#Harper's Original Content

[galahadwilder]

William Jackson Harper would make a fantastic Clark Kent and, given how he acts in the final episodes of both season 3 and season 4 of The Good Place, I think he’d make a really good Superman too. However, I now can’t stop thinking about him playing not just Clark as Chidi, but also Superman as Chidi.

Superman: I… have a stomachache. I’d like this to stop please.

Battinson: how you are invulnerable

Superman: I started faking nervous stomachaches as Clark so I could get away and “hide” when supervillains showed up but I got so good at it that it gave me actual stomachaches and now they won’t stop

[quinnharperwrites]

The Isles of Blirrosia: Chapter One

Taglist: @anonymousfoz, @kaiarchives, and @awleeofficial Let me know if you want to be added!

Note: Feedback is very much desired! This is my first major work since I took a break; even if it's a little note about a part you liked or didn't like, it'll make me very happy. At least people are reading it, haha. Also, I am still looking for a beta reader. If you're interested, please message me. Finally, I might edit the earlier chapters and repost them, but I will be clear that it's the edited version. Thank you and enjoy!

Next Chapter >

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a cloudy, crisp Monday morning in January, yet it was fair and still. Pleasant. It was warmer from the top of the city rooftops, but Saffron didn’t mind. She sat on the edge of the roof of a random office building, her feet swinging in excitement over the bustling rush hour traffic. Normally, she would be in her Hero Ethics class, but she was called in to cover a hero today. Something she’d done multiple times in the past. But this time was different.

Recently, there has been a supervillain causing trouble in the city. From Saffron’s perspective, he was pretty inadequate, which was partly the reason why the Hero Association decided it was safe enough for a student to help out. Her job was to patrol the city and keep an eye out for suspicious activity. They had given her a proper file and a walkie-talkie—she’s never gotten them before! Normally, she would team up with a hero and stop a petty crime. But those were kinda on the police department's level.

“We got a bank robbery on 86th and Second. Witness descriptions match the Stardust Absorber. Over.”

“Finally.” Her first active bank robbery. Today was going to be a good day.

Saffron lifted her feet on the rooftop edge, then launched herself off. She let herself freefall for a moment, relishing in the addicting feeling of being weightless. Completely vulnerable. But before her ears could pop from the rapid descent, she raised her arms as straight as possible and summoned black aura spheres in both of her open palms. Then, she willed the aura to wrap around her body, lift her into the sky, and take off in the direction of the robbery. She reached for her walkie-talkie to respond to the police department.

“Hero student: Aura. On my way. Over.”

Contrary to the general public’s belief, there is no traction in the air. She wasn’t sure how it was for other aptitudes that allow flight, but in her case, she had to use her aura to push off molecules in the air. Since the process is invisible to the eye, it looks like she’s flying effortlessly when it takes a lot of concentration.

Since Saffron had just sacrificed a decent amount of her concentration on responding to the walkie-talkie, she suffered the consequences by nearly crashing into a billboard. 

“Ugh,” Saffron groaned. “The press is going to have a field day with this.” She took a few moments to redirect herself, then sped off faster to make up for lost time.

As she neared the bank, Saffron caught a glimpse of a white blur also heading towards the location. The murky feeling of dread crept up her sides as her feet touched the pavement outside the bank. The aura diminished in a way that was only possible due to hours of training. 

“Aura! Over here!” an officer called out. 

“I’m here!” Saffron replied. “What’s the situation?”

“We’ve confirmed that it is the Stardust Absorber. No hostages, but after what happened last time, we decided to secure the perimeter and wait for a hero to arrive.” This was normal; she usually helped with the perimeter. But she was cut short before she could ask about where she was wanted.

“Sensation is on scene. Aura, assist him.” Another officer and a hero clad in white join the conversation. Just her luck. Only Sensation could taint the experience of being able to participate in taking down a bank robber. Why couldn’t have it been Steela or Water Jelly instead?

The hero-student duo made their way to the bank.

“Remember. No direct attacks,” Sensation said.

“I remember. I was told.”

Just making sure, Saffy.” 

Saffy?

“We’re working right now, Sensation. Right now, it’s Aura. Off-field, it’s Saffron to you. Only people close to me can call me Saffy.”

“Aren’t we close, Saffy?”

They are approaching the doors at this point. “It’s Aura. And no.” 

“But we can be,” he teased.

“No! We aren’t close, and we certainly aren’t friends. I’ve told you so many ti-”

“Now is the time to focus, Aura. We’re in the middle of a bank robbery,” he interrupted.

Saffron huffed but gritted her teeth in determination. At least he wasn’t talking anymore. In the corner of her eye, she saw Sensation enhance his muscles. So he was going physical. She summoned a black aura around herself and let it seep into her muscles. Almost instantly, she felt the increase in energy. 

They entered the bank. The pair turned their backs toward each other and faced outward. Then, they made their way to the center of the bank.

“Let’s split up to cover more ground,” Sensation ordered. 

Saffron made a sound of agreement before making her way to the upper level of the bank. It circled the building like an indoor balcony. She noticed the dangling crystal decoration hanging from the ceiling. 

She opened the first door on the left and emptied her head. Everyone has an aura tied to their physical body in the Aurasphere, and unless they have an aptitude to conceal it, Saffron could always use it to detect someone. It took a significant amount of concentration to focus on the Aurasphere. But this is what she trained for. 

“Clear!” she called out.

She checked the next room. “Clear!”

After analyzing heroes in class, she deduced that Sensation preferred a stealthier approach. But students are required to regularly call out the status of their search in case something happens. 

Three more rooms were checked. Three more rooms were cleared.

Saffron opened a door near the center of the balcony. Just as she entered the Aurasphere, she detected an aura quickly heading in her direction. 

She hastily exited the Aurasphere and grounded herself. A green man in a Halloween goblin costume was launched into the air, about to punch her. What a joke.

She grabbed his forearm and swung him to the ground out in the hallway.

“Found him!” she called out.

The Stardust Absorber quickly got up and rushed at her. 

Saffron swung one fist at him, then the other. He dodged both. 

Sensation jumped up from the ground floor to the upper level. He was running to join the fight. But he was too far away.

She kicked her left leg toward the Absorber’s head. He dodged. But she was already driving her right leg towards his neck. The Absorber recoiled to her right. She hit him with a right hook twice. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sensation standing to the side. Supervising. They both knew she had this clown under control.

The Absorber finally hit her back with his arm, causing her to fall. But before she could faceplant, she caught herself with her hands and attacked him with a flurry of kicks to the head. He was able to dodge a couple with his wrists, but he ultimately was struck by most of them. 

She ended the blitz attack by propelling herself off the ground with her hands and pounding his face with a two-foot kick. She flipped backward and gracefully landed on her feet in a fighting stance. A moment later, he plummeted to the floor with a thud. 

“Don’t you think that last part was a bit showy?”

“You’re one to talk.” 

Just when she thought he was down for good, the Stardust Absorber pushed himself off the ground, stood up, and hurled himself at her with a screech.

When he got close, Saffron propelled her right leg towards the side of his face, then she left, and then her right again. She continued the cycle until she dipped her upper body down to gain momentum and swung her left leg towards his torso. 

Upon impact, he was sent flying and ended up getting tangled in the hanging crystal decoration. 

“What an amateur. Didn’t even get my heart pumping. I’m disappointed.”

After she said this, the Absorber increased his efforts to escape, resulting in him getting tangled further.

“Maybe we should try to get him to be used as practice at your university.”

“Who’s we? And that’s an insult.”

“Of course, it is, Miss Top-Of-Her-Class.” He chuckled and called for the police to make the arrest. “Let’s go get some coffee, Saffy. I can file the ROHA later. And I’ll cover you,” he baited.

“No. Stop asking me out, Matteo. And stop sending me flowers.”

“But you keep them every time.”

“That’s only because I—ugh, never mind. I don’t have time for this. I’m going to be late for class.” She flew past the officers and out the door. Trying to refocus, she landed on the roof, released the aura, and did a breathing exercise. “In for four, hold for seven, and out for eight. Don’t let him get to you, Saffron.”

Once calm, Saffron engulfed herself in the familiar black aura and soared toward school.

______________________________________________________________

“Gotcha now, Absorber. Gonna put cha’ away for a long time.” Two cops held the villain by his arms as they shoved him over the police car.

“Yeah, tell ‘em, Marv! I’d be embarrassed if I were him. Sensation and Aura were barely in there for ten minutes! Hah!”

“Got anythin’ to say for yourself, Absorber?”

“That’s not my name,” the green foe growled.

“Huh?” 

“I said,” he repeated, “That’s not. My. Name.”

“Alright, then. What do you wanna call yourself?”

“Draven!” 

“Gesundheit.”

“I didn’t sneeze, you incompetent oaf! That’s my name. Draven!”

The two cops looked at each other, then at Draven, and then back at each other before bursting with laughter.

“Ahahaha! Harry! Ya hear that?” Marv wheezed. “He calls himself Draven!”

“What a moron!”

“Stop laughing! You should be cowering at the mention of my name!” At this, the two cops howled with laughter even more.

“Alright, alright,” Harry chuckled. “We read you your Miranda rights already, so just get in the car,” he replied, pushing Draven into the car.

“Draven, hahaha. Can you imagine?”

“Clown costume and everything. Hah!”

Next Chapter >

[ladymaria-blue]

Original Character sketch dump :)

weezer blue :)

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “IN THE IMAGE OF YOU.”

— #. synopsis. all in all, the entirety of what was meant to be said, thoroughly snuffed out by a stuttered curse is hastily stifled in favour of carefully processing what he’s currently being greeted with, once again. little shit that dared to impulsively walk upon an important moment meant to be properly spent with himself, and of course— it’s you of all people responsible for that result. well, not exactly you— but, still you. 

— #. content warning! dub-con, anal fucking, degradation, brief mentions of past bullying entailing physical abuse, coercion, implications of medical malpractice, doctor harper behind the scenes, former bastard or not— neurosurgeon male whitney, amnesiac male reader and some actual pining on the blonde’s part.

— #. word count? 5.2k — longer than initially intended.

— #. what is it this time, asher? : “pretty sure you’re not supposed to trust the filthy doctors in this town, including your ex-bully. better luck next time. this one is for my dear shoku, @shoknsfw.”

Though, perhaps the very last of things Whitney would’ve predictably expected there to be, patiently awaiting for him at the end of the day, would be— well, this thing. Not that he necessarily knows what the actual fuck ‘this’ is, but he’s getting the slightest idea that his boss is as fuckin’ insane as he had initially thought of him to be. Or others, in the past, have repeatedly warned him so of, too.

Sure, he’s not a mindless moron and he remains acutely aware of the shady rumours carelessly thrown around here and there amongst the nosy patients, accompanied by that fuckin’ Sydney profusely muttering out against his boss. Some incoherent tangent, he — himself, wouldn’t genuinely understand either way, fuck. Still, this.. This wasn’t in the goddamn job description nor did he ever truly expect it to be cuz’ there’s no way in hell he would’ve so easily accepted a simple offer such as this one. Seamlessly roping him into another one of his sick experiments, notably those involving others without their spoken consent, and would’ya look at that? 

Naively fell for it this time without sparing the slightest thought as to why — doctor Harper of all people — would be in potential need of his gracious help. Idiot, ever heard of that freak selflessly askin’ for one’s hand in a time of desperation, openly expressing his innate admission to defeat? Real funny, huh? Not so fuckin’ funny when he’s awkwardly left to deal with this complex issue within his own working hours, said time originally meant to be taken as a mere moment of solitude, of some much-needed tranquility in exchange for his gruelling hours tirelessly spent in good efforts, now solely ruined by this unfaithful encounter. 

Okay, cutting the entire crap up— it was originally intended to be spent miserably jerking off alone in the middle of his office like some crude loser. Not that he’d ever truthfully admit it to anyone, this.. otherwise unhealthy habit or perhaps, addiction he’s progressively took on due to the sheer amount of stress burdening him as a surgeon, weighing upon his slouched shoulders everyday. It’s— It’s not like it’s fuckin’ bad! Coping mechanism or whatever, it beats the stinking scent of nicotine faintly lingering on the material of his coat, a hint of the godawful smell, repeatedly going out for a ‘quick’ smoke whenever things gradually took its toll on him to the point it’d annoyingly kept him from getting some precious shut-eye at night. Like he possibly needed more on his already, busy and stuffed plate too, of all times. 

All in all, the entirety of what was meant to be said, thoroughly snuffed out by a stuttered curse is hastily stifled in favour of carefully processing what he’s currently being greeted with, once again. Little shit that dared to impulsively walk upon an important moment meant to be properly spent with himself, and of course— it’s you of all people responsible for that result. Well, not exactly you— but, still you. 

See, the tentative peering of your gaze, quizzical cock of your head noticeably tilting to the edge of the doorway to openly display your shared confusion at his presence, the same way he, himself, is not entirely amused by your sudden pop-in either. “Hello— Oh, you’re not mister.. Harper, are you?” Stupid fuckin’ scanning of his slouched frame sat atop the creaking, wooden chair audibly squeaking throughout the otherwise narrow room and— god, why do they build these things so damn loud?? Not the point here, y’a moron. 

Sputtering out a cuss out of pure habit because sure, he’s a professional doctor now or should be notably referred to as such, however, doesn’t mean he’s about to fully give out on his old, habitual gestures. Nearly had a heart attack at the ripe age of twenty-one due to your sheer incompetence and, ah— he’s becoming like those old folks repetitively reprimanding younger people for their lack of care and attentiveness or.. something. Fuck, either way, therein lies the single question in his mind; what are you, of all people, precisely doing here? In the staffs room of all places? 

“Shit, you scared me..” Huffing out annoyingly at your unwanted arrival or maybe, it is a good coincidence that he’s luckily granted with a long-awaited reunion with one of his memorable victims in high school. Fleeting days he had long since pushed past by then, but.. he’s not entirely against the mere idea of sneakily revisiting that foggy era solely for the sake of recollecting those notable, cute expressions you’d make, all scrunched up and flustered.. Spurred on further by the fuckin’ sounds of yours too, in the narrow stalls of the bathroom and, fuck— Enough of that, gotta get to the point one way or another to initially receive a reply to his beckoning curiosity itching to be answered. “Why’re you even here? What? Got an appointment with Harper or somethin’? Well, he’s not here and I don’t know where he is, so either you come back later or just—“

“An appointment? No, no. I just was supposed to put these— here, and— Sorry, was I not supposed to come here?” Plainly interrupting him with your oddly.. formal way of speaking. Since when the fuck do you even speak like that again? Last time he’s checked — which was years ago— you’re not exactly the eloquent type like that goody-two shoes Sydney nor overly polite like Robin either. You’re just. Fuck, well— you’re you with a hint of defiance. Not this. Whatever this is.

“..No, this is the staffs room. I don’t see why the hell you’re even here to begin with. Do you need something? I’m sort of in the middle of my break right now.” He grunts in return, visible scowl appearing upon his sharp features to then, thereafter, dissipate entirely when met with your confused face to his gruff response.

