#all my older stuff will be staying on ao3

[arendaes]

By Any Other Name - Prologue and Chapter One

From now on I'm going to be posting my writing exclusively on Tumblr, so I'm transferring over my current long fic and a few other stories that were never posted here in full for continuity's sake.

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Rating: M to be safe

Warnings: None

Relationship: Commander/Daeran/Woljif (F/M/M)

"Oh tell to me Tam Lin” she said "Why came you here to dwell" "The Fairy Queen caught me," he said, "When from my horse I fell. And at the end of seven years She pays a tithe to hell” - The Ballad of Tam Lin

Once upon a time, there was a witch.

She lived deep in the woods, in a small cottage with her daughter. The witch won’t pretend she was good, or kind. That would be a lie. What she was, however, was powerful. So powerful she was forced into hiding, to perform in craft in secret and isolation. That worked for her, though. For the most part.

The only company she had was that of her daughter, whom she raised far from civilization and all its trappings. The girl grew up curious and inquisitive, and in time bloomed into a wild and mischievous personality. The witch did not mind. Many things could be said about her, most of them were horrible, but one of them was this - she loved her daughter very much.

One day, her daughter decided she was tired of living in their small cottage, deep in the woods. There was a whole world out there, or so she’d heard. She wanted to see it, and so she put a plan into motion. She scoured her mother’s spellbooks, day and night ,and formulated a plan. It was brilliant, she thought. Her mother couldn’t possibly be mad at her, not with how clever she was! And even if she was - she’d be gone before she even noticed.

Naturally, this did not go as planned. The plan backfired, and the witch’s daughter paid the ultimate price for it.

In her grief, the witch contemplated many courses of action. What good were all her powers, if she couldn’t save the one person she loved?

It was that thought she held onto, as she began to formulate a plan of her own. One that would see her daughter alive and whole again. One that would take a very long time to set in motion, and require extraordinary effort on her part.

It was brilliant, she thought. No one could possibly fault her for what she was about to do. And even if they did - they’d be gone before they could do anything about it.

Chapter One

“What kind of name is Heaven’s Edge for a village, anyways?”

The question that’d been on Ariadne’s mind was voiced by her mother, who was sitting next to her in the carriage. Judging by the sly, sidelong look she shot her, she knew she’d just been itching to ask this herself. Ariadne smirked in response, which was most inconvenient, since she’d resolved to be as glum and gloomy as possible on this journey.

Her father and stepfather sat across from them, and they exchanged their own look. It was half amusement, half exasperation.

“I believe the name is related to the Arendae ancestral home. The village sprang up around it, and I suppose it’s only natural to adopt the pompous name the landed gentry you tithe to decided was worthy.” Elvandir shot her a conspiratorial grin, which she couldn’t help but return. Damnit, she was supposed to be the picture of a sullen teenager!

“Yes, well, let’s make sure to save those scathing criticisms for the evening over supper, hm? At least until we know how much the town guard expects as a bribe to forget we’ve said anything.” Her father gave Elvandir an admonishing look as he spoke, one that slid effortlessly to her mother a moment later, then her. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes was unmistakable, but it didn’t have the desired effect. Now, instead of her resolve to be the most dour daughter imaginable, she just felt guilty.

It was her fault they were having to pack up and move to the northernmost part of the country, despite what everyone told her. If she’d just been a bit more careful, a bit less invested in her reading and a bit more aware of her surroundings, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Her chest ached, the edges of the closed wound burning faintly in an ever-present reminder of the burden she’d become.

Her father’s mirth dissipated as her demeanor shifted. “Ariadne, are you all right?”

She nodded too quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. It did nothing to reassure anyone. Her mother scooted closer to her, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close. Ariadne let her head rest against her shoulder, all conviction to be morose forgotten.

“We should be arriving soon. Everything in the house is already set up, so how about you get some rest while we get things set up on the farm?” Ariadne started to protest, but the concern on her parents’ faces shot killed the objections in her throat. Instead she nodded slightly, closing her eyes and rubbing her chest through her dress as she let the rocking of the carriage lull her to sleep.

****

If there was one thing Woljif Jefto knew, it was that tieflings got no respect in a place like Heaven’s Edge. So when he overheard two of the town’s biggest gossip mongers trading whispers about a family of tieflings moving into one of the newly established farmsteads outside town, well, he couldn’t resist the urge to sneak out and see for himself.

It was easy enough to sneak away. School had just let out for summer vacation not even a week prior, and Gran didn’t expect, or even want, him back until nightfall. She'd probably kick him out of the house for good if the rumor mill would let her, but sadly for her the family that owned the tavern, the Vaenics, were the pious sort who looked down on things like disowning your flesh and blood. If she wanted to keep easy access to her favorite vice, she had to keep her grandson around, no matter how much she loathed him.

That suited him just fine, because he hated the old windbag too. There was plenty around the town to keep him occupied. Lots of good shops to scope out, lots of annoyed shopkeeps to outrun…why waste his time at home getting knocked about the horns when he could do that in town and maybe get something shiny out of it to boot?

But that did leave one question, one that bounced in his head like the coin he so desperately wished was in his pocket, and that was, what tiefling family in their right mind would move out here? None, it turned out, because it wasn’t a tiefling family. At least, not entirely.

He snuck up to the farmhouse, no easy feat as it was set almost dead center on the small plot of land. As got closer, he heard the voices, just barely managing to hide in the hedges lining the house before a trio of people rounded the corner.

One of them was a tiefling, with dark red skin and curving horns. His dark hair and neatly trimmed beard were shot through with grey, but besides that he didn’t seem terribly old. Walking to one side of him was a woman who seemed human at first glance, until he caught sight of her eyes - one dark brown, the other ice blue. Changeling. Despite having never met one, he just knew that's what she was. She was pretty, but unnerving, and the only plausible explanation his mind came up with was that she had some fey in her. Rounding out the trio was an elven man. He towered over the other two, his dark skin offset by the pure white of his hair. He had a wide, friendly smile, one that didn't alleviate the creepiness of his eyes in the slightest. Woljif had seen an elf before, and he knew those eyes were typical of their kind. Didn't change the fact they were off-putting at the best of times.

So, not a family of tieflings, but not the most usual dynamic either. Woljif watched as they walked past his hiding spot, holding his breath, just waiting to be found out. They just kept walking, though, chatting happily amongst themselves. Woljif sighed with relief when they were out of earshot, pleased he hadn't been found out. That feeling lasted all of five seconds, because just as he opened his eyes again, something slammed into the side of his face.

