#I had no clue about how long he'd been turned! It seemed like he may have helped organize the skals in the sewers??

[selvepnea]

Been playing Vampyr lately (not a recommendation)

[dreamersworldduh]

UNSPOKEN TRUTHS

• Dick Grayson x Male!Reader

SUMMARY — you and Dick Grayson go way back but it’s been so many years since you two last spoke. So what happens when you two reconnect in the oddest way possible.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 7.8k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! firstly, THANK YOU all for the love and support for Sunday Mornings. Now, this is a long one and I may have gotten a little carried away but nevertheless I hope you all enjoy!

Dick Grayson.

There's an undeniable magnetism about Dick Grayson—an aura that makes it impossible to stay away from him, even when every instinct tells you that you should. He embodies everything that simultaneously irritates and captivates you. He's infuriatingly charming, effortlessly sociable, and devastatingly handsome. Add to that his cocky attitude and penchant for being the ultimate goofball, and you're left with a contradiction wrapped in an irresistible package.

You've known him since your very first year at Hudson University, where fate (or maybe bad luck?) had you both enrolled in the same criminology class. While you were focused on minding your own business, diligently taking notes and keeping your head down, Dick Grayson had other plans. He was the kind of guy who seemed to thrive on interaction, and apparently, you had caught his attention.

It started innocently enough. You were hunched over your notebook, furiously scribbling details from the professor's lecture, utterly engrossed. That's when Dick made his move. Leaning over with that trademark mischievous grin, he decided your focus was far too serious for his liking.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice low enough not to draw the professor's wrath but loud enough to break through your concentration.

You tried to ignore him, hoping he'd get bored and leave you alone. But this was Dick Grayson, and persistence was practically his middle name. He didn't just want your attention—he demanded it. Whether it was tapping on your notebook, cracking an unnecessary joke, or asking a deliberately ridiculous question about the lecture material, he seemed determined to throw you off your game.

At first, you hated him for it. Who did this guy think he was, barging into your quiet world of focus and discipline with his infuriating grin and boyish charm? But over time, something shifted. Maybe it was the way he made you laugh when you least expected it, or the fact that underneath all the cockiness, he was genuinely kind and intelligent.

Dick Grayson wasn't just a distraction; he was a force of nature. And whether you liked it or not, he had a way of turning your world upside down.

Your friendship with Dick began as a slow bloom, nurtured by shared classes, late-night study sessions, and moments of unexpected laughter. What started as a simple camaraderie between classmates grew into an unshakable bond that lasted all four years at Hudson University. The two of you were inseparable, each other's confidant, cheerleader, and partner in crime-solving, so to speak.

By the time graduation rolled around, everyone assumed that life would pull you in different directions. With the ink barely dry on your diplomas, it seemed logical that you'd both scatter to explore the opportunities your criminology degrees offered. And for a while, it seemed like that was how the story would end. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

You eventually landed a job in Blüdhaven as a small-time investigator, the kind of work that fit your personality like a glove. Observant to a fault and driven by a relentless curiosity, you thrived in the world of puzzles and mysteries. Unraveling clues, piecing together fragments of stories, and finding answers where others saw dead ends gave you an unshakable sense of fulfillment.

But being as observant as you were had its downsides. You were the kind of person who couldn't let things go, even when every rational instinct told you to back off. That's how you found yourself in your current predicament—a missing persons case that had taken a dark and dangerous turn.

It had started innocently enough, following breadcrumbs that no one else had noticed. But as you dug deeper, you realized the case was connected to a local gang, one that didn't appreciate your meddling. Unfortunately for you, they'd noticed your snooping long before you realized you were on their radar. By the time you put the pieces together, it was too late. They had you.

The gang's leader, a stereotypical brute with a barrel chest and a growling voice to match, stood over you, barking out threats. His speeches were a predictable blend of clichés: "You should've minded your own business!" and "You don't know who you're messing with!" It would've been almost funny if the situation weren't so dire.

Despite the danger, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride. You'd managed to find the missing person, even if it had landed you in chains. And now, as the leader ranted, you sat there, tied to a chair in some dingy warehouse, mentally kicking yourself for not being more careful.

Then, something caught your eye.

Out of the corner of the dimly lit room, a movement stirred in the shadows. At first, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you. But then, you saw him—a figure dressed in sleek black and blue, moving with cat-like precision through the darkness. The gang leader, oblivious to the silent intruder, continued his tirade, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

The man in the shadows was swift, almost inhumanly so. One by one, the gang members guarding the room were dispatched with precise, fluid motions. He was a blur of calculated power, blending perfectly into the gloom until he wanted to be seen. And then, he was there.

Nightwing.

You'd heard whispers of him before—Blüdhaven's vigilante protector, a myth to some, a menace to criminals. But seeing him in action was another thing entirely. His black and blue suit seemed to absorb the faint light in the room, his presence commanding yet effortless.

As chaos erupted in the warehouse, the gang leader spun around, barking orders to his panicking subordinates. You could only watch in awe—and maybe a little bit of relief—as Nightwing expertly dismantled your captors. You didn't know how or why he'd come for you, but in that moment, you didn't care. All you knew was that your life was in the hands of someone who clearly knew what he was doing.

The warehouse was a symphony of chaos. Nightwing moved like a shadow come to life, his every step deliberate and his strikes landing with unerring precision. You couldn't look away, transfixed by the fluidity of his movements. He wasn't just fighting—he was dismantling. Each thug fell with a grunt or a pained yell, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground. The air was thick with the sharp sounds of punches landing and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the cold cement floor.

The leader, who had loomed so intimidatingly just minutes ago, now looked like a lumbering fool. He charged at Nightwing with brute force, swinging a metal pipe with the confidence of someone who had never faced someone of this caliber before. Nightwing sidestepped with ease, his movements economical and almost effortless. In a flash, the vigilante grabbed the leader's arm, twisted it with a sharp motion, and sent the weapon flying. A quick roundhouse kick to the chest sent the man sprawling onto his back with a groan of defeat.

And then, as abruptly as it had begun, the fight was over.

The silence that followed was almost deafening. Nightwing straightened, his breathing steady despite the intense effort he'd just exerted. He surveyed the room, his sharp gaze ensuring no threats remained. The dim lighting cast a faint glow on his black-and-blue suit, accentuating the imposing figure he cut. You couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and awe, even as your pulse raced from the ordeal.

Finally, his focus shifted to you. His stride was purposeful, his boots barely making a sound as he crossed the distance. He crouched beside you, the sharp angles of his mask now just inches from your face. His hands, encased in black gloves, moved swiftly, slicing through the ropes that bound your wrists and ankles.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but carrying a gentle concern that caught you off guard. His eyes—calm, steady, and searching—met yours briefly, and in that moment, the hostage trembling nearby seemed like an afterthought.

You swallowed hard, your voice shaky as you replied, "I'm fine. Thanks to you."

As he helped you to your feet, his hand lingered on your arm, steadying you. It was a small gesture, but it sent a jolt through you. Those eyes. Brown, warm, and so achingly familiar. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as realization struck.

"Dick?" you whispered, the name escaping your lips before you could stop yourself.

He stiffened, the subtle movement confirming what you already knew. His head turned slightly, his gaze flicking to the hostage, who was watching the exchange with wide, curious eyes. His silence said everything.

You bit your lip, realizing your mistake. Swallowing your questions, you forced yourself to focus. The hostage needed to be taken care of, and this wasn't the time or place for the confrontation brewing in your mind.

"Thank you," the hostage managed to stammer, their voice shaky. Nightwing gave them a curt nod, his usual confidence slipping back into place as he offered them a reassuring glance.

Moments later, the sound of sirens filled the air, the flashing red and blue lights of the approaching police cars spilling into the warehouse. Officers rushed in, taking the gang into custody and escorting the hostage to safety. Meanwhile, you stayed put, standing just outside the chaos as the adrenaline slowly ebbed from your system.

Nightwing lingered, his posture tense but his presence solid and unwavering. It was clear he was waiting—perhaps for the right moment, or perhaps for you.

"You're not leaving," you said, stepping closer to him with a sharpness in your tone that surprised even you. "Good. Because we need to talk."

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. Still, you caught the faintest hint of unease in his posture. He knew what was coming.

As the last of the police cars pulled away, leaving the two of you bathed in the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp, you finally allowed yourself to say what had been clawing at you.

"It is you," you said softly, the weight of the realization settling over you. "Dick Grayson."

Nightwing let out a soft, resigned sigh. Without a word, he reached up, his gloved fingers curling around the edges of his mask. In one smooth motion, he pulled it away, revealing the face you'd known for years.

The sight of him hit you like a wave. His dark hair was slightly tousled, damp with sweat, and those familiar brown eyes stared back at you with a mix of guilt and apprehension.

"Hi," he said, his voice quiet but steady, as if testing the waters.

You stared at him, struggling to untangle the mess of emotions inside you. Shock, anger, confusion, and something else—something softer—swirled in your chest. "You've been here," you said finally, your voice trembling. "In Blüdhaven. This whole time. And you didn't tell me?"

"It's not that simple," he replied, his tone gentle but laced with regret. "I wanted to. I just... couldn't."

You huffed, crossing your arms as you glared at him. "You're not getting out of this, Dick. We're talking about it. All of it."

A small, sheepish smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, he almost looked like the carefree friend you remembered from Hudson University. "Yeah," he said softly. "I figured as much."

The weight of the moment hung heavy between you, unspoken questions lingering in the air. There was so much to say, so much you needed to understand, but for now, the two of you simply stood there, the silence stretching like an unspoken promise.

Soon, the two of you arrived at Dick's apartment, the closest and most convenient place to regroup. The space was warm and inviting, a surprising contrast to the gritty chaos of the warehouse you'd just escaped. Dick excused himself to change out of his vigilante uniform, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and his belongings.

It wasn't long before your curiosity got the better of you. Old habits die hard, and you found yourself wandering the apartment, taking in the details. The first thing you noticed was how organized it was compared to his dorm back in college. Gone were the piles of laundry and cluttered desks; everything here had its place. The sleek, minimalist decor hinted at someone who valued function over flair, though the occasional personal touch softened the aesthetic.

There were pictures scattered around, mostly in simple frames. You stopped to study them, recognizing some of the faces from news articles and social media posts. These must be his siblings. During college, Dick had rarely talked about his family, offering only vague hints that he was adopted and that his adoptive father was extremely wealthy. Back then, the extent of his family's resources was evident in the way he casually splurged—never obnoxiously, but like the carefree college student who'd buy a round of shots for half the campus without a second thought.

Your gaze lingered on a particular photo, and your breath caught. It was a picture of you and Dick, taken during a Christmas party in your junior year. The two of you stood beneath a sprig of mistletoe, your face frozen in an exaggeratedly annoyed expression as he planted a kiss on your cheek. But you remembered that moment vividly. You remembered how fast your heart had raced, how flustered you'd felt, and how you'd struggled to keep your reaction under control. Out of all the pictures you'd taken together, you couldn't believe he'd kept this one.

The sound of his voice startled you from your thoughts.

"You know, this is exactly how you got yourself captured the first time," Dick said, his tone tinged with amusement.

You turned sharply, only to find him leaning casually against the doorframe. He was dressed in a navy blue tank top that revealed the lean, athletic build beneath, his arms toned from years of training. Loose-fitting gray joggers hung low on his hips, offering a distracting peek at his defined waistline. For a moment, your thoughts betrayed you, wandering where they shouldn't. You quickly shook the imagery from your mind and refocused, gesturing toward the picture in question.

"Why this picture?" you asked, pointing at the frame.

Dick stepped closer, glancing at the photo with a soft smile. "It's my favorite of us," he admitted, his voice light but honest.

Your chest tightened. You stared at him, studying the way his expression softened as he looked at the photo, as though it held a special place in his memory. You remembered that night clearly, but you'd never imagined it meant as much to him as it had to you.

"You don't even like Christmas," you teased, trying to deflect the sudden wave of emotion threatening to surface.

He shrugged, turning to you with a playful grin. "True. But I like you."

The simplicity of his statement made your heart skip a beat. He said it so casually, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, yet the weight of those words hung heavy in the air between you. You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond.

"Dick..." you began, your voice faltering.

"Don't overthink it," he said, his grin fading into something softer. "I just... like having a reminder of how happy we were. That's all."

You looked back at the photo, the moment frozen in time, and then at him. For all the chaos that had led to this point, standing here with him now, it was hard to deny that something about this moment felt right.

The dining room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the adjacent kitchen. You leaned against the chair, arms crossed, watching as Dick moved to the table where a stack of papers sat in disarray. His movements were deliberate but lacked his usual confidence, as though he were stalling for time.

“So,” you began, your tone cutting through the silence, “I’m guessing things have been rough if you decided to change careers. Last we talked, you were dead set on becoming a cop. It was literally all you could talk about.”

You turned to face him fully, your words sharp but not without curiosity. Dick froze for a moment, his shoulders tensing before he turned his head slightly toward you.

“That’s still in the works,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with defensiveness.

“Yeah?” you shot back, arching an eyebrow as you pointed to the table. “You mean with those blank applications over there?”

Dick followed your gaze to the stack of untouched forms on the dining room table. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair as if that would somehow untangle the thoughts swirling in his head.

“You don’t understand, Y/N…” he started, but you weren’t about to let him finish.

“I may not be a crime-fighting vigilante in spandex,” you interrupted, stepping closer and folding your arms tightly across your chest, “but I do know you can’t keep putting your life on hold like this. Blüdhaven isn’t Gotham, Dick. You don’t have to be out there night and day. It’s not your responsibility to carry this city on your back.”

He turned to face you fully now, his jaw set. “I also run my own team, you know,” he pointed out, his tone firm but not without frustration.

“Okay, and?” you replied, your voice rising slightly. “I’m thankful for what you did tonight—for me, for that hostage, for everyone you help. But come on, Dick. You can’t just live for this. You should have a life outside of your nighttime activities and team leadership. You deserve more than this relentless grind.”

His hands clenched briefly at his sides, and then he threw them up in exasperation. “I did!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion. “I did have that life. Four years, Y/N. Four years of normalcy. School, friends… you.”

You blinked, his words hitting you like a freight train. He wasn’t done.

“I fell in love with you, for god’s sake,” he continued, his voice quieter but no less intense. “But I knew—deep down—I couldn’t hold onto that. I couldn’t keep living in a reality that wasn’t mine to have.”

For a moment, the air between you felt impossibly still. You stared at him, mouth slightly ajar, his words ricocheting in your mind.

“You… fell in love with me?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Dick looked at you, his expression vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. His usually confident demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and honest.

“I never stopped,” he admitted quietly, his gaze unwavering.

The weight of his confession hung heavily in the air, but before Dick could react, reality struck you like a lightning bolt. Without thinking, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

The sharp sound echoed in the room, startling you both.

“You waited four years to tell me you’re in love with me?” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of frustration, disbelief, and something you couldn’t quite name.

Dick blinked in surprise, his cheek barely reddened from the slap. He raised a hand to rub at it, murmuring, “Ow.” Though you knew it hadn’t actually hurt him—your slap had been more for dramatic effect than anything else—it still made him flinch slightly.

“You know,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperated humor, “it took a lot of courage to admit this. I mean, at first, I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling. But the more I got to know you…” He paused, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “I was whipped. Everyone knew how protective I was of you.”

“Clearly not everyone,” you shot back, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

Dick tilted his head, his expression softening with that boyish charm that always seemed to disarm you. “That’s because you were always so oblivious to things,” he pointed out, a teasing edge in his tone.

“This isn’t about me,” you retorted, your frustration flaring again. “This is about you—about you waiting years to—”

Before you could finish, Dick’s hands moved with startling quickness, cupping your face as he leaned in, cutting you off completely. His lips crashed onto yours, silencing your protests in an instant.