Right, right. Supposedly obligated to keep up with all that polite etiquette crap which he miserably fails to do so in the face of your presence. How your pathetic, little self comes and numbly reduce him to the rebellious bully he previously once was truly fuckin’ messes with him. Because, there’s no goddamn way that your reaction towards him, after all these years— after every shitty thing he’s done to you, especially the whole sucking off thing — would be so minimal, right?? Or has he become so unrecognizable in the span of just a few years that you, yourself, don’t precisely know who he, in fact, truthfully is? Surely, a slight shift in his usually messy, ruffled hair now mildly slicked back to intently follow hospital’s policies and a pair of glasses isn’t that major of a change, is it? 

Unless you’re as stupid as he had thought of you to be, blatantly ignoring that minute detail of forcibly shoving his every homework and assignment on you too. Hah, funny. Even funnier is that blank look you absentmindedly regard him with, as if you’re not quickly getting the fuckin’ hint that he’d like some alone time now. Real fast on that area, aren’t ya? Slut. Get on with it already.

“Huh, I could’ve sworn I got the right room though..” Your subtle head shakes and spared glances around to anywhere but him shouldn’t be so damn cute to him. Fuck, he sure as hell would like to redirect your precious attention to him only. Like a petulant child secretly throwing a tantrum for the lack of importance currently being given to him here. 

Arms expectantly crossed across his broad chest, foot idly tapping against the tiled floor below in a pure display of his ever burgeoning impatience. “Well? Answer the question. Do you need something or not?”

“Um, well— yes. Mister Harper told me to put these here and gather a sample from.. someone.” Mister Harper? Why’re you even.. referring to him as that, unless.. Hesitancy lacing your tone as if he isn’t carefully hanging upon every lull within your voice, ah— how he’s actually missed the lilt of it during the excruciatingly long lessons of math class being boringly taught to by that.. one teacher. What’s their name again? Right, River. Something like that. 

“Um.. I’m sorry, have we.. met before? Are you Whitney, by any chance?” Promptly blurting that out of the blue, puzzling gaze deftly meeting his as his own eyes immediately widen in exchange. Finally recognized him? Is that it? Was about damn time already and he’s not one to particularly lie in situations such as these ones, right? More like he desires to hungrily drink in the mere sight of your face, the slightest flicker of recognition amongst your softened features when reality fully settles in. 

That meek demeanour you’ve adopted so abruptly towards him does irk him however, to say the least. Never really been the timid type nor the likes when it came to him, if anything, you’d openly be opposed to his every cruel method of tormenting others. Hell, he’d know it— he’s grown familiar with your childish antics by now despite the warping time easily slipping past his tight-held grasp. Hah, knows it better than anyone else when it comes to you, as cheesy and downright ironic that might appear to others. A bully cheekily aware of their victim’s peculiarities and this, right here, is bound to take its due course.

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s me. Long time no see, huh?” Clicking his tongue in this unadulterated need, itch meant to be satiated— fuck, in utter disbelief that he almost called you by that old nickname once again. Slut. As much as he’d like to dumbly feign ignorance considering the circumstances at hand, that this is the most uncomfortable way you could possibly reunite with someone of your high school days— he knows better than to do so.

Continuing on further, maybe as an idle distraction for the aching hard-on fervently twitching against the front of his trousers, hopefully concealed enough by his slouched posture or otherwise awkward angle from below here. Wouldn’t want you taking notice of that, would he? “So, are you going to tell me what’re you actually doing here or not? I’ve got things to do and only staff are permitted to enter this room.” Skip the formalities goddamnit and just get to the fuckin’ point! He’s got one to rub out here and the annoying, pretty face he’s used to stupidly jack off to, in high school — suddenly appearing before him out of nowhere — isn’t necessarily helping matters here either!

“Oh— I see, so that means you’re.. the guy that—” Jesus Christ, he’s uncertain whether to sarcastically repeat your dumbfounded expression in a snarky remark or simply shut himself up in favour of awaiting for your next move. Though, of course, you promptly do the honours for him in return to the affirmed confirmation to your confused questioning. And truly, nothing could’ve properly prepared him for the next set of your unpredictable actions as your peering gaze soon shifts to that of unbridled shock at the sudden discovery of his identity — to then, take on that oddly bright glimmer within your eyes. Little scrunch of your nose, ah fuck— shouldn’t be so cute — as if carefully processing this newfound fact, innocent tilt and frown ever so slowly creeping up to the corner of your rosy lips in a pure display of perplexity in face of this.

“Excuse me, sir.. But I really need to do this real quick, if you don’t mind.” Why’re you suddenly settled atop the barely dusted ground, on your knees and— and, fuckin’ looking so goddamn methodical for?? Blatantly discarding the mere fact that you’re also, brazenly acting like a complete stranger in this instant, impulsively throwing yourself onto him — whether it’d be with open arms invitingly welcoming you or not — openly placing your oddly cold palms against his sides, practically clinging upon his frame for no reason whatsoever other than.. God, actually why’re you fuckin’ tugging at the hem of his— his pants, right now?! Fumbling at his zipper, hastily unbuckling his belt with a light jingle to irresponsibly sprawl across the tiled floor.

“H-Hey! Wha—What the fuck’re you doing??” Blubbering out, in sheer, utter shock when his legs should’ve notably been begging him to move, kick you away like some other stray cat uselessly pawing at him in one of the deserted alleyways, yet his feet remain firmly planted onto the floor — paralyzed even, reeled off his initial tracks as this naturally plays out to the likes of a.. cheap, porno film. 

Y’know, the ones he’d absently flip through whenever work drew on a bit too slowly for his tastes, randomly picked the nearest magazine idly displayed on his side and there you go; Bunch of freaks fuckin’ bringing shitty porn in a sacred place, namely the clinic he dutifully worked in. Ain’t that funny? Not that he can’t similarly sympathize, he’s just as much as a pervert as those lustful patients, just better at concealing it.

Oh, who’s he fuckin’ kidding? Conceal? Like the painfully evident hard-on visibly twitching against his boxers, soaking wet patch of sticky pre-cum darkening the shade humiliatingly bare for your eyes to calmly take in. Feathered breaths wistfully close along the outline of his aching dick insistently throbbing in response to the puff of heated air blown out— god, way too fucking close for his tastes. Yeah, he’s known you for being surprisingly crude at certain times, specially when you’d actually readily obey to his orders in math class like sloppily sucking him off, messily coating his cock in a layer of translucent spit underneath the wobbly desk while slobbering all over his fat balls as he made no effort to stifle his guttural groans, but— but, damn.. Thought you would’ve left those slutty tendencies long behind you after those few years, slut. Guess he’s thought wrong and been disproven once again.

“I’m taking a sample as I promised mister Harper that I would. Now stay still for me, it’ll just take a second — a couple minutes, to be exact if all goes well.” Mister Harper this, mister Harper that, he’s got half a mind to curiously question you as to what’s up with the unnatural, formal name calling because since when did you refer to the local doctor in town — partially known for being a freak by a limited bunch, though few actually made it out to tentatively whisper out the tale — as Mister?? Which, his main objection should logically be plainly getting you off of him, but with his arms hanging limply at his sides, instead settling upon reluctantly tugging at the silky strands of your hair, he’s not making much progress to say the least.

“S-Sample?? Sample of what— fuck! Get your hands off my fuckin’ pants before I report your ass to security!!” Preferably, he would’ve unavoidably settled with knocking the lights out of you— still, is a tad bit too far lest he wants to get fired from his prestigious job — ah, since when is being a surgeon tirelessly worked to death exactly seen as an accomplishment again? To hell with this, he should’ve been a smuggler or some shit. 

“I need a sample of your semen, so you just gotta keep still for a second.” As you assertively claim your reasoning for this all which still makes no sense, by the way— why the fuck would you or should he say, doctor Harper need his fucking jizz in the first place anyway? “What was it again.. Need to stimulate this part of your dick till you climax, correct?” Alright, now you’re just being too clinical with your wording, shivering into your touch, the delicate trace of your supple fingertip running along the curve of the veiny underside of his shaft nearly enough to have him push aside the unbelievable logistics of what this is inevitably leading to.

Beyond that puzzling rambling, a tinge of disgust lurches in his heart, towards himself for being unable to lay the slightest hand on your angelic face due to how adorable you appear in this moment. Pretty, stupid fuckin’ pretty boy, god. Said it twice cuz’ that’s just how pretty you are to him. Despite literally forcing him to be naked from the waist down against his will, okay— not fully convinced about that last part. This is playing out too well like one of his depraved fantasies, you, all obedient and pliable, pushing him to his withering limits. 

And if your insistent, albeit nonsensical explanation is meant to supposedly soothe his frantic panic and bewilderment of this unfavourable situation, then that’s immediately thrown out the window as your invasive hands shamelessly strip him down to basically nothing, save for his boxers that’s also— ah, fucking shit.. swiftly being chucked down too. Muttered curses and maybe, the meanest swears and insults that would’ve put a seasoned sailor to shame, aimlessly falling upon deaf ears. After all, he’s but a man, is he not? So, don’t fault him for his body to instinctively experience a natural reaction when a pretty mouth is so stupidly close to his bare cock, springing free of its unbearable confines to then audibly slap against his toned stomach, smear the already present, pearly pre-cum along the curve of his tummy with a sigh. Fuck, he’d just about pin you down and fill you to the brim right then and there, as if.

So what’s stopping him from doing so anyway? 

Clearly, you’re asking for it, if not in the weirdest of ways. Cleanly popping his leaking cock between your too soft lips, outwardly hissing at the wet warmth he’s sought to crave late at night with his sheets haphazardly thrown aside to give way to his fat, drooling cock frustratingly squeezed in the cup of his palm. Red, hot tip dribbling out thick globs of pre-cum along his tense tummy, arm lazily thrown over his face to stifle his ever growing curses of dissatisfaction. Not enough though, not fucking enough— because nothing truly beats the squishy, tight insides he’s come to secretly cherish, if not take for granted, of his stupid, little slut. An addict is what he is, pathetically yearning for the chance to at the very least, indulge himself once more in that sickly, tight heat one last time, just one last fuckin’ time, god. Upper lip curling upward at the sheer thought as he miserably drives himself to shoot his spent seed, messily splattering along his stomach to then paint his chest white in the same crude manner. What a fucking sight, huh. Whitney, former bully in the making, stained in his own cum cuz’ no other bitch does it for him much like you do.

But, as often spoken by most— old habits die hard, do they fuckin’ not? It’s instinct on his part, so you really shouldn’t cruelly place the fault onto him when he’s practically manhandling you on the squeaking bed instead, usually meant for carefully inspecting sickly patients and the likes. New purpose found, he guesses. “Fine, you wanna do this then? I’ll give y’a my fuckin’ cum you’re so desperately askin’ for, you whore— so, don’t start crying now.”Crinkly, thin, barely translucent sheet of paper laid atop the surface, audibly shifting underneath your sudden weight. Thought you had him beat? Well, guess what? He’s kept you snugly stuck beneath the heel of his foot during the entirety of high school, so what’s the goddamn difference if he does it now as older adults? 

Just.. a slight change in the way it’s done and, you wouldn’t mind, would you? By the looks of it, familiar squeaks he’s recurrently heard, partially muffled by the thumping blood hurriedly rushing to his head— and fucking south too, though that doesn’t need to be said twice, y’know. Heaving groan at the feel of his bare cock already instinctively rubbing himself against the outline of your own, cute cock incidentally stuck in your pants. Collective, shared gasps slipped out in tandem with each full rub of his twitching length smearing a sticky mess across the patched outline of your shorts. 

“Fuck.” Cute. Unconsciously cursing to himself at the welcoming warmth your soft body provides when encompassed by his own bigger one— know how much he’s missed ya all this time? Pawing hands that he somehow can’t manage to keep to himself when you’re around, and it’s not his fault, really. Zeroing gaze descending downwards to where your leaking cock rests so cutely against your tummy, fuckin’ asking for it, aren’t you?

Did ‘mister Harper’ make you wear those all-too tight, fitting shorts to accentuate your plush thighs or somethin’ too, huh? Prepped you all up and pretty for him? Speaking of that freak, he’ll make note to visit the little cunt later once he’s done with you, either punch the lights out of him or reluctantly thank him for the opportunity made by him— maybe both, actually. Far too busy in greedily inhaling the dizzyingly sweet scent exuding out of your frame, no matter how weird that may seemingly appear to others. Comfortably tucking his nose in the crook of your neck in favour of mindlessly humping himself stupid between your forcibly spread legs to actually catch the slight tilt of his glasses slipping downwards, on the verge of falling forth before coincidentally caught by your fumbling hands slicked in sweat. Aren’t you so helpful? Gotta hand it to ya, your preventive action merely spurs on this creeping idea in his disgusting mind, itch meant to be satiated as he coldly dotes a single, rather simple order upon you. 

“Put ‘em on.” He simply grunts out of the blue, gaze fixated on the quiver of your bottom lip, ah— fuck. He’d like to suck on it and stain it sticky with his cum and spit, give it a little bite while he’s at it too, watch it prettily bloom red beneath the sharpness of his teeth. Would look so cute like that, wouldn’t y’a?

“Huh?” Wide, puzzled eyes confusingly blinking back at him cuz’ isn’t it obvious what he’s asking for? He wants you to slip on those pair of glasses, his glasses, to be exact. 

“I said, put ‘em on.” Even if the gesture itself, despite not being that big of a deal brings a certain, feverish heat to his cheeks as it’s sort of intimate for a man like Whitney to be willingly shoving his property onto another, generously sharing it with you his own possession like the glasses he routinely wears to work everyday. Useless to repeat himself any further, but like a good boy, you abide to his crystal clear instructions— shakily placing the rims onto yourself, breath immediately caught in his throat at the sight of your averting eyes stubbornly set downcast to avoid his piercing gaze boring a hole into your flushing face. 

God, you’re way too cute for your own good, aren’t you? Something— something about you wearing those— his glasses, to be exact, has his mouth dumbly hanging open, palms eagerly pawing at your supple legs, tender flesh beneath his grasp that’s so fuckin’ delicate it might as well break, decisively ripping your shorts down to display your soft, wanting hole for his awaiting, throbbing cock. “W-Wait! Don’t look!”Cutest squeaks he’s ever heard as your palms instantly cover your puckered entrance and cock like that’ll actually stop him from repeatedly slamming his entire length inside your fragile body, openly snarling at your measly attempt to hide your wet and ready hole from his prying eyes greedily drinking in the pretty sight that greets him in return— etch it to memory if he could and oh, he will. Whether you want it or not.

“Fucking shit— and you act like you don’t want it. Don’t go lying to me when you want it just as bad as I do.” It’s a bold admission on his part, yet he remains intricately aware that he’s the one who’s right here, isn’t he? Hand raising upwards to meet your face, hopefully untouched by that other freak’s claws or he might as well bust his face in too. Calloused thumb uncharacteristically tender in its strokes along your blazing cheeks. Little, heated sighs of apparent relief once you’ve eased into the blonde’s abnormally soft touch to then, suddenly morph to a rougher form as his fingers harshly dig in the softness of your cheeks, forcibly keeping you in his hold so that he may direct your gaze to his own figure towering over yours. Bitten lip meant to fuck, loudly sighing at your annoyingly cute face accompanied by his smudged glasses resting atop your nose. “Look what’ya do to me, gettin’ me all hard and shit, and then you suddenly wanna back out now? No fucking way, slut. I’ll give you what you want— I’ll give you my fuckin’ cum, so keep still for me.”