“Ow! What the -” His curse was cut off by the sight of a girl crawling out of the window above his hiding spot. She stared at him, her expression no doubt mirroring his own. He watched her pupils go from cat-like slits to full blown and back again. In hindsight, that should've been his first clue that there was something different about her, but it wasn't until she launched herself off the windowsill and onto him, her hand clamped over his mouth, that he realized she was a tiefling as well.

“Shh!” Her voice was a harsh whisper, her eyes darting past him. While she attempted to scope out whatever it was that had her spooked, he took in the sight of the small curved horns on top of her head and the tail lashing in the air behind her. If anything was going to give them away, it was that, but with her hand still silencing him he couldn't exactly voice that thought.

After a moment, she pulled her hand away. “I think they’re gone,” she said, tension bleeding out of her. She then turned her gaze to him, looking at him like he was a puzzle or riddle to figure out. “Who’re you and why are you beneath my window?”

He considered turning the question around on her, but that wouldn’t do him any good. Besides the obvious tiefling features, she was the spit of the changeling woman he’d seen. It wasn’t hard to figure out that she belonged here, and he didn’t. That made this situation rather precarious, no matter how relaxed she now seemed.

“I was just comin’ to meet the new folks in town. Ya know, bein’ neighborly and all that.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still sounded weak to his own ears. If she thought the same, it didn’t show. Instead, she inclined her head slightly, taking him in with interest.

“Is that so? I’m afraid you’re ill-prepared for it,” she said, a small smirk playing on the edge of her lips, “Don’t you know you’re supposed to bring a baked good of some kind?”

“Oh? Well damn, if I’d known that I woulda swiped those cherry rolls from the baker’s after all.” It was strange - normally he’d never admit to something like that to anyone, let alone a stranger, but this girl, with her big, earnest eyes and mischievous smile, made him feel more at ease than anyone else ever had. That probably wasn’t a good thing - he’d heard what happened when people fell for pretty faces and charming smiles, and it’d always been a fate he wished to avoid. But at the moment, he didn't have it in himself to care.

Her eyes lit up. “So there’s a baker’s in town? What else? Is there a bookshop? Or a library? An apothecary?” She leaned further into him, fingers lightly resting on his chest. He blinked. That was not the barrage of questions he had expected to be asked if he got caught, and coupled with her proximity it was making him feel uncomfortably warm in a way that had nothing to do with the summer heat.

“Why you askin’ me? You can just go see for yourself. It’s not like it’s far or anythin’,” he said with a cough, finally breaking eye contact with her and hoping she didn’t clock the blush that now stained his cheeks. After a brief silence from her, he glanced back. She was looking past him again, biting her lip as her tail swayed gently close to the ground. His own was cramped underneath him, but despite the fact it was starting to go numb he didn’t move to shove her off him.

Finally, she looked back at him. “I’m supposed to be resting, but…I really want to see the village. Will you take me?”

Questions upon questions burst forth in his mind. Why did she need to rest? Why was she trusting a boy she just met to guide her? What perfume was she wearing that made her smell so good? Hells, what was her name? He decided to go with the one that was easiest to ask.

“Mind tellin’ me your name first?”

Surprise flitted across her face, quickly replaced by a slightly sheepish smile. “I’m Ariadne. And you are?”

“Woljif. Woljif Jefto.” He said it with as much bravado as he could muster. It was a nothing name that didn’t mean anything to anybody but him, but he liked it all the same. For some reason, he hoped she did too.

****

Daeran Arendae was hopelessly, hideously bored, and he was ready to make it everyone else’s problem.

He stared idly at the window display of the town’s trinket shop - pardon, it’s Antiquities and Mysteries shop. Nothing about any of the items he saw was particularly mysterious; it looked more like a place where passerby could pawn whatever was in their pockets to a proprietor that was no doubt going to spin a yarn and sell it for ten times what it was actually worth.

The gnome who ran the place had just moved to Heaven’s Edge a year or so prior, once word had gotten to Kenabres about how bustling and booming the town was becoming. A part of him wondered if the gnome felt cheated once he got to this backwater and saw the truth. The fact the shop was still in business, and bustling as ever, was answer enough, he assumed. That was for the better, as it was the only store within walking distance to town hall that also offered any shade.

It didn’t take long for him to become aware someone was watching him. Besides the servant his mother had insisted accompany him, that was. She was a pale, silent older woman who stared at him like he was a miracle given flesh. He was used to that reaction by now - aasimar were rare this far north, so he and his mother were likely the first she’d ever met. He had no doubt she had eyes on him, even now, but she likely wasn’t the source of the fervent whispering he was hearing from nearby.

“…do you know he even has anything good on him? He’s the same age as us!” This voice was female, with a light accent he couldn’t quite place. It also sounded fairly incredulous to be having this conversation.

“Yeah, so? That shirt alone’s gotta be worth a fortune. Even if all I get is lint, chances are it’ll be worth its weight in gold!” This one, slightly deeper, was affected by the local accent. Judging by the tone, the person who the voice belonged to was dismayed to find that voicing these words didn’t make this plan sound any better.

“Lint doesn’t weigh anything.”

“Exactly!”

“So you’ll get nothing?”

“Yes! I mean, no.” There was a long pause. “I’m confused now.”

“I’m not. Under no circumstances do I think you should go through with this.”

“You want one of those cherry rolls or not?” More silence, this time from the girl. After a moment, the boy added, “Thought so. Now just wait here, I promise it won’t take long.”

Daeran stood still, pretending he was enamored with one of the objects in the window. It wasn’t an easy task, as every item his gaze landed on was more hideous than the last. Finally, he felt a small, barely perceptible tug on his shirt. He had to hand it to the boy - if he wasn’t aware he was the mark, he might not have even noticed. But he did, and the thrill that ran through him as he casually slid his hand down to grasp the thief by the wrist was addicting.

He turned just as the boy let out a startled yelp. The quip that formulated in his mind comparing his would-be assailant to a dog died in his throat as he caught sight of him. Dark curls, purple skin, golden eyes wide with surprise…he was quite handsome, for a thief. The horns had a certain charm to them too, he supposed. And the tail…! Movement caught his eye and he looked past the thief to see his companion, a tiefling girl of about the same age who was just fetching, her eyes a dark shade of amber with a smattering of freckles across her nose and lips to die for.

A rather strange time to discover he might have a preference, all told, but he wasn’t going to complain. His afternoon had just gone from boring to exciting in a matter of seconds, after all. Now he only needed the perfect opening line.

“If you’re so desperate to see what’s in my pants, you could’ve just asked.” All right, perhaps that was a bit too forward, but the blush that spread across the tiefling boy’s cheeks made it worth it.

“I-I wasn't…I mean, it's not…” The boy spluttered as he broke out of his grasp.

