portal had opened up in front of you, not spotting it as your vision was fading in and out, as your body fell into it, letting out a scream.

One second you were in the hallway and the next you were in a forest, surrounded by large trees and a massive river flowing. "W-what?" You could barely speak as you tried to figure out where the heck you were. "Ahh the little darling has arrived." A static voice called out from behind you, making you turn around, seeing Alastor walking towards you, hands behind his back. "A-Al? W-w." You whispered, hand clutching your chest even tighter, causing Al's eyes to narrow. "Well, my dear, I noticed your predicament in the lobby and decided to bring you to my room, preferably away from the other residents."

His mouth was moving, but you could barely pick up what he was saying as the dreading feeling was getting worse, causing you to drop to your knees. Alastor had not predicted this, eyes widen in shock having seen you fall to the ground, as he rushed over, getting on his knees, "Darling! Are you alright?" He placed his hands on your shoulder, peering down at you, observing you take gasping breaths, hands clutching your chest to the point your knuckles turned white. "It...it hurts. I-I can't breathe." Gasping out, you clutched your eyes shut, heart beating out of your chest. Alastor, for the first time, didn't know what his next move should be, he had hoped the ambience of his room would be enough to calm you down, but it apparently was ineffective. His hands continued to rub at your shoulders, hoping that would work, but you remained the same.

The smile on his face had almost dropped, for he was actually beginning to worry about your well-being, something that stunned him and irked him. He was not one to provide comfort to someone, but the sight of you was making his black heart clench. Moving his arms from your shoulders, he had position them to your head, pushing it down, allowing your head to hit his chest. Letting out a gasp, you didn't expect Alastor to do that, opening your mouth to say something, until your ears picked up on the soft sound coming from the radio demon. It was muffled, but there was a soft beating sound coming from his chest, laced with a bit of static due to his nature, "Bumbum.....bumbum......bumbum." Alastor remained silent, clawed hand rubbing your head softly, while the other went to your back, holding you closer.

Little by little, the suffocating feeling was diminishing, the loud voices slowly going away, allowing to focus more on his static heartbeat. Your lungs became lest restricted, finally able to breath as you took in a few deep breaths. You pushed your head closer towards his chest, nuzzling into the warm soothing feeling he was giving you. "Shhhh...its alright now, my dear." His voice was soft, no hint of static, as he continued to hold you. After a couple minutes, you slowly removed your head from his chest, looking up at him smiling, eyes still watery from your crying, "Thank you, Alastor." His crimson eyes were warm as he pulled away, yet he kept his hand on your back, keeping you steady. "Seeing that you now have a smile on your face, I presume you have managed to calm down." Alastor continued to observe you, noticing the blood scratches on your chest, due to you scratching it during your episode. Placing his hand on your chest, he whispered some voodoo chant, as he soon removed it, wounds fully healed.

Noticing what he did, you widened your eyes, muttering another thank you. Tilting his head, Alastor asked as to what had happened to cause such a reaction. Looking down, you began to explain everything, "I..I had just arrived here, having met all of you and developed close friendships. The extermination being the last thing on my mind, and now that whole announcement." Your hand grasped his own, rubbing it gently "I just...thought about losing this, losing everyone, you....it just....everything began to bubble up and it just felt like too much that I had that attack. I'm sorry that you had to go out of your comfort zone to help me." Alastor sat there, listening calmly, a bit shocked that you had that episode due to your fear of the exterminators and losing him? Part of him wanted to laugh boisterously, yet he didn't.

His hands went to your cheeks, rubbing them affectionately. "It is quite alright, my dear. But, there is no need to worry about that now. That day is still far out, so there will be time to prepare. And as for losing everyone as well as me, that will never come to pass. I swore to offer my services here, and that includes protecting this hotel and all of you." His voice was laced with honey, as he continued to rub your cheeks, like a parent would to a child. "However, if there is ever a time that you are suffering from this again, please seek me out or call my name. Placing your hands on top of his, caressing them, your lips drew up into a kind smile, "Okay."

The two of you stay like that, until you looked away, focusing back on where you were. "This is your room?" Alastor brightened up at you mentioning it, smile expanding, "Ah yes! During my youth, I had always admired the bayous in my hometown. I often times when there to calm me down after an eventful day. I assumed bringing you here would offer the same assurance that it gave me." Your heart picked up at that statement, seeing as how he almost never showed this side of himself to anyone, and he had offered to show it to you, evening mentioning his past, which he NEVER revealed to anyone. "I think I was too far into my attack to realize what was going on, sorry. Since we are here now, mind showing me around this part of your room, does it continue forever or?"

Chuckling at your questions, Alastor stood back up, hand grasping yours to lift you up. "It goes as far as I want it to. Let's take a little stroll, my dear." Hooking his arm with yours, he led you further into his dimensional room, allowing the two of you to explore, enjoying each others company, the panic attack being a thing of the past.

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink

[ichorai]

chiropterology — family report.

drabble synopsis ; damian tells his class he has two mothers. warnings ; mentions of damian's violent past, use of a derogatory lesbian term.

series masterlist.

Damian Wayne was a weapon. A killer. A machine built for inflicting pain. Perhaps that was one of the many reasons you seemed to like him so much—you always had an affinity for machines. Deep down, Damian often wondered when you would realize he was not as interesting as you thought, and discard him like one of your failed inventions.

Despite this, it was not hard to write up his school report on you. It was supposed to be a minimum of one page, front and back, on his family. It ended up being nearly three entire pages. He started with his father, of course—the owner of Wayne Enterprises, determined, a problem-solver, and… considerate. Bruce Wayne was a considerate father.

Then he wrote about his birth mother. He found that his pencil wouldn’t move much when it came to her. What was appropriate to say in a school setting without getting in trouble and landing in detention? Damian never knew where these people drew the line. Nevertheless, he eventually wrote that Talia al Ghul was skilled. A fighter. He added, in a smaller scrawl, that he no longer lived with her. 

And then he wrote about you. It was only after he moved on from Talia’s section did he realize that his muscles were involuntarily tensed. Thinking about you relaxed him. You and your chemical-stained lab coat, your chunky goggles that were almost always dangling over your forehead or hanging on your neckline, and your eyes. Damian always thought you had a certain light in your eyes—flickering with curiosity, brimming with a need to know more. That’s why he thought—no, he knew—that that was why you were so interested in him. He was like one of your little machines to solve and fix. It angered him at first. Who were you to regard him in such a way? You were nothing. Nothing in comparison to him, who had the blood of the Bat and the Demon. But something changed within the many months of getting to know you. You and your wide smiles, your open nature, your eagerness to help him at every turn. 

It was infuriating, but Damian… he had to admit that he liked you very much. His weak spot. 

The first time he called you “Mother”, it came out as an accident, but in very casual passing—like asking to pass the salt during dinner. Every part of him seized up as he stared at you, wondering if you caught onto the slip of his tongue. You were under the batmobile at the time, fixing up some damage acquired from the last mission. Slowly, you pulled out from beneath the car and sat up. Then you smiled at him, and Damian felt like he wanted to vomit; because it wasn’t in a teasing nature, but a soft, gentle, motherly one. 

“I like that,” you had told him. Then you went back to work as if it had never happened. From then on, Damian took to calling you that just because… because…

Hm.

And here he was. Writing about you. Rather easily, too. He liked your intelligence—your seemingly never-ending bounty of scientific facts. He respected your patience with not only him, but his siblings, which he knew better than anyone that they were hard to be patient with. He liked how you would ask for his help on sketching new designs. He liked how you hung up every single one of his drawings he made for you. He liked how openly affectionate you were, and despised himself for folding so easily every time. 

And… he liked how you pretended that he was your favorite child. And Damian knew that. It was all pretend. He was waiting with baited breath until you would drop the act, lose your interest in trying to solve an unsolveable puzzle of a boy, and move on. He kept that part out of his report.

His siblings’ sections had him scoffing with laughter under his breath. Grayson was the trustworthy oldest brother, but had an irritating habit of ruffling his hair when it had just been combed. Todd was the tough brother with a dark history that Damian could relate to—and he enjoyed reading books for girls that Damian most certainly was also not currently enjoying. Drake was the genius, able to piece clues together like it was nothing, always finding solutions for every problem. He was also Damian’s greatest rival once. And now? Damian wasn’t sure.

Brown was the light of the family. Obnoxiously cheerful, argumentative, and kind. Brown praised his art the most in the family. He still used the colored pencils Brown had bought for him on his ninth birthday. 

Cain was sturdy. Cain was not only a shoulder to lean on, but also always willing to lend an ear. She was likely the most skilled of them all in combat. 

The newest addition to the family was Duke Thomas, of course. Damian thought him naive and still wet behind the ears, despite being younger than him. However, Thomas was strong, and admirable in his ability to get up no matter how many times he fell down. And he was also a formidable chess opponent.

This report was so ridiculous. The teacher was practically asking him to list out all his weaknesses in front of the class. How embarrassing.

The school day started out as ordinary as ever. Halfway through second period, however, Damian could sense it. A prickle along the back of his neck. Someone was watching him. And not any of his unremarkable civilian classmates. 

Damian had promised his father that he would maintain his own civilian identity by trying not to draw too much attention to himself. So—it wouldn’t do to abandon his times-tables lessons and dash out with no excuse. Both his teacher and his classmates would find it strange, and perhaps even go looking for him. It would be best if he left to meet with her during the recess break. Which was… after he presented his report. Great. Just great.

After math class, the teacher started calling on his peers’ names to come up to the board and tell everyone about their family. It was mostly a bore. Mom, dad, dog named Spot, fish named Goldie—they all sounded the same.

When it was his turn to present, Damian went up to the front of the class and puffed out his chest, rising to his full height. He, of course, started with his father, and then talked about his birth mother. There it was again—the prickle on the back of his neck. She was watching and, he could feel it, she was growing impatient.

Then, he moved on to you. Out of the corner of his eye, Damian could see his classmates exchange glances, giggling to themselves and whispering things. What? What was it? Did he mispronounce something? 

“Two moms?”

“Damian’s got lesbo moms!” one of the brutes snickered. Damian didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound any good. His lips curled into a snarl, ready to jump to your defense. To his relief, the teacher barked at them to be quiet, and gestured for him to go on. Reluctant, Damian moved on to talk about his siblings, and the gossipping noise eventually died away.

Humiliated, Damian slunk back to his seat once he was done. And when the bell rang, he hurried out without a second glance back, ignoring the teacher’s call for him to stay back.

After checking nobody was following him, Damian made his way to the school’s mossy rooftop, where he knew his mother would be waiting. She stood with her back to him, wind blowing her hair to the side. He could feel his heart hiccup within his chest, despite all his years of training to keep it steady, keep it still.

“Mother,” he said.

“You’ve kept me waiting for hours,” she said, voice quiet and dangerous, but not at all angry. “I expect better from you, Damian.”

“I knew you were here. I had prior engagements.”

She made a clicking noise with her tongue, a habit that he inherited from her. “Your priorities need some rearranging.”