Not a heeding warning, but a command which you should notably be listening to, by the way, if you’ve retained any foggy memories of the shit he’s cruelly had you endure back in high school. Plush thighs firmly pinned against your chest, full view of your tight, little hole, ass and balls to appreciatively take in for the briefest of moments. Ah, he’s missed this so goddamn bad, y’know? Directly lining up his pulsing cock head dribbling out fat globs of pre along your entrance, relishing in that curled, wide-eyed expression of yours, parted lips he’d like to just shove his slippery tongue into— fuck. Either mixed with utter fear or maybe, actual, shared desire for this as much too, that he’ll settle upon it being both for the sake of his sadistic mind. You wear fear pretty well, don’t’cha think? 

So much so that he can’t help, but precariously crane his head over to fully paint the sight to mind like the prettiest of pictures he’s ever been graciously blessed to witness. “Pretty.” He muses inwardly, subconsciously, without the slightest sense of awareness of the overly soft praise he’s just given you. Too fuckin’ busy in cutting himself off as the slippery wet tip of his fat cock so effortlessly slides in your tight hole with ease,  no sense of handling you with care when you’ve been such a damn tease about it too— because ah, fuck— know just how long he’s been waiting for this opportunity? Fucking, slicked walls instinctually clamping down around his throbbing length, hissing at the burning stretch of your hole gradually accommodating to the girth of his cock. Muted whines, fluttering lashes wet with bubbling tears threatening to spill forth, pink tongue discreetly peeking out to delicately lick away at the sheer proof that he’s potentially hurting you, or maybe not. Looks more like you actually enjoy having a fat cock up your ass— your ex-bully’s too.

Conflicted between the helpless babbles the sharp, punishing snap of his hips flush against your backside draw out from you and the scrunch of your features undeniably spelling pleasure. “Fuck— hah, fuck.. D-Don’t look at me like that. I’m fuckin’ giving you what you’re asking for, aren’t I?” God, he looks just as dumb as you right now, head thrown back, eyes automatically rolling to meet his skull from just how goddamn nice it is to be snugly stuffing your whorish boy hole full of his twitching length— fuuuuuckkk. Golden locks of hair unceremoniously tumbling forth to conceal the strained expression etched along his face, biting of his bottom lip and the sharp puffs of air endlessly being exhaled out of his hanging mouth. Palms locked upon your slutty waist, practically using your lithe frame as though you were a squishy flesh light— which, by all means, you definitely beat the actual feel of it, shit, only your stupidly warm hole would’ve gotten him this dizzyingly high off of the wet sensation enveloping his cock. Only stupid, little, ol’ you— really. 

Frustratingly gritting his teeth at your feeble head shakes despite the full-on body shudders of your quivering legs held— no, fucking raised high, feet resting atop his shoulders mainly used as a means of support. “N-No— ah, don’t l-like it. Uh, I don’t like it—” Alright, keep telling yourself that then, with your fists decisively clenched upon your chest, rosy, pink nipples evidently erect in the cooling air of the closed room. Hard cock cutely bobbing up and down in times with each of his sloppy thrusts accompanied by the squirming bulge of the outline of his cock fully sheathed in your slippery warm insides, protruding against the flesh of your tummy. ‘Don’t like it’ my fucking ass, you’re about this close to cummin’ hands free from your old bully’s cock harshly shoved up your hole. 

And truly, he’d be nothing more than content to aid in that— it’s where your rightful place has always been, hasn’t it? Glasses somehow not clumsily knocked off your drooling face, smudged with the heated huffs steaming up the air. Within arms reach, in his unrelenting grasp that his self-deluded mind has dumbly convinced Whitney of so. ‘Course, why wouldn’t he have thought so of it earlier? Dotting smile, lashes prettily staring back at him with a rosy flush adorning your cheeks. Outstretched arm gleefully welcoming him in— your fucking husband in, to be exact in that matter. Wouldn’t you be so kind to carefully reach for his worn coat, seamlessly slip it off his taller frame as you dutifully greet him like a caring husband should? Timidly reward him for the tireless efforts he’s put in after a long, torturous day of work. Pouty lips lovingly tracing his jawline, your soft palms he’d wish for nothing more than to constantly cling upon his body everyday, every second actually — comforting warmth he’d fervently seek out and easily find when you’re so tenderly embraced within his arms. 

It’s stupid, so fucking stupid that it’s that single thought that merely drives him to the edge. Whitney, fuckin’ him of all people to be experiencing such domestic thoughts, never been much of a family’s man or so others predictably think so of him, but— fuck, would it be so damn bad if it were you instead, happily greeting him at the edge of his doorstep every day— for the rest of his godforsaken life?? Devotedly stuck to his side? Yeah, hah. Actually, he’d like that a whole lot, really. “God, ah— fuck— fuck, cummin’— hah, fuckin’ cumming inside you, ‘kay?” High-pitched whine, all too soft to be a sound belonging to the blonde’s parted lips, stuttered curses at the slight twitch of his full length noticeably quivering deep inside your slutty hole. Hot, white spurts of his sticky seed uncontrollably squirting out of his fat cock to messily stain your insides tacky with his cum— ah, shit. Really is no better than that fucker after all, is he? 

Still, he can’t go letting your weeping cock miserably go neglected, can he? Thumb insistently nudging at the flesh of your pouty lips, snidely grinning at your reluctant obedience as your shakily part your mouth open for the spit coated digit to slip in. “Good boy.” Haven’t cum yet, have you? Well, that would be too bad if he were to cruelly leave you be as you are, though good thing Whitney has changed for the better, right? Previous bully reformed and all that— thanks to society, right? 

Oh, who’s he kidding— hah. Change? Progress slipped way off the second his gaze landed upon your all too nosy one in his office. 

You look better with his cum lodged in your hole, wobbly lips and tear stained cheeks anyway.

[ladytauria]

cashing in a rainy day [jaytim]

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Rating: T Words: 5,533 Content Warnings: None

Today, though, Tim is wearing a sinfully tight pair of shorts and a loose fitting muscle tank… and Jason’s equipment upgrades aren't nearly interesting enough to keep his eyes from wandering. He tries, though. He really does. But then… he looks up again and gets a good look just as Tim lifts his shirt to dab his brow. Jason’s attention is drawn to the muscles of his abdomen; the way they flex as he breathes, the trail of dark hair leading down to the v of his hips. Jason’s throat goes desert dry. And then a water bottle enters his field of vision. Jason goes cross-eyed for a moment, looking at it, before he follows the arm extending it to Steph, her hip propped against his workstation, sly grin on her face. “Brought you some water,” she says, entirely too chipper for Jason’s liking. “You’re lookin’ pretty thirsty.” Originally written for JayTim Week 2022, using all three prompts for day 2: Carnival/Fair + Sun's Out, Guns Out + Monsoon/Summer Storm.

Big thank you to @deepwithintheabyss and @paprikadotmp4 for reading this fic over for me... and to Paprika for giving me the nudge to finally post sdfghjk

>> AO3 <<

Jason is working.

Or, he’s supposed to be. Would be, if not for Tim.

Despite being on better terms with the bats, Jason doesn’t often visit the Cave. He’s cultivated enough of his own resources that he can do without it just fine—but sometimes… Sometimes it’s just easier, and faster, to use Bruce’s equipment.

Supposedly.

Tim’s presence is testing that.

His replacement is lifting weights, while Cass acts as his spotter. He’s wearing sinfully tight compression shorts and a tank top which leaves his arms on delicious display. From his work bench, Jason has an excellent view of Tim’s left side—the way sweat rolls down his temple, messy hair plastered to the skin, his face beautifully flushed. The tight sinews of his arm as it curls, bringing the weight to his shoulder. He tracks the movement; stomach clenching.

Jason isn’t a stranger to a good arm, okay? He regularly works with Roy fucking Harper, after all. He knows what good arms look like. But Tim—

Goddamn.

It’s not like he didn’t know that Tim was attractive. He’s got eyes. It’s just… he’s rarely confronted with it so blatantly. Most of the time, when he hangs around Tim, Tim is lounging around in stolen clothing, always at least a touch too big for him. It’s cute, but. Easier to ignore. To pretend like he doesn’t want to sink his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, or suck on the jut of his hipbone, or lick the sweat dripping down his navel.

Or he’s in the Red Robin suit, and while that’s a whole different kind of attractive, Jason’s attention is usually occupied by bigger things.

Today, though, Tim is wearing a sinfully tight pair of shorts and a loose fitting muscle tank… and Jason’s equipment upgrades aren't nearly interesting enough to keep his eyes from wandering.

He tries, though. He really does.

But then… he looks up again and gets a good look just as Tim lifts his shirt to dab his brow. Jason’s attention is drawn to the muscles of his abdomen; the way they flex as he breathes, the trail of dark hair leading down to the v of his hips.

Jason’s throat goes desert dry.

And then a water bottle enters his field of vision. Jason goes cross-eyed for a moment, looking at it, before he follows the arm extending it to Steph, her hip propped against his workstation, sly grin on her face.

“Brought you some water,” she says, entirely too chipper for Jason’s liking. “You’re lookin’ pretty thirsty.”

Jason’s face flames. He snatches the water and unscrews the cap. “Shut up,” he mutters. Whose idea was it to put the workstations so close to the training area, anyway?

Steph laughs. “They do look pretty good out there, I’ll give you that.” She lifts her own water to her mouth, eyes drifting over to the weights—though her gaze lingers on where Cass is squatting, rather than on Tim.

Jason doesn’t respond. Cass and Tim are talking, and they’re just far enough away that Jason can’t make out what they’re saying. It ends with Tim climbing off the bench and dropping the weight back on the pile. He stretches, and goes toward his water bottle.

Jason watches him make his way there; this time his gaze lingering on his ass. He might not be Dick Grayson, but he’s certainly not lacking in that department, that’s for sure.

Steph ruffles his hair. “Stay hydrated,” she chirps, dodging Jason’s attempt to bat her hand away and skipping towards Cass.

Jason ducks his head. He has equipment to upgrade, dammit.

Fuck. He should have done this in his own workshop. So what if the equipment in his garage isn’t as state of the art? So what if he wouldn’t have been able to reach quite the result he wanted? At least then he could have gotten it done. Or maybe he could have taken a quick trip to Star City, and let Roy do it. None of his open cases would have suffered for it.

Ugh. Fuckin’ bats.

A shadow darkens his desk. Reluctantly, he looks up, ready to tell whoever it is to fuck off, he’s not in the mood. The words shrivel and die on his tongue.

It’s Tim, hair a mess, towel around his neck, arms still cruelly on display, his cheeks tinted pink.

“Hi,” Tim says. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. His body is loose, open, but in a way that seems almost—careful. Deliberate. If Jason didn’t know better, he’d say Tim was nervous.

“Hey,” Jason says, voice gruffer than he means it to be. He doesn’t wince, but he wants to.

“I, uh.” Tim clears his throat. “I couldn’t help but notice you were checking me out.”

If Jason had been in motion, he would have frozen. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck. He schools his expression into something unimpressed, and hopes he’s not blushing. “You should get your eyes checked, Timbo. I’ve been working. Need my armor in top shape. I got a lotta ground to cover.”

Tim doesn’t look convinced. “Last I checked, you didn’t have any pressing cases,” he says.

Jason raises a brow. “Been flexing the stalker muscles again, Timmers? What, you didn’t have enough bad guys to spy on?”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Just checking your availability,” he says. Which. What? “The county fair is coming to Gotham next week.”

“And?” Jason demands, trying desperately to make sense of the situation. Is there a case Tim needs help on? A plot to sabotage the fair? That usually passes by without incident, except for one year when Ivy turned all of the parks—including the fairgrounds—into nightmare gardens. Jason hasn’t heard any chatter, but then, Tim has been known to pull leads from thin air before, so maybe this is one of those times—?

“And I thought we could… go together. You know. As a date.” Tim’s voice cracks towards the end. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. Jason’s brain feels like static; eyes drawn to the movement almost automatically. It takes him a few swallows of his own before he manages to form words.

“—date?” Jason clears his throat. “You—with me?”

Tim nods. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” He’s blushing now, he’s sure of it. His face feels hot—so do the tips of his ears. He isn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. Or the rest of him. His heart beats rapidly in his chest. “I—um. That sounds. Cool. I’d like that.” Fuck. He can hear Roy making fun of him—see Kori covering her mouth, trying not to laugh.

So fucking smooth, Todd.

“Great!” Tim lights up; his eyes brightening, a smile on his lips. He’s always handsome, but… wow. Happy is a good look on him. “Um. Next Friday? At… six?”

“Yeah. That’s. That’s good.” Jason nods. Hopes fervently that nothing comes up between now and then that makes it not good.

“Cool! I’ll, um. See you then. And uh. On patrol. Presumably.” The flush on Tim’s face has grown steadily darker. Jason kind of wants to kiss him.

Instead he just nods again. “Yep. Definitely.”

Tim nods back. “I’m just gonna—” He jerks his thumb towards the showers, backing away. As soon as he disappears, Jason puts his head into his hands. It’s only through sheer force of will, and the reminder that Cass and Steph are still in the immediate vicinity, that keeps him from screaming. He waits for himself to calm. His heartbeat slows. The flush on his face cools. He doubts it's gone completely, but it’s gone enough. He raises his head. He’s going to finish what he came for, and then he’s going to go home. Call Roy, maybe.

As soon as his gaze lifts, he finds himself catching Steph’s gaze. She’s grinning like the horrible gremlin she is. She gives him a double thumbs up—then mimes drinking.

Jason flips her the bird.

>> AO3 <<

[blackbatcass]

Hi! Feel free to ignore this but I thought I’d ask:

Do you have any comic recs for someone getting into Roy Harper? Very into Dickroy but want to learn more about Roy and where he came from and what his deal is etc etc

hey!! I can definitely help with that. roy harper my best friend forever <333

i am definitely not as well versed in his og speedy appearances alongside ollie (<- Girl Who Is Ignorant Of The Silver Age) but i think if you're interested in his early years the original teen titans '66 series is fun! there is also a really cute story about early ollie & roy published in dc's saved by the belle reve called 'earn it back' that i'd recommend.

you have doubtless heard of snowbirds don't fly (green lantern v. 2 #85), which. yeah. it is what it is. it's very hard to understand roy's story without reading it so it's kind of a must, but. y'know. keeping in mind the context of the time and everything. i would very much recommend reading the story 'green man and autumn son' from the green arrow 80th anniversary super spectacular after reading snowbirds; it's basically the story of sdf but from roy's perspective this time and it's like essential reading for roy imo.

next big thing would probably be new teen titans vol. 2 #19-21, which is where he finds out he's a dad for the first time!! very exciting! directly after that i'd read the cheshire contract arc (action comics #613-618), a very fun arc where roy actually gets to keep lian. plus dickroy! i would also recommend the arc rocks and hard places (action comics #627-634) which i think gets sometimes overlooked despite basically continuing on directly from cheshire contract. roy looking out for random irish orphans my beloved<3

specifically for ollie and roy's relationship i'd rec green arrow vol. 2 #75 (MY BELOVED), and the archer's quest (#16-21) arc from green arrow vol. 3! really really good stuff. 'you're a good dad roy harper/so are you ollie' augh.

next thing chronologically would be roy's new titans run, i think from around #97-130. this is where roy actually got to lead the titans, and it's an era that not a lot of people remember lol. the series was on its very last legs at that point but it's very cool to see roy in a leadership role!

arsenal (1998) is probably the biggest rec i have. beloved beloved comic. Roy In A Nutshell, four issues of pure gold. batman plus arsenal is also just one issue but very fun and a good look at roy!

titans (1999) is an obvious pick but like. it's so good. such good roy content. donnaroy i love you forever

and yeah if you're a dickroy fan then i shouldn't even have to mention outsiders (2003). The Dickroy Bible

OH almost forgot justice league of america vol. 2, around the first half of it! especially #6 has a REALLY good roy moment. red arrow!roy my best friend

i hope that's a good roy harper starter pack!!