“Not what? What it seems?” His lips twisted in what he hoped was his most charming sneer. Sure, he might find the two of them attractive, but that didn't change the fact they’d just been attempting to rob him. He was the scion of his house, and it was most unbecoming if he just let this slide. And besides, having your pockets rifled through was annoying, no matter how dazzling the perpetrator. “Either you were attempting to grope me, or relieve me of my possessions. So which would it be?

Behind the boy, the girl rolled her eyes. He probably should have been annoyed at the gesture, but instead he found a grin blossoming on his face instead. It grew when she said, “I think you know it was the latter. No one’s gonna try to cop a feel on someone who could clearly have their hands cut off for doing so.”

“By that logic, isn’t your friend’s attempt to pickpocket me equally as likely to result in that outcome, if not more?”

The girl scowled at him, in a manner quite ill-befitting her pretty face. He smiled in return.

“You’re right,” she said, grabbing the boy by the back of his shirt and pulling him away from Daeran. “We’re sorry. We’ll just be on our way.”

“Ari,” the boy hissed, “This is Countess Arendae’s son.” His eyes were wide, his riotous mass of black curls trembling slightly.

“What?” Now it was her turn to look surprised. He found he liked this expression on her much more. “Of all the - why did you try it with him!?”

“I didn’t recognize the back of his head!”

“As amusing as it is for you two to talk as if I’m not here, I really have to insist you stop.” Really, he was genuinely amused by this. It was rare for anyone who wasn’t his mother or his tutors to directly interact with him, and he found he rather liked it when said interaction was with people his own age. Though the alarmed looks they kept giving him would prove to be a problem…

“We’re sorry,” the girl repeated again. After a moment, she added, through gritted teeth, “Lord Arendae.”

That he scoffed at. “Please don’t. Call me Daeran, if it’s all the same to you.”

The tieflings exchanged a glance at that. The boy still looked like he wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole, but the girl’s fear and annoyance was quickly being replaced by what he believed was curiosity.

“All right, Daeran,” she said, “We’re sorry we tried to rob you, and for talking like you weren’t here. Now, mind telling us why you haven’t called a guard or something?”

Daeran had to bite back the immediate retort, which was that he didn’t particularly want to see them arrested. If they knew that, they might just take off. That was precisely what he didn’t want. This was the most fun he’d had in a while, and he wanted to ensure his continued entertainment. And the best way to do that…

“You know, this shop supposedly has wonders from all over the world inside it.” He could tell they didn’t quite believe him. Not that he blamed them - he didn’t quite believe it either. “Why don't we go inside and take a little look? And if you see anything worth taking, well…it would help to have the Countess’ son along, right?”

Part of him didn't believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. He might be a spiteful little shit, as he’d been told, but aiding and abetting thievery was new, even for him. Still, when he saw their faces light up in cautious excitement, he couldn’t help but feel that damned warm, fuzzy feeling that all the books he read claimed existed.

If this was what having friends was going to be like, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret this decision for a moment.

Chapter Two

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 668

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I’m Not Your F*ckng Maid

-Prologue-

Dean was awoken with a slam inches from his face and he sprung to life, almost losing his balance before he realised where he was. He’d fallen asleep at the table with his face in a book and surrounded by heaps of paper - many of which he hadn’t even started to read through yet. Blinking awake and gaining his bearings, he heard a familiar voice ring through the room.

”You boys are disgusting, how do you live like this?” The older Winchester finally looked up to see Charlie lifting a plate of half eaten, day-old pizza whilst kicking several beer bottles aside so she could pull out a chair and take a seat next to Dean, who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

”Yeah well, we’ve been a little busy recently if you haven’t noticed,” his voice was gravelly from the sleep. Charlie put down the plate of old food and sat down, worry crossing her face as she looked at the man next to her. She knew they’d been under a lot of pressure lately with their work, so much so that the brothers were starting to neglect themselves. It had been months since they’d eaten proper food that wasn’t instant or take-out, they rarely went outside, always locking themselves away in the bunker to do research and the bunker itself was getting cluttered with bin bags and pizza boxes. Not to mention the piles of laundry that she’s noticed slowly starting to form its own ecosystem in the washroom.

“Yeah I get that, but you really have to look after yourselves. When was the last time you ate a vegetable?”

Dean scoffed.

“Yesterday, obviously,” he gave her a look like she was from another planet, and she rolled her eyes.

“The pizza sauce doesn’t count, Dean.”

He looked puzzled, raising an eyebrow, “Why not?”

Before she could even humour him with an answer, Sam emerged, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh hey Charlie, when did you get here?” His voice was equally as gravelly as Deans, so she assumed he’d also just woken up.

“Five minutes ago.”

“She called us disgusting Sam. And she said the sauce on pizza isn’t made from vegetables,” Dean gestured to Charlie like she was the fool as he looked up at his younger brother who now stood across from him on the other side of the table. Sam went to open his mouth to respond, but closed it again quickly and furrowed his brows, clearly unsure how to reply to his older brother without opening a can of worms. Charlie huffed.

“You guys need to sort yourself out. I only dropped by because I hadn’t heard from you for a while and thought you might’ve worked yourself to death. I can’t stay long because I’m meeting a friend for a drink. She’s already at the diner waiting for me”

“A friend?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and the redhead smirked.

“I wish, sadly she’s into dudes,” she paused, a thought crossing her mind, “Come to think of it, she’s actually looking for work, you guys might be able to help.”

Dean and Sam shared a glance.

“She’s a hunter?” Sam asked.

“Not exactly. Her uncle was, so she knows about stuff, but from what I know she was just a research girlie,” Charlie peered at the mess of papers on the table, “and it looks like you could use the help.” She looked between the brothers as they stared at each other, like they were having some sort of unspoken conversation. A few moments passed before Dean slapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Sure ok, but we’re coming with you today to meet her,” he went to grab his jacket from the back of his chair, an eagerness in his movements before Charlie put her hand out to stop him.

“Great!” She grinned, before raising her eyebrows and pointing to them both, “but first you guys have got to shower, because I can taste your BO from here.”

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Up Next

Chapter 1

[notjustjavierpena]

you mentioned wife being the first person javi opened up to about his mother.

imagine him walking with her around his fathers ranch and just showing her all the places from his childhood, his favourite hiding spots etc and causally just mentioning his mum here and there. reader is clinging to his arm and just basking in the day.

at night they’re staying in his childhood bedroom since it got late and they had quite a few beers with Chucho and eventually javi is holding wife/then girlfriend close and just says “i’ve never told anyone about my mother before like this” or something like that ahhh

Open

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is extremely personal for me to write about as a person who knows what it is like to lose a parent when you are young. I have written this with utmost gratitude to Hubby Javi because I can process some feelings through him. I hope you enjoy this harsh thing. I hope you know that this heals me and I hope it heals other people too. It might not be completely how you wanted it but I hope you like it better.