“What is it?” he asked, arms crossed. 

Talia regarded her son with a sharp, scrutinizing gaze. “I’m testing your abilities.”

“I remember our tests,” Damian said. He could feel the phantom pains of the practice swords beating upon him whilst training at the League. “This is not one of them.”

Finally, Talia’s features softened. Only slightly, but still enough for Damian to notice. His brows rose. 

“You have your father’s deductive skills, at the very least,” she commented. “That’s good.”

She was stalling. Damian frowned at her. “Ask what you came here to ask. I do not have time for anything else.”

His mother mirrored his expression. After more seconds of silence, she finally said, “Are you… happy?”

It took a moment for Damian to register the question. “What?”

“This life you have… this life you’ve chosen with your father and the rest… does it make you happy?” Talia had her hands behind her back now, hidden from Damian’s view, but from the slight rotation of her forearms, Damian could tell she was fidgeting with her fingers.

“It is far from perfect,” Damian said. “We all fight, and we all make mistakes. I… I make mistakes. And sometimes Father forgets he doesn’t have to work alone.” Damian found himself smiling faintly at the thought of his imbecile siblings. “But, yes. I am happy here.”

Talia bowed her head. “Good. That is good to hear. I have made many difficult decisions in my life.” She paused to look off towards the city, away from her son. Later, Damian would try to commit this sight to memory by sketching her in this position, sun in her skin, wind in her hair. “Letting you go was the hardest decision I have ever made. But if you are happier in this life than your previous one with me… I am glad I gave you up.”

She turned to make her escape from his school. Before she could go, she asked one last question. “Your father’s wife… is she—does she treat you well? Like a—” The word caught in her throat. “A son?”

Damian hesitated. “She does.”

This seemed to satisfy Talia. She nodded again. 

“Will I see you again?” Damian asked. He knew it was a weak question. Never grow attached, he remembered her snapping at him. Never.

“Keep your guard up and your senses sharp, and I’m sure you will,” she said. With that, she leapt off the school’s roof. Damian rushed forward to look over the edge, but there was no trace of her. His chest felt strangely… fuzzy.

The rest of the school day went by uneventfully, though with the occasional snigger directed his way. But no prickling of his neck. Talia was no longer watching.

When you came to pick him up, you rolled down the car window and waved over at him, greeting him with a cheery exclamation of how excited you were to take him to the theater later that evening.

“Mother,” he said, once he climbed into the passenger seat, ever so seriously. Your talk of the theater died on your tongue, waiting for him to say something. “What is a lesbo?”

You blinked down at the boy in shock. “Ooh, hon—let’s not say that word. That’s just a term for lesbian, but it’s not very nice for non-lesbians to say. Lesbians are women who feel attraction to just other women, broadly construed. But it’s a pretty flexible label.”

“Oh.” Damian tapped a finger against the dashboard. “Are you—?”

“Hah! I had a phase in college when I thought I was, for sure. But no, sadly. I like ‘em in all shapes and sizes.”

“I see.” He supposed that made sense, considering you were married to his father, and he was often a very large bat-like man. 

With a warm smile directed at him, you reached over to pat his knee. “I’m glad you feel safe asking me these questions. I’m always here to help you out.”

Damian didn’t say anything to that, but he let out a small breath, feeling a soft smile creep at the corner of his mouth. When he got home, he handed you his family report. During the drive, he considered not showing you, but… he wanted to. He wanted you to be proud of him.

As you read, your eyes began to cloud with tears. Damian feared he had written something unintentionally offensive and now you would be disappointed with him. He tried to tug it back from you, expression twisted with panic. 

“It’s not done yet—” he tried to defend, but you shook your head. 

“Oh, Dami, honey, it’s perfect. It really is. Oh, god. Do you really think this?” You swiped at the tears that had so quickly began to slip down from your eyes. Immediately, you enveloped him into an embrace. One that Damian did not resist nor return. He just let you hold him. “You made me sound so cool,” you murmured, choking up on your tears again.

“I was being truthful,” Damian admitted. And he was, he really was.

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done, you know that? I’m going to photocopy this and have it framed next to all your drawings.”

“If you wish.” Damian could feel his face burn with embarrassment, but it was not an entirely unpleasant sensation. And even if you were pretending to love him, and if you only saw him as the killing machine he was, and if you were going to discard him later… Damian thought it was worth it. He tightened his arms around you, returning your hug with equal warmth.

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Smile in the Dark- Alastor x Reader

Alastor x Fem!Reader

Plot: Alastor has never been in a true relationship with anyone, let alone the new and pretty hotel maid. But soon enough he finds he can’t wait to get his hands on you— and play a game of hide-and-seek while you’re at it.

Warnings: Smut, p in v, creampie, MDNI, slight fingering, cursing, fluff, possessive/controlling Alastor. Read at your own risk.

Alastor grinned at you from the doorway. He had asked you to come to his room that night, giving no clue as to what the invitation was for.

The two of you had known each other for months now. Ever since you had started working as a maid at the Hazbin Hotel, you had caught him staring at you once, then twice, then again. 

You remembered Vaggie’s words quite clearly—“Oh, don’t worry about Alastor. He’s just being a creepy ass as usual.” But somehow, the words didn’t quite catch. You found his demeanor charming, even intriguing. Always a gentleman— holding the door open for you, or complimenting your work. But always with an air of mystery, like an unsolved riddle. There was more to the sinner than met the eye.

Over time, you found yourself liking him more and more. After repeated interactions, you had finally asked him on a date. 

He was rather reluctant at first— the deer demon was not known for being the romantic type. But out of courtesy or an unexpected soft spot for you, you didn’t know, he had been sweet the entire time. Now you were, unofficially, dating.

“Good evening, my darling,” Alastor greeted you as you walked up to him.

“Evening, Alastor. Why did you call me here?” you asked. Alastor only chuckled.

“You’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?” Without another word he steered you into the room, hand gripping your shoulder firmly. 

The dark red and black atmosphere immediately enveloped you, and the carved deer on the bedposts glared down at you through the dim glow. 

It didn’t intimidate you, though. It only reminded you of Alastor, who you were comfortable with already.

Suddenly, the lights were switched off, leaving you in complete darkness. “Alastor…?” you said, a bit uncertainly.

“Afraid of the dark, are we, now? I only want to play a little game,” Alastor leered from the darkness. You could just make out his sinister glowing grin in front of you.

Without warning, you were whisked onto the bed, legs already being spread on the mattress. You tried to gasp out something, but a finger was placed over your mouth.

“Trust me, dear. It will be more fun this way.” You felt yourself getting wet at these words. Turns out Alastor was more than just a gentleman— he was a lustful one. Your clothes disappeared in a snap, and a pair of lips were locked on your neck, sucking down on your delicate skin. Alastor’s hand made repetitive circles on your clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation, head tilting back.

Completely helpless in the dark, all you could do was anticipate what the radio demon would do next. His finger dipped inside, curling expertly and grazing your g-spot.

“Al-“ you gasped.

“Sh— quiet down and be a good little slut for me, shall we?” You obliged, little sounds escaping your mouth as his motions increased in intensity. You clutched at his chest, wishing you could see his face. As if he could read your mind, he sneered at you.

“If you want to see me, you have to be a good girl first.” You nodded, wanting nothing more than to do what he asked. You guessed a maid shouldn’t be doing this, but right now you didn’t care.

You heard the sound of him coating his shaft in your wetness, preparing himself to enter you. Little by little, he stretched you out, walls already clenching around him as you felt him digging deeper. And then he was pounding into you, tearing you up at such a merciless pace that you couldn’t help but moan out his name. 

“F-fuck, Alastor!” you whined, wanting more, more, more. He allowed you a glimpse of him as he fucked you, a flash lighting up his face and illuminating his full, magnificent features.

“So perfect for me,” he seethed. “Letting me destroy you like the little slut you are.” He grabbed your waist as he thrusted harder still, ripping an orgasm out of you that you could only describe as pure bliss.

You came on his dick, getting such a rise out of him that he could make you cum even while you couldn’t see him.

He relented enough to release inside of you, his seed filing you to the brim while his cock twitched inside of you. He pulled out slowly, your liquids dripping out of you like a perfect potion.

He lay his head on your chest, breathing raggedly. You soaked in his smell as you lay with your hair tangled, comforted by his warmth.

He kissed your lips. “We certainly must do this more often.”

“Yes,” you replied. “And… with the lights off.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed my little game.”

“I did.” A pause. “Good night, Alastor.”

“Good night, my precious.”

[geeeemmmmmmm]

Hiiiii thank you for replying to my post!

My idea for a drabble is that Worst!Logan and Reader are neighboors and have a crush on each other. One day Reader's pet disappears (can be a cat or a dog, but I like dogs better) and they're heartbroken. So Logan goes out and uses his enhansed sense of smell to find the pet and return it, winning over Reader's heart.

What do you think?

"Puppy love"

Oh yes yes, I'll try work my magic for ya:)

Warnings:None just some fluff, friends to lovers kinda scenario

A/N:I tried to make this fit your description, I apologise profusely if this wasn't what you were looking for! I do admit this idea had me stumped for a bit but I hope it came out well. As always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy!

WC:1.1K

Your dog has been your shadow for 2 years since you rescued her. She would always follow you, try to jump on your lap any time you sat down and just want to be with you at any given time. Wade, your best friend who luckily lived at the door right opposite yours, didn't mind you bringing her along when you came over. In fact he loved stealing your dog for cuddles with her "Uncle" Wade as he called himself. You were left alone while Wade went on his big important mission, you didn't really know what that entailed as when he was explaining his voice was too high with excitement, you were convinced only your dog could understand. It was too calm without Wade, who's to say you weren't enjoying the peace but you did still miss your best friend.

Everything fell back in place when Wade returned with 2 new arrivals, Mary Puppins the most ugly yet adorable dog ever and Logan Howlett, a different universe's Wolverine. You and Logan had exchanged small conversations whenever you came to Wades for movie nights and such - still always having your fur baby with you. Logan mostly stayed in his room, wanting to be away from Wade and the commotion the two dogs caused having zoomies all around the apartment while you and Wade watched with awe and stifled back laughter at the hilarious sight of the two dogs. 

It took awhile for Logan to come out of his shell and emerge from his room, even if it was only when Wade was out of the room Logan was in. You quickly learnt that Logan is deep down a very charming guy when he isn't brooding somewhere. Logan has always had trouble showing affection to others, even just having friendly conversation but he tried his hardest to overcome that fear with you. "You really aren't a dog person huh?" you mused watching as he tried to push your dog away while she attempted to crawl onto his lap "I just don't get why they like me." He responded, trying to hide his frustration as your dog would not give up trying to crawl up on him. He knew exactly why your dog was obsessed with him, Logan has the ability to both understand animals and "communicate" with them - he just didn't like to use this skill much. Putting the man out of his misery you whistled for her to come back to your lap as she cheerily obliged to your command and curled up upon your lap. The couch was coated in fur, your clothes as well. Logan just huffed a laugh out sipping his beer next to you 

"Where is everyone?" you questioned looking around the messy apartment "Uhh Wade's at Vanessas and I have no clue where Al is" he replied sticking his hand out to give a pat to the snoring dog lounged out on your lap. His arm brushed against yours, it was surprisingly warm for a man with such a seemingly cold personality "sorry" he mumbled quickly retracting his hand and nervously taking a long drink. "Oh it's fine" you mumbled back in reply, secretly wishing he didn't pull back so fast, yet unbeknownst to you Logan only pulled back so fast because he felt you move under his touch and his mind terrified him with thoughts of you harshly rejecting him.