[petrichor-idyllic]

MASTERLIST

RULES | TAGS

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

THIS BLOG CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

All of my writing and works can be found here. I write for several fandoms and mainly write 'x reader' but I also have my own characters.

Please refer to my rules before requesting.

Requests can be as detailed as you want, but give me the preferred pronouns for the one-shot, or I will default use they/them.

The characters and universes I write for are listed below - character names in bold already have fics written about them, but I write for all on this list. Media and shows I don't feel comfortable writing smut or explicit content for, for whatever reason, is stated in green in that subsection and character masterlist.

○ FLUFF | □ SPICE | ● ANGST | ■ SMUT |• HEADCANONS

◇ FEM! READER | ☆ GN! READER | 《》 MASC! READER

OUTERBANKS

NO SMUT OR EXPLICIT CONTENT

JJ MAYBANK | RAFE CAMERON | KIARA CARRERA | JOHN B. ROUTLEDGE | SARAH CAMERON | POPE HEYWARD

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

DAEMON TARGARYEN | RHAENYRA TARGARYEN | ALICENT HIGHTOWER | SER CRISTON COLE | AEMOND TARGARYEN | AEGON TARGARYEN | JACAERYS VELARYON - NO SMUT OR EXPLICIT CONTENT FOR THIS CHARACTER | SER GWAYNE HIGHTOWER | HELAENA TARGARYEN

(And anyone else from the show I can't remember because all their names sound the same.)

THE MAZE RUNNER

NO SMUT OR EXPLICIT CONTENT

MULTI-CHARACTER

THOMAS | MINHO | NEWT | TERESA | FRYPAN | GALLY | BRENDA | ALBY

(NOTE: Newt is canonically gay, confirmed by the author of TMR: James Dashner. Therefore, I will only write Masc and Gender-neutral reader out of respect for the character.)

THE 100

NO SMUT OR EXPLICIT CONTENT

CLARKE GRIFFIN | JOHN MURPHY | BELLAMY BLAKE | OCTAVIA BLAKE | FINN COLLINS | JASPER JORDAN | MONTY GREEN | RAVEN REYES | HARPER MCLNTYRE

(NOTE: I have only seen the first two seasons pls don't shout at me.)

THE MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

(Please request characters for this, there are far too many to list.)

PETER PARKER - NO SMUT OR EXPLICIT CONTENT FOR THIS CHARACTER

INDIVIDUAL CHARACTERS

(These are one-off characters I will write for and what they are from.)

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY | Call of Duty

RODRICK HEFFLEY | Diary of a Wimpy Kid - NO SMUT OR EXPLICIT CONTENT FOR THIS CHARACTER

MARCUS LOPEZ ARGUELLO | Deadly Class

BILLY BUTCHER | The Boys

MY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

CICADA: OUTER BANKS FANFIC IDEA

Mazz Introduction

THE MAZE RUNNER FANFIC IDEA

Vol and friends introduction

[thatthirdtriplet]

Relationships:

Roy Harper/Jason Todd Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Selina Kyle & Jason Todd Jason Todd & Damian Wayne Dick Grayson & Roy Harper

Characters:

Roy Harper Jason Todd Bruce Wayne Selina Kyle Stephanie Brown Tim Drake Barbara Gordon Damian Wayne Dick Grayson Alfred Pennyworth Duke Thomas

Additional Tags:

Minor Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne Minor Original Character(s) Bruce Has Entered the Chat Organized Crime Recreational Drug Use Fantasizing Canon-Typical Violence Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD Explicit Sexual Content Repressed Memories Oral Sex Rimming Self-Indulgent Technology Probably Doesn't Work Like This Minor Oliver Queen Selina Kyle Has Arrived Protective Selina Kyle Schrödinger virginity Past Drug Addiction Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU) minor violence against animals Animal Death Barbara Gordon is Oracle Stephanie Brown is Batgirl Cassandra Cain is Black Bat Jason Todd Hates Cops Psychological Horror Anal Sex The Red Hood is a Real Estate Mogul Jason's Crew Loves Him

Summary:

“Usually you have the fastest response time on the team,” Bruce rumbled, matter-of-fact.

“Oh my god,” Jason sighed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Well, I don’t run around dressed as a traffic light with a gaggle of super humans so I’m less noticeable than the others.”

Jason and Roy come to Gotham. Roy learns about what it takes to be a crime lord while Jason struggles to reintegrate into the Batfamily.

Ps: You can read this separately but I suggest you read the previous fics in the series for this fic to make sense.

[thexsanctuaryx]

ʚ♡ɞ I'll Follow You Into the Dark ʚ♡ɞ

{ CHAPTER ONE }

➳ NEXT CHAPTER

Summary: Marc and Emma arrive in the same wing of the same mental hospital at the same time. Pairing: { eventual } Original Character { Emma Harper } x Marc Spector, Emma Harper x Steven Grant, and Emma Harper x Jake Lockley Contents: mental hospitals, psychiatric hold, first meeting, angst { I guess? I don't know what else to call it. } Warnings: severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I've done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. Marc is a danger to himself here but it's only really alluded to in this part. mental hospitals. triggering themes related to the aforementioned. Author's Note: I recently finished reading Tear Down My Reason by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and it inspired me to work on an idea I've been playing with about Emma and the Boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really AREN'T works out there like this. This series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your story DOES deserve to be told. Word Count: 969 Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

They’d been admitted the same night, after lights out, two frozen bodies sitting in the darkened day room waiting to be assigned a bed.

It was unusual for two people to land in the same wing at the same time, let alone this late at night but that’s just how it happened.

She sits quietly, fully believing she’s in some kind of limbo between this life and the next – that somehow this was just how her brain was processing her passing, waiting to be judged.

She wonders if the man, slumped in the chair half a dozen feet from her is also recently deceased. Or so she believes.

He seems sullen and she wonders if perhaps he’d taken his own life to end up here in this seeming waystation.

Despite his deep scowl, she finds him beautiful. And then she thinks to herself, maybe he’s an angel and it’s some kind of test to see how she’ll interact with him.

As his eyes rise to hers, his frown etches further into his features. “You're staring…” He mutters, rolling his shoulders tensely.

“Sorry—” Emma apologizes, tearing her eyes away. “I was just—wondering if you were okay…” She mumbles softly.

“Would I be here if I were okay?” He replies.

Emma confuses his meaning, again thinking maybe this in the afterlife. And again, she thinks he must’ve taken his life.

‘Marc—come on, she seems sweet…’ A voice in his mind says, whose worried expression reflects from the window to the hallway.

“How can you possibly tell that, Steven?” He mutters again.

When he speaks to someone that doesn’t appear to be in the room, she starts to turn the options over in her mind.

Maybe he’s hearing voices like she started to this morning before…before it happened…

Or maybe she just can’t see the person he’s speaking to because that person is on a spiritual plane she can’t comprehend yet.

Still, she’s sure it’s all a test.

“Who is Steven?” she asks gently, trying to help.

Marc’s eyes flash to hers again, that seem to look on him with such an innocence that even he can’t see her question as malicious.

“Is he here too?” She asks, looking confused but somehow so compassionate.

This in turn confuses him.

‘I don’t think she’s here for the same reason we are, mate…” Steven says within their headspace, looking at the girl with such soft regard.

There’s a small pout at Marc’s lips as he studies her. She radiates a kind of sensitive and soothing energy that belongs far away from a place like this.

He can’t help but soften along with Steven.

Another presence moves into focus in their shared space. He takes one look at the girl and feels his own protective nature kick in.

‘Who’s this?’

Marc doesn’t realize how long the silence has lingered between them until Jake speaks.

All the while, she continues looking softly at him, occasionally shying away her eyes.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me…” Emma breaks the silence.

Marc shakes his head slowly, somehow finding himself more worried about her than he is about himself at this point.

“What’s your name?” He asks, tempering his voice.

She swallows, tucking some hair behind her ear. “E-Emma…” She rolls her lips in, causing dimples to dip lightly into her cheeks as her eyes glance away shyly again.

Jake watches stunned from the reflection beside Steven.

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he only softens more. “I’m Marc…” he introduces himself.

Emma eyes rise to his again, nodding slowly.

Her mind is already moving on, asking quietly, “do you know how long we’ll be here?”

Marc mistakes her meaning, just assuming it must be her first time on a psychiatric hold.

“72 hours—they have to—”

Emma’s already talking over him, more to herself but audible enough for the three of them to hear. “Three days? Like Easter?” She wonders aloud.

Marc’s eyebrows pull together, his mouth hanging open a little. “huh?”

“Easter—” Emma repeats. “Jesus came back to life after three days…”

‘Oh I—Marc I don’t think she knows what’s happening at all…’ Steven tells him.

Marc blinks slowly, but continues to soften, “do you know where you are right now, Emma?”

She shakes her head quickly and her shoulders pulling up to her ears, “I think it’s—well it’s kinda like limbo, right?” She pauses, furrowing her own brow. “We’re waiting to be judged…” She does her best to explain.

An ache goes through his chest, somehow his situation seems to pale in comparison with hers.

“No, Emma—” He starts, but is abruptly cut off when the floor staff comes to collect her first.

Fear seems to come over her face and it’s all he can do to stay in his chair, knowing that causing a scene would end badly for one or both of them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow—okay?” Is all he can get out.

“Tomorrow?” Emma questions in a daze.

“Come on, Emma—let’s get you settled…” The woman ushers her out of the door. “Someone will be back for you in a minute, Marc.”

This does nothing to ‘settle’ Marc at all, in fact, even after they get him situated in a room he still can’t stop worrying.

And so there he lies, in the dark on his side in a twin sized bed that feels a little too small, wrapped in thin hospital blankets, unable to get his mind off of the beautiful girl somewhere in a room along the same hallway.

The same beautiful girl who likewise lies in the dark, wondering over an angel named Marc and what will come of her.

Of one thing was certain for both of them, sleep wouldn’t come so easily tonight.

[3terna15unshin3]

Then Because She Goes

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ slow burn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, eventual romance, eventual smut, fluff, time skips, angst

★ 15 Chapters, 74243 words

“Well, she says beauty brings copies of itself into being. That it makes us draw it, take photographs of it, describe it to other people—it has a forward momentum. And I always thought that that was a sort of—superficial, I guess—way of putting it. But I feel that when I’m with you. Almost like I want to savour you up so that the minute you’re gone there’s still some of you left.”

From meeting in a second-hand bookshop in central Manchester, Este and Matty begin exchanging questionable (and pretentious) book recommendations and flourish an alluring interest in one another.

1: You are mine, I’ve been drowning in you

2: You fracture light again

3: Beautiful, please don’t cry, I love you

4: When you leave, I cry on the inside

5: I wake up, love you, so love you, love you

6: Cry, I wake up, love you, love you

7: We’re supposed to leave by half-past eight*

8: You wait for a bit

9: Pissed again, I’ve been dying to meet you

10: You fracture light again (Ooh), I love you, oh, love you*

11: When you leave, I cry on the inside*

12: Oh, so I love this, I love you, so love you

13: Cry, I will love you, love you, love you

14: We’re supposed to leave by half-past eight

15: Will you stay or wait?*

*mature content

Soundtrack

All Titles Mentioned (in order of appearance)

— Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata

— Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

— To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

— Lord of the Flies by William Golding

— Emma by Jane Austen

— Persuasion by Jane Austen

— You Are Here: Art After the Internet by Omar Kholeif

— Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari

— On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

— Challenger Deep by Neal Shusterman

— On Beauty and Being Just by Elaine Scarry

— Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion

— If Cats Disappeared From The World by Genki Kawamura

— The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman

— Coraline by Neil Gaiman

— Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

— Piranesi by Suzanna Clarke

— “The Orange” by Wendy Cope

— Pure Colour by Sheila Heti

— Play It As It Lays by Joan Didion

— Mayflies by Andrew O’Hagan

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

General Rated Fics Masterlist (16)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 /

Created: March 12th, 2024

Last Checked: —-

Be In My Eye-Grace_d (ao3)  Summary: Katniss Everdeen can't seem to avoid Peeta Mellark since the Revolution, and it's making her stomach hurt. A chance encounter will give her an opportunity to put some of that well-meaning boy advice from Delly Cartwright to the test. Candy Pink to Grey-FanficAllergy (ao3)  Summary: Soulmates don't exist. Except that they do. Haymitch finds his in the worst possible place. Capital Vices and Distinct Virtues-ghtlovesthg (ao3)  Summary: Katniss and Peeta debate the merits of mankind, its virtue and vice, with District Twelve as a stage. Katniss begins to realize something she won't fully understand until after the rebellion. Canon-compliant CF interlude. Round 4 PiP Submission for the sin of pride, though all seven make an appearance. Carols of the Districts-FanficAllergy (ao3)  Summary: Although Panem was a wholly secular society, there were still traces of the civilization that came before. When it came to the midwinter holiday, each district had its own way of celebrating. Change at the Fair-everydayescapeartist (ao3)  Summary: Change is the word of the day at this year’s county fair. Written for PiP Farewell Tour Day 3 Prompt: Modern Locations - Fair Christmas to Katniss-Glintwarsgreatest (ao3)  Summary: Katniss Everdeen looks forward to the holidays she is lucky enough to spend with the O’Dair family every year, this year being no exception. She makes a new friend, (an attractive one at that), and learns that often the best gifts one can receive are filled with love and care. Based on “Christmas to Me” (yes I also ripped off the title), a short essay written by Harper Lee for McCall’s Magazine in 1961. Contents Unknown-FanficAllergy (ao3)  Summary: Even though she doesn't have to anymore, Katniss will always stockpile food and Peeta loves her for it. Cookbooks from Effie-endlessnightlock (ao3)  Summary: Just a little post-mockingjay growing back together story where Peeta sleeps over for the first time since coming back home. Don't Want no Other Shade of Blue-HuntersWithCellPhones (ao3)  Summary: Peeta is moping on the train. Haymitch is his Haymitch self.