Summary: Javier opens up about the loss of his mother inside his childhood bedroom.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, angst, talk about abusive parenting, talk about grief, descriptions of a child experiencing grief and the loss of a parent, descriptions of cancer and its effects physically and emotionally, talk about death obviously, hurt/comfort, love confessions, openness is beautiful!!! kisses, clit stim, sex to deal with emotions

Word count: 4.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56911576

Open

About two months ago, you promised Chucho Peña that you would help him with the annual apple harvest and suddenly, the leaves are turning brown, and September begins with magazines filling up with apple pie recipes. 

Today, you have dressed the part for a weekend on your father-in-law’s ranch with your boyfriend. Dressing the part means that you have gone out to buy yourself a pair of denim overalls that make you look mostly like a caricature of a farm girl. Javier promises that he finds it sort of endearing, reassuring you every time you bring it up with embarrassment on your face. 

“Stop worrying,” he says as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, standing on a ladder that you are holding whilst he plucks apples off what seems like the millionth tree in the orchard, “He likes you, baby.”

“I should have just gone with my usual clothes,” you argue with a little sigh. Javier doesn’t know how much it means to you that you aren’t seen as foolish, how much it would hurt to find out that you are seen as the butt of a joke behind closed doors. He doesn’t know how much you need this approval because Chucho Peña is the kindest and most gentle and attentive older man you have ever met, treating you like his own child with a soft mija (my girl/daughter) that had been enough for you to excuse yourself for a moment the first time you had heard it. He is not at all like your own father. 

“You’re making an effort that doesn’t go unnoticed,” Javier offers as a consolation after you have stayed silent for a little too long, stepping down the ladder and taking off his work gloves. He stuffs them into his belt and kisses you with another reassuring smile, “He likes you.”

“I guess I'll just have to trust you,” you sigh dramatically and Javier pulls you into an embrace, the chuckle he lets out vibrating against your chest. You feel his lips pull into a smile as he rests his mouth against your cheek.

“You are kind and honest,” he compliments and sways you from side to side as he holds you close. You wrap yourself around him too, listening to his sweet words and breathing in his scent, “And he thinks the world of you. I might actually start to feel a little jealous.”

A little smile forms on your face as he squeezes you tighter and when he pulls back just a bit to kiss you, you nod at him, trying to play it cool despite thoughts of self-doubt nagging at you, “I did warn you about how I get around parents..” 

“I know, mi amor (my love), I know,” he acknowledges and holds you close again, “But you did enough to charm him the first time to be invited back. And the overalls really do sell it.”

“Shut up,” you groan as he snickers in your ear. He always manages to make your heart flutter in your chest, teasing you relentlessly but grounding you as he does it. None of your baggage is too big for him, even as you present it with trembling hands from how heavy it feels to you.

“Just a few more minutes here and we can have a well-earned fucking break. I love you but not enough to skive off in my Dad’s garden,” he tells you and starts to loosen you from his embrace, “That okay?”

You nod and then you finally break apart. Javier gets back onto the ladder to pick the remaining apples off the tree in front of you. He starts the repetitive task once again, handing each one to you so you can carefully put them in the basket on the ground so they don’t bruise. While you do it, you find your mind drifting to the day you met Chucho. 

You remember the drive to the ranch, your heart pounding in your chest at a million miles per hour, and the fake smile you had given Javier each time he had asked if you were okay. During your stay for dinner and drinks, and as you smiled and charmed, you hid the anxiety until you were all the way back at Javier’s apartment once more, only then letting your facade crumble and telling him that the dizzying nervousness he had seen on the drive back had nothing to do with his father and everything to do with your own. 

Javier had asked you if your parents had ever hurt you and with a shaky voice, you’d had to explain that while the answer was no, what you received instead of deliberate cruelty was cruel indifference. 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you had said with stinging tears in your eyes, “Being hurt or being invisible.”

“You’re not invisible to me,” Javier had whispered into your hair. He had held you tightly that evening, right in his hallway, feet planted on the floorboards that have become yours too, his arms a harbor of reassurance that things will never be like that again, “I will never allow anyone to treat you like that again.”

Now, as you place another apple gently in the basket, you think about how different Chucho Peña is from your father. Chucho’s attention is genuine and warm, listening to you with the same interest as Javier shows too, letting you know where some of your boyfriend’s mannerisms come from, whereas your parents’ show of care was always fleeting and conditional to the point where you wondered why they even decided to have you. 

“Hey,” Javier’s voice breaks through your thoughts. He’s looking down at you from the ladder, concern on his face and gloves already off again, “¿Estás bien? (You okay?)”

“Yeah, sorry,” you feel embarrassed that it’s so evident on your face that you aren’t at ease but decide to be honest, “Just thinking about parents and overalls.”

Javier steps down onto the gravel again, laying the gloves on the top step of the ladder. He tuts, face serious for a moment. 

“C’mon, you’ve been standing in the sun too long. Let’s take a break now and go for a walk in the garden. Still got a lot to show you,” he says with his hand reaching out for you. You take it with an unsure smile, but as you are interlocking your fingers and gently swaying your arms between your bodies as you start walking, you find that it feels more than alright to let yourself be comforted by him. 

Javier leads you through the apple trees until you are out of the orchard completely. He talks quietly about the ranch but there’s a slight hesitation to dig deeper than the materials and the construction of his childhood home. You decide not to push it, knowing that it was not easy to reveal your secrets, and instead admire the many flowers that will bloom in next year’s Spring. 

Javier seems to notice you taking in all the different bushes and flowers and you’ll never admit to seeing his shoulders slump slightly just before he starts talking again, “Mom loved this garden, you know. She spent hours here, tending to every single plant until her fingertips were green and dirt-smudged. I used to follow her around, pretending to help but mostly just getting in the way.”

“Didn’t get into trouble, did you?” You tease and lean into him as you walk. 

“Loads and I would hide up there when she got angry with me,” he points to an old and slightly weathered oak tree, a rope ladder in even worse condition hanging down the trunk, “But she’d always soften if I apologized. Once she said she liked her hyacinths without their heads to make me feel better.”

“I’d swap parents in a heartbeat,” you sigh with your head on his shoulders and he moves to let you hold onto his arm instead. He goes a little quieter and you allow him to hold onto her memory by himself for a moment, looking up to see a slight crinkle on his forehead. 

“Even when you’d only have one?” He eventually murmurs into your hair and from the way he exhales, you know that he regrets saying it, “I mean… I know you would.”

“You have beautiful memories of her, I can tell,” you say as gently as possible, “If you ever want to tell me more about her, I’m here to listen, you know.”

Javier clears his throat, “Thank you.”