Your first instinct was to resist, your mind screaming at you to stay angry, to push him away and demand answers. But the moment his lips moved against yours, warm and insistent, your anger began to dissolve like sugar in water. His touch was firm but not forceful, as though he was pouring every unspoken word, every pent-up feeling, into that kiss.

Damn him.

Your hands, which had been frozen in mid-air, slowly lowered to his chest, resting against the fabric of his tank top. You wanted to be mad, to hold onto your indignation, but instead, you found yourself leaning into him. His lips were soft yet commanding, and they melted away every ounce of tension in your body.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours. His brown eyes, now so close, bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. There was an undeniable hunger in them, a raw and unguarded lust, but beneath it was something deeper, something that spoke of years of unspoken feelings and restraint finally breaking free.

The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with tension as he leaned in closer, his forehead still brushing against yours. His hands, which had been gently cupping your face, slid down to your jaw, his thumbs tracing soft, maddeningly slow circles on your skin.

“I want to make love to you so bad,” Dick whispered, his voice husky and low, the words trembling with emotion. “But I want to do this right.”

The warmth of his breath tickled your lips as he spoke, and the sheer vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. Yet the weight of those words, so raw and sensual, sent a jolt of arousal through you. You felt your body react instantly, your breath hitching as your dick tightened in response.

You had never heard anything like this from him before—such a delicate balance of sweetness and longing, spoken with the kind of confidence that sent heat pooling in your stomach. His voice wasn’t just sexual; it was reverent, like he was making a promise wrapped in desire.

Your hands rested against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tank top as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth of his body beneath your touch only heightened the tension, and you struggled to form a coherent thought, let alone words.

“Dick…” you finally managed, though it came out as little more than a breathless murmur.

His eyes never left yours, his gaze darkened with an intensity that made it clear just how much he wanted you—but he didn’t move, waiting for your response. Waiting for you to meet him halfway. And in that moment, the depth of his restraint only made you want him more.

“I want you to make love to me,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze. The words hung in the air for a moment, electrifying the space between you.

Dick’s eyes darkened instantly, the flicker of hesitation replaced by raw desire and unrestrained passion. That was all he needed. In the blink of an eye, his lips were on yours, crashing against yours with a fury that made your knees weak.

The kiss was nothing like the soft, tentative one from earlier. This was urgent, consuming, as though he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t contain himself any longer. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The heat of his chest pressed against yours, and you could feel his heart pounding as wildly as your own.

You gasped against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with an intensity that made you shiver. His fingers trailed up your back, one hand tangling in your hair while the other held your waist, anchoring you to him.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, sliding over the smooth, warm skin exposed by his tank top. You clutched at him, your fingers curling into the fabric as you felt his muscles flex beneath your touch. He kissed you like a man starved, like he’d been waiting for this moment for years, pouring every ounce of his suppressed longing into it.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling and swollen from the sheer intensity. His forehead pressed against yours as he steadied himself, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse, though the look in his eyes made it clear how much he wanted you.

You nodded, your hands sliding down his chest to rest against his waist. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all he needed to hear before his lips were on yours again, this time softer but no less passionate, as if he wanted to savor every second of what was about to happen.

Dick’s lips moved from yours with deliberate, unhurried precision, trailing a path along your jawline before finding the sensitive skin of your neck. The contrast between his soft kisses and the occasional scrape of his teeth sent a shiver coursing down your spine.

When he finally found your sweet spot just below your ear, your breath hitched sharply, and a low, involuntary moan escaped your lips. The sound seemed to spur him on, his lips lingering as he alternated between gentle kisses and slow, teasing nibbles.

Your hands, which had been resting lightly against his waist, tightened instinctively. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his joggers, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat radiating from his body. The firmness of his waist beneath your touch grounded you even as your head tilted back slightly, offering him more access.

He hummed against your skin, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. His arms wrapped around you more securely, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other pressed against the small of your back, holding you flush against him.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low and rough. The combination of his words and his lips on your skin was overwhelming, igniting an firm erection in your dick that made it impossible to think of anything but him.

Your breathing grew heavier, your chest rising and falling against his as you surrendered completely to the sensations. Every press of his lips, every soft graze of his teeth, sent sparks of pleasure rippling through you, and you couldn’t help but cling to him even tighter.

“Dick,” you breathed, his name spilling from your lips in a way that was half plea, half encouragement. His response was a low, approving growl that made your knees go weak, but his strong arms kept you firmly in place.

Dick’s hands slid down your sides, lingering for a moment at your hips before they gripped your thighs firmly. In one fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. His strength, always impressive but now impossibly intimate, sent a shiver through you.

Your arms clung to his shoulders for balance as he held you close, your chest pressed against his. His lips captured yours again, and the kiss was slow but no less hungry, his steps steady as he carried you toward the darkly dim room down the hall.

Normally, your inquisitive nature would have taken over, and you’d have surveyed every inch of the space. But right now, your attention was consumed by him—by the heat of his body, the way his fingers flexed against your thighs, and the electric connection between you.

The faint glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows on the walls as he entered the room. You barely registered the surroundings, focusing instead on the way his breathing had quickened, mirroring your own. He reached the bed, lowering you carefully to the floor with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

His hands lingered on your hips as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze burning with unspoken desire and reverence. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch warm against your skin as he lifted it over your head. He took his time, his eyes roaming over you like he was memorizing every detail.

Your breath hitched as he began to undress himself, his movements fluid and unhurried. His tank top came off first, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint sheen of sweat on his skin. His joggers followed, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Your hands moved instinctively to his waist, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, but he stopped you gently, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone.

His hands returned to you, sliding along your sides with deliberate slowness before slipping beneath the waistband of your own boxers, guiding them down. The intimacy of the moment made your pulse race, every inch of skin he revealed heightening the tension between you.

Now, with both of you standing there, bare except for the thin fabric separating you completely, the air felt charged, heavy with anticipation. Dick’s eyes locked onto yours, his expression a perfect blend of lust and something deeper, something that made your heart pound harder than ever before.

Dick’s hands wrapped around your dick with deliberate care, his grip firm yet gentle. The slow, teasing movements of his fingers as he stroked you sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. His eyes stayed locked on yours, their intensity leaving you breathless. He watched your every reaction, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile as soft moans began to spill from your lips.

The sound seemed to embolden him, as if each moan was a symphony only he could conduct. He leaned closer, the heat of his breath ghosting over your skin, making you shiver with anticipation. Before you could process what was happening, he guided you backward, gently pushing you onto the mattress.

The soft surface cradled you as you fell, the world around you blurring into insignificance. All that mattered was him—his touch, his gaze, his presence. Dick climbed onto the bed, settling himself between your legs with a confidence that made your pulse race.

His hands found your thighs, gripping them firmly but not aggressively as he spread your legs slightly wider. The warmth of his palms was grounding, his touch both possessive and reverent. His eyes never left yours, a silent question hanging in the air, one you answered with a slight nod and a quiet, shaky breath.

Leaning forward, he placed a featherlight kiss just below your navel before lowering himself further. The sensation of his tongue grazing your dick made your back arch slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. He didn’t stop there—his tongue trailed down with slow, deliberate strokes before his lips closed around you completely.

The heat of his mouth was overwhelming, his movements skilled and calculated. He alternated between slow, torturous licks and firm, rhythmic suction, drawing louder moans from you with each passing second. The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure, mingling with his soft hums as he worked.

Just as you thought the sensations couldn’t intensify, you felt something new. His hand, which had been resting on your thigh, moved downward, his fingers tracing teasing circles near your hole. The first press of his fingertip was gentle, testing, and when he felt your body relax, he slid a single finger inside with the same care.

The combination of his mouth and the intrusion sent a wave of pleasure crashing over you, and your moans grew louder, higher, uncontrollable. Your hands instinctively reached for him, one tangling in his hair as the other clutched at the sheets beneath you.

“Dick,” you gasped, his name spilling from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, his brown eyes dark with desire, a glint of satisfaction evident as he took in the sight of you unraveling beneath him. He added a slight curl to his finger, hitting a spot that made your entire body tremble. The way your voice broke with pleasure was like fuel to him, and he redoubled his efforts, his lips and fingers moving in perfect harmony to push you further toward the edge.

The only thing you could do was surrender to him completely, your mind and body consumed by the intensity of the sensations he was creating.

The sudden press of a second finger into your hole sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, a sharp moan escaping your lips at the unexpected intrusion. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, your chest rising and falling as Dick’s fingers moved inside you with increasing speed. Each curl and thrust was precise, hitting spots that made your back arch off the mattress in ecstasy.

The heat pooling in your hole was overwhelming, your breath coming in short gasps as you struggled to keep up with the rhythm he was setting. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of control, his fingers stopped abruptly and slid out, leaving you gasping at the loss of contact.

“Why did you—” you began, your voice breathless and laced with confusion, but the words caught in your throat as your eyes traveled down to him.

Dick had shifted back slightly, his hands hooking into the waistband of his boxers. With deliberate slowness, he slid them down his hips, his eyes never leaving yours. As the fabric pooled at his knees, your gaze dropped, and your breath hitched at the sight before you.

His dick was fully revealed, and he was… well, impressively endowed. Huge as hell. The dim light of the room cast shadows that only emphasized his size and shape, and for a moment, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The anticipation in the air was electric, and the confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips told you he noticed your reaction.

“You were saying?” he teased softly, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

Your mouth opened to reply, but no words came. Instead, your eyes flickered back up to meet his, and the hunger in his gaze made your stomach flip. He moved closer, his hands returning to your thighs, gently spreading them wider as he leaned over you, his bare skin brushing against yours. The weight of him above you, combined with the heat radiating from his body, sent your pulse racing again.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a mix of tenderness and desire.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

His smile softened for a moment, a flicker of something deeper crossing his expression before he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as much a promise as it was an invitation.

Dick broke the kiss, his breath warm against your lips as he pulled back slightly. His eyes stayed locked on yours, filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. Reaching over to his dresser, he grabbed a small bottle of lube, his movements deliberate but steady.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing a reassuring circle against your hip.

You nodded, your anticipation building as he popped the cap. The cool gel landed on your hole, and you squirmed at the sudden chill, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Dick chuckled lightly at your reaction, his hands smoothing over your thighs to steady you.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he worked the lube gently around your hole. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant, his touch careful and precise.

Once he was satisfied, he coated himself in the gel, his large hands moving confidently as he spread it over his dick. The sight alone made your heart race, but before you could get lost in the thought, he tossed the bottle somewhere across the room with a soft thud, refocusing entirely on you.

His hands returned to your waist, gripping you firmly but gently as he positioned himself between your legs. The weight of his gaze anchored you, and you took a deep breath as you felt the head of his dick press against your hole.

“This might feel a little intense at first,” he warned, his voice husky but tender. “Let me know if you need me to stop.”

You nodded again, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as he began to push forward slowly. The stretch was immediate, his size making you wince slightly as your body adjusted. Dick paused, his brows furrowed in concentration as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple before trailing down to your cheek.

He continued inching forward, his movements measured and deliberate, giving you time to adjust with each small push. By the time he was fully seated inside you, your breaths were coming in shallow gasps, but you could feel the tension in your body beginning to ease.

Dick stayed still for a moment, his forehead resting against yours. His hands moved up to cradle your face as he kissed you softly, his lips tender and warm. “You feel so damn good,” he murmured against your lips before trailing kisses down your jawline and neck.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered between kisses, his words laced with affection as he peppered your skin with soft touches. His hands stroked your sides gently, grounding you while his lips worked to soothe any lingering discomfort.

“You’re everything,” he added, his voice low and filled with emotion, as though each word was meant to make you feel as cherished as possible.

The warmth of his presence, the tenderness of his touch, and the sincerity in his words made it impossible not to relax completely. Your body adjusted to him, the initial discomfort fading into something far more intimate and fulfilling.

Dick’s thrusts began slow and deliberate, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he slid in and out of your hole. Each thrust was careful, as if he were gauging your every reaction, ensuring you were comfortable. The initial stretch had given way to a new sensation—fullness that sent sparks of pleasure radiating through you with every deliberate motion.

Your hands clutched at the sheets, your knuckles whitening as you let out a shaky moan. The heat building in your core only intensified as Dick’s strokes grew deeper, his pace gradually increasing. His hands gripped your hips firmly, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to anchor you but not hurt. He adjusted his angle slightly, and the next thrust hit a spot that made your back arch off the mattress and a louder moan escape your lips.

“That’s it,” Dick murmured, his voice a deep, encouraging rasp that sent shivers through your body. “Let me hear you.”

Your moans grew more unrestrained as his movements became more confident, each stroke deeper and more precise than the last. His body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin adding to the growing intensity. The sound of your bodies moving together—his labored breathing, your gasps, the rhythmic creak of the mattress—filled the dimly lit room, creating an atmosphere of pure intimacy.

“Dick,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips as the pleasure built higher. His response was a low groan, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. His lips were warm, insistent, and grounding, keeping you tethered to him even as your body felt like it might unravel from the sensations he was creating.

Every thrust felt like a wave crashing through you, each one pulling you further under, until all you could do was cling to him and let him take you where he wanted.

“Say it again,” Dick whispered in your ear, his voice low and full of need. His thrusts grew faster, deeper, his breath hot against your skin. “Say my name.”

“Dick,” you moaned, your voice breaking as another thrust sent a wave of pleasure surging through you. “Ugh, Dick—”

He growled softly at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you up from the bed. In one fluid motion, he shifted, sitting back on his knees with you straddling him. Your legs remained tightly wrapped around his waist, your bodies pressed together as his hands slid up your back, anchoring you against him.

You didn’t need any encouragement. Your body took over, moving instinctively as you began to rise and fall along his dick. Each motion sent him deeper inside you, filling you completely, and your moans grew louder, spilling into his ear with every movement.

The sensation was overwhelming—the stretch, the heat, the way his hands gripped your hips to guide you as you moved. But before another moan could escape, Dick silenced you with a kiss. His lips crashed into yours, passionate and demanding, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice raw with emotion and desire. “I love you so fucking much.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, your heart racing as you whimpered in response. “I love you too, Dick. I love you.”

The rhythm between you grew faster, more desperate, as your body tightened around him. The pleasure was building, an unstoppable crescendo that left you trembling in his arms. You buried your face in his neck, gasping out, “I’m close. Faster, baby. Please.”

His lips brushed your ear as he chuckled softly, his voice deep and intoxicating. “As you wish.”

With that, he tightened his grip on your hips and thrust upward with renewed intensity, meeting each of your movements with precision. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breathing and the steady slap of your bodies moving together. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, your nails digging into his shoulders as you held on for dear life.

Dick’s lips found yours again, his kisses feverish and consuming as he whispered words of love and encouragement between each kiss.

Your entire body tensed as the pleasure reached its peak, and you let out a cry of pure bliss, your climax washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Dick’s thrusts didn’t falter for a moment. If anything, they became more relentless, each one deeper and more deliberate than the last. His breathing grew heavier, his body pressing firmly against yours as his rhythm quickened. The telltale tension in his muscles and the soft groans spilling from his lips signaled that he was nearing his own climax, but he didn’t let up.

His lips never left your skin, moving from your mouth to your neck and back again, as though grounding himself in the intimacy of the moment. Each kiss was full of raw passion, his lips trailing heat and leaving you breathless.

“You feel so good,” Dick murmured against your ear, his voice strained and low. “So perfect.”

The intensity of his thrusts made it impossible to form coherent words. Your body arched instinctively, your hands clutching at his back as he held you tightly against him. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten, his fingers digging in slightly as his movements became more erratic, more desperate.

“Y/N,” he groaned, your name rolling off his tongue in a deep, guttural tone that sent shivers through you.