'Twas the Night-ghtlovesthg (ao3) 

Summary: Post-epilogue. A moment from Katniss and Peeta’s Christmas Eve, in the style of “Twas the Night Before Christmas” (originally by Clement Clarke Moore).

[changingplumbob]

New Goth: Chapter 4, Part 5

James meets with the social worker (and I don't understand why the internal lights at 100% illumination refuse to illuminate)

CW: Moderate sim spice Content Warning Guide

To say that Alexander and James are happy to have a room to themselves again would be an understatement. Give these two an inch and they’ll be all over each other.

James: How was your first day at work love

Alexander: Good, I got a promotion

James: On your first day? Seems like a reason to celebrate

Alexander: Mmhm, you are now sleeping with a food critic

James: Oh I’ve been sleeping with a food critic for years *kisses neck*

Alexander: *laughs* I don’t complain that much do I? And if I do it’s only about stuff I cooked

James: True

Alexander: I missed this *kisses* You and me and our bed sweets

James: I know what you mean

Alexander: With Milton on a whole other floor and not directly below us I think we can have a round or two without worrying about noise. So, how about it? Want to share your bed with me Mr Goth

James: Just try to stop me

The pair’s woohoo life is paced to what James can handle. Alexander doesn’t want his husband’s heart giving out so most of the time is kissing and words rather than action but Alexander likes it that way. He’s always been a bookworm and James’ time as a teacher gave him an extensive vocabulary. Of course nothing quiet beats a quiet “I love you” whispered from one man to another around their peak.

When they’re together Alexander forgets his less than moral reasons for pursing James. Whatever his intentions were originally he’s deeply in love now. Part of him wants to keep James to himself for as long as he can but he knows James has always wanted kids. As the pair end and snuggle up to sleep Alexander sends a wish to the universe that he can be a good father. He couldn’t bear to let James down.

The morning leaves room for a different type of love as Hamlet is feeling needy and wants snuggles.

Before Milton leaves for school James makes sure to boost his confidence.

James: Just remember, if you’re comfy in that suit that’s what’s important. Other people’s tense moodlets are not your problem

Milton: Thanks Uncle James

James: You should know I’m seeing the social worker today

Milton: About adoption?

James: Yes. I promise not to bring home Stuart Little

Milton: Who? Oh I better go or I’ll miss the bus

James sighs to himself and tells Gertrude off for hitting the bin again. Of course telling offs don't do much when they're followed by snuggles.

Alexander: Are you sure you’re fine going by yourself? They won’t dock us points or anything

James: You just got promoted, you have an appearance to maintain at work. Don’t worry, I have half a dozen stories of how you’ve helped Milton under my belt if they ask

The social worker has set up a meeting at the local library/café so James does not have far to travel. He gets there early and grabs a small table in the corner while he waits. Right on time the social worker shows up.

Harper: Mr Goth?

James: Yes, that’s me. Mrs Ali I assume

Harper: Yes but really Harper is fine. It’s not a trap I use to screen prospective parents, I promise

James: That’s a relief

Harper: Now I have looked over the paperwork you and your husband submitted

James: And how is it?

Harper: Obviously finances are not a concern for you

James: That's right

Harper: And you’ve retired? So there will likely be a parent at home most of the time

James: Yes, I’ll be there

Harper: Good. And what about your brother in law, Milton?

James: He’s home when he’s not at school

Harper: I mean is he prepared for a new face at home

James: He knows all about it, I think he’s rather excited about having someone closer to his age around. Uh... not that we would make them spend time with Milton if they didn’t want to. We're not trying to adopt a babysitter

Harper: That is the one other thing I would like to check

James: Yes?

Harper: I see you and your husband have indicated you would like an older child, possibly a teen

James: Correct. I would like someone who’s going to remember me

Harper: I see. Adopters are not always interested in the older kids so you've made my day

James: I was a teacher for most of my life. I believe all of them deserve someone in their corner

Harper: A noble thought. Now I’ve looked at the hobbies you and your husband have indicated and there is one in particular who may fit well if you’re up for it. From being a teacher you must have some experience with kids that fall outside the normal

James: Um... up for it?

James: They’re not violent are they? Because I am getting on and I don’t think I could handle-

Harper: Oh no no no, don’t misunderstand me, she’s not violent

James: So what’s the challenge

Harper: I suppose you could say… she is an odd duck

James: But she doesn’t hurt others

Harper: No sign of that Mr Goth. She has been in a series of homes for the past couple of years

James: She has?

Harper: Yes. There were personality clashes with prospective parents. While I don't want to put you off I feel it's best for her to go to a family who knows what to expect. She needs her next home to be a good fit or I fear her confidence will be dashed irreversibly

James: My husband does come from a family known to be odd. What do you think we need to know?

Harper: She can be... competitive for attention

James: What teenager isn't

Harper: *laughs* true. She also tends to try charm her way through situations due to her family history which we'll need to discuss

James: I see. Are her parents still… alive

Harper: We don’t know for certain. She was left with her grandmother at the age of three while her parents went out of town on a business trip. They were workaholics apparently. The grandmother never saw them again, she assumed they had grown bored of their daughter

James: Oh. Does she have anything of theirs? To remember them by?

Harper: I- I’m not sure. You’d have to ask her

James: So did her grandmother pass away? Is that why she's in the system?

Harper: Not exactly. Do you know what an esoteric shop is

James: No

Harper: Think tarot cards, crystals, candles, teas and incense. Stuff like that. Her grandmother was running a very successful one where she helped out a lot. Just before she turned eleven her grandmother was arrested for fraud. The woman is currently incarcerated and as such cannot have custody

James: I see. So she’ll… what? Trick our money from us

Harper: Normally she only charms the gullible and despite that shows high compassion for those she feels affection for. However she can be slow to trust and open up to others. Sometimes testing them. I think with you and your husband being the intelligent sort you’ll not fall for any schemes, and your history as a teacher should have given you the ability to bond with teenagers

James: Right. So when can we meet her

Harper: You… still are interested

James: Yes. I was serious when I said all kids deserve someone in their corner

Harper: *smiles* I can set up a meeting, see if the situation would be good for your family and her

James: Does that mean she'll be interviewing us? She may not want to be adopted by someone so old

Harper: Don't worry Mr Goth. The personalities of the adopters matter a lot more to these kids than how old or mobile they are. I promise you, she does want a place to belong

Previous ... Next

[kittyilana046]

THE DC UNIVERSE MASTERLIST - BATFAMILY EDITION

TTHE BATFAMILY MASTERLIST

Started: 12/18/2020

Last Updated: 12/29/2022

This master list is a collection of analysis essays, headcanons, and comic book panels posted by my favorite bloggers. I did not write any of the posts linked below, and I do not own any pictures used. All credit goes to the original artists and bloggers who created this content. 

I created this master list intending to archive my favorite posts. I am sharing it because I believe this list is a perfect jumping-off point for new fans who want a comprehensive guide to understanding these characters.

I encourage you to interact with original bloggers and also comic canon. 

Please send me an ask or DM if you want to talk about comic books.

Thank you 

~ Haleigh 

Links

DC UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

META / ESSAYS

Batman (Bruce Wayne)

Bruce Wayne outside of Batman

Bruce firing Dick vs. Dick firing Tim

Bruce Wayne’s childhood + a short analysis his relationship with Alfred Pennyworth

Do Bruce and Selina truly love each other?

Does Bruce love Damian?

Did Bruce love Jason?

Is Bruce a good dad?

Is Bruce nice?

Jason was Bruce’s beloved son and DC’s writers are doing shit.

Tips for writing Bruce Wayne

Batgirl (Barbra Gordon)

Thoughts on Barbra’s independence and how it affects her relationship with Dick

Batgirl/Black Bat/Orphan (Casandra Cain)

Does Casandra know ASL?

How does Casandra process anger?

Huntress (Helena Bertinelli)

Helena’s relationship with Tim Drake

Nightwing (Dick Grayson)

Dick Grayson’s moral compass + how Bruce’s expectations shaped him

Dick Grayson’s strengths and weaknesses  

Dick Grayson’s guilt complex

Dick Grayson and Temper

Dick Grayson and fashion trends

Dick, you’re so spoiled (Discussing and his relationship with money)

Do Dick and Jason get along in comics?

DICK I’LL BE THERE FOR YOU GRAYSON

DICK GRAYSON AND ALFRED PENNYWORTH’S RELATIONSHIP META

Do Dick Grayson and Roy Harper have commitment issues?

Does Dick Grayson wear a metaphorical mask like Bruce Wayne does? 

Objectification or Empowerment: how writers express Dick Grayson’s sexuality

Superman and Dick Grayson’s first meeting

What is Dick Grayson’s ethnicity?

Robin (Damian Wayne)

Do you guys ever think about how much of a crappy life Damian has been having since Rebirth? Because I do.

Is Damian sexist?

Proof Damian has a heart p1

Things I Wish Writers Would Explore More with Damian

Red Hood (Jason Todd)

Jason’s time as Robin

Jason Todd’s less known skills appreciation

Jay and Dick are musicians? What do they play?

Jason Todd and the Ladies: Post-Resurrection

Recontextualizing the death of Filipe Garzonas

The Jason Todd Book Club (books that Jason has mentioned in canon)

What kind of father was Willis Todd?

Where did Jason get his Respect Women Juice?

Red Robin (Tim Drake)

Does Tim Drake conically suffer from depression?  

How did Tim Drake’s trauma affect him?

Is Tim Drake insecure?

Is Tim Drake sexist?

I wanna talk about Janet Drake

Tim Drake’s childhood

The beginning of Tim Drake’s career as Robin

Was Tim Drake born a genius?

Was Tim Drake the CEO of Wayne Enterprises? What was his job at W.E.? Did he like it?

Your Tim Drake coffee headcanon is whack

Spoiler (Stephanie Brown)

How did the batfam react to Stephanie’s death?

What is the canon surrounding Stephanie’s economic status?

The Signal (Duke Thomas)

Duke is not a boring character – Here are some of his achievements

Duke thomas isn’t the sane one! A guide by pepper

Who is Duke Thomas?

MORE INFO HERE!

CANON VS. FANON

Batfamily canon things that we should not let fall into obscurity

Characterization cheat sheet: the batfamily boys

The Batkids views on money

What are in your opinion the biggest difference between the comic and the fanon versions of the other Batfamily members?

THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW

The history of the “Robin” title

The ages of the Batfamily kids according to Secret Files timelines

What are the Batkids legal names/adoption status?

HEADCANON

How would the Batfamily comfort someone who's sad? 

Is Dick Grayson demisexual?

Is Dick Grayson a romantic?

Dick Grayson and Kids

Would Bruce Wayne be a good boyfriend?

What would Bruce be like if his parents never died?

What should happen after the Ric Grayson arc ends?

What hogwarts house would jason todd be in?

Where would you sort the Batfamily?

THE ROBIN'S RELATIONSHIPS WITH EACH OTHER

All Robins are great and they all bring something to the table

Advice on how to write Damian and Tim brother dynamic

Damian & Dick: analyzing their relationship

Another analysis of Dick and Damian’s relationship

Do you think Dick and Damian have a brotherly relationship?

The Batboys calling each other brother

Where does the “little wing” nickname come from?

COMIC PANELS

Batman (Bruce Wayne) 

Batman #42 by Tom King and Mikel Janin (Bruce and Selina get captured)

Batman being a Batdad to his Batprincess

Banana Muffin is Superman and Batman’s safeword

Batman & Robin Eternal #22 (Bruce being kind to Damian)

Detective Comics (2016-) #1017

Gotham Knights #11 (“I am a model of mental health”)

How Bruce deals with trauma

Injustice 2 #51 -”Have you tried turning it on an off again?”

“My favorite superhero is Superman” “…He’s my favorite, too”

Robin (Damian Wayne)

Deathstroke #5 - “Mirrors” (2016) (Damian taunting Deathstroke)

Damian talks a lot in front of his favorite people

Injustice 2 #8 (Proof Damian has a heart p2)

Robin Son of Batman 011 (Damian being done with Bruce and Talia)

The Shadow/Batman #3 (Ra's al Ghul threatening Damian)

Super-Sons My Best Friend

Nightwing (Dick Grayson)

Everyone loves Dick Grayson

Dick beating up Bruce compilation

Dick is that type of brother…

Dick you whore

Dick imitating a crowbar

Unpublished pages of Nightwing #30

Red Hood (Jason Todd)

Batman: Urban Legends - “Cheer II” (2021)

Detective Comics (2016) #976 (Jason standing up to the Batfamily)

Robin 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular #1 - “More Time” (2020)

Red Hood and The Outlaws (2016) #52

Red Robin (Tim Drake)

Tim and Dick talking: A Compilation

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 17: Anyone

word count: 4.3k

ao3 | wattpad

Gwen

Contrary to my scheme several weeks ago, I severely wish I had had more time to find a costume for tonight. Three days just wasn’t enough time. Now I’m standing in front of a mirror, in a bodysuit two sizes too small, wishing I could cover up. If I was still hell-bent on making Joel uncomfortable, this outfit would have done it.

I originally thought my hair would be the statement, as my blonde waves had been styled to be the curliest they could manage. Which, apparently, was quite curly. Aria was beyond excited that I was working with Brissel, and she used probably half a tub of curl-defining cream. After Mateo added a red lip, they left for another booking. Now, I’m alone with what is essentially lingerie. Evelyn had sent me a judge costume to ensure I was completely covered, whereas Harper had sent over a fireman costume that consisted primarily of shiny red leather. I added tights underneath the bodysuit for some extra coverage, but if it weren’t for the miniature hat fastened atop my head, I could easily pass as some scantily-clad superhero. Especially with the added high-heeled, red leather boots. The outfit highlighted my curves so much that I considered being a judge for a moment. That is, before Harper texted me a picture of her dalmatian costume, telling me how excited she was that we were going to match. Damn her too-good-for-this-earth smile.

A few months ago, I would wear this without hesitation. I’d go with the intention tonight of getting as many likes as possible, impressing the brand with my engagement, having fun with my friends, and potentially taking another man home. And I despised, despised, the fact that now, for the first time, I’m actually nervous to walk out in front of Joel. I hike up the strapless front a little higher, and grimace when that only seems to draw attention to my chest even more.

Tonight’s about having fun, Gwen. When did you start to give a shit about what other people think?

I shake out my arms and wiggle my shoulders, shimmying away all the anxious energy on my way to the door.

Joel is waiting in the living room, just as I expected. I know he heard me coming, as the click-clacking of these shoes would guarantee, but he’s busy looking down at his phone.

I asked him earlier to wear the suit he wore to the wedding, minus the bowtie. I might have been imagining—or god forbid wishing—things, but I think there was a touch of excitement when I asked. And a small smile makes its way to my face now that he’s obliged me.

“I’m all set,” I announce, starting to make my way to the elevator.

This gets his attention, though only momentarily. Joel looks away as soon as he sees me, which quickly makes my face match my bodysuit. My heart hammers in my chest, noting how his free hand clenches into a fist.

“Alright,” He clears his throat, following behind me, eyes now on the floor.

“There’s just one more thing before we go…” I find the small package in the second hall closet, handing him the box with a smirk.