A moment passes but nothing more happens. This would be the perfect opportunity but the silence stretches out until you walk beside him again, holding his hand instead of basking in his half-embrace. You want to say something but you are at a loss, searching for the right words to comfort him but failing just long enough for him to change the subject. 

“We should go see how far Pop has gotten,” he suggests lightheartedly and steers you back where you came from, out of what used to be his sanctuary with his mother. 

“Yeah, sure, baby,” you reply. 

Another time then.

—

When the sun has gone down behind the horizon and the cicadas have come out from their hiding places, singing their hearts out, Javier takes you to his old room upstairs. The both of you have had alcohol with dinner and while Javier had offered to take a cab, his father had scolded him for even thinking about such nonsense, telling him that it was a joy to have him home so wholeheartedly. Your father-in-law had looked at you with a warm smile as he had said it. 

Now, you lie in Javier’s old bed - just a little bit too small for the both of you - with the quilted bedspread lying neatly folded in the end. It somehow feels more intimate to be in his childhood bedroom than it would be to go through his underwear drawer. 

Right above you, several posters are pinned to the ceiling and overlapping each other. The corners of the posters curl slightly and their colors have dulled since the 70s but they display the men of rock bands like Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. Some display the band logos too, they exist on the CDs that you have found in Javier’s glove compartment but he never listens to them when he drives you around. You make a mental note to casually put one of them on during your drive home tomorrow. 

Seeing those iconic faces from the 70s stare down at you, you can’t help but glance fondly at Javier when he isn’t looking but instead standing by the open window on the opposite wall, smoking a cigarette. Suddenly, his wardrobe consisting of denim jeans, colorful shirts, and leather jackets makes sense. 

You try to imagine Don Chucho coming in here with the determination to put out the cigarette in his son’s hand, holding in a lecture that would only have made the teenager roll his eyes. Then the snark that would have come out of Javier’s mouth, his face mustache-free and full of spots, and you smile so much that you turn around onto your stomach to hide your expression in his pillow. 

It smells faintly of sweat and the cheap cologne only a teenager would have bought, so you turn to peek at your boyfriend again. He taps his fingers on the window sill, overlooking the garden that you have come to learn so much about earlier. 

You spot small pieces of who he is everywhere; a stack of sociology books, paperback horror books with titles in both English and Spanish. The most worn down and loved one is El Resplandor which you guess to be The Shining. There’s also a corkboard on the wall with ticket stubs and polaroids, a framed photograph on the desk that you haven’t had the courage or chance to look at yet, beside it a figurine of La Virgen de Guadalupe that’s been tipped over in what seems to be frustration. Your smile drops a little as you feel the weight of the unfairness he must have felt. 

From the window, Javier exhales a puff of smoke and reaches up to rub his eye with his free hand. You glance again at the photograph on the desk, curiosity getting the better of you as you rise from the bed and walk over to it. 

As expected, the picture is of Javier's mother. What you didn’t expect is seeing your boyfriend at the age of what you calculate to be younger than ten. The resemblance is striking; her features are mirrored in his even with how much he still looks like his father. 

You chew on the inside of your cheek as you pick up the religious figurine next to the picture, placing her upright once more so her head is tipped toward Javier and his mother. There’s a surge of emotion in your stomach that you try to suppress, a sense of urgency to reach through the photograph and comfort the little boy who has lost half of himself. 

You hear him stub out his cigarette on the wood paneling outside, followed by the dry sound of him trying to brush the ashes off the wood again with his calloused hands. In his late thirties and still acting as if he’ll get caught by his father. 

He turns back towards you and you act like nothing has happened, holding out your hand for him to take. He glances in the direction of his mother’s photo but decides not to say anything even as he notices the figurine standing upright once again. You flex your fingers to draw attention to your hovering hand, “Come to bed.” 

You’ve both already been in your underwear for a while since it’s late and you’re alone - the overalls hang on the back of his door, scowling at you - so he simply takes your hand and you walk backward until the edge hits the back of your legs. You let yourself fall down onto the bed and into the mattress, moving backward until there’s room for him too. 

Javier sighs the second he is lying down next to you, your shoulders touching from the missing width of the bed. He turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and staring down at your face. 

“What?” You ask with a little smile.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes and the fact that he hasn’t said anything yet makes you want to squirm nervously. He reaches out with the arm he has been lying on, splaying his fingers against your cheek as his thumb rests underneath your chin, and then he crashes your mouths together in a kiss that you know is him resolving back to past methods of dealing with it all. 

However, you find yourself kissing him back at first, grabbing his wrist, and leaning into him to make out with him in a way that his younger self wouldn’t have believed was possible to experience. There’s a warm feeling in your stomach as you tangle your legs together, desire for him swirling below your belly button. 

You gasp against his lips when his free hand slips into your panties, your heart hammering in your chest as he smears some of your wetness over your clit. He rubs you off until you breathe heavily, fingertip dancing back and forth over the hard nub.

“You’re so wet,” he moans quietly and slowly increases the pressure of his fingers. He really wants you to come, it seems. You didn’t have getting laid in your boyfriend’s childhood bed down on this year’s bingo card but you can feel your orgasm approaching so damn quickly that it makes you not able to think straight. 

“Baby,” you babble, horny out of your mind from the intense emotions in the air, “I’m not gonna— in your dad’s house.”

“Yes, you fucking are,” he says in a low voice, kissing your open and panting mouth to shut you up. You might come but he won’t have you making noise loud enough to reveal what you are doing. He growls in the back of his throat, “You want my fingers? Don’t reply. Just nod or shake your head.”

You dig your nails into his wrist hard enough to create little crescent-shaped marks. You want to nod your head so badly but it feels wrong to be nothing but an outlet, a distraction from what you should be talking about. So instead, you shake your head with a moan, on the brink of bursting, “Stop, Javier. Stop.”

Javier raises his brow but immediately brings his hand to a halt, watching as you whimper from being edged. You clutch at your own chest, rolling away to not tempt him to fall back into his bad habit. 

“¿Qué pasa (What’s going on)?” He asks with a crease on his forehead. He tries to kiss you again but you put a hand on his chest to create some space between the two of you. He scowls, “What? You’re not having sex with me because we’re in my Pop’s house?” 

“That wasn’t sex,” you bite with frustration throughout your lower body, reaching down to fix the waistband of your underwear. The fabric sticks to you and your throbbing clit tells you to beg for forgiveness so it can have its release. You ignore it, “That was you avoiding the elephant in the room with intimacy and I don’t want to be a part of that.”

Javier lets himself fall onto his back, reaching up to push the heels of his hands into his eyes. He groans and lets his palms run down his face until his arms rest along his sides again. He heaves a big sigh, “Shit. Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you promise because it is. You aren’t even mad despite how you probably should be, only feeling the way your heart aches for the boy who had to grow up too fast. Without a word, you reach down to entwine your fingers and give his hand a reassuring squeeze, “I promise. It’s okay.”