A moment later, he buried himself to the hilt, his hips pressing flush against yours as he reached his breaking point. The warmth of his release filled you, a rush of heat that made you gasp. His head fell against your shoulder, his breath ragged as he rode out the waves of his climax, his body trembling slightly against yours.

Even then, his lips continued their tender assault, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder and up to your neck. His voice was a low whisper, almost inaudible over the sound of your labored breathing.

“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d hit you,” you breathed out, your voice heavy with exhaustion but tinged with playful annoyance.

Dick chuckled, his warm breath ghosting over your neck as he pressed a soft kiss to your skin. “Why?” he asked, his tone light and teasing. “What did I do this time?”

“You robbed me of four years of amazing sex,” you replied matter-of-factly, shooting him a tired glare that only made him laugh harder.

His laughter was rich and unrestrained, his chest vibrating against yours as he leaned back just enough to lift his head from your neck. His gaze locked onto yours, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. Without warning, he captured your lips in a kiss so passionate and full of promise that it left you breathless all over again.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was wicked, and his voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Oh, baby, we’re just getting started,” he said, his hand sliding down your side possessively. “I hope you don’t have plans in the morning.”

You barely had time to process the meaning of his words before his lips were on you again, igniting another round of passion that carried you both well into the night.

By the time morning rolled around, the two of you were sprawled on the floor of his living room, completely spent. The apartment bore the evidence of your nocturnal escapades: furniture slightly askew, scattered pillows, and discarded clothes littering the space. The air was still faintly warm from the fire you’d burned through the night.

Dick’s strong arms were wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close as if afraid you might disappear. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, your breaths soft and even against his skin. His chin rested gently atop your head, and both of you wore blissful smiles as the sunlight began to filter through the curtains.

The world outside was quiet, but in that moment, everything felt perfectly complete. There, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared intimacy, you both slept peacefully, content in a way you hadn’t been in years.

[sofiareidings]

Falling For You

Summary: Spencer is completely oblivious to how madly in love you are. That's it. Warnings: fluff and swearing.

A/N: I feel like this idea has been done before, so if I subconsciously copied a fic, let me know!! Also, I didn't mean to do it, but this story is technically spencerxgn!reader so. Also, i'm back!! Another story is coming out at 9pm EST, so be ready!!!

Word Count: 0.9k

Song Suggestions: Wildest Dreams (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

You two clicked immediately. It was strange, you were both so opposite. I guess that's what made it work. What he lacked you made up for and reversed. Not many other people knew much about your personal life except for him. Your favourite thing about him was his words. Everytime he rambled about the most random times you could listen forever.

Whenever he looked at you, you melted. When he smiled your face burned from blushing. And whenever he talked you just wanted to kiss him. But you had no clue if he felt the same. For a genius he was quite oblivious to your flirting and comments. If he liked you he definitely had a good way of hiding it.

There was only one issue.

***

The movie was about halfway through and you made sure to turn the couch into a bed, Spencer had come over to watch it with you. If someone asked you tomorrow morning what the movie was about you wouldn't be able to say, he'd been talking the whole time.

"...That actually isn't correct," He started, moving his hands around for emphasis. "In the wild, there are two formally recognised lion subspecies. The African lion is found in Africa, south of the Sahara desert. The Asiatic lion exists in one small population around Gir Forest National Park in western India. Wild lions in the west and central Africa are more closely related to these Asiatic lions in India than to those found in southern and east Africa. So realistically the characters would be..."

Listening to him talk was like heaven, but at the same time it was hell. He just looked so huggable.

No, kissable. The butterflies in your stomach made you giggle, he paused and frowned. Looking like a lost puppy.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" Stumbling over the words as he spoke, you stopped laughing and grabbed his hands while smiling.

"No, no you didn't. It was just…cute." You muttered.

"Thank you?" A confused look on his face when he responded. Your heart shattered a little, that was obvious wasn't it? Did his feelings not reciprocate? "Oh! Also, manes on male lions tell a story. Male lions grow impressive manes the older they get. These manes grow up to 16 cm long and are a sign of dominance. The older they get, the darker their manes go. As well as attracting females, their manes may also protect…"

His words trailed off again and he stared at you. "You keep being weird. You're all red. Did I say something wrong? I know that sometimes I speak for too long and I go on and on, which annoys people-" He sighed, "And I'm doing it now. I'm sorry."

"No, please. I love when you talk. It's calming." Grinning, you continued, "So what about protection?"

"Oh, um…manes can also protect their neck and head from injuries during a fight." He slowed down his speaking, like he was a little self-conscious about his words now. When he stopped talking everything was silent, except for the sound of the movie quietly playing on the TV in front of you.

"Spence? What's wrong?" Tilting your head and looking at him, he was staring at the TV but he didn't seem to be watching it. Just thinking, his eyebrows furrowed like they normally did while he was deep in thought. "What are you thinking about?"

"Have you been flirting with me?" He blurted out, looking back up and at you. You almost jumped, not expecting that question.

"What?" Still in shock it took you a minute to respond. Letting the silence fill the air again, he didn't speak. He just stared, waiting for an answer. "I-What would you think if I was?"

"I would've wished I'd noticed sooner." He sighed, making that puppy-dog face you loved. Neither of you really knew what to do and sat there for what you would believe could've been hours.

"Fuck it." You breathed out and as if he knew what you were thinking as well he leaned in at the same time as you, kissing you softly. After a couple seconds you felt his hands wrap around your face, holding it as he kissed more.

Your hands didn't know where to go, after a couple more seconds they finally found their place, one around the back of his neck and the other tucked around his waist. Pulling you closer to him.

A couple seconds later you both moved away from each other, only long enough to catch your breaths and muttering random words. Before you knew it the both of you were back to kissing, to make up for how long you guys spent not kissing.

The longer it went the closer to each other you got, his one hand started to slide down your neck and then your waist when suddenly your hand hit a button and the movie that was still playing turned up to full volume.

Both scrambling for the remote he managed to shut the TV off, surrounding you both in the darkness of the night.

The two of you continued to kiss every once in a while but it didn't take long for the darkness to make you both sleepy and you ended up just cuddling. You fell asleep with your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. He had one hand holding you close to him, as if someone was coming to steal you away. The other hand tracing up and down your back until he too, drifted off to sleep.

[beansmack2021]

Scrambled Eggs [Winchester!Sis!]

TW: Mentions of death, child abandonment/neglect, basically Sam completely abandons the reader after Dean's death (ignoring canon quite a bit, mb)

Dean didn't know where he was. He'd walked half a mile in every direction to see if he could find anything that'd give him a clue about his location, but there was nothing. He didn't have his phone on him, probably directly related to the fact that he had to claw his way up from underground. Unless some sick bastard decided to bury him alive (unfortunately more likely in his field of work than you think), then he'd died. He'd died and his younger siblings were left to bury him.

He probably would've been burned, but Y/N/N and Sammy were probably holding onto the fact that he'd come back before, so maybe he would this time, too. Y/N... he had no clue how long he'd been gone. She was only 15 when he'd apparently gone belly-up, she could be in her early twenties by now. He had no way of knowing until he saw her for himself.

He'd been wandering around for probably an hour or two, and he'd finally decided to just start yelling. "Cas!" Nothing. He cupped his hands around his mouth as if that'd make him louder. "Cas!" Still, absolutely nothing. 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵, 𝘊𝘢𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶?

As if that was all it took to summon the angel, a bright light appeared behind him and he turned to see Castiel, still clad in his brown trench-coat. "Dean." He seemed relieved, not hesitating to embrace him, even though Dean was covered in dirt and grime. Dean gave Cas a look that told him to give him nothing but the truth. "How long have I been gone?"

"Six months. It's October 14th, now." Dean nodded. He hadn't been gone too long. He briefly considered that he may or may not have missed his little sister's sixteenth birthday. "You wanna give me a lift home?" The angel grabbed his bicep and there was a flash of light before they were standing in the main entrance to the bunker.

"Y/N?" Cas called. "I'm in the kitchen! Dinner's almost done!" Dean quirked his brow, following the angel down the stairs. "Since when does she know how to cook?" Cas glanced at him, trying to steel his expression, but Dean could tell something was up when he'd said "a few months ago" and left it at that.

"Wait here," Cas said when they were just out of view from the stove, where Y/N was making... scrambled eggs? "Eggs again?" Though Cas was posing it as a question, it seemed like he knew the answer. There was an uncomfortable silence before he heard a soft "it's all we had."

All they had? Sam hadn't taken the kid grocery shopping? "Might need more milk soon. There isn't too much left in here." She shakes carton of milk, and Dean can hear that there isn't much sloshing around in it. She tried to smile, but he could see that it was just a facade. He knew her tells, he could read her dejection. He didn't understand. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘚𝘢𝘮?

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a small thud and a whispered "Shit." He watched as Y/N grabbed some paper towels and dropped to her knees, sniffling as she started wiping up a puddle of milk. Before he knew what was happening, he was in front of her, taking the wad of wet paper towels from her hand. "Hey now, kiddo. No use crying over spilled milk." She stumbled back, startled, her eyes widening as she took in his face.

She stared at him, stunned, not saying anything for several heartbeats. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, opened it again, and still said nothing. "It's me, baby. It's me. I'm here." Tears welled in her eyes as she dove at him, tightly wrapping her arms around his middle. They stayed like that for a minute, before Castiel said "Y/N, your eggs are done."

She sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. "Oh, right." She stood up slowly, grabbing the pan and turning off the stovetop. She scraped some eggs onto one of the two plates she'd set out, looked back at Dean, smiled to herself and scraped some eggs onto the other plate. Cas sat to her left, and Dean moved to sit at the chair on the other side of the plate she'd set before she stopped him. "What are you doing over there? This one is for you."

Dean looked at Cas for a second, then back at his little sister. "Isn't that one for Sammy?" She shook her head, shoveling some of the food into her mouth. She ate as if she were starving, the fork barely passing her lips before it was scooping up some more egg. "She, uh, set a place for you every night." Castiel was still awkward, more than he can tend to be usually.

"For a while, it was just me and Cas. It's nice to have someone else who actually eats to sit with me. No offense, Cas." Dean dropped the fork he'd just picked up. He snaps his head between Cas and Y/N. "Just you and Cas? Alright. What the hell is going on? Where is Sam?"

Y/N swallowed, wiped her mouth and shrugged. Dean's eyes bored into Cas's skull as he waited for an answer. "He's tried to stay off-the-grid. He doesn't want to be found. He said he needed to get-" Dean cut him off. "Where is he, Cas?"

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

Dean was pissed. He didn't have his car (Sam took it with him), so Cas had to transport the three of them to the dingy apartment complex his brother was supposedly staying in. He saw Baby, got even angrier, and stormed into the building to find Sam. He banged on the door and felt Y/N's hand slip onto his own. He glanced at her, and could see that she was unsure about meeting Sam. That made him even angrier.

The door was yanked open and they were met with Sam rubbing his eyes and squinting. He immediately dropped his hand. "Dean?" Dean snapped, letting go of Y/N's hand and grabbing Sam's collar.

"What the hell, Sam? You just up and leave her the minute I'm gone? You take the car, leave her with basically nothing, and you come to this piss-shack? Did you know that she was running out of food? Probably not, you didn't bother to check on her yourself. All she had left were some God damn eggs. Cas doesn't have actual money, and she didn't have a car to go out and try to hustle whenever she was alone."

"I kept the bunker clean." She mumbled from next to him. "What was that, sweetie?" Dean turned away from screaming in Sam's face to give Y/N his full attention. "I kept the bunker clean. I know he doesn't like messes. I thought maybe he'd come back so I'd didn't want it to be messy." Dean let go of Sam's collar, and Sam rubbed his neck. "Y/N, listen-"

"No, you don't talk to her. Right now, you're talking to me. What if something got into the bunker? Something she couldn't take on alone?" Sam was sinking into himself, looking truly guilty for the first time since they'd gotten there. "You fucking left her. She was alone other than when Cas visited once every, what? Three days? I died, you bastard. I didn't get a choice in whether or not I'd leave her. You did, and you chose wrong. Fucking apologize."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I just couldn't-" Dean grabbed his collar again. "Did I ask you to explain yourself to her? No. You'll be explaining to me, later. Let's try this again."

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have left you. I'm sorry."

Y/N just stared forward for a minute. "I know."

[tangyangie]

Hello!! I have a request if I may how about an s/o that has a crush on Karma and it's obvious but Karma always rejects them so s/o starts to move on and then that's when Karma realizes that he loves them.

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭 🍥

desc. karma x gn!reader that had a crush on him, but rejects them. they move on, when karma realizes his feelings for them.

notes. i'm not sure if this was supposed to have an ending or not so i just left it kind of... tell me if there's anything you want changed i totally will!

you were always teasing each other.

with the amount of time you guys spent flirting, it was inevitable that at least one of you would fall in love.

and, oh, i guess you were the lucky one.

you're constantly making suggestive jokes to each other. it's not your fault you were getting mixed signals.

you were crazy for him!! you thought he was too.

you even told all of the others in class.

"i think he likes me back, but i'm not sure."

"are you kidding?? he's totally in love."

at one point, you had been ready to confess. but, you got nervous. and crapped out.

you kept giving him hints, but he either never took them, or he ignored them. you couldn't figure out which.

it was so nerve wrecking. karma was impossible to read, so you had no clue if he actually liked you back or was just being friendly.

so... you decided to test the waters.

you passed him a note during class. wasn't out of the ordinary for you guys, but the contents were.

you asked him to go out for a picnic. you thought that you'd act super mushy and romantic, hopefully wringing a confession from him.

and.. your plan was beginning to work. karma agreed to meet you, and you were being really touchy.

he noticed the hints this time, as well as the heat on your face. he took a breath, and said:

"uh, y/n... you know i don't like you like that, right?"

...ouch.

you played it off like a pro, laughing and teasing him for even thinking that. but, god, did it hurt.

he noticed. your smile wasn't as genuine as normal, and your eyebrows were turning downwards.

luckily, you were able to escape before things got too awkward.

and you were not someone to laze around all day out of rejection. you moved to get past this, hopefully finding a way to forget about him and move on.

you surrounded yourself with other people. some people questioned why you weren't hanging out with karma anymore.

but you just didn't want your feelings to affect your relationship that bad.

so, after a few week, you successfully began to rid yourself of your crush. karma didn't look like anything more than a friend anymore.

and so... you exposed yourself back into the dating pool.

you met this one guy who you really liked, who seemed almost... similar to karma, in a way. he was quite possessive and teasing, but he was kind. (mostly)

karma definitely noticed.

"who's that?" he says.

"...what do you mean?"

"he's... never mind."

he'd walk away and separate himself from you once more.

but this time, it wasn't for the same reasons as before, no.

this time, it's because he had fallen for you the same way you did for him.

and he just now realized, when it was too late.

notes: i am sososoososssoSOOO sorry for how long the requests are taking you guys 😭😭 i have been so busy the last couple weeks and have had literally no free days... so i swear i'll get them out asap 🙏

[vickyvicarious]

"[Dracula] certainly left me under the impression that he would have made a wonderful solicitor, for there was nothing that he did not think of or foresee. For a man who was never in the country, and who did not evidently do much in the way of business, his knowledge and acumen were wonderful."

More evidence that Dracula's later actions are results of planning!

Indeed! Dracula's preparations for this trip are very thorough. I think that it would probably be correct to assume that he has a whole long-term strategy that, luckily, never gets put into play. I get the feeling a lot of his plan is banking heavily on people not knowing him. Not just what he is, but also who he is. This is what makes Jonathan's survival and Mina's willingness to reach out to Van Helsing so crucial, actually. Because without Jonathan recognizing Dracula in the street, the most Van Helsing and the suitors would have ever been able to do is stop vampire!Lucy. They had no idea where to look for the one who did that to her. It was a total dead end. Jack had clues, yes, but he really hadn't put them together at all - even after he was convinced on vampires, he was surprised to hear Jonathan say Renfield's behavior was linked to Dracula's. Even if people knew what Dracula was, without knowing who he is and where to find him, they couldn't do anything to stop him.