Joel rummages through the contents for a moment. “Are you giving me a uniform now?”

“It’s a costume. Badge, sunglasses, little pen that you can pretend has a flash in it. You can be one of the Men in Black.”

He pulls out the badge as if he’s dismantling a bomb.

“I’m assuming it will be a big fat no, but I toned it down just in case. This way no one will question your ever-present frown.”

Joel gives me a look, even as he fastens the badge to his lapel.

“You’ve assumed incorrectly.”

I ignore the giddy feeling moving up through my toes with a shrug. “There’s a first time for everything. Don’t forget the tie.”

Joel puts the sunglasses on next, and they sit a little too well on his smoothed hair. Secretly, I had hoped that he would style it just as he had at the wedding. The fact that he has makes it even more difficult not to stare as he puts the pen in his pocket and slings the tie around his neck. Watching his hands as he affixes it, so carefully and controlled, a thought shoots through my mind like lightning. His hands wrapping the fabric around my wrists, the sound it would make as it pulls it taut.

I drag myself over to press the elevator button, like putting space between us will somehow lessen the chances of him being a mind reader. I need to be out of telepathic earshot if that sort of thing is going to pop into my head.

After the trek to Brooklyn, made easier by Rod’s aversion to following traffic laws, we arrive at the event. Joel had told me there was no back entrance, as the club for the L'ensemble and Brissel event was quite small in comparison to some of Russell Corporation's events. There are only a handful of photographers outside, and it looks as though two of them were hired by the event organizers themselves. It offers me a little relief as I grab Joel’s offered hand, stepping out to the flashing lights. This part, I’m used to. Ironically, I was more covered in this sexed-up fireman costume than I was in my dress for the last gala. With Joel standing behind me to the left, it’s a little easier to pose as I normally would, fluffing my hair and pushing my hips to the side.

A couple of them call my name, asking for different angles. The side-eye Joel gives the one who asks for a back-shot doesn’t go unnoticed. I smile at them, giving a quick thanks, before heading inside with Joel’s hand hovering behind me as usual. Any composed, photo-ready smile turns cheesy and borderline goofy when I see a spotted pair of ears bouncing on over to me.

“You made it!” Harper squeals, wrapping me into a big hug. I find myself waiting until she lets go first.

“I missed you,” I say as quietly as I can. Her green eyes shine, squeezing my hand. I didn’t tell her about the flowers. I only said that there was a false alarm at the wedding and I’ve decided that having a bodyguard is a good idea, once and for all. I also may have embellished how much work is stressing me out. Not that it wasn’t, but having an excuse to my radio silence that wouldn’t involve scaring her was helpful.

“Hey Joel! Love the costume.” Harper smiles at him. He does his best to match her enthusiasm, and fails.

“Thank you, it’s uh, it was all her—Miss Russell.” His sunglasses sit just far enough down his nose that I can see him look over at me before looking away just as fast.

“This looks incredible!” I pivot, perking up as I take in the disco balls mixed with cobwebs and purple lighting.

“Thank you! I had zero part in it,” She beams. “Everyone else is already here. C’mon!” Harper drags me through the crowd of people, pointing out different setups along the walls of new products for people to try. “The marketing director is here, I think she’ll want to snap a few pictures of you with the products later. Especially with that hair of yours, because damn.”

“It was all Aria’s idea.”

“Was it her idea to go with my costume instead of Evelyn’s?”

I lean forward so that Joel won’t be able to hear, even though the music around is pounding. “Was it your idea to purposely size down this thing? I can hardly breathe.”

Harper radiates mischief, looking over her shoulder. “Of course not. It was Nyah’s.”

Speaking of the devil herself, she dressed the part. Complete with a sparkly black and red pitchfork.

“Give us a spin!” She points the styrofoam weapon at me, and I do as she commands even with an eyeroll.

“I hear I have you to blame for this,” I can’t help but smile at her satisfied expression.

“Well,” she bends down to my ear, “If I had known, I would have bought you a little alien number instead.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, eyes flicking up to Joel before she gives him a small wave.

“You’re never going to give that up, are you?”

“Not until you give in. You know you want to,” Nyah practically sings.

“Gwen, hi!” Elijah saves me from the possibility of answering that rhetorical question.

“Hey Elijah,” I bring him into a hug as Landon approaches behind us.

“A firefighter? Very hot,” Landon winks. Elijah and them are dressed as…

“Detectives?” I ask, looking back and forth between their old school caps and the pipe hanging out of Landon’s mouth.

“Sherlock and Watson,” Elijah’s ecstatic smile gives Harper’s a run for her money. My heart melts seeing how Landon smiles at him, and I can’t help but return it.

“We need some drinks!” Harper declares, loud enough for some people behind us to holler back in agreement.

Two tequila sodas later, I finish up my photo op with Brissel. Ada, the marketing director, is so down-to-earth that I forget that I’m being paid to promote them. We’ve made plans to get coffee before Nyah and the rest of the group are begging me to make our way to the second floor, where the real fun begins.

They must have fit two to three hundred people in the already cramped space. The floor lights up in different hues of purple, each square combining to form a kaleidoscope. The music was even louder up here than the floor below, and dozens of people crowd toward the DJ, mimicking his hand motions. Nyah pulls us into the middle of the dance floor, with Landon and Elijah quickly making the excuse that they needed more drinks. They take our orders, but I don’t expect to see them for some time. The way they keep looking at each other… they’re probably going to find some dark corner to “investigate.”

Joel lingers close to my side, standing as straight as an arrow, eyes hidden behind his glasses.

“So they’re already at the matching couple’s costume phase, huh?” I ask the girls before Harper can spin in too many circles for her to see or hear straight.

“Apparently. Who knew Landon would be such a lover?” Nyah muses.

“Are we still allowed to be commitment-phobes?” Harper asks, “If all of you start to get into relationships I’ll be pissed.”

“I don’t fall into that category, if you recall.” Nyah flips her hair over her shoulder, making Harper laugh.

“Okay, two long-term relationships make you exempt. Gwen?”

Again, that weird twinge of embarrassment whips through my chest. Why did I wish Joel was on the other side of the room right now?

“You know the answer to that.” I try to be as vague as possible, but Harper’s eyes widen with glee.

“Thank god,” She reaches for my hand, spinning me around. That, at least, makes me laugh before I stumble backwards, Joel’s arm reaching out to steady me.

It’s not a conscious decision—to look up at him. But everything in my body pulls my eyes upward, the way tourists do after taking their first steps outside of Grand Central. Except even now, I still haven’t tired of the view.

Of New York, I mean. Obviously.

Joel doesn’t pull his eyes away, but he arches a brow, the slightest ghost of a smile on his face. “You alright?”Why does New York’s accent have to come out so strong when he asks that?

I square my shoulders, which seems to give him some idea that I want his arm to leave my back, though that isn’t the case.

“You could move a little, you know. Unless you’re just getting into character.”

Joel adjusts his tie, “Yeah. Not really my kind of music. Or dancing, for that matter.”

“I can’t imagine there is a kind of dancing you do enjoy,” I challenge, leaning forward to close some of the space between us. I can feel both Nyah and Harper’s eyes burn into the side of my face, even though they keep moving to the beat. I’ll get shit for this later, I’m sure. They’ll call it flirting, and I’ll tell them they’re reading into it too much. I have just enough alcohol in my system to not read into it at all.

“Well, maybe you just haven—”

I feel a tap on my arm as Joel stiffens beside me. Turning to my right, I come face to face, more like face to chest, with another fireman. Tall, burly, and dirty blonde. At least from what I could see poking out from underneath his hat. His hat, suspenders, and thick ‘fireproof’ pants were the bigger indications of his costume, seeing as his chest was bare.

“If this place gets any hotter, you and I will be put to work.” He smiles, exposing teeth so white I wonder if they’re veneers.

I fight the urge to cringe. I do one, quick glance over to Harper and Nyah to confirm that they were, in fact, watching this interaction the way a cat watches a laser pointer. I have to entertain him, just a little. Otherwise there will be an onslaught of questions tomorrow.

“I hope not. You aren’t exactly suited up for it,” I point to his abs. His eyes twinkle with excitement, the way all men’s do when their pickup line is well received.

“Speak for yourself!” He shouts over the music, eyeing my costume down to the boots. “That outfit may burn the place down on its own.”

In an effort to avoid him looking even longer at my breasts, I change the conversation. “I’m Gwen,” I stick out my hand, forcing him to look me back in the eye.

“Gwen? I’m Aidan.”

Aidan keeps a hold of my hand, spinning me gently so that I’m mainly facing away from him. I’m sure he intends it to be intimate, but it only makes me acutely aware of how rigid Joel has gone next to me. His sunglasses are still in place, but I know he’s watching every breath of this interaction.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” Aidan says in my ear, as quietly as the music will allow. “I’ve been trying to come over here since you walked in.”

I twist my head to look up at him. “Thank you…”

In truth, he is very good looking. Exactly the type of distraction I would normally gravitate towards. So why am I unable to return the compliment? Why can’t I think of any sort of reply other than the basics?

“Do you live in Brooklyn?” Not my best, but at least it’s something.

Aidan starts to rock us back and forth, his hand dropping to my waist.

“I couldn’t help but overhear that this guy wouldn’t dance with you.” He ignores my question entirely. “Any guy in here would be crazy not to.”“Oh,” I let out an awkward, forced laugh, “Yeah, not everyone is up for it, I guess.”

“I am,” His hand grazes lower, down to the front of my thigh. The thin layer of my tights doesn’t feel like enough of a barrier. He pushes me against him by doing so, and I can feel the heat from his chest against my back.

All of this is normal. Swiveling my hips, hearing him hum in approval, lulling my head back to rest against him while we sway to the music.

This feeling, however, is not.

My heart is pumping almost double the speed it normally would after a few songs. The heat Aidan is giving off begins to feel stifling, and I feel a couple beads of sweat drip down my back. And there’s this weird twist in my stomach as the thought of the note flashes through my mind. It takes everything in my power not to look over at Joel who is both painfully close to us and still not close enough. I do catch Nyah’s smirk at one point, both of the girls then turning around to find their own dance partners. When they do so, it feels like the crowd around us pulls tighter inward. Like even if something were to happen right now, and Joel was close by, there would still be nowhere for us to go. Nowhere to run. And as I catch a whiff of Aidan’s cologne, I think once again of the note.

I can only wait and wonder if you smell just as sweet.

This couldn’t be him, could it?

The thought leaves me frozen, back arched against Aidan. It could be anyone. What are the odds that my stalker would be at this party? It was invite-only. Maybe he could have followed me, but getting in would be incredibly difficult. I should have asked him if he knew who I was to gauge his reaction, but that idea makes me feel nauseous. I’ve never wanted to be someone who assumed everyone knew who I was. Most of the time, I went by completely unbothered. This is probably just another guy, like any other night.

But…what if it’s not? What if it is him? What if he’s this close to my friends, and to Joel? What if I put everyone in danger just by showing up tonight?

The room feels darker, and I now feel encased by Aidan’s arm. He hasn’t even noticed I’ve stopped dancing, or if he has, he’s chosen to ignore it. The quick, rhythmic beat around us clashes with the unsteady, erratic pounding in my chest, and I start to shake my head, pulling away from Aidan. At first, he pulls back, maybe assuming it’s part of some move or something.

“I–um, I’m sorry,” I break away, facing him with an apologetic smile. His face is flushed, not even looking at mine. His eyes glaze over my body only, and I know he barely heard me. Just to my right, Joel still stands, straighter and stiffer than I’ve seen him before. Though since I’ve pulled away from Aidan, Joel has taken half a step in between us. I’m glad I can’t see what his eyes are focused on.

“C’mere,” Aidan says over the music, reaching for me again. My heart hasn’t stopped racing, and I lurch back, immediately embarrassed by my response. I can’t see any of my friends nearby as I turn to push through the crowd. When I feel a presence close behind me, panic shoots down my arms. Until the familiar scent of spice fills my senses, and I know it’s just Joel, doing his job.

I continue to push through the crowd until I see the doors to a balcony, and the promise of fresh air calls to me like a siren.

“Miss Russell,” I hear Joel’s gruff voice behind me, but I don’t turn around. “Miss Russell, slow down.”

I can’t. There isn’t enough air in here. And he’s with me anyway. Why should I slow down? I push past the last crowd of people with relative ease, almost stumbling against the railing, letting the chilly air hit my skin. I focus on the alleyway below, wondering how many breaths it will take to feel normal again.

“Miss Russell,” Joel repeats, placing only one hand on the railing to my left so he can face me instead. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing,” another deep breath, “I just needed a—moment.”

Even from the corner of my eye I can see his eyebrow crease forming. He surveys the balcony, probably trying to assess how many people can eavesdrop, before lowering his voice. “Did Aidan do something?”

I didn’t know he had been close enough to hear his name. That better be all he heard.

“What? No.” I roll my head to the side, stretching my neck. Despite all the dancing, I feel more tense than when we arrived. Thankfully, the music is quiet out here, and there’s only a handful of people mulling about.

I can feel Joel looking at me, the concern pouring in even though I refuse to engage with it. It takes several minutes for me to feel like I have enough control over myself to stop gripping the railing as tightly, and eventually I can look elsewhere besides the alley.

Even with what I can see in my periphery, I still jump, looking at Joel startled as he places his suit jacket over my shoulders.

“You’re shivering,” he says apologetically.

On some other night, several weeks ago, I would have objected before he’d even finished giving it to me. Now, I pull it tighter around myself, taking a long whiff of the comforting scent rolling off of it.

“Thank you.” I try to give him a small smile.

“What happened?” Joel asks softly.

I shake my head again. “I don’t know.”

I try to focus on the Manhattan lights in the distance, knowing that if I look at Joel as I ask this, I’ll feel far too weak. “Do you think it could be him?”

He doesn’t answer me right away, but I know he understands. He just continues to watch me, as if trying to determine if I can handle his opinion.

“It could be anyone,” his voice is gruff with honesty. “Which is a good, and bad, thing.”

“Right,” I sniffle, hoping it will stave off the thick lump forming in my throat.

“I do think it’s unlikely. He had a confidence that I wouldn’t anticipate from stalkers. Why send things to you if he has the balls to approach you in public?”

He still sounds just as honest, not that I would ever take Joel as someone who would sugarcoat anything. A virtue I very much appreciate.

“That’s a good point,” I sigh, my heart rate slowing further.

“Don’t sound too surprised.”

I finally turn towards him, his concern having sizzled, looking slightly relieved to have me make eye contact. And for the first time this evening, he doesn’t instantly look away.

“Contrary to popular belief, Miller, I do actually think you know how to do your job. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass.”

He tries to hide his smile by looking out at the view. “I’m the one forced to wear a costume, but I’m the pain in the ass?”

“I went easy on you! I could have made you a dalmatian with Harper.” I giggle, and he looks back at me with an unrestrained smile.

I’m not sure I’ve seen him smile like this before. He has a dimple, for christ’s sake. His entire face lights up, and it reminds me that there is a man in there that plays the guitar, and has nightmares, and always remembers to get me dinner when I forget to get it for myself.