“We talk about her but we don’t talk about her,” he says to the ceiling. You go quiet and choose to simply listen instead of breaking the streak of him opening up about something so vulnerable. Instead of using your words, you rub his hand in soothing circles. 

“Pop likes to mention her occasionally but it’s with a little smile on his face and a funny story,” he continues quietly, “And that’s fine. Really, it is. I like remembering the good but he says all the right things without making it hurt. It feels as though he expects me to keep all the bad in check and believe me, there was a lot of awful shit. So much that sometimes it feels like I can’t move when I am reminded of it. Hospitals with never-ending halls, that poisonous shit they shot into her veins, her losing her hair, even her goddamn eyelashes, and suddenly not—“

He stops for a moment and swallows thickly. You turn onto your side and rest your forehead against his shoulder, still clutching his hand to let him know you are not letting go. He clears his throat to sound as if his voice isn’t wavering, “Suddenly not recognizing her anymore. This terrible sight of her turning yellow during her last few weeks. I was just a kid and it was horrible and unfair. I wish he’d acknowledge how horrible and unfair it was.” 

You kiss his bare shoulder a few times. There are so many things you want to say but mostly, it is that you are so sorry for what he went through. 

“I think I learned that nothing lasts forever,” he adds without looking at you, staring down at where his fingers are entwined with yours. He is quiet for a moment and you feel your heart pick up in rhythm as you try to find something to fill the silence with, something that debunks that belief. However, just as you are about to say something, he speaks again, “But I would like this to be. I would like us to be forever.”

“Javi,” you finally say softly. 

He lifts his gaze to lock it onto yours. He looks at his most vulnerable, eyes brown and big as he waits for you to continue. You take just a moment too long and he is off again, suddenly very chatty.

“I know I haven’t asked you to marry me,” he says, “But I promise it’s coming. I just need to get it right.”

“You don’t have to talk about that right now. You know I love you and I know you love me too; I know it’s coming,” you say to reassure, pushing the idea of only letting him speak away because this topic is too big to stay silent on, “I’m not lying here with you because I want a ring on my finger, and I’m certainly not treating it like a condition for you to open up to me. I want to know you, Javier.”

“Thank you,” Javier looks grateful to hear that, saying nothing for a moment before looking at the ceiling again. He laughs softly, “You fucking terrified me, you know, the first time we sat down together.”

“I terrified you?” You furrow your brows, huffing out a laugh of disbelief.

“I pull my grief up to every table I share with a person I would like to have in my life, mi amor (my love). I was terrified the first time we were on a date,” he admits, “I kept thinking when you were going to ask about family… If I was close to my mother. I hated to imagine the way your smile and curiosity would drop but I don’t want to just focus on the way I want to remember her. You were so kind and thoughtful and damn bright-eyed - that was before I knew about your dad - and I didn’t want to share how I actually remember her because you might have not wanted to see me like that.”

“Javi,” you let go of his hand to put your palm against his cheek, turning his head towards you. You weigh your words, “I want to know everything about you. I want to know everything about her too. Especially if you’re gonna marry me.” 

“She was incredible, loved music, always honest even if it meant war, and read so many books that Pop had to build her bookcase after bookcase,” he tells you with a tremble in his voice and a tear that threatens to spill down his cheek even as he smiles in remembrance of her, “But as warm and loving as she was hard. Believe it or not, Pop used to be the softie of those two.”

“I can imagine,” you say fondly. You let your hand fall down to rest on his chest, palm laying just where his heart is. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen a woman so defiant in her ways but she grew up with a lot of expectations of how she should live her life,” he continues, “I think that hardened her a lot. I think it brought a lot of trouble too. She was so fiercely independent. She was fiercely protective of me and Dad too but sometimes even more of herself. I guess I know what it’s like to defend oneself from all the bullshit people give you.”

“Fiercely protective?” You tease, “Sounds like someone I know.”

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe I got that from her,” he admits with both pride and sadness. He puts a hand on your wrist, rubbing it with his thumb as a way to fidget, “That’s why it got so hard when she got sick because that defiance just crumbled. I was just a kid but I was old enough to see through the facade she put up every day. I was happy to eat takeout all the time - I was barely ten, so who wouldn’t be? - but I knew it was because she was too exhausted to cook. The music was too loud, the TV muted so she could sleep on the couch all the time or maybe it had the sound turned up all the way because she was throwing up in the bathroom.”

It seems he cannot stop himself now, hand tightening around your wrist and tears falling from his eyes, “She would look at Pop with a scared expression because she knew she had to leave him all alone with me. I don’t think we ever talked about that fact. I think I just realized it for myself one day.”

Your chest constricts at seeing him cry for the first time in your presence. You’ve seen him in the aftermath of it on the nights when Colombia creeps into his head as he sleeps, where he excuses himself to the bathroom and comes out a few minutes later with puffy eyes and a reddened nose. Seeing him now, upset like this, hits you harder than you thought it would and your heart aches as you listen to him talk about the loss of his life. 

It is years of bottled-up cruel pain and sorrow flowing out of him, so you follow your instincts and throw your arms around him even if his arm is still trapped between you. You hold him tightly and feel his reluctance for a millisecond before he allows himself to tremble in your embrace. 

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” you say softly, “You were just a little boy, and you had to watch your mom suffer. No one should have to go through that.”

Grief is a funny thing because as you close your eyes, feeling his shuddering breaths against your chest in the midst of his emotional motion sickness, you swear that it is not an adult Javier that you are hugging but rather the version of him that had to let go of his mother. 

When your muscles start to ache from squeezing him so hard, you pull back a little to stare into his tearful face, watching his eyes glisten. You wipe a tear away but it is just replaced by another. 

“I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to mess this up,” he says and you’re not sure if it’s him or the little boy in him that speaks. 

“You won’t,” you reassure him, your voice steady like a lifeline that he can hold onto, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

Javier sniffles with a hesitant smile. Like the instincts of a mother, you lift the hem of your shirt to wipe a few tears from his face. You lean close to kiss him afterward and then move to lie face-to-face with him, so close that your noses almost touch. Your voice is sincere, “I know she meant a lot to you and your dad, so thank you for telling me. It sounds like she was an amazing woman. I wish I could have met her.”

“She would have loved you,” Javier replies, “She had this way of seeing right through people, knowing if they were genuine or not. And you, you’re the most genuine person I’ve ever met.”

Despite the warmth outside, you feel a different kind flow through you at those words. You brush your lips against his in a tender kiss, “I need to make sure that I tell you that I love you even more when you are so open and gentle with me.” 