Similarly, Jonathan (and thus Mina) knew who Dracula was, but it took that outside confirmation that Jonathan's experience of what he was, really happened and was trustworthy. In this case, they may have sought confirmation of their own eventually even without linking up with the others (I can't picture Mina outright dismissing Jonathan's experiences, either by denying them altogether or by putting him in an asylum or what-have-you; I could see her trying to look into it on her own without telling him until she had some kind of proof/confirmation to offer one way or the other) - but it would have been way more cautious and gradual, and thus Dracula would have had time to get his boxes scattered more. They also lacked the knowledge of how to fight him off, and so even if they became convinced very quickly, without the others they would have to start the research from the beginning which would slow them down. And even then, they lacked the resources and manpower that the suitor squad gave them. It would all take a lot more time. And if Dracula had more time to establish himself... He'd have multiple houses which no one person knew the location of, he'd have his dirt boxes in each one. He'd have, eventually, other vampires risen as well, who could potentially create more vampires in turn. He might have the time/inclination to infiltrate society more once his boltholes were established, creating social pressure not to go after him or consequences for doing so.

Going after him in such a rush was necessary, because he'd get exponentially harder to defeat or even drive off as more time passed. And if people weren't already prepared to do so with appropriate knowledge and resources... it might be too late. And that's exactly what was supposed to happen. Jonathan was supposed to be left in the Castle, either dead or undead, and all his knowledge with him. Mr. Hawkins may have been a target as well, possibly even his other lawyers. Lucy, and his other eventual victims (pretty girl in Piccadilly, etc.), were supposed to succumb to what seemed like a mysterious illness without anyone being the wiser about the true cause of death. And it probably would have worked, without the coincidence of Jack knowing Van Helsing who was willing to explore all avenues, and Jonathan's incredible survival leading to Mina acquiring his knowledge and putting it to use. No one else knew what was threatening them. No one else knew who was threatening them. And Dracula, as we see in this quote, took plenty of additional precautions to ensure that he wouldn't raise any red flags without that prior knowledge (or at least not any actionable ones).

[aleksanderscult]

Favorite Darkling quotes

I'm gonna write my favorite Darkling quotes 'cause a) I'm bored b) I love him and miss him so much.

Anyways I'm not gonna rate them cause every one of them is fucking iconic (as he is).

Let's get into this!

"Blue sky. Once more. Speak my name once more... Don't let me be alone."

These might be my most favorite quotes of his. His last words. 'Cause with his last breath he showed that he was only human after all. Cruel and damaged, yes. But still human.

There is no safe place. There is no haven. Not for us. There will be, he promised in the darkness, new words written upon his heart. I will make one.

I ADORE these lines. Less than 24 hours ago two Grisha tried to kill him (one of them a supposed friend) and what did he tried to do after that? Create a safe space for his kind in order for them not to go through what they went through. If he's the villain for this then I wish we had this kind of villain in our world.

‌"All men can be made fools."

OKAY OKAY LISTEN. I love this line for two reasons. Firstly, cause it's true. Every person can be made a fool. BUT! Secondly and most importantly, he hints to Mal and Alina (Alina actually cause Mal didn't know he was there) that he was made a fool too because of Alina. He fell in love with her and felt hope for the first time after centuries that this new person would be like him, live with him and spend eternities together. He would no longer be alone. And she seemed that she wanted him too as far as he could tell. And then what happened? She run off, found Mal and turned her back on him and their country. That mostly disappointed him, I think. In a large degree. And he must have thought what a fool he was to trust her and fall for her. Hence that amazing line.

Let me make a mark on this world before I leave it.

And boy did he not make it? Years after his death in R&R and people still talk about him. He made a mark not only on the world but on people too (no pun intended for Genya I swear. I love her😭). He made a huge impact and even antis have to admit that. Actually more than the actual protagonist but anyways *coughthe fact that the villain made bigger impact than the heroes in the storycough*

"Fight me as long as you're able. You will find I have far more practice with eternity."

You fucking iconic legend with your fucking iconic lines. And yes, I believe him. No matter how many decades Alina would fight him, he would be unmovable.

‌"It’s harder when you like them. You mourn them more."

That line is so true. The more you care, the more you get hurt. I'm sorry but a quality that people often overlook about the Darkling is his wisdom. I would sit and listen for hours to him talking about life, love, death and people. After so many centuries he's so knowledgeable.

Also, this line makes me wonder how many people he had loved, lost and mourned. Because obviously he talks from experience. *Sigh* I would die to read a book about his whole life before Alina.

He only wished that it wasn't winter. He wanted to turn his face to the sun and feel it warm him. He'd been a long time in the dark.

Yeah he's cruel and manipulative and the villain and blah, blah, blah. But again this line proves his humanity. He loves the sun (how much are you willing to bet people that his favourite season is Summer😏), he loves the sunlight, its warmth and light (another clue that Alina is his soulmate dc what anyone says). Our baby was resurrected and first things first he wanted his wife beside him and the sun to hit his face (priorities people🥹😍).

"Then I'd be alone too."

(*whispering*don't cry, don't cry, don't cry)

So. Heh. I may have a soft spot for fictional characters that suffer from loneliness. Probably because I have suffered from it too most of my life (🫠). I'm sorry but you can hate him all you want alright? No one can stop you. But people that don't feel an ounce of sympathy or pity for him and what he has gone through are just useless to talk to. Most of all he wants someone to make him company to this endless sea of eternity.

Deep blue like the True Sea. Red like the roofs of the Shu temples. The pure, buttery color of sunlight—not really yellow or gold, what would you call it? All the colors you couldn't see in the dark.

(fuck. lost control of my tears after all)

Baby shadow summoner can control the dark and its blackness and yet he loves all colors that are bright. But most of all the sunlight.

(DARKLINA STANS RISE)

Also, he made the Grisha keftas blue, red and purple because he loved these colors the most, change my mind *sip tea*

‌"Fine. Make me your villain."

Ah, yes. The cult classic one. Honestly, this line makes me feel bad for him. Cause he has tried the peaceful solution so many times (not with just Alina but generally). At this point he's like: "Fuck it. If I have to become a monster then so be it." They leave him no choice and furthermore he's obviously grown tired of trying diplomacy.

"I’ll be certain you hear it when I make her scream."

I froze the first time I read this line but now I laugh every time I do. Here he shows how petty he can be and how much shame he doesn't have (in your face Mal😚).

‌"My Alina. You cannot run from me."

OKAY LISTEN

I know it sounds creepy but "my Alina" and "I'll always find you" MY DARKLINA HEART GUYS

‌"I know what you thought, what you always thought of me. It's so much easier that way, isn't it?"

My strategic baby. But this line is also sad. Cause he knows how Alina views him and, even if he hides it well, deep down I bet it hurts him.

‌"You two have a bad habit of acting like fools and calling it heroic."

Isn't that the truth tho? Our boy spitting facts once again. Also this line can be applied to other characters from different fandoms as well.

‌"I seem to be a victim of my own wishes where you are concerned."

TRANSLATION: I TEND TO FORGET ABOUT THE WORLD-DOMINATION PLAN CAUSE I WANT TO BE WITH YOU, LIVE WITH YOU, LOVE YOU, MARRY YOU, HAVE 7 KIDS WITH YOU AND DRINK SOME TEA ON THE PORCH TOGETHER WHILE THE SUNLIGHT HITS US

TRANSLATION NO2: I GOT MY ASS KICKED CAUSE I WAS TOO BUSY THINKING THAT I WAS KISSING YOU AND WOULD FINALLY HAVE THAT WEDDING THAT I WAS PLANNING BABE

Is this line a kind of love confession or what? 🥺🙃

‌"We all have our secrets."

Mostly I love this line cause it just sounds cool. But after I read the book for a second time I realized that it could tie with the "Demon in the Woods" book. It's a nice little nod. If you get it, you get it😉.

‌Why did you go to her? Because with her he was human again.

A nice (though bittersweet) little way to end this post. 🥹

With Alina he felt human again. That part that was buried deep beneath him and rarely if not ever got out. Do you remember how she made him laugh with her honest remarks on "Shadow and Bone"? How his eyes closed and his breath stopped when she reached to stroke his cheek on R&R? How he broadly smiled when she laughed about how common his name was? That was Aleksander Morozova (especially that last part). The boy that grew up forcefully and was thrown to a cruel world too soon, too violently. They were these 400+ years that made him cruel. It was eternity that broke him. Loneliness and pain that made him withdraw. Until Alina came. And she could bring to the surface that buried, broken boy. And it felt good to him (although inconvenient too). She made him feel vulnerable. And when he was resurrected he seeked her out to feel that way again. Human.

*sigh*

Thanks for coming to my ted talk guys. 😔✌️

Feel free to write in the comments your own favorite quotes of him 😊❤️

[jakes3resin]

For the ABO trope I'm such a sucker for courting hc/fics. What's your hc for how Gale courts Bucky? How long were they friends before Gale decides that "yes this is the one, this is the one I'm gonna marry and have babies with" then promptly have a tiny bit (massive) panic attack because how does one go about courting an omega like John Clarence Egan???

I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED! I also love courting fics, so I've thought long and hard about this.

In regards to how and when Buck decides to court Bucky, I think it's Curt who kicks his ass into gear. Gale would never be able to make himself reach out like that to Bucky because Bucky is so perfect and has never seemed to want to settle down like that in Gale's eyes. Curt knows better. He says something along the lines of "If you don't do it soon, I'm gonna. And I'm gonna romance the shit out of him until he forgets your name." (Not that Bucky ever would forget about his Buck, but the threat is enough to have Gale actually scared to his boots.) (Also I hc Curt as an Omega, and Bucky isn't so waylaid by stereotypes about if Omegas can court each other, so if Curt tried, he may have actually accepted. Gale knows this. Gale fears this.)

Gale is an emotionally repressed kind of guy who needs his ass kicked into gear (please see the train scene where he doesn't confess his love and friendship to Bucky until he actually thinks they're both gonna die), and he turns into the world's biggest anxious mess now that he has decided to court Bucky. It keeps him up at night.

Buck starts to anonymously court Bucky when they're still in the US, before they're both Majors, but after flight school, I think. They've been friends a while, and Buck's been in love with Bucky nearly the whole time, I'd say.

He's still too unsure of himself to loudly declare himself, so he wants to quietly and softly court Bucky for now. He leaves a small bundle of flowers (baby's breathe and white carnations) on Bucky's bunk with a small unsigned letter asking permission to court him, which Bucky spends the whole day crowing about. Bucky stares at those flowers like they're the prettiest things in the world, showing them off to anyone who walks by. Curt jokingly snags a branch of baby's breath and tucks a few of the buds in Bucky's curls, which nearly sends Buck to his knees. Bucky starts to do that whenever he can, and boy does he look like a vision with pretty curls and pretty flowers. Buck leaves more flowers on his pillow, and Bucky wears them.

Gale has to write Marge for help because he's losing his mind, and if he asks Curt, Curt will say what he would do, which Gale can't handle because he's possessive and still scared Curt will make good on his threats. She says to just talk to Bucky, which Gale can't do because he's an idiot.

Buck starts to leave more letters for Bucky with more flowers and things that remind Gale of Bucky (a ribbon the same shade of blue as Bucky's eyes, a book about baseball, new laces for his boots because Bucky was complaining about them, things that show he cares and listens to Bucky). It's only once Bucky actually learns that he'll be heading to England first that Buck starts to ramp things up. It sends him into a bit of tailspin when he learns Bucky is going to be alone in England for weeks without him. Marge urges him to make his move, and Curt stares at him with a clear look of 'now or never idiot,' so he makes his move. He leaves a scented blanket on his bunk, as close as he can get to signing his name really.

Buck hides out waiting for Bucky to find the blanket and find him. He's actually scared Bucky will reject him, so he goes where he thinks no one will find him at the edge of one of the runways. But of course Bucky finds him, and Bucky tackles him in a hug, giddy and happy that the person he'd loved since they met was asking to court him.

"Took you long enough," Bucky breathes out just before he dips down and kisses Buck for the first time. Bucky hadn't had any clue about who was courting him, but he'd had one person he wanted it to be.

Just before Bucky leaves for England, Buck gives him a small silver ring with one sapphire and one turquoise stone inlaid (both stones are considered like wearing a piece of the sky which is just too poetic for me to handle). It's their birthstones, and it's the closest Buck can get to a mating mark until after the war. Bucky loops the ring onto his dog tags, and when he misses Buck, he presses the ring to his lips. (Not to make this angst, but when Bucky thinks Buck had gone down/died, he shakily pulls the ring off the chain and puts it on his finger. Wearing it is the closest he can get to Buck now, he thinks.)

Thank you for this ask!! I loved writing this, and my inbox is always open for anyone and everyone!

[caspersickfanfics]

I’ve been thinking about seasick Cyno again, and particularly how picky he would be with food leading up to the days before they left again? Like as established he’d be anxious as hell the day or two before leaving and that would make him feel sick to his stomach all ready (even tho he wouldn’t clock it as anxiety) but because he’s not feeling so well he’s dodging inazuma delicacies left and right. Maybe it’s around then that he finally confronts Tighnari worries he’s gotten a bug or something, or maybe it’s his lack of appetite that clues Tighnari in on how wound up Cyno is feeling. Maybe Kaveh encourages him in a very casual kaveh way to eat some rice and light soups since- he has to eat *something*. Eventually it comes down to Cynos logic being “I won’t feel sick on the boat if I don’t eat anything” which is just not how that works at all. I feel like it would be a great chance for some of Tighnari to be like ‘gentle lecture mode’ to help explain to cyno why he needs to make sure he’s well rested and has good nutrition in him etc etc…it may not change anything for cyno lol cuz anxiety…and motion sickness…is a bitch. But idk I think it’s funny to see Cyno picky cuz he definitely doesn’t seem the type at all. Like man’s knows the importance of eating well because the healthier he is the better he can do his job. Honeslty I’m wondering which would be harder on him, dealing with getting sick the first time or knowing he’s likely to get sick going back. Cuz on the one hand he probably had a normal sized meal before leaving and- well we’ve talked lots about how he handles the motion the first time. But on the way back…the dread??? The knowing he’s not at the top of his game cuz he already feels queasy from the fear?? Knowing he can’t protect his loved ones as well. Maybe it’s just different kinds of hell for him lol 😂. Poor baby. I love him so much 😭

HELLO it has taken me actual ages to respond to this ask I'm so sorry!! I like this idea so much. Completely out of character for Cyno, Kaveh's fretting over him to the point that even Alhaitham steps in to be like "this is very illogical behavior" which is true but also unintentionally obnoxious to everyone involved.

I could absolutely see Tighnari getting exasperated with Cyno at this point, too. He'd see right through him, know exactly what he's trying to do, but maybe wouldn't pick up on the anxiety bit right away because Cyno isn't typically one to get anxious about travel or even illness. And Cyno's probably dodgy about it, too, maybe he thinks it's silly to worry about such things, maybe he's actually convinced himself that he is being logical about this in some way, but it gets to a point where Tighnari is frustrated, because he's explained time and time again why going into a long boat trip on an empty stomach is bad news, and Cyno's just getting more and more anxious because they're supposed to understand each other, and if Tighnari's right (he always is), then he has to admit to himself that he has little to no control over any of this.

It all culminates in the kind of anxiety attack that could really just be nothing, if it didn't feel so bad. His heart is racing, his chest hurts, and Tighnari notices him trembling. Then he picks up on Cyno's unsteady, quick breaths, the sweat running down his temples, the way his eyes dart around like he's looking for some kind of escape route. He has Cyno sit down just as he starts becoming lightheaded, and has the thought at the same time as he says it aloud: "You're scared."