Something was off when you woke up the next day.. your bed felt empty? You rubbed your eyes not noticing the absence of your dog till your eyes properly adjusted. Panic rushed through your system as you threw the sheets off you, calling out her name as you looked around your apartment. Surely she had just gotten up looking for food right? Wrong. Your front door was somehow cracked open, your mind was rushing with all these horrible scenarios of her fate as you sprinted to Wade's door knocking like a maniac. 

"Christ, what time is it" Logan muttered under his breath as he opened the door, completely changing his demeanour when he saw you standing there looking dishevelled in your messy braid and pjs "You okay Bub?" he asked gently "Uh, Uhm is Wade here?" you breathed out panically just wanting your best friend to help you search "Uh no he's at Vanessas but what's wrong can I help with anything?" he replied, panic slowly starting to creep in voice "It's gonna sound stupid but my dogs not in my apartment and my front door was open and I don't know where she's gone" you rushed out, eyes scanning down the hall, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of where she could be. "Oh shit, wait right here. I'll find her." Logan told you not to even let you reply before patting your shoulder and rushing out the main doors in his grey sweatpants and black shirt, even in your panicked state you could still appreciate the view in front of you. Logan tapped into his enhanced sense of smell to try catch any lingering scent of you on her as he inhaled when he got outside. There it was - just a tiny trace of you lingered somewhere, now where was it? It led him to some back alley a couple minutes away from the apartment building, he smelt out your little dog hiding away behind some trash cans but when she caught sight of Logan she sprinted right to him. For once he was happy animals were attracted to him as he scooped her up into his arms and started the walk home. 

You on the other hand were pacing in front of Logan's door, not knowing what to expect when he returned. This dog has been your rock since the moment you rescued her from the shelter and you both just clicked with each other. The doors opened as you kept rethinking what you could've done to prevent this whole thing. It was Logan carrying your baby in his arms. Your body reacted faster than your mind and you charged to the pair "Oh my god, thank you so so so much Logan! I don't know what I'd do without you" you gushed out wrapping your arms around him and your dog "It's okay doll anything for you" he replied back leaning into your touch "God I love you so much for this" you blurt out, not caring what you said anymore. Logan's system went into overload after processing what you had just said to him, he did really enjoy being around you, maybe love was the word to describe his feelings. To be more accurate it felt like puppy love to him.

A/N:I hope this somewhat resembled the ideas you had in mind, thank you for this request and I hope you enjoyed this:)

[orionremastered]

Damian Wayne x Paramedic!Reader

Soulmate AU

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

You knew what curare was. The plant, originating from South America, was a plant drug that was used in the first forms of anesthesia before being replaced by newer agents. That left curare no longer as something useful, but as a deadly poison.

Curare relaxes the muscles until, eventually, the victim's diaphragmatic muscles no longer have the strength, causing the body to die of asphyxia.

It is in times like this, when you gaze over the hospital bed of your soulmate, that you wished you didn't know these things. You wished you didn't know how long it took for it to kill a human- twenty minutes at most- but your knowledge was useful. It was useful in the way that you knew the poison wasn't eaten or consumed.

That wasn't how curare worked.

The nurses found a pinprick from a needle in Damian's hand, indicating that was where the dosage was given to him.

In front of you suddenly, Bruce clears his throat. He passes you a coffee and you gratefully take it, drinking it practically in one go. “He must've felt the needle.”

Bruce sat back on the chair beside you, sighing into his cup. It was one of those paper cups and the billionaire looked comical drinking from it. “There are things that you one day will learn about my son,” he says in a low, deep voice, “But that day has yet to come.”

He offers no room for further explanation, and part of you doesn't want to know. Not with the way he said it.

With an understanding nod, your gaze drifts to the TV directly across from the bed. A news channel is playing, but the volume's all the way down. The news reporter- a lady with blonde hair in a fur coat as she stands outside the GCPD headquarters- finishes talking and smiles.

You read the headline and immediately point it out for Bruce.

VIGILANTES DETAIN SUSPECT OF WAYNE POISONING.

The suspect in question is heavily beat up, setting off alarms in your head you didn't know existed. You recognised him from the meeting in the Wayne Tower; one of the businessmen from another city.

Beside you, Bruce smiles. But only slightly; you have to triple check to make sure it's really there.

"Did they get him, father?"

The low voice startles you and your head immediately whips around to see your soulmate's eyes opened, watching his father until his gaze slowly turns to you.

"Hi," you say quietly, fidgeting with a pen you found in your pocket.

Damian slowly looks to his forearm where the words he and his family- both the Al Ghuls and the Waynes- dreaded. Instead of being written in black, they were now written in your favourite colour. The word on your forearm was now written in emerald green.

"How are you feeling?" you ask after clearing your throat. 

There’s a moment of pause as he eyes you warily. A tired figure who’s worked too hard and for too long; someone who’s seen horrors and met lunatics all for a shitty paycheck. You don’t even know why you do your job; it’s something you always wanted to do, and it’s fulfilling, but sometimes those reasons didn’t feel like enough. “Better,” he finally decides.

Better. You could settle for better. 

“I’d better get going, then. I’ve had a long day, so, uhm,” you scribble your phone number and name down on a piece of paper, placing it on the bedside table. “Here. Call whenever you want to talk.”

There’s no universe where Damian’s eyes widen a fraction when he realises you’re not staying, but perhaps in this one, he did. Giving a nod to Bruce, you head out the door, walking purposefully to the entrance.

The truth was; you’re not ready for publicity. Being a paramedic means focus on the job and having paparazzi following you around at work was far from what you wanted. You were busy. Galas you would skip from being too tired or your back hurting from lifting patients or simply not being able to take the day off due to lack of staff. You’d become a target for criminals across the city rather than a face they sought for help.

You had been the one to give him your number for whenever he was ready to talk, but maybe it should’ve been the other way around. 

Harper slammed the passenger door to the ambulance shut, signalling the start of a busy night shift. It was the first shift you’d had together since you discovered the identity of your soulmate and you were grateful for a distraction. 

You partner whistled awkwardly, casting nervous glances your way as you pull out of the station. 

“Did you talk?”

“Briefly.”

“Exchange numbers?”

“Yes.”

“Did you… talk over text?”

“No,” you sigh, driving to the nearest coffee shop despite you knowing you wouldn’t make it before getting a call. “Maybe it’s a good thing. I mean, I don’t really want the publicity, you know?”

Harper nodded slowly. “Is he doing better?”

“Yeah, he got discharged an hour after I left. Checked the hospital staff portal.”

The computer beside Harper beeps, shifting your attention to it. “Elderly male complaining of chest pains, history of cardiac issues.”

“Nothing like a heart attack to change the subject,” you mutter, putting the topic of your soulmate in the back of your mind. Lingering, but never gone.

Half an hour until your shift ended. That was the only thing you could think about as the grey clouds hanging constantly over Gotham brightened with the rising sun. Your shift had been long, eventful and it was safe to say the pizza you managed to find open at this hour was the best thing you'd ever tasted.

"Do you think-"

Harper gets cut off by the sound of a message reaching your phone. He raises an eyebrow, smile growing as you roll your eyes and pull it out of your pocket. Truth is, you still weren't ready to register or make the decision on whether or not you wanted to be with someone like a Wayne.

Sorry for not texting you sooner. We should talk.

You change the new number's name to 'Soulmate' and fiddle with your phone case, trying to come up with a reply. Harper casts glances at the screen every few seconds, trying to act normal.

I can't have the publicity.

Your gut sours as you wait for a reply, but you can't seem to rip your eyes away.

I understand.

That is why we should talk.

"Maybe you should talk," Harper says. "It'll be worth it, I'm sure."

You know it will- you want to be with him, you want to have a future together and you want that yearning in your chest to be filled with satisfaction that maybe, just maybe, you can finally do life right.

But part of you- perhaps the rational part of you- believes that could never happen. You'd have to choose between your soulmate and your job. Helping the city, being anonymous, meeting new people and laughing with your colleagues- your best friends- doing what you love...

You turn off your phone without replying.

A/N: Requests are open for batfam if anyone has ideas (bc I heavily lack those rn)

Masterlist

[the-morningstar-family]

Alastor, showing yet?

After over a week of bedrest (that was actually enforced thanks to Lucifer), Alastor had taken a long bath. After which, he obviously starts to dress himself. But his well fitted shirt was unusually stubborn around the mid section.

He knows why, and it was a bit silly to expect it to fit. But there's slight rounding on the stomach that the demon had never had before. At firth he fights with the shirt button before reluctantly accepting it a lost cause before he accidentally rips the button off. When he throws his coat over it , it's much less noticeable. The slight excess of fabric does hide it, and the stripes are doing their part as well.

He still feels oddly self conscious about it, he has half a mind to hide away in bed again. He shakes his head at the ridiculous notion, especially since he should be happy they're growing healthily. And Alastor is! He's just not the most keen on the changes of his body.

Lucifer: "Morning Hun, how's the nausea?"

Alastor: "Surprisingly well"

'In exchange for an uptick in hormonal emotions' is the part he leaves out.

Lucifer: "Well! I took the liberty of making breakfast for everyone again, soo- ta-da!"

Lucifer presents some Bacon and pancakes. It's a 50/50 chance of whether or not he'll be craving meets or sweets at any given day. So the king simply did both. Alastor gives his angel a soft kiss.

Alastor: "Thank you darling

Most of the hotel's residents have already eaten, a habit that went hand in hand with not only his increased tiredness but also recent illness.

Alastor, whistful : "I'll have to cook breakfast again one of these days"

Lucifer, teasing: "I'm making breakfast now! You'll have to face me in a fool to the death to win back the kitchen!"

The king uses the fork like an imaginary sword, stabbing the air like a noble night.

Alastor, fondly: "Dear, I tell the children not to do such things, I'd appreciate it if I don't have to scold you as well"

Lucifer, mock pound: "You said I'm a big child, and now you're mad I'm acting like one"

Alastor, grinning: "I never said you where big"

Despite his smile, Lucifer sticks out his Tounge. With an uncomfortable twirl of his own fork, the Radio demon get to the topic at hand.

Alastor: "Lucifer... We'll likely have ah- buy some new clothes soon"

Lucifer: "We do?"

Al grimaces and makes a face, as the king smackes his hand. The king snacks his forehead.

Lucifer: "Right, obviously. We could go tomorrow, if you can hold out till then?"

Alastor, smile softening: "Yes dear, sounds like a plan."

Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad after all. With Lucifer there it should all be a tad brighter.

[theamberfist]

Leave it All on the Dance Floor! Part 2 | Alastor x Overlord! Reader

Platonic! Alastor + Best Friend! Reader who's also an overlord.

Description: After having his coat ripped, Alastor enlists the help of his best friend and tailor.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of cannibalism) (Part 2/5 of Leave it All on the Dance Floor!)

Words: 2508

Part 1

"That new fabric order you wanted just got in, boss!" Joan chirped as she entered your work room; a clipboard in hand. Hearing that made you smile and you looked up from where you'd been drawing out concepts for some new clothes.

"Wonderful!" You exclaimed, "I know you know where to store it for now. I'll get to work on adding that to the new line later." Joan nodded as she crossed the item off her well-organized list. "And how are the newbies doing down there?" You asked, referring to the recently-hired demons currently being trained to work the boutique while you focused on designing. 

You'd hoped they wouldn't end up causing much trouble when you took them in; needing the extra employees, but Joan's expression immediately made you lower your hopes. 

"They're...Working on it." She replied finally, "But don't worry; I've been dealing with all the customer complaints the way you told me to. We'll get those sinners up to par soon enough, and then you'll be back to having the most well-run boutique in hell!" 

At that, you sighed. You were just glad to have Joan to deal with them so you wouldn't have to; after all, you'd been very busy lately. 

"Are you still designing the new line?" the feline asked with a hint of concern in her voice. You'd been working on it for the last week almost nonstop, and you knew she was probably a little worried about you. Still, she knew better than to comment about it openly. 

"Yes," you replied, setting the drawings on your desk now, "But I should have some solid concepts soon." Joan was still frowning but you ignored her worry as you leaned back in your chair and stretched. You'd been at this all day so you had to admit; it might be a good time to take a short break. 

"I'm sure these new designs will be even more lovely than your last ones," you assistant finally spoke as she took another step forward, "But...Uh, there's one other item that could use your attention right now." At that, you raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh? What is it?" You asked. Based on her nervous expression, you weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer. 

She drew in a breath before glancing back down at her clipboard. "We have a client here who requires repairs on some of their clothes." 

"I thought I said I wasn't going to be taking any clients this week?" You replied now, crossing your arms, "Can't one of the apprentices handle it?" 

"The client has insisted only your expertise will do," Joan told you, "And frankly, I don't think it's quite my place to refuse." She had a look of fear on her face at that that piqued your interest even more. Who could this client be to have scared even your own assistant so badly? You had a few ideas, and if they turned out to be true, then you almost wanted to smile in delight.

"Alright," you pretended to sigh now, knowing what was up, "Send them in and I'll handle it." Joan nodded quickly before heading over to the door of your workshop, which she opened to reveal a very familiar sinner standing on the other side with a huge smile on his face. 

"Why, thank you, my dear!" Alastor told Joan as he took a step into the room. She nodded quickly before leaving and closing the door behind her. Meanwhile, you grinned and stood from your desk. 

"Al, what brings you back here already?" You asked, though you couldn't have been more glad to see your best friend back in the Swing Sector visiting you, "Miss me already?" The Radio Demon's smile widened at that and he came over to pull you into a hug. 

"Lovely to see you too, my friend!" He exclaimed as you chuckled. "I'm afraid I've come to request your assistance mending some of my clothing, if it's not too much trouble!" You let go of your friend now, raising an eyebrow at his words. 

"Of course it's no trouble, but...Surely it's not these clothes you need repaired, right...?" You asked, a dark shadow beginning to form across your face, "After all, I just made this suit for you a couple of weeks ago." Your tone was calm but extremely threatening and despite being the Radio Demon himself, Alastor had to fight the urge to step back. When it came to the clothes you created, you could always be a little...murderous. He almost didn't want to continue with the look in your eye, but nevertheless, he did so.

"Unfortunately, it is," he replied carefully and with a solemn nod of his head. When he saw your expression darken even further though, he quickly continued. "But I assure you, dear, I did everything in my power to avoid letting any harm come to these clothes! This is the result of an...Unfortunate turn of events." 

"Who did it?" You asked in a tone so unlike you that it would have made anyone living in your sector shake with fear. 

"Alas, I do not remember his name; the forgettable sort." Alastor replied, glad to have shifted the blame off of himself now, "But I assure you, I plan to make him pay for his transgressions." His own expression became scarier now as his eyes began to shift into radio dials and glow red; even more so than normal.

"Give Joan a description of this demon on the way out," you ordered, "I'd also like to have a go at anyone who thinks they can damage my designs and get away with it." Alastor nodded at that, even if only to calm your rising anger. 

"Now," you said, taking a deep breath in order to pull yourself from your murderous rage, "Show me the damage." You turned back to grab a tape measure and some sewing pins as Alastor held up the end of his coat, which had been clearly been ripped. Of course, it always gave that appearance, but in this case, the tears weren't how you'd designed them, and therefore, gave a rattier appearance.

You felt your anger nearly flare up again at the sight but calmed yourself as you nodded and then got to work measuring and pinning wherever necessary. 

"Good thing I always keep your fabric on-hand," you spoke while holding one of the sewing pins between your teeth, "Otherwise, you'd have had to wait a few weeks for it to get in, and we certainly couldn't have you walking around like this for so long." The Radio Demon nodded, assuming the pose you always had him hold as he let you work.

You'd been his personal tailer ever since the two of you became friends shortly after your own arrival in hell. Before them, he'd had some random sinner off the street make all of his clothes, and as you'd told him the night you ran into each other at that party, it had showed. Luckily, he now had a best friend who was always willing to ensure he was well-dressed; making him a top priority whenever he came in. 

For a few minutes, you pinned the fabric in silence as he took in the sights of your workroom. It hadn't changed much in the years since he'd last visited; a realization that was somehow heartwarming. 

It was as messy as ever; with various designs lining the walls, fabric strewn about, and several trunks of other sewing supplies pushed up against the tall windows. Your desk was even worse with pins and needles all over it that had been entangled in string, and Alastor knew if he were to ever bring someone like Nifty here, she would have had a field day. 

Also resting on your desk, though, were several framed photos. There was one picturing you and Rosie, probably taken sometime after the Radio Demon's disappearance, along with several photos of your various owned souls that had been taken at the parties you hosted. Alastor's smile widened, though, when he noticed several old photos of you and him rested among the rest. Even after all this time, they were well-taken-care-of and free from dust or dirt. The sight was very sweet.

"Did I overhear that you were working on a new line?" He finally asked, breaking the silence as you threaded some red string through a needle like it was nothing. 

"Of course," you told him with a grin before kneeling to hand-sew the new fabric of his coat to the ripped area. "I have to stay up to date, don't I? And plus, runway season is coming up." 

"Well, then I hope to be in attendance at many of your upcoming fashion shows." Alastor told you and you nodded as you started stitching. 

"You'll be the first one invited, of course," you said with a playful eye roll, "Who better than my best friend to witness as I crush Velvette; fashionably?" This made the other overlord's smile widen even more.

"I have no doubt in your creative mind," he replied, "In fact, I daresay her own designs are nowhere near your level, so where's the competition in the first place?" He gave a loud laugh at that and you shook your head with a smile.

"Thanks, Alastor," You said as took out another sewing pin; not needing it anymore, "But it turns out there might actually be some competition this season. The Overlord Gala is being held a month earlier due to the next extermination being moved up- will you be attending, by the way?" You glance dup at your deer-like friend, who immediately nodded.

"But of course! I wouldn't miss such an entertaining event for the world," he replied, placing a hand where his heart should have been, "And I suppose I'll have to be requesting your services for my clothing then, as well." You nodded, turning back to your work. 

"Well, anyway," you continued, "The gala is supposed to be competitive as far as fashion this year, and I intend to have the best designs by a landslide. But that all starts with the line I'll be releasing shortly beforehand, so it has to be perfect." 

"Of course," Alastor nodded knowingly, "Do let me know if there is anything I can do to assist! Any endeavor that involves putting those arrogant V's in their place is worth supporting. Though, I hardly think you'll require my help schooling Velvette on the runway." You chuckled at that, finally finishing sewing Alastor's coat and tying it off.

"Thanks, Al." You told him now as you stood and brushed yourself off, "I always appreciate your support. And...Your coat is done!" You stepped away now, letting him inspect your work as you began putting away the rest of your materials. The Radio Demon took a second to look it over before his smile widened (somehow), seeming satisfied.

"Perfect as usual, my dear!" He told you as he gave a brief spin for emphasis. "Thank you kindly!" 

"Anytime." You replied once you'd put everything away, "Oh, and by the way, are you planning to attend that meeting next week? The one Carmilla sent information about?" A part of you was a little nervous he hadn't been invited for a second, considering the other overlord had never been particularly fond of Alastor, but then his eyes shone with recognition. 

"Yes, indeed!" He told you as the two of you started heading out of your workshop now, "Am I correct to assume you'll be there as well?" You nodded and his smile brightened, "Splendid! Then I shall see you at the meeting!" 

"Sounds good," you replied, "But before then, make sure you let Rosie know you're back! If you show up to the meeting with no warning she might bite you." You shivered, remembering the last time Alastor had done something to make the kind cannibal overlord angry. You hadn't had bandages on-hand at the time and had had to use whatever fabric you could find just to wrap his wound. 

"Of course, of course!" Alastor waved a hand dismissively, which told you he most likely would not be telling Rosie in advance. He always had liked to keep everyone guessing, hadn't he? "Now, I would love to stay longer, but I must be on my way, darling!" He headed over to the counter of your boutique, where one of your newer recruits immediately shrunk away in fear. "And I'd better let you get back to work if you're to show everyone up at the gala!" 

You grinned and made your way over to the register, but instead of punching in any amount, you simply leaned your elbows onto it with a smile. "Al, you know I wouldn't make you pay for a simple repair like this," you told him, "if anything, the one paying will be whichever demon ripped your coat in the first place." You were still smiling but your voice got significantly more sinister and your eyes darkened as you spoke the last sentence. The rest of the shop's employees cowered but Alastor just laughed. 

"A true gentleman pays his friend for their services, dear." He reminded you but as he spoke, his gaze shifted to the street outside, where a TV in the store across the street happened to be running Vox's broadcast. His smile didn't drop but you could instantly see the shift in his eyes from joy to annoyance at the sight. 

And you could understand why. It seemed Vox had caught wind of the fact that the Radio Demon was back, because he was going on and on about Alastor's return and what it meant for the future of hell. You supposed that obsession of his still hadn't died out. 

"On second thought, it seems I'll have to be on my way." Alastor practically spat before turning back to you with a joyful expression again, "But do let me know when you're next free, and I'll be sure to treat you to lunch as thanks for your kindness this fine day." You gave him a look so he added, "with vegetarian options, of course." Your grin widened.

Even though you were best friends with both Rosie and Alastor, two of hell's most well-known cannibal demons, you had no interest in partaking in said acts yourself and he could respect that. 

"Alright." You said finally as Alastor adjusted his bow tie once more and then turned towards the door. "Nice to see you again!" 