He looks tired now but it’s the tiredness that fills the body after relief, “I love you too.”

“I think you should get some sleep,” you say softly. 

“I’ve never talked to anyone about my mother like this before,” he adds, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You never have to find out,” you tell him and reach to rub a thumb between his eyebrows, “Close your eyes, baby.  I’ll stay awake until you’re asleep.”

He does as he is told and smiles until sleep takes over, his face relaxing, his mouth going slack, and his breaths slowing down. He is so beautiful like this, looking peaceful, looking like home.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[starry-bi-sky]

okay a few more danyal al ghul au memes because i think they're funny to make. with bonus yaelokre danyal memes!

yaelokre! danyal 🤝 threes! danyal: being five years older than damian

yaelokre danyal comes from my oneshot right here. however, i would frankly recommend reading the version i put on ao3 because it's been edited and includes more content! shout out to my boy, he's got amnesia </3

Do i think that the LOA has technology in it? Absolutely I do. LED lights but in 3000k warm white instead of the jarring bright sterile white, if they've got glass windows they're those solar panel glass panes my college natural science building uses that detects sunlight position, which in term controls the lights, which in turn saves energy. Amber lights for outside, solar panels. Just. anything environmentally sound and friendly, they've got it, they use it.

Do i think they've got computers and tvs lying around for casual recreational use? ....that i'm not so sure about. For this au? I'm gonna say nooooottt really. That stuff is typically reserved for like, mission planning, debriefing, research, etc. Frankly danny probably does know how to use a computer, however i thought it was funny if he didn't. so the meme is staying in lmao.

If they're not training, they've probably like, got a greenhouse or two somewhere on base they can help with. The LoA's whole thing is balance, harmony, restoring the natural world with extreme environmentalism. All that jazz. Probably plenty of ponds, recreational areas outside, gardens, just, stuff to do that's not technology based. My most basic understanding is that these people are the world's deadliest hippies. They can't be training all the time, that's neither good for morale nor for their bodies, so when they're not training... they're off doing shit. If Ras has kept this thing running for thousands of years then it’s gotta be pretty lit enough that nobody’s revolted lmao.

[jillsandwhichs]

Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection , Chap 6 , Beer and Sex

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You, Joel and Tommy are at an event in Austin that includes being outdoors, drinking & games! Well, long story short, you and Joel end up heading back to his place for some indoor fun

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Friends

WC: 3.0k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: No outbreak (AU), Usage of alcohol, Buzzed sex, Dirty talk, Making out, Breast play, Living room sex, You ride Joel, Unprotected sex, Choking kink, Clit rubbing, Denial of orgasm, doggy style & you ride him

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

You sat back down whilst laughing. Picking your beer back up, you sipped it and put it back down. You haven't drinken in a while, it's nice to finally do it again. You're usually so busy with work that you never have the time or energy to get some alcohol in your system. Your friends Joel and Tommy convinced you to go with them to this event in town though and when you saw there were drinks, you couldn't refuse.

The only reason Joel and Tommy are here is because Maria is hosting this event. She's very big with the city council and hosts events like this from time to time. You don't mind coming. You're actually enjoying yourself. Just a bit ago you were playing darts with Joel and then tether ball with Tommy. You're slightly buzzed too. You can't get full blown drunk though, you need to still drive home.

As you watched some of the younglings run around and play, you felt the weight of the table increase as Joel sat down. It's a muscular man. He weighs a good bit. "Hey." You said in a friendly tone. "Hello." He replied, sipping his tall boy. "You got another one? Shit, don't make me go get another one too, I still have to drive home." You joked, resting your head in your hand. Joel chuckled. "My house is just a few blocks away and I walked here so I ain't even bothered." Joel stated.

That's right, he lives in the suburbs. That's not something you'd expect from a country boy like him. Then again, being country is defined by where you live. "Where did Tommy and Maria go?" "No fuckin' clue," Joel snickered, "Probably fuckin' in the bathroom or something." He teased. You laughed and nodded. "They are newly weds, what can you expect?" You said whilst giggling. Joel nodded. "True that."

Joel was once married, he even had a daughter with the woman. Joel has been single for years now though. Everyone jokes he's out of commission but he just says he's waiting for the right lady. Sarah, his daughter, is almost twelve. She's getting older and cuter by the second. You've met her quite a bit, even babysat her, she's a dear. Joel told you she's with her mother right now, so he's free.

"At least Maria is getting some. It's been a good few months for me." "Months? Try years darlin' and it ain't by choice." You cackled at his words. He isn't wrong. He's celibate from what you've heard. "Sorry Joel, that has to suck." "It sure fuckin' does." He took a shot of his beer. You nodded and sipped off of yours too. The beer was getting warm. Gross. You sighed deeply. "I'm going to go get a new beer, I'll be right back."

You stood up and headed towards the cooler. This cooler was brought by Tommy himself. He decided to provide it for everyone. It's the good stuff too. You bent over and picked up a new one. It was ice cold to the touch. "Hell yeah." You murmured, cracking it open. You're currently wearing a black tank top and short jean shorts. It's hot during the summer, you have to stay cool somehow.

When you turned around, you saw that Joel's eyes were on you. He looked like he was trying to play it off as if he wasn't just checking you out but he totally was. You can't lie, you've checked him out too. Those big muscles and that handsome face are a sight for sore eyes. He's a hottie, admittedly. You giggled and sat back down beside him.

"You were totally just checking me out, weren't you?" You said with a laugh, tipping your beer into your mouth and drinking it all while looking into his brown eyes. He snorted and nodded. "You caught me." Oh, so he was? You don't mind. You knew Joel would be there and that did somewhat take part in what you're currently wearing.

You've always thought he was sexy. The day Tommy introduced you to him you though that. That was only two years ago. Your guy's friendship has been great but you're awfully surprised the two of you haven't hooked up yet. You've definitely flirted and hit on one another. You've even went as far as to having him lick salt off of your stomach before taking a shot of tequila and that had you soaked.

It is very surprising.

"But you can't deny you were checkin' me out earlier." Joel whispered to you with a husky voice. You giggled. "Guilty as charged. You've also caught me red handed." This isn't just the beer talking. You totally were. When he was putting the cooler down earlier, you were indeed gawking at his veiny, buff arms. You giggled and bit your lip while looking up at him. "How drunk are you?" You asked him. "Not drunk enough." You rolled your eyes at his words.

You looked around the area. You still have no clue where Tommy and Maria are. "I'll shoot him a text. Let's get out of here." He whispered to you. You scoffed and breathed in deeply. "Alright." You giggled. He got off of the picnic table and took your hand in his, helping you out of the table as well. You smiled at him. Your guy's hands stayed interlocked. Is this actually going to happen? Are you going to fuck Joel Miller? After all this time?