From there, the pieces click into place. Cyno isn't saying he's sick because he's looking for excuses; it's because he actually feels ill. All of Tighnari's logic isn't helping because it's not addressing the core issue. Tighnari doesn't know how to help, but it turns out that putting a name to the fear is a good place to start.

seasick!Cyno post 1

seasick!Cyno post 2

[butterfrogmantis]

A roaring, rushing sound. A warm, pleasant place, lingering for only a few moments and then ... cold. Darkness. Silence.

Then a low hum, slowly increasing in volume and clarity and he could see a hooded figure above him, as well as the inside of a complex stony cave.

"It worked ... can you hear me? Can you remember anything?"

"Rrrr" The confused reply came.

"Hm" The hooded figure took a small book out of a satchel tied about his waist and began taking notes, talking aloud to himself as he did so. "Day 1 - experiment seems to be a success. The skeleton is alive. Unclear how much - if any - memory it has. Unclear if it understands speech"

The hooded figure slipped the notebook back into his satchel and turned to face the rather confused figure lying where he'd left him.

"Listen skeleton, I am Necromancer Smurf. I have restored you. In return, you are to help me with my experiments. Do you understand speech?"

The skeleton's glowing yellow eyes blinked and he made a guttural noise from the glow about his throat.

Disappointing, Necromancer thought. Here he was accomplishing the forbidden arts and yet his first step would be to train his creation like a toddler. Still, the process of revival had sapped much of his strength, and this may be the time needed to restore it. After all, such greatness couldn't be rushed.

***

Sorcerer carefully descended into the cave, running a hand along the rocky wall for guidance. The old diaries he'd found from a Necromancer Smurf many centuries ago seemed to have implied he left the village for this very island. And perhaps this island held the next set of clues about the achievements he made in life. As morally questionable as he was, Necromancer had to have been a fascinating man, and if any of his findings were useful to the Smurfs then Sorcerer found it made sense to bring those discoveries back for examination.

At the end of the cave, Sorcerer brushed aside a piece of fabric that was hung like a curtain and held his torch aloft. Jackpot. Piles of old books, papers, rudimentary carved desks. Jars of bones and items of unidentifiable origins. Sorcerer made his way to one of the books and picked it up.

"Hm, that's strange. None of these books are dusty .."

Actually, the whole cave was rather clean. Suspiciously so, considering Necromancer had already been an older Smurf a couple of generations before. Perhaps it was something magical in the cave. Sorcerer flipped to a random page in the middle of the notebook he was holding and began to read.

"It grows weaker by the day, I fear my creation will not last much longer on small sacrifices alone. If it is to fail, then I am to commit the ultimate sacrifice. I am an old and weak Smurf now, and I refuse to let my accomplishments go in vain. I will sooner defy Death before I ever meet them in their kingdom."

Well that was ominous. What an earth was Necromancer's creation, let alone the ‘ultimate sacrifice’. Maybe one of the other books had the answer. Sorcerer was reaching for another one when a voice startled him.

“Hey! You there – oh my Smurf, you’re a Smurf!”

Sorcerer whipped around, knowing it couldn’t possibly be Necromancer himself - even Smurfs don’t live that long. But when the light of the torch fell upon the figure, Sorcerer wished it had been.

If it wasn’t for sheer shock keeping him rooted to the spot in sheer terror, Sorcerer might have fainted then and there. It was impossible. It was shocking. It was … amazing how this pile of bones was talking to him right now. A tall, skeletal figure with hollow sockets and glowing golden pupils loomed over him. Well partly skeletal. Sorcerer couldn’t help but notice the blue skin that still clung to some of his form. Had this … creature been a Smurf? “N-Necromancer?” Sorcerer croaked out quietly once he’d gotten over his initial shock.

“Necr- no no silly that was my old master, he’s long gone if you’re looking for that guy. But hey you’re a Smurf! And I don’t get many visitors – well some guys come to the island every few years or so but they always seem to run away for some reason, you must be different!”

The creature held out a bony hand in what looked like a friendly enough gesture.

“I’m Skeleton Smurf. Friends would call me Skelly - if I had any, actually that’s mostly what I call myself. I have to talk to myself here, I’d go CRAZY if I didn’t, do you have any idea how long I’ve been here? No me neither. A long time. Anyway it’s great to see another Smurf after so long!”

Sorcerer had stopped listening half way through because his mind and heart were racing with anticipation. He’d set out to bring books back to the village. He had no idea what Papa would have to say about this discovery.

***

“How do – erm hi, sorry”

Skelly turned his head. A shorter Smurf wearing beige that he’d not seen before was standing just behind him, fiddling nervously with the strap of his shoulder bag. He was very clearly addressing Skelly, but seemed nervous about his approach.

Since coming to the village a few weeks ago most Smurfs except Sorcerer and Papa had avoided him like the plague, so this was new. Skelly’s curiosity was peaked even before the stranger began speaking again.

“T’is awkward … err well when a’ heard Sorcerer had brought back a skeleton a while ago a was curious y’see, a just didn’t realise it t’were a er, well um…”

“Living one?” Skelly grinned, now turning to face the Smurf with the strange hat directly.

“Reet! A mean tha’s crazy – not you! Am sure yer a great fella, a just meant – ah, what am tryna say is - Am Archaeologist Smurf”

Archaeologist held out an awkward hand for the skeleton to shake.

“Youse can call me Archie, everyone else does. Tha’s my thing – archaeology; history, old pots, bones, am kind of an expert on all tha’”

“Ah I get it” Skelly’s yellow eyes glowed brighter for a second. A Smurf who was interested rather than terrified was a good start “You think I’m fascinating!”

“Err, well in an archaeological sense”

“Good, it’s about time someone recognised it” Skelly thrust his non-boney hand into Archie’s outstretched one and shook it enthusiastically “Call me Skelly – everyone else does! I like you Arch-of-ology Smurf, I think we’ll get on just fine”

“Ah, quite” Archie shook his wrist once the skeleton let go; Skelly had a surprisingly strong grip for a guy with no working muscle system. “Erm a ‘ope this isn’t too personal a question, Mr.Skelly, but do you ‘ave any idea ‘ow old you are?”

“Mm .. not really. Sorcerer gave me some numbers on his estimate but I wasn’t really listening, maths has never been my strong thing, why?”

Archie’s eyes lit up for a second.

“Ah, tell me – ‘ave you ever been carbon dated?”

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

First impressions are very important after all

Archie (c) The Smurfs (and Sorcerer technically but adapted by me)

Necromancer and Skelly are mine

[rosebloodcat]

Ramshackle Fits A Little Too Well

(Or, Crewel learns what can happen to a dorm when there is no one taking care of it for 50-some years)

AN: I started writing this one on a lark, but I really liked it so I figured, why not post it? There are a lot of little background things that I haven't gotten into in this story but I may get to them in a later chapter. But I'm down to explain if people ask, so go ahead if you want to know what's up.

I mostly wanted to get into the horrors of a house that's been abandoned for years at a time in this chapter, and I'm quite pleased with them so far.

Maybe I'll get to the rest of the cool things later. XD

AO3 Link!

Crewel wasn't a fan of the Ramshackle Dorm. As far as he was concerned, it was an eyesore on the esteemed Night Raven College's campus. He'd never understood why the Headmage hadn't had the place torn down and replaced with something more useful to the school after the dorm had been shut down.

Although, at the moment, he supposed it was a good thing that he hadn't done that.  Since it gave them a place for the magic-less puppy to stay after the school carriages accidentally snatched him.

(They needed to have that checked out. The carriages picking up people who weren't even students was a problem.)

He was uncouth and unrefined, but at least he seemed to be sensible.

The puppy had taken time to approach each teacher after class and warn them that some of his assignments may be turned in late throughout the year, as he had to do repairs to the dorm he was staying in along with the work he needed to meet the school's criteria. And the unspoken fact that he would be doing all that by hand on his own, as the barely tolerated familiar staying with him would be all-but-useless for such a task.

Crewel did have to give the puppy credit. He wasn't afraid of hard work or getting his hands dirty.

But he had begun to wonder if, perhaps, such a task would be too much for a single student to manage alone.

The buckled floor he'd found when the student led him to the mostly cleaned sitting room certainly suggested it. (Sort of cleaned? It seemed cleaner than the great of the place at the moment. The whole place was still repulsive.) It was the first of many clues as to the house’s state.

Though he couldn't help raising a brow at the chairs lying on their sides near a very large garbage bag. And with the windows wide open as well, the curtains he knew had once been there were gone.

Upon closer inspection of the heaps, he could see rubber gloves and a rather sharp-looking knife lying there as well. The puppy caught the look and let out a huff.

“Yeah, you’re gonna want to sit on the plain wood chairs in here, Prof. Anythin’ with cloth on it is a giant mold patch now thanks to the leaky roof and the cracked windows. I’m carving as much of it off as I can to throw it out.” He rocked back on his heels, nodding to the garbage bag. Well, that explained that. “Might be able to salvage the wood parts, but the cushions are goners. Grim is outside with Ace studying because this shi- er, stuff was making him sick. I’ve been tying a rag that I got from the school store over my face to keep from feeling the same.”

Ah, mold. Yes, that made sense for how old the dorm was and how long it’s been since anyone was staying there. Of course, there would be-  Wait.

“Leaking roof?” he asked, a trickle of alarm in the back of his mind. Water leaks could do a  lot of damage, but when it froze and melted during the winters…

“Oh yeah, the roof’s got a lot of them. Found out during the storm a couple days ago. Had to dig through every closet I could find to get enough buckets for ‘em.” He let out a gusty sigh, scratching at his still-growing mustache. He glanced upward with a grimace. “I’m dreading when I finally get to clearin’ out the top floors of this place. Which is why I wanted to ask you about stuff for clearing out mold.”

He pointed to a door further down the hall, his jaw setting.

“Especially for the bathroom down there. I think one of the old students forgot some medicine in the cabinet when they left the dorm. I wouldn’t be surprised if it could get up and walk by now if it felt like it, so I need something strong to get rid of it. Even if I can’t use the bathrooms very much right now.”

“And what makes you say that?” Crewel asked. Surely the bathrooms weren’t that disgusting.

“Cause the pipes might blow if do.”

What.

“The pipes have probably frozen over multiple times over the years. So it’s probably messed them up a lot.” He continued, not even noticing the way his new teacher had frozen. “If you send pipes into full use after something like that, it can cause the weakened seals to burst, and you can’t just patch ‘em or else you might end up breakin’ them up in your hands. I’d love to hire a pro to take a look at ‘em and see how much can be safely patched and how much would be better off replaced but…”

He shrugged helplessly at Crewel. He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Because of his arrival, he had nothing but the clothes on his back. And he certainly had no money to do all the repairs and refurbishing that Ramshackle needed to be inhabitable for a student. Surely the headmage was allowing some form of budget to cover the boy’s efforts to restore the dorm? He wasn’t expecting the boy to do it all out of his own pocket by working at the school store, was he?

The boy certainly couldn’t ask his parents to help pay for it all…

“And how much of this is our esteemed headmage helping cover?” The puppy tilted his head in confusion. He felt his heart sinking. “The headmage has given you a budget for this work, hasn’t he?”

“No? He hasn’t really said anything about helping cover the repair costs for this place. Ace, uh, one of the Heartsyble guys, has been helping with food ever since he got booted from his dorm for eating a tart from the communal fridge without asking first. Most of it’s dry stock but… Yeah.” He looked a bit uncomfortable, glancing back toward the kitchen.

(By the Seven, he didn’t even want to think about the state of the kitchen if the rest of the building was anything to go by.)

Crewel was rapidly re-evaluating the knowledge he’d had about the dorm, the skills of his student, and the stupidity of the headmage for just dumping a student there without even considering the health and safety risks of them staying there.

He took in a breath, held it, and then slowly let it out.

“We will make a list. Of the essentials needed for this building to be comfortable, and safe to live in for however long you’re going to be here. I will call the needed people to get price evaluations and speak with the headmage about setting a repair budget for your work.” He looked down at the student in front of him, who stilled at the sharpened edge of his gaze. “If you are going to be doing the work restoring this building yourself, then you need the funds to do it right. Now, show me the rooms you’ve been looking at using and we can start building up the basics.”

This was going to be far more work than he had been ready for, never mind a lone, magicless student that had been abducted and left to (practically) fend for themselves. (The dorm barely counted as a safe place to stay in its current state.)

And Crewel fully planned to make Crowly share in the misery as well, until he put in the work to fix it.

(Crowly was not ready for the list of extreme hazards that their student was facing being thrown on his desk by the furious Crewel. But it took very little persuading to set a budget to rebuild the dorm. They could justify why the abandoned dorm needed this much work to the school board later. For now, they needed to ensure their student wasn’t poisoned by airborne mold spores or worse while they were stuck at the school.)

(Cab was just happy when Crewel told him that both a plumber and a handyman had been booked to come by in a few days to take a look at the bathrooms and Kitchen.)

[a-libra-writes]

Oooo so it’s me again. Hello.

I’m back with some more Roose thoughts.

I had read your head cannons on some characters reactions to their wife getting kidnapped forever ago, and also read through them again last night lol. It inspired a one shot, that is still bouncing around in my head and just doesn’t want to be written. I just feel like this would be a big turning point in their relationship. Obviously everyone has heard how cruel and cold Roose can be, and while you haven’t seen much of it, those whispers and rumors had to of made you a little uneasy at the start of your marriage. And when you get kidnapped very unexpectedly, it really made you wonder if Roose would come for you. Like we’re you worth the effort? Was he cruel enough to just leave you to rot and find a new wife? Those thoughts broke your heart, especially with how fond you had become of him. And the whole time you were apart you had not a clue Roose was a mix of absolutely worried about you, and full of extreme amount of rage that someone thought they had the right to take you from him. The wife he spent months convincing and planning to finally make his. The wife he had grown fond of. Ehhh I’m gonna guess maybe you were kidnapped anywhere from like 2 or 5 days? Something like that. Within that time frame Roose had discovered it was a pretty average guard, who had been moving up the ranks and slowly began gaining his trust. Not out of service, but of greed. He wanted land. He wanted coin. Even took out a loan for a unheard of mercenary group to help him hide and ransom you. It didn’t take long for him to find you after that. Roose accompanied by many men, including Ramsey and his hounds had taken your captors by surprise. Many were captured, and wished for death instead as they knew Roose would flay them alive (and he totally did) You had almost though you were dreaming seeing Roose as cool and calm as ever, free you from the ropes that bound you. He reassured you the whole time he was taking you home. Even wrapping his fur cloak around you after doing a quick check for any life threatening wounds. You couldn’t help but cry. You’re here. You came for me. You came for me. Seemed to be the only thing you could say as he carried you to his horse and took you both home. After that, it was undying love and loyalty from you, nothing to be unsure about. Everyone may have their opinions on Roose. But he came for you, he never stopped looking until he found you. In your eyes, it ment the world. Roose even stayed with you days after your return home, Making sure you were in good health, assuring you no one was going to keep you apart ever again… I’m like half asleep so that kinda got sloppy at the end but I hope you get the point lol. Anddd I had more to type but I’m tired haha. I just see Roose saving his wife as a major moment for her, especially after all the rumors about him. And their relationship, he didn’t realize how fond he was of her until she was taken. And he already doesn’t like his possessions taken away from him. And then add something he is fond of and loves. You’re gonna have a bad time when he finds you.