"Bye now, dear!" He called back, "Oh, and if you've got the time, consider tuning in to my next broadcast! It's sure to be quite...Entertaining." With that, he was out the door and you shook your head, still smiling. He was no doubt going to clap back at Vox by going on-air for the first time in years, and of course, you weren't about to miss that for anything. 

"Joan!" You called, heading back up the stairs to your workshop now, "Would you bring the radio up? I have a feeling this afternoon's work is going to get much more entertaining!"

……….

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

[disneyanddisneyships]

Alaponi "transactional fucking" stage but everytime they were done al would just dip

Like- "oh well! Now that we're done, *dresses up* I need to go meet with someone at the colony!"

Like no cuddle. Bro just dipped.

Cause deers dont mate for life

:)

Warnings: a bit of smut in the beginning ig? Foul language... some angst... alastor probably being ooc..

Aponi moaned as she felt alastor spill into her. Her face was flushed and her hair was messy.

This was transactional. In return for a room at the hotel, Aponi had to practically be the radio demons fuck toy every October.... the only negative thing was that Aponi was in love with him.... but he wasn't in love with her.....

As alastor pulled out he sat upright on the bed putting his clothes back on almost immediately.

He did it every time. He never stayed over. No aftercare, no closeness. Just gone.

"You could stay if you'd ljke," Aponi muttered... hoping that just this once he'd give her a chance and she wouldn't have to wait another year before he considered her existence again.

"I'm afraid I cannot!" Alastor piped up as he took his microphone in his hand and draped his coat over his arm. "I have important business to get to. Goodbye!" He exclaimed, slamming the door on his way out.

Aponi sighed and stood up, using the bathroom and re-brushing her teeth.

She had a performance to get to in about an hour and Val would kill her if she was late.

So, getting dressed in some performanxe clothes and a long coat, she did her hair and grabbed her purse, walking out of the room.

Down in the lobby alastor was speaking with husk. Clearly they were important matters.

However alastor shut his mouth when he saw her and this made Aponi feel REALLY uneasy.

Until Angel piped up.

"Ohhhh sexy mama! You goin ta Val's?" He asked from his place on the couch.

"Yeah. Mal is supposed to drive me but.... she's not here so I'll probably just walk," Aponi replied as she grabbed an apple.

"Alright. Oh, hey you know that new bartender guy?" Angel spoke.

"Uhhh.... yeah," Aponi replied as she leaned over the couch and at her apple.

"Rumor has it he's got a fat ol crush on a certain butterfly demon~" Angel teased.

Aponi didn't see it, but Alastor stiffened up.

"Oh please. No one at that club gives a rats ass about the other... except for the dancers... speaking of that, did you talk to Jen about her twisted ankle? She and I are supposed to perform next week," Aponi stated.

Angel just shook his head.

"Alright well... I should get going," Aponi stated as she threw her half eaten apple away... Val would probably make her puke it up later anyway.

"I could always take you, dear!" Alastor piped up from the bar area.

Aponi looked at him, insecurity on her features.

".. I'm good... thanks though," she muttered.

She hated pretending like what they were doing wasn't happening.... but she was probably a fool to believe an overlord could actually fall in love with someone like her.

"Alrighr well. Bye Angie, bye Husk!" She called out as she left the room.

............

Aponi walked into the club, 5 minutes early, thank Satan.

Now she realized why she didn't walk. The amount of catcallers she had was unbelievable.

As she walked through the club and backstage into the changing rooms, she didn't notice the bartender staring at her with a smile that practically screamed he was in love with her.

[harpersdragons]

Theft in the Family...By Jason Todd Chapter 2

When Alfred heard the knock on the front door (or more accurately, saw the message from the security system, given he was in the cave running comms), he can safely say a child was not what he expected.

Certainly not a child dressed in League robes, demanding to see Bruce Wayne.

The child, Damian Al Ghul-Wayne—and isn’t that comforting, knowing his pseudo-son slept with the heiress to an assassin cult—apparently, handed over two letters.

One had his own name written in a—entirely too familiar—messy scrawl.

The other had Master Bruce’s name in an elegant script.

Alfred accepts the two letters, tucking them into his waist coat, and leads Damian into the main sitting room.

“Would you like something to drink?”

”A chai would be satisfactory, Pennyworth.” Damian says haughtily, but his voice wavers slightly.

”I will get that started, then.” He heads off to the kitchen.

Once he has the kettle started, he pulls out the letter with his own name on it.

Alfred reads the letter 3 times, and still doesn’t believe the words he reads, or the DNA test included at the back.

DNA tests can be faked, he knows that.

But—

But if Jason is alive, how did they miss that?

How did the League get him?

Jason’s alive, and he brought Bruce another child.

Jason is alive

The kettle’s whistling shocks him out of the stupor he was in, and he sets about making the Chai for their newest family member.

Unconfirmed family member.

Still reeling from—supposedly—Jason’s letter, Alfred walks back to Damian in a dazed state. Once he sets the tea in front of the child, he sends a message to the family to get back home.

”Will you be needing anything else?”

”No, that’s all.”

Alfred hums and settles in to wait. He’d like to go down to the cave and be there when the family gets back—just to ensure there are no new injuries—but he can’t very well leave the child alone, and he can’t take him into the cave either.

He can’t help but mark similarities between his pseudo-son and apparent grandchild.

Even the way they sit is similar, or at least Damian is sitting in a way reminiscent of a young Bruce.

Having children of his own seems to have taught him to relax a bit more, but Damian is sitting perfectly poised on the edge of the seat.

They have the same strong cheekbones and nose, even the scowl etched on the child’s face is the same.

Alfred is startled out of his thoughts—again—by a knife hurtling across the room.

Master Dick catches the knife, looking confusedly from the child on the couch to Alfred.

”B! Why the fu—“ He catches himself before finishing, “Why is there another child on the couch? I swear you have an adoption problem!”

”What child? I didn’t get another child.” Bruce’s voice echoes down the hallway.

”Well then how do you explain the toddler on the couch?” Master Tim deadpans.

”Excuse you, plebeian, I am not a toddler!”

”Bruce the child speaks. That’s it, I’m going to my room.” Master Tim turns towards the foyer, but Master Dick grabs him by the shoulder.

“Nope. If I have to deal with this, so do you. Go sit down.”

”He threw a knife at you! I don’t want to be in the same room as him.”

”You act as if that isn’t a normal night for us.”

Their bickering is interrupted by Master Bruce finally entering and clearing his throat.

”Alfred?”

”Master Damian, here, showed up on our doorstep roughly an hour ago. He claims to be your biological son. With Talia Al Ghul.”

“Oh great, now he’s stealing my thing.” Master Tim mutters, plopping onto the chair farthest from Damian.

Alfred pulls out the other letter and hands it to Mast Bruce, “He gave me this, and said it was for your eyes only.”

”Hn,”

Master Bruce flips through the, admittedly very long, letter. “How did you get here, Damian?”

”Obviously, I took a plane.”

”…Were you flying it?”

“Of course not. I am much too short to see over the nose.”

”Right…So who was flying the plane? And where did they land it?”

”We landed outside of Gotham.”

Bruce sighs heavily.

”B, you’re obviously not getting any more information out of him, just go run the DNA test you’re so obviously dying to run,” Tim sounded exhausted and Alfred made a mental note to make each of them something of good protein in the morning.

————————————————-

Bruce is pretty sure his heart stopped briefly when Alfred said Damian is his biological son.

Reading through the letter didn’t make it any clearer, though he did find DNA test results included.

Not that he trusts them, this is Talia they’re talking about.

“Alright, Damian, let’s go do a DNA test.” He holds his hand out, but Damian just stalks past him with his head high. Bruce suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. The kid is Talia’s, no question.

“Alfred, would you mind preparing a room? Dick, you’re free to go to your own apartment if you wish, just let Alfred check you over first, since we skipped post patrol checks. Although I would prefer it if you stayed the night.”

”Yeah, yeah, I know the drill, B.” Dick answers.

”I’m serious. Let Alfred check you out.”

”I will. Geez, you hide a broken rib one time. Goddamn.”

”And it won’t ever happen again.”

“I’ll be upstairs, B.” Tim heads upstairs, leaving Bruce with Damian.

He leads the (his?) kid down to the cave and starts preparing the DNA test. Damian is pretty cooperative with the whole process, if huffing and glaring at him is considered cooperative.

Once the DNA testing is complete, Bruce escorts Damian upstairs again.

“Here is your room, if you need me at any time, my door will always be open.”

It was a policy he made for himself when Dick moved in, his bedroom door is always at least cracked open, so his kids know they can always come in.

”I'm sure I will be fine.”

“Right, well, goodnight. I’m glad you’re here, Damian.”

Alfred is waiting on him when he gets to his room, and gestures for him to sit with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m fine, Alfred, promise.”

”I don’t know why you believe you can get away with things your kids cannot.”

”I’m an adult!”

”And maybe I will believe that when you are not dressing in leather and Kevlar and taking your issues out on criminals. Besides, you have hidden three times as many injuries as your children have, only for me to realize when you pass out at the table.”

Bruce grumbles, but sits and lets Alfred prod his ribs and make sure nothing is injured.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the morning, Bruce walks into the kitchen to see Damian perched on a chair watching Alfred.

“Good morning.” Bruce grumbles at Damian and Alfred as he enters.

“Tt. It is hardly morning now. Do you always sleep so late?”

“Well, yeah, pretty much. We’re always up really late.”

“Tt.”

Eventually Dick and Tim come in, and Alfred lays breakfast out.

“We will need to go to the store, as even Master Dick’s old clothing would be too big for Master Damian.” Alfred announces after they finish eating.

“Right, who wants to go with me?”

Both boys glance at each other and slowly back out of the room.

“Looks like both of you are going, thanks for volunteering!”

“Hey…y’know, I’ve got to get back to Blud, gymnastics classes and all that.” Dick starts backing up faster, making it about halfway down the hallway.

“Yeah, and I’ve got school!”

“Guys, it’s Saturday. Dick, I know you don’t work weekends, so don’t even start.”

“I could still have homework!”

“You’re three weeks ahead of your class. We’re all going.”

“I’ll get the car, Master Bruce.” Alfred brushes past them.

Both the boys groan, but accept their fate.

“I do not see what the problem is.” Damian pipes up from where he’d been watching their arguments.

No one seemed particularly eager to explain, considering the main problem was being recognized in public. Neither Dick nor Bruce wanted to deal with their public personas, and Tim doesn’t like the attention. Thankfully, Alfred came and let them know the car was out front, and saved them from having to explain.

————————————————————————————————————-

Jason was…adjusting. After so long with the league, caring for Damian, being on his own is shocking. Not to mention his plan was torn apart. With the clown dead, most of his goals were completed.

He’s spent the last couple days trying to come up with a new plan. The best way to help Crime Alley is still to fight fire with fire, so to speak, so he still needs to find a way to take over the drug trade.

But without trying to draw Jo—him, out, Jason doesn’t really want to call himself Red Hood.