I’m screwed.

“Are you married?”

What the fuck? Why did I ask that? I would blame the tequila, but most of my buzz has faded. Much like Joel’s smile, now that it’s been replaced with surprise.

“No.”

I want him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

Well, if he’s going to play coy.

“Do you have a significant other?” I try to phrase it correctly, remembering Nyah’s comment that he might not be into women. I suppose that’s still a possibility, but there’s a very irritating

amount of hope inside me that it isn’t true.

“No.”

I narrow my eyes. “Really? No relationship at all?”

“No.”

“That was a quick answer.”

“Relationships are complicated.”

“That was a non-committal answer.”

“What answer do you want?” He sounds exasperated now.

“The truth.”

Joel doesn’t reply right away. I realize that with each breath, we’ve been inching closer and closer to each other until we’re practically chest to chest. My breathing is back to being erratic, though for a completely different reason. For a second, Joel’s darkened eyes fall to my lips, and for a faster, almost undetectable moment, they fall to my chest. Unlike how I felt with Aidan, I didn’t want him to look away. The nearly pained expression on his face makes heat pool in my belly, before dropping lower…

Joel clears his throat, taking a step back. It’s a motion that wafts the cool air against my face, reminding me where I am.

“The truth is I can’t, really. It interferes with the job,” His voice is clipped, gaze focused on something off in the distance.

I doubt he’ll look at me again for the rest of the night.

“I see.”

This is his career, after all. Judging by his temperament alone, he wouldn’t do anything that could put that at risk. I shouldn’t push him too, either. The stress of recent events has to be the explanation of all of this. Joel may be a handsome guy, but I can handle handsome. I must just be in need of a distraction.

You left a perfectly good distraction on the dance floor, Gwen.

Maybe I had no explanation, then. Which means I also don’t have a good reason, so I need to let it go.

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Miller.”

Joel nods, still refusing to look me in the eye. I start to unfurl myself from his jacket, but he just motions for me to start walking.

“Keep it. We have a long trip back.”

I don’t bother arguing about how quick the walk outside to the car is, or how my seat will be heated. In part, because I’m tired, but also in part because I’d like to breathe in his scent a while longer. I pull the fabric tighter around me, clinging to the thought of his eyes and scent lingering, even as I make a mental promise to let these feelings go. Eventually.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

[tobias-carrick-appreciation-week]

TCAW Appreciation Week 2024 - Masterlist

🔵 New Content | 🟣 Throwback Content Ⓜ️ Mature Content

Thank you to this year's participants - there were not many of us - but look at all we did! We had over 40 new submissions! It was so much fun! Thank you to all who participated and supported!

And to my fellow Tobias stans - you WILL be getting requests from me throughout the year! lol Thanks so much!

Day 1: Travel and Leisure:

Christmas Through Your Eyes [fanfic series] 🟣- Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

Come Away with Tobias & Casey [template] 🟣 - Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

The Getaway [fanfic]🔵- Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @alj4890

High Seas [fanfic] 🟣- Tobias Carrick x F!MC, Ethan Ramsey - @jerzwriter

The Perfect Day [fanfic] 🔵- Tobias Carrick, Ethan Ramsey, Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

More below...

Day 2: Friendship

A Shot of Reality [fanfic] 🟣- Tobias Carrick, MC - @jerzwriter

Have a Punny Day [fanfic] 🟣 - Tobias Carrick, Cassie Valentine - @liaromancewriter

Tobias's Friends [Collage & HC] 🔵- Tobias Carrick, Ethan Ramsey, Bryce Lahela, Original Characters - @jerzwriter

Tobias & Ethan Friendship Fics & Art [Masterlist] 🟣- @jerzwriter

Tobias & Friends Art Commissions [Collage] 🟣 - @jerzwriter (art by @bayleedraws-sometimesx and @/artbyainna (IG) )

Day 3: Seasons

Tobias's Favorite Seasons [Collage & HC] 🔵 @jerzwriter

Day 4: Fashion/Style

Friendship & Fashion [fanfic] 🔵Tobias Carrick & MC - @jerzwriter

TBI [fanfic] 🔵- Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @alj4890

WIP - Tobias & Merida [fanart] 🔵 - Tobias Carrick & MC - @lilyoffandoms

Day 5: Date Night:

Can't Help It [fanfic] 🔵- Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @alj4890

Date Night [text fic/insta edits]🟣- Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

Date Night Fanart [art collage] 🔵art by @weetlebeetle and @/artbyainna - @jerzwriter

Haunting [fanfic] 🟣 - Tobias Carrick x F!OC, Ethan Ramsey x F!OC - @jerzwriter

I don't quite recall... [fanfic]🔵- Tobias Carrick x M!Trystan Thorne (Open Heart/Crimes of Passion Crossover) - @jerzwriter

Movie? What Movie? [fanfic/fanart] 🔵- Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

A Not So Chance Encounter [fanfic]🟣 - Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

A Perfect Date [fanfic]🟣- Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

Toy Story [fanfic]🟣Ⓜ️ - Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @jerzwriter

An Unlikely Occurance [fanfic] 🔵- Tobias Carrick x Harper Emery - @coffeeheartaddict2

Day 6: Family

Anticipation [fanfic] 🔵- Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @alj4890

Family HC 🔵- @coffeeheartaddict2

Family HCs 🔵 - @jerzwriter

Tobias Family Fics Masterlist 🟣- @jerzwriter

Day 7: Let's Talk About Sex

NSFW HC 🔵Ⓜ️- @coffeeheartaddict2

NSFW Stats 🔵Ⓜ️- [revised] - @jerzwriter

Other:

The Dinner Party [fanfic] 🔵- Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @alj4890

Game On! [fanfic] 🔵- Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @alj4890

It's Not Your Business [fanfic] 🔵 - Tobias Carrick x F!OC - @tveitertotwrites

Oops! [fanfic]🔵- Tobias Carrick x F!MC - @alj4890

A Text of Reassurance [text fic] 🔵 Tobias Carrick, F!OC - @storyofmychoices

Spread Joy #901 - 🔵Tobias Carrick @storyofmychoices

You Got This, Buddy! [fanfic] 🔵 Tobias Carrick, Ethan Ramsey - @coffeeheartaddict2

What would Tobias do? Answers

Day 1 ... if he could no longer practice medicine?

@coffeeheartaddict2 🔵Answer

@jerzwriter 🔵Answer

@tveitertotwrites 🔵Answers to 2023 and 2024 Prompts

Day 2 ... if he won $50 million in the lotto?

@alj4890 🔵 Always Winning [fanfic] Tobias Carrick x F!MC

@coffeeheartaddict2 🔵Answer

@jerzwriter 🔵Answer

@tveitertotwrites 🔵Answers to 2023 and 2024 Prompts

Day 3... if he found a magic lantern and was granted 3 wishes?

@alj4890 🔵 Asked and Received [fanfic] Tobias Carrick x F!MC

@jerzwriter 🔵 Answer

@coffeeheartaddict2 🔵 Answer

@tveitertotwrites 🔵Answers to 2023 and 2024 Prompts

Day 4... If he witnessed a crime?

@coffeeheartaddict2 🔵Answer

@jerzwriter 🔵Answer

@tveitertotwrites 🔵Answer

Day 5... he opened an (embarrassing) package by mistake?

@coffeeheartaddict2 🔵 Answer

@jerzwriter 🔵Special Delivery [fanfic] Tobias Carrick x F!MC

@tveitertotwrites 🔵 Answers to 2023 and 2024 Prompts

Day 6... he finds out he's dating a porn star?

@jerzwriter 🔵 Summer Haze [fanfic] Tobias Carrick x F!OC

@tveitertotwrites 🔵Answers to 2023 and 2024 Prompts

Day 7... overhears colleagues doing...?

@alj4890 🔵You Heard, What! [fanfic] - Tobias Carrick x F!MC, Aurora Emery x M!OC

@jerzwriter 🔵Answer

@tveitertotwrites 🔵 Answer

[karahalloway]

The Highwayman: Part II - On The Stroke Of Midnight

Fandom: TRR (Historical AU)

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: On a dark, moonlit night, a highwayman's luck runs out...

Masterlist: The Highwayman

Chapter Summary: Harper makes a choice...

Word Count: 4,200

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, betrayal, physical violence, main character death)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: So... This was obviously not fun to write. Nobody wants to kill off their characters, but the rewrite would've deviated too much from the original if I had tried to change such a key piece of this story. So, it is what it is... *runs and hides to cry in the corner* There are some additional notes at the end.

A/N2: This is my second submission for @choicesprompts January 2024 Song Rewrite Challenge. The song I chose to rewrite is The Highwayman by Loreena McKennit.

Part II - On The Stroke Of Midnight

"Oi, Harper!"

I turn my head absently at the sound of my name. "Huh?"

My father is standing beside me with a stony expression. "The poor boy, Théo's been callin' after ye for donkey's, lass! Now, git over and grab those orders the patrons are waitin' on!"

"Yes, Da," I nod quickly, turning away.

He grabs me by the arm. "An' quit yer calf-eyed moonin'. We're gettin' paid t' serve, not t' stand 'round idling."

"Yes, Da," I nod again, hurrying over to the bar as my father releases me, shaking my head in a bid to clear my senses.

After Drake's departure last night, I had been too overcome with excitement to sleep. I had tossed and turned throughout the hours that remained until cockcrow, when I slipped back into my thankless role as the publican's daughter.

My days have begun at sunrise for as long as I can recall. After dressing, and tying my hair back to keep it from falling into my face, my first task was to empty the chamber pots of the previous night's contents from every room.

Then, it was onto the kitchen for a quick breakfast of ale and gruel, before tackling the litany of chores that awaited me each and every day. Stoking the fireplace in the hall. Collecting eggs from the henhouse. Sweeping. Dusting. Darning. Washing. Gathering the remnants of old candles to make into new ones. Checking the stores and making a list of required items to acquire. Brewing and decanting ale. Not to mention serving patrons at meal times, and cleaning up their mess.

The list was endless. And exhausting.

So, I am nigh on dead on my feet and it is not even sundown.

Only the knowledge that Drake is on his way back to me — for the last and final time — keeps me moving forward, albeit at a fraction of my customary pace.

"My apologies!" I gasp, arriving at the bar. "My head is in a bit of a tizzy tonight!"

"There is a full moon out tonight," my father's aide replies solemnly, pushing the tankards of ale over. "So, I suppose you are not wholly to blame."

"Thanks, Théo," I say with a distracted smile, gathering up the drinks and turning back to the hall.

Théo has had a bit of a soft spot for me ever since he came to us as an inn guard a few years prior. But an unfortunate mishap with a fully loaded cart several moons back had forced my father to pull the lad into an expanded role as partner to help keep the the inn running while he recovered from a broken leg. And thus our encounters had become more frequent.

But a couple of strolls on the moor, and one stolen kiss notwithstanding — both very much encouraged by my father, as he had somehow convinced himself that Théo will one day become my husband, and we'll collectively inherit The Crown & The Flame — I have politely sought to discourage any true advances between us.

As fate had already bound my heart to a dark-haired rogue, who arrived on a dark horse in the depths of an equally dark night, nursing a viscous wound to his side and an even fouler attitude.

Brigands, he'd told me, as I stitched him painstakingly up, his eyes flashing with malice while his hand gripped the neck of the whiskey bottle by the light of the lone candle in my room.

I wanted to ask more. But I could see that he was in pain, so I held my tongue while threading the makings of a new scar into his sweat-soaked skin... the latest addition to the brutal tapestry that already marred his flesh.

Once I completed bloody task, he yielded to sleep right there in my bed, somewhat against his will, I have to admit. But, then again, he had not exactly been in the best shape to contest with me. And I can be very persuasive when I set my mind to it.

Yet, by the time I had awoken the following morning, having spent the night in the floor next to him — not wanting to disturb his rest, but not daring to leave his side either, for fear he'd succumb to fever — he had vanished, like a ghost in the evening mist...

...that is, until he reappeared about a fortnight later, perched on the sill of my open window like an overgrown crow, nearly sending me to my own grave in fright.

He offered me gold for my services, but I had refused. When he had asked me what I desired  instead, I told him: a tale. I have never ventured further than the closest town, and he looked to be a man who'd seen his share of the world.

He obliged, weaving for me the story of his misspent youth eking an existence out from the merciless streets of the capital after a tragedy rendered him a homeless and destitute orphan.

But even as a child, when his family had been whole, he had watched the great ships that sailed in and out of the port — envying their mystery and freedom. And so, he bided his time (and stolen coin) until he was able to finally stow away on a corvette, ending up, ultimately, on the distant shores of a country called La Louisiane inthe New World.

I'd become so caught up in his recounting of far-off lands, strange peoples, and even stranger creatures, that the dawn of the new morn snuck upon me unknowingly... predominantly because he had yet to sufficiently explain to me what the devil a 'cocodril' was and how it was not quite akin to a dragon.

"I shall return to finish the tale," he promised, turning back to the window.

"When?" I pleaded, desperate to hear more... and loath to see him to leave again.

"I know not for certain, lass," he admitted, reaching a gloved hand out to brush a wayward lock of hair behind my ear. "But look for me by the moonlight."

And that's how our liaison had started — in a dark room, under the magic of the moon, our hearts filled with secrets.

But tonight, the charade will finally be put to bed. For together with the money, I intend to leave my father a note explaining everything. As that way, he'll at least know that I am safe and well... even if that knowledge will likely be a meagre balm against the pain he'll no doubt feel at my perceived betrayal.

But I cannot continue living in pretence. My nights with Drake have opened my eyes and my heart up to possibilities that I never dared conceive of, let alone believe to be within my grasp... and I am eager to start a new page.

I just have to bide my time 'til my love's return... in spite of the fact that patience is certainly not my strong suit.

A few more hours, I tell myself stoically as I navigate 'round the long trestle tables. And then—

The door of the inn bangs open, sending a torrent of cold air rushing into the warmth of the hall.

My head snaps towards the sound of the intrusion, a fool's hope budding in my breast, in spite of the knowledge that Drake would never risk such a public entrance...

...but what I see sends my heart crashing into the pit of my guts.

"Search every nook and cranny!" bellows a lanky man sporting the guilt buttons and epaulettes of an officer of rank. "Leave no floorboard in this rat's nest unturned!"

"What is t' meaning o' this, sir!" deplores my father as a line of armed Greencoat dragoons stream into the inn. "Ye can'na just—"

"I can — and indeed, am required by the edict of the law!— when I have been given reasonable suspicion that an establishment is harbouring a known and sought-after criminal," retorts the man with thin-lipped sneer, surveying the eaves as if he expects ruffians to pounce onto him at any second.

Da's eyes crackle with indignation. "Harbouring? A criminal! That accusation that is beyond outrageous, sir! This 'ere is a reputable place, I'll have ye know, an'—"

"Not according to the witness who came forward this morning," the man cuts in brusquely over the sound of boots and crashing furniture echoing up from around the building. "By whose own words, this inn is a hotbed of salacious going-ons, not to mention illegal activity. So, I suggest that you—"

"Who!" demands my father, his features contorted in offence and rage. "Who dares speak these scurrilous lies and—?"