*slaps hands together* thank you for the food. may I return with:

"Roose was a mix of absolutely worried about you, and full of extreme amount of rage that someone thought they had the right to take you from him. The wife he spent months convincing and planning to finally make his"

OH YES …. very correct. This is especially true if this is when he's Warden of the North - this is a direct threat to his new status. He can't afford to show weakness, and he will severely torture and punish who did this. He has to show the North he isn't fucking around. I think there's a slow build of rage boiling in him, he definitely attempts to hide it from his Lady as he rescues her. There's a very strange sense of relief (when's the last time he felt that?) when she's mostly safe and sound.. .though honestly, if she was beaten or worse, he'd still bring her back. "He doesn't like his possessions being taken", indeed. Also, I think a younger Roose (before Domeric) would actually openly rage and even kill someone in front of her. It's the first time she's seen him like that, and probably the last. I fully HC that in his youth and before Domeric, he was more hot-blooded and vengeful. Ramsay got it from somewhere - as it turns out, those empty, icy eyes can look very, very frightening and almost manic.

But yes, this incident would absolutely made a Lady closer to her Lord in normal circumstances, but this is Roose Bolton we're talking about … she was totally justified to think he'd just leave her to her fate.

Also, if this was a plot to undermine him as Warden, he'd become even more ruthless to the Houses he suspected of arranging it. If it was merely a guard who was more intelligent than Roose gave him credit for - I mean ... it wouldn't be shocking if he just culled the whole guard and installed new ones, or killed a few at random to keep them in line. The Lady would certainly have whiplash between the "caring" Roose who delivers her food and treats her wounds, and the one whose just openly executing.

Actually, even his bannerman and bastard son might pick up how severe his reaction to a few days of kidnapping is ... And if Ramsay makes a snide comment about how his stepmother wasn't even hurt that badly, or suggests her virtue is ruined, he'd get a solid backhand.

[raeuberprinzessin]

Coffee Fairy Twins - Chapter 2 - A brand-new Pair of Wings

@maribat-bdbwm

Summary:

Marinette always knew that she was a fairy and that Tom wasn't her biological father. But he was her papa and he adored her and she never felt the need to know her biological father. But she never knew that she had a twin brother. Tim never knew he had a twin sister. He also never knew that the people he thought were his parents kidnapped him as an infant or that it was his biological father who adopted him. And since he had no idea that he was a fairy - or that fairies existed for that matter - he seemed like an ordinary human to almost everyone (immortal megalomaniacs may be an exception). Sabine never knew that the child she thought was taken from her was still alive. And Bruce? Bruce never knew that his parents hadn't been fairies (or maybe he didn't want to know) or that one of his Robins, who he thought to be human, had a lot more in common with him than he thought.

But it might only take a nightmare and a shiny new pair of wings or two to change all that.

AO3 | Masterlist

Chapters: First | Previous | Next

He was not at the Nest.

That was the first thought Tim had upon waking. He knew his Nest intimately. He knew each sound, whether it came from the outside or his apartment, he knew how it smelled and how his sleeping spots felt, even though he usually preferred a cup of coffee over a nap.

This was not the Nest. The sounds were wrong, he heard the sea instead of the usual fight of the couple from the apartment across the narrow back alley of the former theater. The couple who always left the windows open. Maybe Marvin finally gave up and agreed to visit Alice's insufferable sister in Seattle. That or one of them killed the other that would be just as likely. Tim remembered the last visit of Alice's sister. If he had to bet, he'd say the latter was the case.

Tim kept a controlled, steady breath to let everyone around think he was still asleep as he tried to pick up more clues about his surroundings. He lay in a bed or something similar. The underground was soft and a nice blanket kept him warm.

He tried to remember what he had done before he fell asleep. Had he been on a mission? On patrol? Was someone already looking for him?

Some commotion outside the room interrupted his thoughts and before he could even consciously pay attention another body landed with a war cry that sounded suspiciously like “Rob!” on him and left him gasping and blinking against the brightness.

“What happened? You suddenly passed out and then there was this force that got stronger and stronger and pushed us away. I tried to run against it but I guess it was like when other people run on a treadmill, I couldn’t run fast enough to get anywhere near you. Can you imagine? I wasn’t fast enough? ME? Luckily Cassie could withstand that force long enough to bring you to your bed, but even she had to leave the room afterwards-”

Oh. Bart. Tim smiled softly and ruffled the speedster’s hair. Bart beamed at him at the affectionate gesture and hugged him tighter. He turned his head to look at the door while trying to keep up with the speedster’s torrent of words. A part of him was already busy analyzing what he learned.

He remembered now that he had decided to spend his birthday at the tower with the other former members of Young Justice. He had come to San Francisco the day before his 18th birthday, so they could start celebrating at midnight, and on the day itself, they would meet up with the other former members of their group. Bruce always got sulky when his friends visited him in Gotham and he really didn’t want to soothe a middle-aged furry with emotional constipation, especially not on his birthday. And after the disaster that was his 16th birthday, he didn’t want to be around Bruce for the day. Or Alfred, if he was absolutely honest with himself. And his last birthday was during his search for proof that Bruce was still alive. Sometime between breaking into museums, losing his spleen, and running the fucking League of Assassins he had turned 17.

Which is why he decided to celebrate his birthday like this. In San Francisco, with the people he trusted the most and far, far away from Gotham, the Bats or god forbid his immortal megalomaniac stalker. A look on his phone told him that midnight was still a few hours away. It was 9:12 pm.

It’s not as if he was unreachable in the case of an emergency. But he left the only way to contact him with Barbs and Bruce might be extra grumpy for the next week, but he wouldn’t be able to force her to get him if she didn’t think it was necessary.

During Bart’s rant Cassie and Kon had appeared in the door. Cassie seemed a lot more concerned and Kon looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“Tim? After this force field appeared we initiated protocol Tau-ATH-R3,” Cassie started and Tim nodded. This was an authentication protocol. The tower was on lockdown and only his way to reverse it would work. If someone, like an imposter, made even one wrong step, the Justice League would be informed.

“It’s fine, I’ll do this right-” He stopped. There, there was …

Tim carefully pushed his friend off of him to sit up. At the same time, he tried to feel for his back. The collective gasps of his friends let him know that this was not some sort of sensory hallucination.

“Rob, you’ve got something …” Kon helpfully fell silent when he noticed his friend feeling for something on his back.

Tim gave up feeling around and decided to walk over to the big mirror to have a look. But what he saw left him baffled.

There, on his back, was a pair of big, feathered wings. Without consciously deciding to, the wings opened up a bit showing him beautiful red, black, and golden feathers on the inside. He tried to turn and look at the outside, but he couldn’t see much.

“Give me your phone, I’ll take a picture,” offered Kon, and a moment later Tim marveled at the outside of his wings. The colors seemed to be the same but the pattern was different. On the inside, there was a horizontal line of golden feathers dividing his wings into an upper and a lower half. All the feathers above were dark red and the long flight feathers below were black. On the outside the edges of the wings had golden feathers, the upper half was red with some black feathers in between and the lower flight feathers were black again. On the outside, the halves weren't divided by a line of golden feathers.

Some tiny part of him freaked out. Bruce didn’t want metahumans in Gotham and while Tim thought most of his rules existed only because Bruce was a controlling jerk, the reason behind that one was that there already was a lot of crazy stuff in Gotham. The gangs were bad enough without recruiting metahumans. However, he made an exception for Duke, so the biggest problem would be to hide his wings when he was a civilian.

Another bigger part felt almost … pleased. Like he had just received something he should have always had. He had a short flashback to the dream he had. At first, he had had one nightmare after another but then he had been on the roof of the nest and found a hovering blob of light waiting for him. The light had then proceeded to guide him through Paris. He knew it was Paris because the light had dragged him up to the top of the Eiffel Tower to show him the view.

Tim shook his head. He could think about this later. Now he had to prove that he was himself. He walked to the control center and swiftly deactivated the lockdown.

Bart cheered and hugged him again.

“So, wings, huh? Are you going to try them? I think you should try them. As long as you are here you have two people who can catch you,” he proposed. He talked a bit slower now, but in his excitement, he still talked faster than not-speedsters.

“Wait, Imp, are you seriously suggesting Tim should jump off something and we should catch him if his wings don’t work?” Kon looked slightly disturbed.

“Isn’t that how birds learn to fly? Heh, Tim, you’re an actual bird now!” Bart grinned at the revelation and Tim couldn’t help himself but chuckle. Why wasn’t he panicking? If someone told him a week ago, he would wake up with a pair of wings, he would have freaked out. 

“I would rather know what happened first,” he finally said. Find out what happened and if this is a problem. He didn’t want to lose his wings, the thought alone scared him already, but he had to know. Because, if they were a sign that something bad was coming, he would have to find a way to get rid of them, no matter how he felt about them. He really hoped he just had a metagene that only showed now.

“I told you!” Bart said and plopped down on the sofa. He pulled him down next to him and snuggled up to him. This, more than anything, told Tim how worried his friend had been. Bart was the most physically affectionate out of them but this was excessive even for him. Usually, he would have run away to get some snacks as soon as the lockdown was lifted. The fact that he still remained and hadn’t left his side even for a second said enough.

“Okay, I passed out. It’s almost half past 9 pm now, how long have I been out?”

“You fell unconscious exactly at 3 pm. Kon had just brought your bag to your room. And I felt the force field vanishing at 9:07 pm,” Bart reported. “Cassie tried to keep me out.”

The small speedster gave the girl a small pout but grinned again right after that. “But she also tried to keep Kon out and I used the distraction.”

“I thought you had overworked yourself and needed the rest and this force field might be some tech you had on you. I had no idea you would emulate a butterfly and grow a pair of fucking wings!” Cassie seemed to be the one in their group who was freaking out the most. At least the one who showed it the most. Kon gave him worried glances and Tim knew he was asking how he felt.

“I don’t know why I suddenly have wings,” he started. He wanted to calm his friends down, to let them know he was fine. “I will have to do some tests. But, honestly, I’m alright.”

“You don’t worry about the wings? And don’t try to lie to us. You may be able to lie to Batman, but we know you, Rob. How do you truly feel about this?” Kon asked. He still seemed worried. A warm feeling bloomed in Tim’s chest and he held his hand out, his wings lifted a bit, inviting his friends to join the hug. He didn’t have to convince Kon and Cassie any more than that, they both joined the group hug.

“I feel fine. I don’t know why I’m not freaking out and maybe I will later, but right now? Right now having wings feels right. Like I’ve always waited to finally have them and I just didn’t know. I will conduct some tests," he declared but before he could stand he caught Bart's pout, "but not now and not tomorrow,” he added with a soft sigh that ended in a little laugh when Bart's pout turned into a grin.

He felt Cassie ruffle his hair and caught her grinning at him as well. “That’s the right attitude! Maybe your self-preservation instinct has been in your wings and that’s why you can only now access it.” Tim chuckled at that. It was common knowledge that Gothamites didn’t have a self-preservation instinct. Gothamites lived mainly to spite Gotham’s craziness.

“Sooo, what I’m hearing is: Kon get Wendy the Werewolf Stalker started and I’ll go get the pizzas?” Bart asked and was gone a second later. Kon huffed and sat up to get their favorite show started. Well, Kon loved the show, but Tim preferred Star Trek. But when he watched something with his friends, Wendy was more fun than Star Trek. Cassie and he pulled out one of the sofas so they could all cuddle in front of the TV together.

He could still worry about his wings in a few days. The Justice League had enough magic users who might know what had happened. But for now, he couldn’t bother. The same feeling that had told him, that Bruce was alive when he was caught in the time stream, that had insisted, that the quadruple somersault was enough proof to know that Dick Grayson was Robin back when he was nine years old, that same feeling now assured him, that his wings were perfectly natural and nothing he had to worry about. And wasn’t it sad that that was a rare feeling?

So, as long as he felt like this, he would enjoy it.

***

The pizza Bart got them was amazing. Better than any pizza place in Gotham. Yes, Dick, even the one next to Robinson Park with the herbs that got juiced up on Ivy’s machinations at the infamous park.

They were already halfway through dinner and the first episode, Teeth and Moonlight, when Tim noticed that his new limbs might have a mind of their own. Both wings were spread and protectively encompassed Bart and Cassie on his left and Kon who sat on his right side.

Tim paused and looked a bit away as he tried to concentrate on the appendages. He should learn how to control them, so he could fold them on his back.

“Is something wrong, Tim?” Cassie asked and pulled him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed how Kon had stopped the episode. He shrugged, trying to seem unbothered. “Yeah, it’s just … I’m sorry about the wings. I’m trying to fold them on my back, but they seem to be pretty uncooperative.”

“Well, they are a Robin’s wings. Did you think they would listen to you any more than the Robins listen to Batman?” Kon tried to lift the mood with a joke. He was actually sort of successful because Cassie laughed and he snorted with amusement. Bart instead leaned against him with a pleading look in his eyes.

“Please, don’t fold them away! They are so warm and soft and comforting. Better than any blanket!” he exclaimed and, probably to reinforce his words, snuggled more into the wing.

“You know, Bart is right,” Kon uttered with a considering gleam in his eyes, “they feel really … comforting. Yeah, that might be the best word. Comforting like Ma’s apple pie or a cup of hot chocolate after being in a blizzard. Or having my favorite bird safely in my arms.” Kon sent a flirtatious smirk his way and Tim felt his cheeks growing a bit hot, so he tried to hide his face against the half-kryptonian’s shoulder. As revenge.

“What has me puzzled is, why do you still have your shirt on,” Cassie chipped in after swallowing a bite of her pizza. The boys of their group turned to her with confused frowns.

“Cassie, are you complaining that my boyfriend isn’t topless?” Kon’s frown grew at that thought, although Tim didn’t think that was what Cassie meant. For one, Kon and Tim had dated her, during different times (obviously), before she made them realize that they were in love with each other. Yeah, they still felt a bit dumb for not noticing that themselves.

“Oh please, Kon, if I wanted to see any of you topless, I would propose to take a dip in the pool. Also, have you seen your boyfriend topless? I always get the urge to wrap him in bubble wrap until he can’t even move his pinkie and then beat up every thug in Gotham and threaten them into not hurting our bird.” Cassie huffed after her declaration. Tim only grumbled good-naturedly. He knew Cassie wouldn’t do that. Well, he hoped. Okay, maybe he should hide every bit of bubble wrap there was in the tower.

“No, I’m talking about the wings. They grew out of his back, right? So, why didn’t his shirt rip?”

They all stopped to give the wings another scrutinizing look. Cassie was right. His shirt didn’t rip, but Tim felt the wings connect to his back. Maybe they were an illusion? He pulled his shirt over his head and tried to look at his back. “Let me,” Kon muttered and turned him around to have a look. This also gave Cassie and Bart a good view of his front.

“I get what you mean with the bubble wrap,” Bart fake whispered to their friend.

“It can’t be possible, but it looks as if they are growing out of your back,” Kon reported and gave him his shirt back. So, it could only be an illusion. But they felt so real! Tim mourned his wings a bit but pulled his shirt back on with decisive movements. He should-

Three gasps put that thought on hold. When his head came out of the collar of his shirt he gave his friends questioning looks.

“Ok, Rob, so, we probably didn’t look when you took your shirt off, but this time we all saw it: Your wings turned to some sort of golden dust or glitter in the air and only solidified again when you had your shirt back on,” Bart explained their observation and curiously petted the soft feathers.

This gave Tim more food for thought. He hadn’t felt any different. The weight on his back hadn’t disappeared at all. Maybe their minds tried to reconcile something impossible this way? But would they all see the same thing?

Making up his mind Tim leaned over Kon to fish for the remote. He changed the TV from the show they were watching to the security cameras all over the tower and stopped at the one filming them. In the feed, they could all clearly see the big wings. He rewound a bit and, yep, there was the golden dust Bart mentioned. And either they were still under an illusion or his wings had some convenient properties.

He almost stood up to see whether the ventilation system of the tower had been tampered with, but before he could he was buried beneath his friends.

“You promised you wouldn’t do any tests now or tomorrow, remember?” Tim sighed. Bart was right, but if they were being drugged …

“I just want to make sure, we don’t hallucinate and that this isn’t some kind of attack on-” A ping interrupted him. His phone, it was a message. And Barbs was the only one from Gotham who could reach him.