He needs a new name.

Robin was taken from him, and it’s not like he really wants that back anyway (he needs pants, thank you very much).

Maybe Phoenix?

Flame bird? But he doesn’t want to be associated with Nightwing, and although the Kryptonian legend may not be widespread knowledge, he would know, and the Justice league would know, and that’s enough.

But is Phoenix intimidating enough to warrant the fear he would need to be a crime lord?

He’ll have to think about that a bit more.

In the meantime, he can still get started.

So he does.

He spends the next two weeks with his hostile takeover of the drug trade.

Cut off a few heads here, shoot a couple of rule breakers there, he’s had a good few weeks.

If only he could stop thinking about Damian, and whether or not he was happy at Wayne Manor.

He did decide to go with Phoenix, the first time someone had asked who he is, it was the first name that popped into his head.

His outfit is a little different than originally planned too, he’d scrapped the helmet and instead opted for a hood and half cape.

His chestplate is a dark gray, same as his cargo pants, and the maroon half cap drapes across one shoulder.

His guns are in holsters on his thighs, and two swords cross behind his back.

He was doing well not thinking of Damian, until the tabloids announced the new Wayne Heir.

There was a picture of Damian filling half the page, the 6 year old scowling at the camera.

He should check on the kid. Bruce isn’t always the most available father around.

—————————————————————————————————————

Living with a six year old has been an adjustment for everyone, and on top of that there’s a new player taking over the drug trade in Crime Alley.

Bruce has been so preoccupied trying to find information on Phoenix, he almost forgets his newest son is upstairs with the rest, until Tim and Damian come running by him. Bruce spins in the chair, watching as Damian chases Tim.

“Damian, what do you have?” He calls out, as Tim ducks around a wall.

“Are you blind? Obviously I have a knife.” Damian doesn’t look at Bruce, aiming to close the distance between him and Tim’s hiding place.

Bruce jumps out of his chair and scoops Damian up, flinching a little as the child stabs him in the arm.

“Damian!” Bruce yells, “We do not stab people!”

“Speak for yourself, I was raised to stab people.” Damian pouts at him.

Bruce raises an unimpressed eyebrow, setting Damian down in the med bay. “Stay.” He grabs a gauze pad, pressing it against his stab wound. “Tim, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. He did cut me a bit, though.” Tim steps out from around the corner.

“Ok, come here, I’ll patch you up.” He sighs. He ties off the bandage on his own arm, opting to help Tim first. Damian glares as his brother enters the room. “Damian, go to your room. We’ll talk later.”

“But—” Damian protests.

“No arguments. Upstairs.” Bruce turns back to Tim examining the cut on his face and the one on his leg. “How’d he even get your face?”

“We were on the couch and he pulled a knife out of nowhere. He’s really fast.”

Bruce sighs as he cleans the cuts. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Are you saying it’s my fault?”

“You’re lucky neither of these need stitches. And no, I’m merely asking a question.” Bruce puts butterfly bandages on both cuts and pats Tim’s good leg to let him know he’s good.

Tim hops off, “I was just asking about his life in the league! I didn’t expect him to just pull a knife!”

“Bud, I’m sure being reminded of the home he had to leave behind is a sensitive subject.”

“And so he’s allowed to chase me with a knife?”

“No, and I'm going to talk to him about that.”

Tim huffs and stomps upstairs. Bruce sighs heavily as he finishes cleaning and stitching his own arm up.

Bruce eventually makes his way upstairs, finding soft lights on in Damian’s bedroom.

He gently knocks on the door, and slowly opens it.

“Damian?” He finds the boy wide awake, reading a book in his bed, Pride and Prejudice.

He looks up at Bruce and closes the book, setting it aside. “Yes, Father?”

Bruce sighs, walking over to the bed. “You can’t just stab your brothers everytime they make you upset. This isn’t the League, son.”

Damian scowls. “He insinuated Mother is a whore.”

“Language. I don’t even know how you know that word, but we don’t say things like that.”

“What would you rather me say? Harlot? Bitch—“

“Definitely not the last one.” Bruce drags a hand down his face. “No matter what Tim said, or insinuated, you can’t escalate to physical violence. Talk things out, or come get me or Alfred.”

“I can handle my own problems—”

“See, but that’s the issue. If you ‘handle’ your problems by attempting to maim your brothers, then you can’t handle your own problems. I know how the league does things, but that’s not how this household works.”

“This household does not work.” Damian mutters under his breath.

Bruce flinches at the… was that sarcasm?

If he knew anything about the League, it’s that there were no bits of sarcasm, or humor, tolerated. It almost… reminds him of Jason.

“This household works. It might be out of sheer will, but it works.”

“If it worked, then perhaps you would have four sons instead of three.”

Bruce flinches again, this time more noticeably. No matter how long it’s been, the reminder of his failure will always sting. He failed his son, and he will feel the crushing weight of that guilt for the rest of his life.

“How do you even—” Bruce pauses, taking a breath. “Not the point. Do not stab, slash, or otherwise attempt to maim your brothers. You’re grounded for two weeks. And go to sleep, it’s late.”

Damian rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything else. Bruce takes it as his cue to leave, flicking the lamp off and grabbing Damian’s book as he leaves.

Once in his own room, Bruce looks at the book in his hands.

Jason’s favorite, a book he’d read countless times during the short time he lived with Bruce.

Bruce sits on the edge of his bed and flips through the pages.

His heart stutters as he catches sight of the annotations in the margins.

In a familiar handwriting.

His breath catches in his throat, and he runs a finger down the messy writing.

There’s no way, this can’t be Jason’s copy.

Jason’s copy was lost in Ethiopia, he’d taken it with him and stashed it somewhere. Bruce had never found out where.

Unless he’d just hid it in the manor, which was a possibility. Bruce never messed with Jason’s room, he had promised Jason he would never touch or move his stuff without permission.

But he could have sworn he’d locked that door, and Damian is too short to reach the lock and pick it.

He flips back to the front, and his hand flies to his face as he reads the inscription in the cover.

The same one he’d written there, just before Jason’s 13th birthday, when he’d gifted the boy this copy of the book.

But why did Damian have it?

How did Damian have it?

Before he knew it, Bruce feels tears streaming down his face, and he quickly bats them away.

It’s just a book

Bruce shakes himself out of his spiral, and sets the book on the nightstand. He can’t stop thinking about it though, even as he drifts to sleep.

[hoeforhao]

Chipmunk Cheeks 🍥🧁🍡🍧|| Joshua Oneshot ||

ꔫ pairing: husband!joshua × wife!reader

ꔫ summary: your arranged husband takes care of you in your period pain.

ꔫ genre: pure fluff,mentions of blood and pain, reader sort of has body dysmorphia

ꔫ series: svt as boyfriends

ꔫ author's note: walking into the traffic if i don't find myself a joshua hong cuz am dying from period cramps atm!!

Masterlist

Marriage was never on your book of life and wouldn't ever be your cup of ale. Did your parents know this since the very beginning? Yes! Yet they absolutely went out of their capacity to defy your choices and arrange your betrothal to none other than the Hong Joshua.

Mrs Hong was your mother's colleague, more specifically her best gossip buddy. They were literally known as the gadgets of their office. And when both the women saw that their little ones are getting old with no potential chance of finding their partners by themselves, they settled upon the dreaded agreement.

All your pleas about not wanting to get married to someone you have barely had three to four conversations with, someone whose entire personality, preferences literally everything was unknown to you, were completely left unheard by your parents. Apparently they wanted their daughter to have a "secured future". Literal BULLSHIT.

The most terrifying day of your life was just two weeks ago and here you lay whimpering in pain on the bed of someone you've barely spoken to or looked at since the wedding.

"What a nice time for you to pay your visit, you bastard" you internally curse at your periods.

Yes you're basically dying from period cramps. You didn't know where the nearby medical shop was around here neither did you've the energy to go downstairs and get yourself a hot pack. You were quite literally awaiting your death from organ crumbling pain in your ''husband's room". Too dramatic for just period cramps? Yes! But why react to anything normally when you've the option to absolutely lose your mind over it.

You were so damn lost in your nonsense rantings to the walls of your room, that you failed to register joshua being back from work already.

Finding the house engulfed in absolute silence made his nerves falter for a moment. Usually it would either be filled with loud tv noises of you watching cinnamoroll on the couch or clanking of the utensils as you baked yourself another new dessert recipe.

He quickly throws his coat over the armrest and hops towards your room with those little bunny legs of his ; only to find you completely curled up like a boba ball under the blankets as small painful moans echoed through the walls.

"Y/n, w-what's wrong?" you jolt up from your little coocon as Joshua's warm hands grazes against your forehead.

"Are you okay? You don't seem to have a fever. Did you've a bad day? Did anyone make you cry? Are you missing your parents? If so let's go to their place right now" he grabs your arm gently to pull you out of the bed.

"Would you let me answer or just assume things by yourself Josh!" you unwrap your hands from his while literally burning holes into his face.

"Y-yeah sorry. I was just wo- umm worried." his face hangs low from embarrassment or maybe even a bit of hurt? Not being able to understand what's bothering his wife.

"It's okay. I was j-just having really bad p-period cramps" your face now starts turning crimson, not because talking about periods with a man makes you uncomfortable but because it was h-him...your 'arranged husband'.

"Oh my god Y/n why didn't you call me!!!! I would've run back home from office immediately and brought you treats. Did you eat anything? Where is your hotbag!! Goddamn girl why aren't you taking care of yourself" you wonder if joshua participated in speed talking competitions earlier judging his ability to blurt out sentences without a single pause.

"Calm down Mr Bunny Teeth!!! It's nothing special. I've these every month. The pain will ease out gradually." you nod at him trying to reassure the man that you're infact, not dying.

"No no no way you can talk this so lightly!!! What if you burst from the pain huh! I can't clean up a bloody mess. Hell No" Joshua's last remarks ends up earning him a hard smack from you, making both you chuckle lightly. Dang your husband was even more dramatic than you!

"No seriously tho, you need to take care and pamper yourself during these days. Wait I'll get you some treats" he stands up from the end of your bed to leave towards the kitchen when your arms grabs his from the back.

"I-i don't e-eat sweets or rather I umm can't" your face droops low trying to fight the stray tear making its way onto your lap.

Joshua turns towards you in a swish and bends down to the floor, not caring about bruising his knees on the cold marble; both of his palms reaching to cup your cheeks.

"Why y/n?" a two word sentence was enough to make you break down into a crying mess.

"I - i was a-always told that I'm f-fat and s-so i stopped e-eating my favorite food w-which was s-sweets" you were talking like a five year old, words mixed up with your sobbing and face stained with snot and tears at the same time.

Joshua's firm hands gently grazed over your face as he wiped the mess off of it with his satin white shirt, while the other refused to leave your cheeks.

"You will eat as many sweets as you want love, as you buckets of ice cream you wanna feast on. And I'll be sitting right here infront of you so that each time you think about stopping yourself because of what the world thinks, your face will be planted with a kiss." you've turned completely red by the choice of his last word, the pain in your belly now mixed with a tingling sensation.