The officer thrusts his arm out. "That man over there."

All eyes in the hall shift as one to land bodily on the subject of the disputation.

"Théo?"

The name tumbles from my lips in a hoarse croak of disbelief. My father cannot seem to even manage that, as he stands, staring mutely, hurt and betrayal carving his aghast countenance.

"So, you see, Mr Gale," continues the man unabashedly, seemingly oblivious to the shocked silence that has cloaked the room, "the source of the accusation is more than credible. A man of good and honest standing in this community, who also happens to be an employee of the—"

"Good and honest?" spits Da, rounding on the intruder with barely concealed malice as he finds his voice again. "He fabricates lies for his own gain! Though what that could possible be, I'll—"

"I saw them," says Théo softly, almost as if in apology, coming to stand by my father in front of the bar. "Last night, I—"

Da reaches out to grab his aide by the lapels of his jack, face nigh on puce with gall. "Saw who? Speak, lad, or I swear t' Almighty God, I'll—"

"Midnight Jack..." Théo replies, making no effort to protest the roughness of his treatment. "...and your daughter."

The tankards I am still holding slip from my fingers to crash to the hard-packed earth of the floor in a mess of shards and ale.

"They were talking," Théo continues, eyes meeting mine solemnly as my father's hands slip from his clothes in horrified silence. "They'd left the window of her room open and I could hear—"

"Captain Beaumont!" cries a soldier, rushing down the stairs with a clatter of heels and buckles, carabinier still in hand. "We found something!"

"Report, Lieutenant Besnard!" snaps the captain, rounding on his subordinate with impatience. "You know I detest being held in suspense!"

"I think it best you come and see for yourself, sir," the lieutenant replies, shifting his eyes in my direction.

Dread pools in my veins like lead. Oh, no...

Captain Beaumont chews on the assessment for a short moment. "Very well, Besnard. Let us assess your findings. And bring these three along — I am certain they too will find the results...captivating."

Gloved hands seize me roughly from behind, and push me towards the stairs. Yet I am too overcome with an ill sense of foreboding to even think to struggle, the cold hand of trepidation binding me more surely than any man could.

The gold... They found the gold...

The dragoons troop us up the stairs in dreadful silence, save for the sound of the creaking floorboards ‘neath our feet.

Marching the our group down the length of the corridor — along the length of which doors stood ajar, revealing the mess of upended contents within — we at last arrive at our destination.

The soldiers shove my father and I unceremoniously through the doorway of my room...

...and I immediately spot the gaping hole where the loose floorboard should have been.

My insides tighten painfully.

"Ah, you were right, Lieutenant," approves Captain Beaumont as he strides towards the foot of my bed. "This certainly is a sight to see!"

My father's eyes widen as he lays eyes on the treasure as well.

I wish I could explain, to help him make sense of it, but fear has lashed my tongue against the wall of my throat.

Kneeling down, the dragoon commander reaches into the small space and lifts out a handful of coin and jewels. "Now, what could an inn-keeper's daughter possibly want with such bounty?"

"It inna hers!" cries Da suddenly. "It's mine! My daughter, she—"

"Clearly is the inhabitant of this room," comes the steely toned rebuttal. "The brush on the dresser, and the ribbons poking from the drawer... These clues make it abundantly evident that it is a woman who sleeps herein. And I see only one woman..."

A chill runs down my spine as the captain lifts his eyes to mine. Brown — like Drake's — but without an ounce of warmth or humour.

"It is her room, aye!" affirms Da desperately. "But she knew nothin' o' the gold! 'Twas an arrangement 'tween myself and—"

The captain scoffs as he straightens back up, letting the booty fall through his fingers to clink back into the recess in the floor. "Noble of you, Mr Gale, to wish to safeguard your daughter. But I think we can all confidently conclude that what you have just uttered is a bare-faced lie..."

Da emits a grunt of agony as one of the soldiers steps forward on silent command to strike him in the back with the butt of his musket.

"...and I do so despise liars," Captain Beaumont declares dispassionately as several more dragoons descend on my father.

"Stop!" I plead, straining against my own captor as hot tears slide down my cheeks at the sight of the brutal retribution. "I beg of you... Please! I confess! The gold is mine! My father is innocent—!"

Captain Beaumont holds up a hand and the beating halts just as abruptly as it began. "There are no innocents in this sordid business. Merely degrees of culpability. Take him away."

"No!" I shriek in desperation as the dragoons lift the prone form my father up and proceed to drag him from the room, specs of rusty blood dripping onto the floorboards in their wake. "Where are you—!"

A gloved hand smacks across the side of my face, sending my vision into a spin as the sharp taste of blood exploding in my own mouth abruptly cuts off my remonstrations.

Through the thick haze of pain and tears, I see the forest green of the captain's coat move past me as the jingle of coins echoes on the edge of my awareness.

"Seems your information was actionable, Mr Mallet," Belvedere Beaumont surmises as he steps over to the dark form of Théo, who has been observing the entirety of the interaction with an ashen face. "And for that you shall be rewarded."

Raising my head, I see Theo stare at the clutch of ducats like they are tainted.

"What..." Our betrayer swallows thickly. "What will you do to them?"

"That is none of your concern, Mr Mallet," replies Captain Beaumont assertively, hefting the leather pouch in his palm. "But you can rest assured that the hand of the law will be swift and decisive."

Théo's eyes widen in sudden panic. "But... But you want The Highwayman..."

"Like I said," intones Captain Beaumont, raising the coin pounce higher. "There are no innocents. Only degrees of culpability. So, unless you desire to share in the fate of your employers, I suggest you take the prize I am offering you, and spend it wisely."

Théo jerks his gaze to mine in anguish. "Harper... I am sorry."

Grabbing the money, he dashes from the room like the naked cur he has revealed himself to be.

Bastard...

"A true blessing, and a curse... money," Captain Beaumont observes, turning back to me. "It changes hands — and loyalties — so readily, does it not? Almost like magic."

"What do you want?" I spit at him, acutely aware of the fact that I am now very much alone with, and at the mercy of, this monster.

"But love...?" the captain continues, as if he hadn't heard me. "Love — or its absence — is far more duplicitous. It crawls into our hearts and twists our minds out of any rational sense of order."

"And what would a man like you possibly know of love?" I demand with more bravado than I feel, in a desperate attempt to mask the fear suffusing my limbs.

"I know it can spark wars and topple empires," he relies coolly, reaching out to pinch the strand of hair that had escaped from my bun between his gloved fingers. "Perhaps even hang a thief."

The air rushes from my lungs in horror. "No..."

"Lieutenant!" Beaumont barks over his shoulder, spinning on his heel away from me. "Rope!"

"Right here, sir!" affirms the subordinate, pulling a length of cordage from his pack.

"Bind this woman," comes the clipped instruction. "And take her to the window."

My struggles are for naught as my wrists are lashed together in front of my body.

"That renegade dog clearly loves you," declaims Captain Beaumont as his goons drag me to the casement. "Or he would not have entrusted you with the safekeeping of his ill-gotten treasure. The question is... Do you love him in turn?"

I raise my chin definitely as I am thrust onto the hard ledge of the window sill. "More than you can comprehend."

He meets my gaze with a serpentine smile. "That was my hope."

I stare at him in bewilderment as he reaches past me to crack the window open. "What are you—?"

"The way I see it," he continues, almost conversationally as the cold night air rushes over my skin, "you have a choice to make. Either you assist me in luring our mutual friend to his untimely, but very much overdue death — thereby potentially absolving you and your father of any involvement in this sorry affair, though that will be for a judge to decide — or I will claim obstruction of justice and hang the lot of you as accomplices. The decision is yours."

"You are vile..." I bite out through clenched teeth as a my mouth is smothered by a kerchief.

"I am a man of the law," he counters dispassionately. "And the law is clear — the penalty for highway robbery is death. Either by action, or association. And the evidence against you is, sadly, rather weighty." He flicks his eyes towards the gaping hole in the floor where two dragoons are busy loading the booty into a sack. "So, do not blame me for the unsavoury consequences of your own foolishness. You set yourself on this path. Knowingly."

I turn away from him, a torrent of guilt streaming down my face.

What have I done...?

The minutes tick slowly past, and the hours crawl by like years as we wait in silence under the silvery light of the moon.

And I have ample time to contemplate both my fate and my doom.

For there is no doubt about it — I am doomed, one way or another. Captain Belvedere Beaumont has made that abundantly clear.

Either I give up the love of my life, or I consign both myself and my father — not to mention my unborn babe — to a shallow, unmarked grave that will be forgotten just as soon as it is dug.

Both options are too horrendous to even contemplate.

Which is why I have very seriously debated throwing myself off the ledge of the window I am sat on. As that way I can at least break the captain's malicious hold on me.

But suicide is an unforgivable sin. Or so I've been taught. And, in any event, my death would be for naught, for I would doom the men I love just the same... Drake would walk unknowingly into the dragoons' ambush and Captain Beaumont would most likely slit my father's neck in spite.

So, I sit. And wait. And curse the fates — and myself — for this unforgivable turn of events. Because if Drake and I had eloped last night, our destinies would've been very different.

"Rider on the knell, sir," advises a soldier with a spyglass trained across the moor.

"I see him," confirms Captain Beaumont, eyes glinting with anticipation.

Raising my head, I spot the lone figure silhouetted against the darkness as he crests the hill, second horse in tow.

My heart jumps into my throat. Drake.

"Not a sound," orders Captain Beaumont as Drake and Drogon disappear from view in the shadow of the hill. "We bide our time and let the fair lady lure the rogue in."

The soldiers nod as they set about priming their weapons.

My mind is racing. I have to warn him... But how?

I feel the point of a blade press against my throat. "Just so you do not get any funny ideas in that pretty little head of yours..." warns Captain Beaumont as he takes up position behind me, the barrel of his pistol coming to rest on my shoulder, my form concealing his in the darkness.

I cast my gaze around the room. But my hands are bound and I have no recourse to even my voice, let alone a weapon.

But then a dragoon kneels down in front of me...

...and the ghost of a plan begins to take shape in my mind.

It is risky... and fraught with danger. Not just for myself, but for Drake as well. But I have been presented with a sliver hope. And though it may be a fool's hope, I must take it. As I cannot, in good conscience, purposely lead the man I love to slaughter.

I will not give Captain Beaumont that particular satisfaction. And — in any event — a life without Drake would not be worth living anyway.

The minutes continue to pass with bated breath as we wait for Drake to reappear.

"Movement on the roof, sir," whispers a dragoon, adjusting the hold on his musket.

Sure enough, a shadow has appeared in the darkness, drifting across the thatch of the barn in stealthy silence.

"Hold your fire," orders Captain Beaumont, pulling the cock of his flintlock back. "We need him in range. And for the love of God, do not fucking miss!"

The soldiers nod tersely as Drake creeps unknowingly closer.

"Five paces..." rasps Captain Beaumont, his hot breath gusting my ear. "Four... Three... Two..."

I close my eyes. Forgive me, Da...

"O—"

Kicking my legs out with a roar of determination, I heave myself backwards with all my might. My feet catch the side of the musket balanced on the ledge before me, sending a shot sailing out into the night with a bright flash of gunpowder.

I pray to the moon and the stars that it missed Drake.

Captain Beaumont's pistol discharges next to my ear as the back of my head collides with the bridge of his nose, shattering it with a bony crunch.

The knife he's been holding clatters to the floorboards as he stumbles backwards with a cry of pain. And as the support of his body disappears from behind me, there is nothing to hold me aloft.

I thud bodily to the floor, gasping for breath as the suddenness of the impact knocks the air from my lungs, my ears ringing from the earlier crack of the pistol, the smell of my singed hair burning my nose.

But I only have one aim... One mission... To get ahold of that knife.

Twisting myself around, I spot it — glinting in the moonlight merely a foot away.

Throwing my hands out, I reach for the weapon, the roar of shouts and gunfire breaking above my head...

...but find myself crying out as my hair is grabbed from behind.

"You conniving whore!" hisses Captain Beaumont as he wrenches me backwards, my scalp screaming in protest. "You will rue the day you were born!"

Tears blur my sight as I feel the hair rip from my head.

But still I strain towards the knife, which lies just beyond my fingertips, my teeth gritted against the pain, my heart hammering.

The edge of my nails scrapes the hilt...

A lone shot punctures the maelstrom of the chaos.

Captain Beaumont's grasp falters, and I crash back onto the floorboards.

Grasping for the dirk, I twist back 'round...

...but the sharp movement sends pain shooting through my chest and I am suddenly gasping for breath.

The knife falls from my hands as I clutch at my breast... and my fingers sink into the warmth of the flesh within.

"You cack-handed ingrate!" screams Captain Beaumont from above me. "I'll have you whipped for this!"

"She was trying to kill you, sir!" comes the voice of the lieutenant as the acrid taste of blood blooms in the back of my throat.

"She was our only hope of luring that bastard in!" shrieks Beaumont in rage, the stomp of his boots rattling the floorboards next to me as he advances on his subordinate, causing me to cough. "And you shot her!"

"Sir!" shouts another dragoon. "A horse and rider! Galloping north!"

"After him, you witless buffoons!" orders the captain, his face streaked with crimson and rage. "Do not let him get away!"

The soldiers scramble from the room as my lifeblood seep out of my veins onto the dusty floorboards.

And as the darkness closes in on me, I offer my soul up to the night with one final wish...

Fly, my love... Fly like a witch on the wind.

The story continues in Part III: The Highwayman Comes Riding (coming soon)

A/N: Some notes and comments below:

Cocodril - I appreciate that it's alligators that live in Louisiana, not crocodiles. However, according to a helpful article I found, the correct Louisiana French term for alligator is 'cocodril' or 'cocodrie' (both pronounced the same), or occasionally 'caïman', but never 'alligator' as alligator is considered to be an English word, and therefore not part of the 'correct' French vocabulary. Also the terminology makes sense from a historical, cultural and linguists perspective — Europeans would have been familiar with crocodiles from ancient time (Ancient Egypt, etc.), but not alligators, and would not have originally realised that there was a difference until people like Carl Linnaeus and Charles Darwin started systematically cataloguing species, starting in the late 1700s, so they probably just initially applied the familiar but 'wrong' term and it stuck. That said, French French does differentiate between 'alligator' and 'cocodrie', but that is a more recent linguistic development than the original French Louisiana one. Okay; massive tangent concluded 😆

Musket - If anyone has read the original poem, or listened to the song, you will have probably realised that I made another change to the story, namely the manner in which Harper dies. In the original, Bess is bound to the foot of her bed, her hands tied behind her, and a musket lashed in such a way that it points to her heart. However, she somehow manages to not only free her hand from her bindings without anyone noticing, but she also manages to grasp the trigger of the musket. Now, if anyone has bothered to look at what a musket actually looks like, you will quickly realise that this sequence of events in the original poem/song is a straight up impossibility because muskets of this era are friggin' long (typically around 5ft or 1.6m), so there is no way that I can see that Bess would've been able to reach the trigger if she is stood up, or even sat down. So, the manner of death had to change. That said, I tried to stay as true as possible to the original. But, if anyone disagrees with me, happy to be educated!

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