Fearing a big Arkham breakout or another doomsday situation he pulled his phone out with some difficulty because Cassie tried to get a hold of it.

Just so you know, Steph is pissed, because you skipped town. She convinced Cass to drop in later/tomorrow and now they’re talking Duke into joining them. And Dick is sulking for the same reason, I wouldn’t rule out that he might have the same idea on his own. Felt like I should warn you.

You’re a saint, have I ever told you that? Tim typed and with his thumb hovering over the sent button he had an idea. Barbs was trustworthy and not in the tower. So, she wouldn’t be subjected to some hallucinogens. Can you check something for me? Don’t tell anyone, yet, but is this an illusion?

He added the clip from the camera and sent both to his pseudo-sister. And he didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

WTF Tim! WINGS? Magical wings, it seems? Are you fucking kidding me? What happened? Bruce is going to freak out!

Thanks for confirming. So this is not an illusion. And please, don’t tell them. I have to think about how I want to explain this to them.

It’s always something with you guys, huh? Ok, I think I can find something to keep Steph and Dick here, but Cass might still come over. Duke is more hesitant, but maybe having another meta with you isn’t the worst idea.

Thanks, Barbs, I owe you for this. I don’t think that Cass would freak out, so if she comes over tomorrow, I think it would be fine. And Duke is pretty chill, too, but you remember, that I am … I was the only normal human of the last remaining YJ members?

Not waiting for another reply he put his phone away and looked into the expectant faces of his friends. “Barbs saw the wings and the glitter as well, so it’s not an illusion. She called them magical wings. Well, at least I won’t have to get new shirts with holes.”

“So, if we get up now, you won’t run to the lab or something?” Bart asked suspiciously. Tim huffed a laugh and shook his head. “I’ll stay right here,” he told them and felt their weight lift. Still, Bart snuggled up to his side and grabbed onto his arm to make sure he wouldn’t go anywhere.

“She also warned me that maybe Cass and Duke come over tomorrow,” Tim added after he grabbed another piece of his pizza. “In that case, we should enjoy the time we four have without any other bats around.” With that Kon took the remote back and changed the TV back to their show.

**

Many episodes later they were full and cuddled together on the pulled-out sofa. Tim was half-laid on Kon, his head tucked beneath his boyfriend’s chin. The half-Kryptonian held him in a lazy embrace, his big hands a steady warmth on the small of his back. Tim had his wings spread and Bart and Cassie had each claimed one for themselves. Both of them were softly snoring.

“So, there’s a camera in this room. Good to know not to make out with you here,” Kon murmured into his ear. Tim felt his cheeks heating up again but snorted at the idea.

“Haven’t you met my family, Kon? It’s not just Bruce ‘I’m allergic to privacy and boundaries’ Wayne. If you look up ‘paranoid’ in a dictionary there’s a picture of us - probably one from one of our own cameras. There’s no way around it, at some point, we will make out on camera. But since we all have heard B and Catwoman through B’s comm that he forgot to turn off, I know how my family will react. If they’re snooping, they deserve the trauma.”

He felt more than heard the soft chuckles. For a while, they just silently watched Wendy and listened to the snoring of their friends. Then Kon’s embrace tightened a bit and Tim made a questioning noise.

“Is it really okay? The wings I mean … What are you going to tell Batman or Cass and Duke tomorrow? You know I will be there for you, right? We all will.”

Tim hummed at that and nodded after thinking about it. “I don’t know yet what I will tell them, but I’m sure Cass and Duke will be fine with this, and B … well, it’s not as if I put some cut-off heads in a duffle bag or pushed my brother off the dinosaur in the cave and I’m not afraid to remind him of that. He’ll learn to live with it. As I said, the wings feel just right. I’m not about to give up this feeling, because B might decide to be a jerk about them. And look at it this way: If he’s enough of a jerk, I’ll stay here at the tower for a while. More time for us and I know the Titans could use another tech guy now that Vic is busy with the JLA. Whatever B’s reaction is in the end, I can’t change it. Might it hurt me? Yeah, but being hurt before that doesn’t accomplish anything. So, I’m not. I-”

A soft pair of lips placed a kiss on his head, interrupting his rambling.

“Okay, then we will take care of this when we cross that bridge and not a moment sooner,” Kon whispered. Then he showed him his phone. Tim was wondering what he was supposed to see on it until Kon continued and a gentle warmth filled his whole body: “Also, happy birthday, bird boy.”

[thruheavenandhighwater]

Pairing: Single Dad! Eddie/ Steve Harrington

Requested By: NA

Word Count: 1,596

Series Summary: Eddie left Hawkins in 1986 with no reason to ever return. But now, a few years have passed and life has changed. Eddie finally returns home and has to deal with everything he left behind, including Steve Harrington. This story starts in May 1991.

Part One Summary: Eddie is supposed to be a rockstar, not a single father of a four month old.

Stranger Things Masterlist

Steddie Masterlist

Series Masterlist

~~~~~

Eddie was supposed to be a rockstar by now. World famous and a few tours under his belt. Maybe even a supermarket tabloid scandal or two. But instead he's in the passenger seat of his uncle's truck on his way back to Hawkins. Back to the place he swore he'd never step foot in again. 

A small sound escaped the baby who sat buckled between the silent men. Eddie's left hand shot into action, immediately coming to rest on her dark hair. All seemed to be well, just a little fussiness while she slept. Wayne watched from the corner of his eye, deciding which question to ask first. 

"Where's her mama?" 

Eddie shrugged, his shoulders dropping as he let out a long breath through his nose. "I don't know, man," he answered, shaking his head. "Got no fuckin' clue." 

"How old is she?"

"Not sure," Eddie answered. "Twenty-four, twenty-five. Something like that." 

"The baby," Wayne groaned, bringing one hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he signaled a turn onto the highway. "How old is the baby?" 

"Oh," his nephew giggled. "She's uh, just about four months. On the twelfth." 

Wayne spared a glance at the infant to his right. She'd been wailing while he loaded up her and Eddie's meager belongings from the disgusting apartment. But the moment the old engine in the truck roared to life she'd quieted. And now, nearly three hours into their drive she'd barely made a peep. 

"You waited four months to tell me I have a granddaughter?" 

"Figured you'd be pissed," Eddie shrugged again. 

"I'm pissed you let your little situation get so bad. I'm fuckin' fuming, kid." Wayne was not one to mince words. He never had been. Not when his brother showed up eight months after dropping Eddie at his door expecting him to go with him. Not when Eddie came home for a second time with news that he wouldn't be graduating. And certainly not now. "You owe it to her to get your shit together." 

"You think I don't fuckin' know that?" Eddie all but screamed, his voice echoing in the small cab of the truck. This finally roused his daughter from her nap. It started small, like it always did. Her tiny face scrunched up, her nose wrinkling as her lips turned down into a pout. Eddie put one arm over the car seat, the other crossing his body to press a soft hand to her pudgy stomach. He rubbed gentle lines on her tummy with his thumb in an attempt to soothe her before all hell broke loose. It didn't work. Of course it didn't. She screamed like a man ten times her size. 

"Oh, honey," Eddie sighed, his head dropping to his chest. His long hair fell into his face, tickling at his already upset daughter. "Come on, Lu, I'm sorry. Daddy didn't mean to yell." 

His voice sounded so tired. Almost broken as he begged her to quiet down. The trio still had seven hours ahead of them and listening to her scream would only make it seem that much longer. Wayne saw a sign advertising a motel five miles ahead. 

He turned off at the next exit, following the signs along the road. Like a sign from heaven the neon letters came into view. MOTEL flashed in bright green, VACANCY in pink beneath it. Wayne parked his truck and left Eddie with the baby while he went into the lobby. He was sure he looked like shit. He'd gotten off work at 7 am, driven ten hours, and was now three and a half hours into the drive home. It had been a long day, to say the absolute least. 

Wayne parked the truck outside of their designated room. The baby was still screaming, her face turning red now. Eddie slid from his seat before reaching back into the truck to retrieve the car seat. 

"You wanna unload the crib?" 

Wayne shook his head, waving his hand flippantly as he reached into the truck bed. He retrieved the beat up leather bag that held his change of clothes. "Think she'll be okay to sleep in that for one night." 

Eddie nodded, too tired to disagree with his uncle. He hooked the plastic handle of the car seat over his elbow with a groan. Even at just four months, she was heavy. With his free hand he mimicked his uncle's movements, pulling own bag and the diaper bag from the truck before following Wayne into the room. Two twin beds sat against the wall, a chest of drawers on the opposite wall. It wasn't fancy, but it was somewhere for the family to rest. And that was what everyone needed right now. 

Eddie sat his daughter on top of the bed furthest from the door. Her diaper bag followed close behind her as Eddie began to pull out the necessities, a clean bottle and the last can of formula he had. He opened the lid and prayed it would be enough to get her by. He knew it wouldn't be. 

His hands moved by muscle memory alone as he prepared her dinner. 4 ounces of water from the sink in the bathroom. One scoop of formula. Shake and serve. He set the bottle on the small table that sat between the beds and took a seat on top of his bed next to the car seat. Just as he was beginning to unbuckle her, Wayne coughed. 

"Let me do that," she said. "You go shower." 

"I'll shower after she's fed." 

"Eddie, you stink." His words weren't unkind or intended to hurt. He was just being honest. Not unlike the many times he'd had to say the exact same words to Eddie when he was 13 and didn't believe in hygiene. 

Eddie smiled at that. It was small, like he was too exhausted to smile properly. But it was something. He nodded as he stood from the bed before walking into the bathroom. Once Wayne heard the water begin to run he resumed unbuckling her. She was solid as he pulled her away from the car seat to his chest. Her screams had softened into whimpers by now, but it didn't take an expert to see that she was clearly still unhappy. 

"Come on, little lady," Wayne sighed as he positioned her head into the bend of his elbow. "Chow time." 

Once she began drinking the, truthfully, disgusting milk she quieted immediately. Wayne couldn't help to smile as he watched her dark eyes scan the room around them. Just like your daddy, he thought. 

By the time Eddie walked back into the room Wayne was putting her over his shoulder to burp her. Eddie handed him a small hand towel from the bathroom to save his shirt. 

"Been a long time since I did this," Wayne told him with a smile as he tucked the towel under her body. "Old man still got it." 

Eddie seemed lighter after his shower. His uncle's bad joke pulling a genuine giggle from him, his lips curling to a real smile. Wayne glanced over Eddie as he turned away from him to rummage through his bag. He was so thin, suddenly. Half the size he was when he'd driven away from Wayne's house five years ago with his band. He saw the way his ribs showed as he stretched his arms over his head to put his shirt on. His legs looked skinnier, too. He felt the solid weight of the baby in his hands and he knew why. 

He saw so much of himself in his nephew. Going without so that she wouldn't have to. Trying to make it on his own as best he could. Eventually doing what he knew was right, and taking her out of a bad situation. He'd never wanted any of that for himself, but he'd done it all for Eddie. He certainly never wanted any of this for Eddie. He always thought Eddie would do better.

"Alright, princess," Eddie said, suddenly facing them again. He reached his arms towards them and Wayne handed Lucy to her father. He hugged her tight to his chest, one hand covering her back while the other supported her bottom. She tucked herself under his long hair, her eyes closing contentedly. "Let's get you a bath and a new diapy, huh? Stinky girl." He cooed, his fingers tightening around her tummy to tickle her. 

Wayne made himself comfortable on his own bed as he listened to the one sided conversation happening in the small bathroom. "Ooooh, Lucy!" Eddie feigned offense. "Stinkiest baby in the land." The sink squeaked on and he heard Eddie humming. He began to doze, the sounds of Lucy's giggles and the splashing water gently lulling him to sleep. 

He hadn't slept for long when Eddie's voice woke him. He cracked open one eye, finding the baby sleeping peacefully on her stomach on the other bed. Eddie laid behind her, perched on his elbow while his other hand rubbed her back. 

"-never meant for this to happen. Man, I hope you don't remember this." He sighed as he whispered to her. "But soon as we get home, daddy's gonna get a job. A real job, yeah? Gonna make you proud of me. Gonna make grandpa proud of me." He leaned forward, his lips meeting his daughter's dark hair at the back of her head. Wayne closed his eyes, trying to fall back to sleep. He knew his nephew was right. He was going to make him proud. 