"You are perfect the way you're y/n! I can't even imagine a single milligram of you leaving this world. Like omg just think what a great loss will this universe face then!!! I want to see you eat to your heart's content, enjoy each and every meal. Do you even know how bright that smile of your glares when you munch on your food like a happy raccoon, cheeks stuffed up like a smol little chipmunk."

"S-shua you-"

"Sshh! No more words love. Sit here 'til I bring all the food from downstairs and then we'll sit together and watch sanrio, okay chipmunk?" Joshua's slender fingers draw against your lips, sending a flutter of butterflies all over your bones.

Sitting on the bed like an obedient wife you wait for him to arrange a literal feast of sweet treats infront of you, alongside tucking you into the duvet with the hot bag on your belly, making a literal cinnamon roll out of you ; wrapping his arms around your shoulders as your head now rests on his, taking in the sweet scent of his lilac cologne as you two draw yourselves into solace while watching tv together.

"Marriage isn't that scary afterall"

[theirishwolfhound]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Headcanons

My thoughts on pretty boy Kyle are actually relatively new. The longer I spend reading and writing about him for my own purposes, the more I absolutely fall in love with this man. As a collective whole here on Tumblr, as far as I’ve seen, we’ve collectively decided that Kyle is the heartthrob of the Task Force.  In this I'll cover the basics that will be prevalent in my own fics, if you wish to use any feel free, they're mostly rambles as is :)

“Oh come off it, sweetheart.”

Age: I wholeheartedly believe he’s older than Soap, but younger than Ghost, so between 27- 33. Personally I think he would be 29-30. With a bit of research it is said he enlisted in 2008 when he was 16, so I’m more inclined to believe he’s 30. (not me having to fix my own fucking story because I fucked the math up and got their ages wrong like a stupid moron) Sexaulity: Omnisexual, like he’s definitely some sort of queer and it’s hard to place him. Would he love a pretty lady or man? Absolutely, just as much as he would love a more rugged woman or man. -As for his own gender, I don’t think he would really care what pronouns he’s given so he could just be a cisgendered man who’s comfortable with himself or he’s just gender nonconforming. Height & Weight: Definitely 6’/182 cm and weighs roughly 198 lbs, I see him as a toned athletic man for sure.  Personality: Just like in the game, Gaz has to be sassy. We love sassy men who can match vibes. He’s the guy you want to go clubbing with, not only because he’s fun as hell but because he makes you feel safe at the same time. You give him an attitude he returns it with little effort and it either matches the energy you gave or it surpasses it. -He’s very comfortable with himself. Secure with showing both masculine and feminine traits. Give the man a crop top and a skirt he’ll wear them for you. He’ll let you paint his nails, do his makeup, ect.  Birthday: September 26th, 1992 (I'm using 2022)

Car Or Truck?: It honestly depends. I feel like he could potentially have both given his current vibes. But I would see him with a car, a nice sleek car with leather seats and a bumper sticker that says: “If at first you don’t succeed, call an airstrike.” given to him by Soap. -Specifically thinking of a core model BMW 740i xDrive Sedan, dark charcoal grey in color, glossy coat and dark windows. Cat or Dog?: He has the silliest dog that stays with his parents. I think it is a boxer, or a boxer mix of some sort, that has almost the same personality as Kyle. Boxers are a hyper and goofy breed of dog, and he is very certain that if he knew Soap before he got the dog he would've named it after him. Favorite Food: Vindaloo, specifically lamb Vindaloo. He just seems like the person who would prefer the more savory foods. As well as spicy foods. And if he had to go with something sweet, he’d go for a lemon drizzle cake.  Favorite Drinks: This man drinks fruity cocktails without fear of judgment just as easily as he drinks whiskey, and for non-alcoholic drinks he's a big tea, latte, and ginger ale fan for sure.  Favorite Music: 2000-2010’s music for sure. This man knows Britney Spears’ Toxic like us Americans know the pledge of allegiance.  Song I think Fits their Vibes: Feel The Way I Do- The Jungle Giants Hobbies: Gives off the vibes of a man who taught himself how to play guitar and jewelry making. Makes Soap bracelets and teaches him how to make them as well. More physical activities might be running and swimming. Fears: Oddly enough, not really, falling. It's not a terrible fear, it just gets his heart racing enough that he steers clear of the helicopter doors until they land. 

“Why don’t we go this way? Y’know, away from the edge, yeah?”

Familial Relationships: Has a relatively good relationship with his mom and dad, they probably live somewhere closeish to his flat in London. They would have a key to take care of the plants on the inside for sure. Has an older sister and a younger brother. They’re all fairly close and he’ll visit them on his leaves if he has the chance, otherwise they all have a group chat to check in with one another.  Relationships with the team: I definitely think this varies based on what sort of relationship you’re seeking to read/write about. I try to always write polyamory, as a poly-person I like having the representations.  Price: Coming from someone who loves PriceGaz, they are either the best mentor and trainee coupling or the most judgemental couple. They can read each other relatively well and work together rather well. (Though they equally get on each other's nerves.) Soap: Definitely best friends if they’re not dating, they get up to the most interesting shenanigans. They’d go clubbing in matching outfits and are annoyingly catty together.  Ghost: As lovers and friends, they’re totally the ones that would seek quiet comfort from one another. They have secret tea time and share snacks. Totally make fun of Soap's hair if it's in need of a shave.  Love Language: Physical Touch and Gift Receiving/Giving. He'll do a skin care routine with you, massages, and he'll make sure to buy the stuff for it to give to you or you to him if you get him something. He knows what makeup you wear or what size to buy your clothes in to surprise you. 

Civilian or Military Lover: Prefers civilian lovers over other soldiers, but like he’d date other soldiers given they’re the right person.  What would their civilian job be?: I see Kyle being a Paramedic, like he’d be the one I’d ask for if I fell in the shower because he’s not gonna make fun of me and he’s hot. How’s their charisma: Rizz Master, man. I'm convinced he's got a smolder that'll knock the clothes off of anyone lucky. Voice is smooth like honey and sweet to boot, he's an interrogation expert— he's gotta have a way with words. What would your first date be? Hard to say. I think he'd take you out to a coffee/tea house or you'd go get Ramen. But in reality I know it would be put up to a mutual agreement. He’d totally pay the bill and makes sure you never even get to see the slip. What would they call you? “Baby” is definitely one of the top ones, but I think the next contenders are as followed: “Sweetheart” and “Pretty/Handsome”

“Gonna make me feel pretty, baby?”

Size: Gonna have to say he's not the biggest or longest but I agree with the post that said he's the prettiest of the four cocks. A neat 6.5 in, circumcised, hits the right spots and he knows how to use it well.  Kinks: Bondage, Exhibitionism, and Sensation Play Position?: Pretty boy Kyle is a complete switch, though has a more dominant leaning personality. He’ll let you top, but he's gonna boss you around while you do it.  Sharing?? Kyle loves to share. He is inclined to share with his team, after all those are his best friends and his brothers-in-arms, they saved his life many times— just a little peek won’t hurt. Song that fits his vibe in the bedroom:  Swim - CHASE ATLANTIC

[nhstadler]

3 9 7  P A G E S

Hey everyone! I realised it's been forever since I posted anything and since I'm not quite finished with the chapter, I thought I'd at least post a story snippet to let you know that I haven't fogotten about you and about HNTBAW. It's just been a little much lately and I've been struggling with writer's block (as always).

But anyway, this is a random scene from the post Hogwarts series (which I might title A Catalogue of Us). It's kind of a flashback memory sort of thing and maybe it's a little confusing and sad, but maybe some of you enjoy it. I hope you had wonderful holidays / Christmas if you celebrate it and I promise I'm still writing.

Let me know what you think if you feel like it... hearing from you guys always helps my motivation, honestly :)

When James fell, the world stood still. I stood still. 

Sometimes I still dream about it. His muddled form falling through the sky, the burst of levitation spells in the pouring rain, like perverse fireworks, missing him again and again and again. There was nothing anyone could have done and yet… 

And yet.

I take a sip of my coffee, trying to banish the scraps of the nightmare that still cling to my mind as I wrap the blanket tighter around my shoulders. The air is crisp, laced with salt and the subtle sweetness of the heather that grows along the cliffside, trembling in the breeze. I’ve been staring at the horizon for almost an hour, watching the darkness fade into that bluish glow that only exists in these few minutes before sunrise, when the world is in-between. Like the sky holds its breath for just a moment.

Like I held my breath when I was an ocean away, unpacking my old life into my new flat, barely paying attention to Ludo Bagman’s tinny commentary in the background. I didn’t even know why I had turned on the match in the first place. I should have stayed away, taken advantage of the physical distance, but there was comfort in the familiarity of it. In hearing his name chanted by thousands of voices. I missed him and I hated him a little for it. And then I heard the screams. 

I thought I had lost him before, but this was so much worse.

***

The room is bright, made of sun-drenched walls and filled with flowers and too many people. But I barely notice. James isn’t moving. There is a tangle of tubes, pumping healing potion from the IV bags into his system, mending his broken bones and his cuts and gashes as much as it can. But even magic can only do so much. 

Ginny sees me first. I’m lingering in the doorway like an intruder, not sure if I have a right to be here. I couldn’t not come. I don’t know what to say, though. My throat closes off when our gaze meets over the hospital bed. She’s clutching James’s hand in both of hers like she’s holding on for dear life, her eyes brimming with tears, and I’m crying too, biting my bottom lip to keep myself from sobbing.

“Seth!” Lily calls out, making both Harry and Al look up, but I still don’t know if I’m welcome. Not until Ginny lets go of her son and extends her hand towards me, the faintest of smiles curving her mouth as she summons me to his bedside.

I want to touch him, to feel that he is still here, warm and real and alive, but I don’t dare. There are too many IV lines and bandages and I’m afraid I might hurt him. “How - how is he?”

It’s a useless question, I know it, but there’s still the naive hope that the answer might have changed. That he’ll open his eyes and give me that infuriating half-smile, calling me Woodley and telling me that everything will be alright.

“I’m sorry,” someone says behind me and I turn around to look at the healer that has come into the room. “Only family is allowed in here.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” 

I make to get up, wiping away the tears with shaky fingers, but Ginny’s hand circles my wrist, her bloodshot gaze firmly on the woman in the lime green coat. “She is.”

***

I wanted to buy him some magazines, but half of the stock in the small St. Mungo’s kiosk is about brooms and Quidditch and the other half are gaudy newspapers that still seem to be in a competition over who can print the most disturbing pictures of James plummeting through the air. I was ready to give up and settle on the Kneazle Lover’s Digest when I saw the flashy book pyramid by the checkout. 

“I got you something.” I’m barely in the room when I hold up the shiny hardback with the gaudy cover and James raises an eyebrow at the shirtless guy that takes up most of the front.

“Holy Morgan, what is that, Woodley?” He lets his head fall to the side, smiling at me, even though he is too weak to move. Bruises and scratches still paint brutal patterns across his skin, covering his face and neck, his shoulders, his ribs, but they’re healing. 