~~~~~

next part

~~~~~

I worked for like two months on this fic and it's really special to me. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Can't wait to hear what you all think! If you like this story even a little bit, please considering commenting and reblogging. Thanks! Have a great weekend!!🥰 

If you'd like to be tagged in my Stranger Things fics, please let me know. I also have individual tag lists for Steve, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, and Steddie.

Tag List: @redwineanddnicotine @renaissan-vvitch

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing Prompts Day 1

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven't written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. Anyway I've finished the first draft (it topped out at 88k words) and will be unlocking each post as I edit.

***

"So how do you want me to fuck you?"

***

Tim was crawling under the bed in his old room in the Manor, looking for an external hard drive he'd misplaced ages ago, when the door slammed open and then slammed shut again with just as much vigor. He nearly hit his head on the bedframe, but managed to keep that much dignity before slowly rising to his feet.

"Damian?" It had been a long time since they were at each others' throats as a matter of course, but the instinct to view Damian with caution remained. Admittedly, that was due to other reasons now rather than out of fear for his life.

Damian nodded at him in acknowledgement, eyebrows furrowed. "Drake."

Tim stepped closer as he realized that what he'd first interpreted as anger (teeth gritted, muscle jumping at the hinge of Damian’s jaw, redness crawling up his neck and into his cheeks) looked like a different emotion altogether. He hadn't recognized it at first because Damian so rarely allowed himself to appear embarrassed. "What's wrong?"

"I—I require something of you." Tim gave him a dubious look in automatic offense, and Damian hastily changed tactics. "I request something of you. I have a burden which must be shed and I believe you are an tolerable associate to help me do so."

Tim moved closer still, enough to reach out and touch Damian, except that the other's clear wariness kept him from making any sort of gesture. "Sure, you know I'm happy to assist.” A lie, but a useful one until the truth needed to be spoken. “What's the problem?"

Damian squared his shoulders and fixed his gaze somewhere over Tim's left shoulder. "I have yet to engage in sexual relations with anyone. I am asking you to take care of the problem."

Tim froze. He didn't kid himself that he'd heard wrong, because his brain couldn't have come up with a more inconceivable combination of words no matter what the circumstances. His initial, inconsequential response was to think, Well, that's several suspicions I had confirmed, in one fell swoop.

This might explain some stuff. Damian had been acting weird for a few weeks now.

First came the drone. Or rather, Damian dropping the drone in front of Tim’s face onto the desk where Tim was working in the Cave.

“May I help you?” Tim had drawled, not that he actually wanted to.

“I would like to request your expertise.”

Tim had whipped his head around to stare at Damian in shock. “You. You what?”

Damian must have known how bizarre it was for him to ask for any help whatsoever from one of his least favorite people, but he met Tim’s gaze with nothing but defiance on his face. “I would appreciate your help in repairing the broken traces on a circuit board in this drone. I could do it, of course, but I have other demands on my time.”

Tim, stunned into wordless compliance, had pulled the drone closer and given him a nod. Damian nodded back in acknowledgement, turned on his heel, and left without further ado.

So that had been strange.

But then came the weapons smuggling case.

It was unusual for Jason to ask for assistance from any of them with his cases. Damian seemed an odd choice for helper as well, although the two shared a great deal of experiences, if at disparate times. Still, Tim hadn't thought about it much until Damian sent him a folder of crime scene photos from a recent weapons deal gone wrong, along with notes on the leads he'd found.

The accompanying message had read, Your help in examining the scene for further clues would be useful.

Intrigue didn't prevent Tim from texting Jason to be sure the request had actually come from Damian. It was weird enough to be suspect. But when he got confirmation, the case had instantly sucked him in. It was a multi-pronged operation with both northern and southern arteries, its heart in Gotham, and exactly the sort of conundrum guaranteed to get Tim’s full attention.

This current situation was definitely a step up on the Damian Weirdness Scale.

Tim’s heart seemed to have split itself into multiple pieces and was now pulsing madly in his throat, his ears, his palms. His dick, too, because God forbid he make anything easy on himself. 

Damian must have interpreted his shock as a desire to be persuaded, because he continued at a rate of speed that suggested the words were being forcibly shoved through his teeth. "It's rapidly becoming a liability. I don't want to go pick someone up anonymously when Father will almost certainly find out, because he manages to find out everything humiliating. Anyone else whom I might consider is currently partnered in a monogamous relationship. You are unattached at the moment—unless you have been keeping the truth a secret even my detective skills are unable to uncover, which is of course impossible. And judging by some indiscreet things your former partners have said in the past, you are at least moderately competent in these matters. You are a logical choice for my sexual denouement." He darted a sideways glance at Tim's face, and just as quickly redirected his gaze out the window as his cheeks blazed a darker shade of crimson. "I would consider it a satisfactory training exercise if you were my sparring partner."

"What kind of sex are you picturing exactly where I'm your sparring partner?!" Tim demanded before he could think better of it, then shook the resulting images away from his brain and started over. It would be irresponsible to ignore all the signs that Damian was highly uncomfortable, the red flags ranging from defensive anger to having foregone contractions. "Damian, I'm flattered, but—you're only twenty. What do you mean, a liability? It's not that big of a deal. It's not like you're being sent on honeypot missions, right? Please say no." Damian wordlessly shook his head. "Okay, so . . . what's the rush?"

At that, Damian met his gaze with sheer fury. "The rush is that I want to. Now are you going to help me, or not?"

Tim glared back, an answering surge of rage coming to his sanity’s rescue. Of all the people to actually consider fucking, Damian had to be one of the worst prospects. He'd probably stab Tim if he felt like his technique wasn't up to par. “Absolutely the fuck not. Now get out of my way.”

And he stalked out, hoping that Bruce hadn't replaced the bugs in the hallway lately.

***

After making his demands, Damian retreated into ignoring Tim when at all possible and speaking like Mr. Darcy but with a bigger stick up his ass when it wasn’t. It made things kind of weird with the single case they shared, but Tim decided it was a relief to have everything else back to normal.

The problem was, now he was noticing Damian.

He seemed to have settled into his adult height, having outstripped Tim a good five inches ago. (No, Tim wasn’t bitter. At all.) His newly broad frame boasted muscles nearly as thick as Jason's but lithe and flexible as Dick’s. And those eyes. It would’ve been hard for anyone attracted to men not to notice, but somehow Tim had managed until Damian forcibly brought the matter to his attention.

He was trying not to stare at Damian changing the tires on his motorcycle one night after patrol when his desk chair spun in place with a sudden well-placed kick from Stephanie. He put his feet down in time to face her scowl. 

“Oh my God, Tim, are you listening to a single word I’m saying?” she demanded.

“No,” he replied without thinking, then ran the past several minutes back and amended, “Sort of. When did Babs want to have us over for movie night?”

Appeased, Stephanie started to reiterate the plan. Behind her, Damian’s face relaxed into an almost-smile as Alfred the cat hopped on his lap and yowled plaintively. 

“How did you get down here?” he asked, soft-voiced, caressing Alfred’s head. The cat started purring loudly enough for Tim to hear from his seat. “And don’t bother complaining to me. You’ve got plenty of food, where it’s supposed to be.”

Tim swallowed, watching Damian’s hand move down Alfred’s spine, gentle as always when it came to his pets.

“Seriously.” He jerked his gaze back to Stephanie to see her rolling her eyes. “You’re obviously exhausted. Please go home and get some sleep so we can have a conversation.”

“Uh-huh.” She started toward the showers, and he called, “Sorry!” after her because that had been an asshole move, even though he hadn’t meant to do it.

Involuntarily, Tim looked at Damian again, only this time Damian looked straight back. Bruce was gone on Justice League business, so it was just the two of them now.

They stared at each other in silence for a minute, then Tim found his words. “Come here.”

To his surprise, Damian actually rose to his feet and approached, though he stopped a good three feet away. His face was blank, but his fingers tightened into fists against his thighs.

Tim gulped against a sudden dryness in his mouth because it had been a while and the baby had grown up really fucking hot. He idly wondered what it would be like to grab those wide shoulders and pull him close. Fortunately his voice came out unruffled, even though it sounded far away. “I’ve been thinking. Since the last time we talked. Do you still want me to . . . to do what you said?” “Yes,” Damian said, almost before he finished speaking. His back had straightened to military attention.

“Okay.” Tim stood up and rubbed suddenly damp palms down his thighs, ignoring the fact that his costume was designed to repel wetness so it wasn't really an effective gesture. At least it spread the sweat out a little. “Why don’t you give me a head start and then come over to the Nest tonight? Unless you’re too tired.”

Damian gave him a jerky nod, a single bounce on his toes giving away his nerves. “That would be fine.”

“Great.” Tim had to resist the urge to wave or something equally dorky. “Uh. Yeah. See you there.” He turned on his heel and retreated as fast as he could without breaking into a run.

True to his word, Damian gave Tim plenty of time to shower, head home, and eat before he knocked at his front door like a civilized human being. When he swung the door open, Tim spotted telltale wetness around the edges of his hair that meant Damian had showered before coming over, too.

"Come in," he invited, then shut the door and re-armed the security system while Damian kicked off his shoes. "You hungry? Thirsty?"

Damian scoffed. "I see no reason to delay the main event with meaningless niceties."

Tim rolled his eyes as he started to lead the way to his bedroom. "Don't be a brat. I prefer to at least display a modicum of social skills with my partners. Courtesy begins outside the bedroom, and should extend into it too."

"Spare me the lecture. I'm here for a physical act, not instruction in other types of human relations."

Tim spun to face him at the bedroom door, extending his arm to block it when Damian would have continued past him. He narrowed his eyes and jabbed Damian in the chest with his other hand, ignoring his look of outrage. "Excuse me. This is part of the physical act for me. I'm sure lots of people are different, but I can't enjoy getting naked unless I know I'm with someone who bothers showing me the bare minimum of respect when we're both fully dressed. Is that gonna be you, or am I kicking you out now so I can get some of the sleep I need way more than I need sex?"

Damian hesitated, and Tim tried to look bored with the delay. Finally, Damian swallowed, hard enough for his Adam's apple to bob visibly, and dropped his gaze. "I apologize. I recognize that you're doing me a favor. I’m uncertain of my skill set in this arena."

Tim allowed his surprise to show on his face. "Thanks. For being honest with me, I mean." That much wasn't easy for anyone in the family. Damian really had been growing up, in more ways than one.

Damian nodded in acknowledgement. Tim let his arm drop, and Damian walked past him into the bedroom, sitting at the foot of the unmade bed with his legs close together, hands folded. Tim closed and locked the bedroom door, then checked the windows too, just in case anyone got the bright idea to drop in uninvited. Turning back, he saw Damian hadn't moved an inch, but was watching Tim with singleminded focus.

Something needy and grasping lurched in the pit of his stomach. He shoved it away, and immediately felt guilty he had to do so when Damian's hands tightened on each other till the knuckles went pale.

"Hey." He knelt at Damian's feet, put his hands over where Damian's were knotted together. "You wanna stop now? If you're having second thoughts—"

Damian flipped his hands, quick as thought, and held Tim's in a loose grip. "I am not. I simply do not know what to do. In my minimal previous experience, we engaged in the precursors to this sort of activity without any previous discussion or planning, so this type of interaction is outside the scope of my experience."

Tim folded his lips in tight, considering. It was hard not to overthink this, to ask all the questions whirling in his head that he just couldn't help having, but none of the answers were things he was entitled to know. Damian had asked for a favor, and no matter what standards Tim had for courtesy, he was no stranger to casual hook-ups. This was a transaction between acquaintances. Coworkers? Sort-of friends. 

"Okay. Let's start with this, then. What are you already comfortable with? What have you done before that you liked?" He shrugged. "How do you want me to fuck you? That's figurative 'fuck,' by the way, penetration isn't necessary for sex to happen."

"I know that." Damian gave him a withering glare, but his heart clearly wasn't in it. "I enjoyed kissing. Both on the mouth and elsewhere. I enjoyed being touched anywhere that isn't ticklish, like the bottoms of my feet. I enjoyed frottage. I haven't done much more besides."

Tim tried not to sound as incredibly turned on as he was at the moment and likely failed miserably. "Anything you didn't like?" God, the mental image of Damian grinding against someone—probably Jon but who knew—until he came was enough to make him lightheaded. 

"I am not comfortable . . . being penetrated." The color in his face was bright enough to glow in the dark at this, but he pressed on. "Either by myself or anyone else. Anything else, for that matter." His lashes lowered as he stared at Tim's hands, still laid quiescent under his own. "If you change your mind, knowing that, I will understand."

Tim freed his hands so he could rub Damian's thighs, watching closely for any reaction. The pulse point in his neck beat a little faster, and his pupils dilated a bit, but those both seemed positive. "Not at all. There's a lot left on the menu if that's the only no you have. Of course, you'll probably find out you have other limits as you try more stuff, but we'll keep it basic tonight. Are you okay with doing the penetrating? Or trying it out?"

Damian nodded, fast and eager. "I would be willing to try."

Tim suppressed his smile, in case Damian thought he was laughing at him. Honestly, that was pretty cute. Not a term he was used to applying to Damian, but this night was already full of surprises so why not one more? "We can try, then. How's your stamina?"

One big shoulder jerked up. "Typical for one of my experience and age."

So probably about five minutes, max. "No worries. That just means your recovery time is great, too." Tim slid his hands up again, and this time skimmed one higher so he was palming Damian's obvious erection. It felt like he'd grown up proportionate everywhere, which was nice. “What about condoms? It’s been more than six months for me and we both have Bruce’s health screenings to deal with so . . . is it okay if we go without?” 

Damian shrugged with obviously faked casualness. “I don’t believe anything could get past Father’s tests. It’s all right with me.”

“Great.” Tim fiddled with his pants button. "Why don't I blow you so we can make you come right away, and then we can work our way up to the rest?"

Damian's voice came out breathy. "That would be acceptable."

Tim couldn't keep himself from giving him a Robin grin, sharp edged and cocky, as he opened Damian’s pants and pulled them and his underwear out of the way. Damian's eyes widened with shock as Tim closed his fingers around his dick. Uncut and thick and fucking gorgeous, already dark with arousal. Tim's mouth was watering at the thought of sucking it. "Let's see if we can get this whole thing a little bit past acceptable."

day two here

[erabundus]

@monogatcri &&. said... A long drawn out day, riddled with tears and conversations he'd rather forget. Upon returning home, however, he'd managed to pull his emotions completely down, forgoing any thoughts about how he's blocked by Kazuha -- forcing himself to be jovial for the others. It's after dinner (it'd gone by a in blur ; he barely registered that he'd eaten, maybe he'd barely eaten anything), once Diluc had left to shower, he'd sat beside Ren, arms lacing around the younger to pull him into an embrace, it's loose enough to pull free from yet firm enough... Conveying three things, he hopes through this: he's here for him, there's no need to speak about emotions that aren't easy, and you're free to leave this moment any time.

he's  sitting  on  the  edge  of  his  bed,  still  flicking  through  his  phone.  the  streamer  is  nothing  if  not  meticulous.  he's  blocked  kazuha  —  no,  he's  blocked  ██████  on  every  single  platform  he  can  possibly  think  of.  closed  every  chat  without  the  possibility  of  reopening  them.  the  mug  he  (  begrudgingly  )  declared  a  cherished  gift  now  sits  in  so  many  shattered  pieces  on  the  kitchen  table  in  their  once-shared  apartment;  he  placed  it  there  deliberately  when  diluc  took  him  to  get  his  things.  he  isn't  sure  when  ██████  will  be  home  to  see  it,  but  considering  the  other  also  BLOCKED  HIM  and  ren  has  no  interest  in  going  through  shikanoin,  it  seemed  like  an  effective  enough  message.  a  metaphor  for  their  entire  relationship  —  something  that  was  once  treasured,  now  reduced  to  painful  shards. he cut his fingers picking them out of the grass, and somehow that feels equally symbolic; it's done nothing but cause him PAIN.

he's  clearing  out  the  last  of  their  pictures  now.  it's  taken  quite  some  time  —  there's  an  entire  (  ill-fated  )  vacation's  worth  of  photos  to  delete,  along  with  months  and  months  of  images  that  make  him  feel  sick  to  his  stomach.  it  was  fine  during  his  stream;  slipping  into  wanderer's  headspace  is  as  effortless  as  putting  on  a  comfortable  set  of  clothes  —  and  wanderer  (  though  he  may  flirt  with  the  occasional  donor  )  has  always  been  SINGLE  as  far  as  anyone  is  concerned.  he's  arrogant,  witty  and  unempathetic  to  the  point  of  sheer  comedy.  ren  only  wishes  he  could  live  in  that  persona  permanently.  the  moment  the  camera  turned  off,  he  could  already  feel  what  feeble  scraps  of  NORMALCY  he  managed  to  claw  for  himself  slipping  through  his  clumsy  fingers.

they're  both  smiling  together  in  this  one.  it's  funny;  he  can't  remember  the  CONTEXT  at  all ...  but  he  can  remember  every  single  word  of  ██████'s  last  message.

a  flicker  of  white  hot  anger  briefly  cuts  through  the  artificial  apathy  he's  been  trying  to  smother  himself  in.  i  don't  have  a  job  where  i  can  simply  decide  when  i  work  or  not ...  my  work  is  also  my  therapy  in  a  sense.  bastard.  there  he  goes,  DEVALUING  his  career  again.  does  he  have  the  slightest  clue  they  took  equal  amounts  of  time  away  from  their  jobs?  does  he  realize  ren  didn't  necessarily  have  to  —  that  he  could  have  just  as  easily  continued  streaming  from  niwa's  place  but  deliberately  chose  NOT  TO  just  to  be  there  when  he  needed  him?  that his job is his own way of coping? of  course  not.  of  course  he  doesn't.  and  isn't  that  so  funny  —  that  ren's  feelings  were  born  out  of  the twisted  DELUSION  ██████  actually  cared  about  him,  when  he's  done  nothing  but  act  selfishly  (  hurt  him,  hurt  everyone  )  all  along?

it's  not  supposed  to  feel  like  this,  is  it?  he finds himself wondering that often these days. he  wishes  he  never  met  him  —  but  the  best  ren  can  do  is  try  to  pretend.

he's  so  caught  up  in  what  he's  doing,  he  doesn't  even  register  that  niwa  is  there  before  he's  already  being  pulled  into  an  embrace.  the  streamer  blinks,  thumb  swiftly  jabbing  the  yes  prompt  to  delete  the  picture  —  hoping  the  older  hasn't  glimpsed  the  screen  before  he  does.  ❝  good ...  evening?  ❞  ren  ventures.  the  greeting  sounds  a  bit  more  UNCERTAIN  than  he  ordinarily  would  like.  he  thinks  it's  evening,  but  he  isn't  entirely  sure;  time  is  always  a  bit  unruly  when  one  runs  on  a  sleep schedule  as  warped  as  his.  (  something  so  shaky  even  labeling  it  as  such  is  incredibly  generous.  )  ❝  i'd say the  stream  was  a  SUCCESS ...  i  appreciate  you  letting  me  work  from  here.  ❞  work.  because  it  is  work, despite what some people might assume to the CONTRARY.

❝ how was your day?  ❞ perfectly normal, he hopes. there's no reason for it not to be.