Unlike his legs. 

“They had it in the hospital bookshop!” I can barely contain my excitement as I sit down in the chair next to his bed, thumbing through the pages, because this feels like a sign. A very dumb sign, but a sign nonetheless, and I’ll take anything I can get. “No way!” I press the open page against my mouth, my eyebrows arching at James over the edge of the book.

“What?” He’s frowning, amusement still tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

“It’s set in the 1800s.” 

He groans, though the grin on his face definitely dampens the effort. Rain is lashing against the windows, drowning out the steady drip of the IVs and, for a moment, it feels like it used to. Like Sunday mornings at his and Freddie’s flat, when he would refuse to get up and pull me back into bed with him.

“I’m so excited.”

“I bet.” He’s laughing, properly now, and my heart flutters behind my chest. It should know better. Especially because I saw her name flash across his phone screen last night before I left. “How long is that damn thing?”

I flip to the very back of the book, catching a few of the final words even though I try to not read them. “397 pages.”

***

“How many pages?”

He used to ask how many chapters. Then it turned to pages. Because he knows it too - that we only exist like the words on paper, between the pages. Until we reach the last one. The last sentence. 

“191.”

When the story ends, so do we. But ours is a tragedy. Maybe it was always meant to be.

I come back every day. I sit next to his bed and read A Witch’s Guide to Rakes and Romance, blushing fiercely at the spicy scenes but reading it all. James covers Lily’s ears when she’s cuddled up next to him and she complains loudly while Al and Freddie laugh and Harry and Ginny exchange soft, tired smiles.

Sometimes, the room is crowded. Sometimes, it’s just us - James and me and the steady whirring of the machines - and I read to him until he falls asleep. I read to him until twilight creeps into the room and we have to turn on the neon hospital lights. 

I read to him until he can feel his legs again. 

Until the IV lines become less.

Until he can sit up by himself.

“How many?” He says and I don’t look at him.

“16.”

It’s the last chapter. And, though I know that it’s time to go, that this semi-real version of us has an expiration date, I dread every page I turn.

“What if you stayed?” James says, quietly, and I feel like I might choke. I can barely breathe.

What if I stayed?

“I - I can’t.” My fingers are clenching the book in my lap, digging into the cover for something to hold on to. This feels awful, like a second break-up, and I wish I could just fold myself into his arms. 

But I can’t and he doesn’t argue. Because he knows me too well.

His lips are pressed together as he nods, a tear sliding down the side of his face into his pillow and I’m crying too. When he reaches out, I take his hand and weave my fingers through his, careful to not dislodge the catheter in the back of his hand.

“Do you want to hear the ending now?” I ask, wiping the tears from my cheeks, and his gaze slides from my face to the book in my lap, to our intertwined fingers.

“No.” I feel his hold on me loosen, his hand slipping out of my grasp a little. “I don’t want to know how it ends.”

[silent-words]

da ask for dorian and inky 😋 3, 8, 16

Hi! Sorry for not answering for such a long time. So, Dionysios Trevelyan and Dorian Pavus, questions from this post, here we go. The first and the last questions are about post-Tresspasser and Veilguard time. The second one is about the Inquisition time.

3. What is something that always reminds them of their partner?

I have a full story about one particular thing that reminds Dionysios of Dorian. Well, a lot of things remind him of his lover, especially the enchanted prosthetic arm, that cost a fortune and was a gift from Dorian (Dionysios asked to engrave two-headed snakes and lilies, from the Pavus coat of arms, on the prosthesis). But this story is not about the arm.

As I see it, after the Inquisition becomes Divine Victoria's personal guard, they move from Skyhold to Val Royeaux. Dionysios has a very strange request – he wants to bring his old desk with him. Cullen, who is the only remaining advisor (Leliana is the Divine, Josephine has gone to Antica), questions this decision, because why would anyone want to bring a heavy and bulky piece of furniture to their new residence where furniture will be in abundance? Dionysios says "It brings good memories. No, trust me, you don't want to know the details." Then Cullen remembers how once the Inquisitor arrived to the war room with part of a letter impressed on his cheek, and utterly refused to elaborate on the subject (while blushing profusely). The Commander asks no questions and arranges the desk to be moved to Val Royeaux. Harding was there during the exchange.

Later Harding, when she's in the Shadow Dragon lair, tells Dorian about Inquisitor's old desk in their new office. Dorian laughs and tells her that, well, she really doesn't want to know the details.

Dorian brings home a specially committed portrait of Dionysios (a large thing he puts on the wall in his study). He also wears the earring his lover gave him as a gift.

8. What is one sweet gesture that they've do(ne?) for one another on a regular basis?

Dionysios had always wanted to court his love properly, so once he brought Dorian flowers. At first the latter didn't know what to do and how to react, but then he put it in a vase in his alcove in the library. Later Dorian was the one who brought Dionysios a little bouquet, which the Inquisitor pinned to his Skyhold outfit.

Sometimes they just exchanged flowers. Not big bouquets with fancy plants, but sometimes something picked during their wanderings through Thedas, sometimes specially grown in the Skyhold garden. Two sweet hopeless romantics.

When Dorian grows his hair out, Dionysios braids his hair, and sometimes puts flowers in the braid.

16. Are they married? If so, did they go anywhere fun on the honeymoon?

They waited for more than a decade to get married. As far as I know, nothing in the Chant of Light (both Orlesian and Tevinter variants) says anything against same-sex marriages, so technically they could've married earlier. But it's Tevinter, and they can't tell anyone they're together, because Dorian has to operate independently (to make Tevinter better through his work in the Magisterium), and he's still an altus, so he's supposed not to be in a same-sex relationship.

Still, during Veilguard Dorian asks the Divine (let's pretend it's Ashur) for a favour. To marry Dorian to a man (he doesn't say who exactly). Ashur has doubts, but agrees. When Elgar'nan takes over Minrathous and the city is closed from the inside, Dorian has already been carrying the engagement ring for some time. After all the "gods" are defeated (and Solas has willingly gone into the Fade), Dorian proposes to Dionysios, who, of course, says "yes". Ashur sees it al and has seen them fighting the Venatori together, so he tells Dorian that he will marry them without any favours, because it is the right thing to do.

Dorian and Dionysios marry a couple of years later in a grand ceremony, because it's the Archon's wedding, it should be fabulous and big.

I think they go some remote place in Rivain where they can spend a month in quiet, and only by themselves. A small house near a beach where there's no one around and they can spend a lot of quality time together.

I can talk about these two for hours. Ask me more about them if you want more ramblings XD

[meringuecream7]

A Lovable Hummingbird in 100 Years || Chapter 12: A Paralyzed Wife

Saturday came, and George was reading the newspaper while Susie – his daughter – came to him.

  “Whatcha lookin’, Daddy?” she asked curiously.

  “Oh.” George looked at Susie. “I’m looking at the news of your mother. I wonder how she’s doing today.”

  “Can I see?” Susie asked excitedly.

  George nodded. Susie got onto her father’s lap and they began to read. The newspaper read:

  ‘A female tap dancer named Brenda Caroline Amanzi was struck with a disease called ALS, which made her collapse onto the ground. Her husband’s twin sister, Poppy Amanzi, went to her in tears. Brenda’s dreams got canceled thanks to ALS.’

George’s eyes widened with horror. No! he thought. How could this be?!

“No worries, Daddy,” Susie reassured him. “I’ll go to one of the grand theater’s rooms to help Momma dance again.”

“But... how?”

“By getting a taxi to drive us there!”

George liked his daughter’s idea but somewhat disliked it because it had some antics. Maybe let’s give her a chance, he said to himself as his daughter ran upstairs to get the piggy bank.

After Susie got the piggy bank, she pulled its plug to release a pile of dollars.

“See?” she said. “That’s my easy-to-go solution of making money out of the bank.”

She grabbed the money and dashed out of the house.

“Hey, Susie!” George shouted as he grabbed his coat, left the house, and shut the door behind him.

“Wait for your father!”

Susie saw the taxi come while her father was running to her. She spotted a jet-black taxi going by.

“Taxi!” she shouted.

The taxi stopped and the driver opened the door.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked the father and daughter.

“The theater,” Susie replied as she gave him the money. “Take us there immediately.”

The driver rolled his eyes, let George and Susie open the door so that they came in and closed the door behind them, and started the car.

The drive’s duration takes 23 minutes to get to New York City. The taxi stopped at the entrance of the theater and George and Susie hopped off.

  “Thanks!”Susie called. “Also, this money is for going back home as well.”

  The driver looked at the money and back at Susie. “Alright,” he said. “You have 10 minutes to go to the theater.”

  “Thanks,” George thanked as he carried Susie and left the taxi.

  He was rushing to the theater to see his beloved wife. Then, he saw a woman in a bright red uniform. She was one of the theater attendants. “Can I help you, sir?” she asked.

  “My daughter needs to see Brenda,” George requested. “She needs to talk to her about dancing.”

  The theater attendant nodded, opened the door of Brenda’s room, and let them in. “She’s free," she said to them.

  “Thank you,” George thanked her. Then he let Susie down. “Talk to her so that she can dance again, okay?” he said to her. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Susie nodded and dashed inside Brenda’s room. George then asked the theater attendant about the ALS Brenda has.

  “We don’t know why the ALS had struck her and made her die,” she responded. “Poppy tried to call the doctor to help and cure Brenda’s disease, but it’ll take like a year or two to cure. Say, are you Brenda’s husband? As in, the George Amanzi?”

  “That’s me,” George replied eagerly. “I saw Brenda dance across the sidewalk when my sister and I were little twins. That’s how I married Brenda and had a child named Susie.”

  “So you’re telling me that your daughter is helping her mother so that her life won’t be ephemeral?”

  George nodded. Then, out of the room came Susie. She smiled eagerly and said, “Problem solved, Daddy. Momma can dance again by hand!”

  George hugged Susie. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered.

  Then, he heard the taxi’s horn blaring. Ah! he thought to himself. The taxi’s calling us.

  “Uh,” he said to the theater attendant as he began carrying his daughter up and leaving the theater. “We gotta go home. Let me and my daughter know when something happens to my wife!”

  The theater attendant nodded. “I will,” she replied.

  The father and daughter got into the taxi, and they drove back home.

On Sunday, Susie went downstairs, holding a book of Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White in her hand.

  “Daddy!” she said to George, who was reading the newspaper. “I finished my book report of Charlotte’s Web. Now I can see you...”

  She stopped and began reading the newspaper. “‘Brenda Caroline Amanzi finally manages to dance by her hands thanks to her daughter Susie Amanzi,’” she read as she looked up at her father, who was smiling at her. “My plan... worked.”

  “Of course it does,” George replied as he hugged his daughter. “Now her dream will continue, thanks to you.”

  “Hey, since I've done my book report, can I read with you?”

  George thought for a moment and nodded. Susie hopped onto the chair and read with her father, letting the newspaper inform them about Brenda’s career ending or not.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Chapter 15 Chapter 16