"My house ain't too far from here." Joel said to you in a deep voice. "I know." You smiled, walking alongside him. You don't feel drunk. You do feel buzzed. It isn't anything you can't handle. You're a heavy weight. It takes you time to really hit the drunk point. The trees around you and Joel brought you two shade, but you're already too hot, in more ways than one. He looked down at you and chuckled. "I can't wait to fuck you." He admitted. You huffed out. "Good." You bit your lip to hold back a big grin.

You glanced over your shoulder. You hope no one will wonder where you two are. You'd rather keep this between you and Joel for now. "Will we come back once we're done?" "We'll have to, I left my goddamn brother back there." You laughed loudly. "That is true... He'll be fine, right?" "He's a grown man, he's fine. Like I said darlin', I'll text him." You nodded. You just don't want them to come looking for the two of you.

You'd rather not be in the middle of getting fucked when Tommy and Maria show up.

-

As Joel opened his front door and locked it behind him, he chuckled and grabbed you, smashing his lips against yours. You kissed him back. His messy beard scraped against your face. "Mmph." You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck. He picked you up into his arms like you were a feather. You giggled and continued to kiss him. His hands were on your ass cheeks, squeezing them as he took you two to the living room area.

"Baby?" "Hmm?" "Bedroom or living room?" You snorted at his question. At least you get a say in this. You thought for a moment. "Let's keep it fun-living room." "Glady." Joel smirked, kissing you again but this time, his tongue found it's way into your mouth. You didn't mind. It made you even more horny. Your guy's tongues fought for dominance. You wanted to explore every crevice of his mouth. You moaned loudly as he sat you down on him. You could feel his erection through his stained work jeans.

You giggled and kissed him before reaching your hands down to the end of your tank top and pulling it off. Joel just stared in admiration. He thinks you're gorgeous. "Look at you," He purred, "You're beautiful." He whispered. You grinned. "You're handsome, and so sexy." You spoke seductively before licking his lower lip and kissing him again. His hands went to your tits, he squeezed them gently. Joel is more of an ass guy though.

After making out for a little bit, Joel finally pulled away to take deep breaths. "I'm fuckin' twitchin'." He sighed deeply, looking down at his bulge. You think that's the sexist thing ever. You love when a man is vocal about how he feels or what you're doing to him. "I'm so wet for you, wanna feel?" You whispered against his ear. Joel's breath shuttered. "Badly." And his hands went to your shorts, undoing them and helping you out of them as well.

Stepping out of your shorts, you climbed back into Joel's lap and sighed. "Feel." You whispered, kissing his neck and jawline. Joel brought his finger down to your core and pulled your panties to the side. As he dipped his fingers through your folds, he let out a low groan. "So fuckin' wet, just for me, hm?" He whispered, nibbling on your jawline. You giggled. "Just for you." This surely isn't the first time you've gotten wet thinking about Mr. Joel Miller.

Joel swiped his fingers through your folds, picking up all of your juicy wetness. You continued to kiss him. He seemed desperate, like a wild animal. He's hungry for you. You bit his lower lip and once again swiped your tongue along his. You moaned so quietly, it was more of a whimper.

He pulled his finger away and grunted. "Need to feel you from the inside." He murmured as he pulled his cock out of his jeans. Oh yeah, he's big. You're excited. It's been so long, especially for him. You hope you're as good as he'll be to you. Grabbing his member, you yourself pulled your white panties to the side before you then sat down on his dick. Both of you made sensual noises as your folds and cunt enveloped him. He was already so deep inside of you. It feels so good.

"How's that?" You chuckled, your arms around his neck. He snickered and gripped your ass tightly, landing a smack onto it which caused you to jolt slightly. "You feel so good. Now fuckin' ride me." He began to squeeze and slap your ass and you started to ride him. You went slow at first. Your movements were just simple grinds back and forth but you'd occasionally lift your ass up and back down, literally bouncing on his cock.

You wanted to savour this. You haven't felt this good in awhile. Having sex with Joel tonight was not on your agenda of plans but seriously, it is a welcomed surprise. He feels amazing. He knows what he's doing too. Each time he pinches your ass cheeks or spanks you playfully, it either makes you moan or kiss him even harder and more passionately.

Now, Joel is holding your hips. You began to ride him faster too. His dick is so deep inside of you, you can hardly believe it. "I've wanted this for a long time." You moaned out, looking him in the eyes. His eyes got darker and even more full of lust. "Me too babygirl, me too." He then swatted your ass again before going back to squeezing your hips. You're sure you'll have red marks all over your cheeks by later in the evening.

Bouncing on him, each thrust was just a mark bringing you closer to your climax. His member is deep inside of you and is shoving itself against your tight walls with each movement. "Yes baby." He groaned, kissing and licking your neck. He thinks you smell amazing. You did put on your perfume before going to the event. You're glad it's doing it's job.

"Babygirl, turn around, cowgirl, y'know?" You giggled at his words. "Yes sir." You teased and lifted yourself off of him slightly to turn around. You were surprised he asked you to switch positions, but you aren't complaining. You pushed yourself down onto his dick again and you both made whimpering noises. He seems to be feeling good. That's all you want. It's been years for him, you better make it good.

Once you got comfortable, you moaned loudly as he started to thrust up into you. "Joel!" You practically screamed, tossing your head back against his broad shoulder. He cackled and kissed your neck, leaving numerous bites and hickies onto it too. How are you supposed to go into work on Monday? You're sure these'll last a few days, hopefully not. "Need to make sure I still got it." Joel grunted, now he is the one fucking you and man, it's heaven.

Joel noticed your head was still tilted back against his shoulder. He smirked. He brought his left hand up to your neck and held it, choking you now. You moaned and turned your head slightly, kissing his messy hair and giggling. "You're so deep inside of me." You panted. "Yea? You're takin' it so fuckin' well too baby." Joel replied, kissing your cheeks numerous times, making you smile and chuckle.

His free hand, his right one, was one your lower stomach, holding you in place. You wanted to look down to see him moving inside of you, but you couldn't. With his hand on your neck, there's not much you can do with your head. You aren't complaining. You think it's hot to be choked. He does it so well too. "Been thinkin' about fuckin' you for awhile now," He whispered against your ear. His breath was warm. "You feel better than I ever could've imagined." That made you whimper in pleasure.

You felt his right hand slither down from your waist and to your clit. You whimpered. "Oh God!" You whined out as he began to rub your clit fast and with pressure. It felt so good. He works well with his fingers. He continued to thrust up into you, which made the experience a million times better. "I'm gonna cum." You whispered to him. "No baby, not yet, hold it in." What!? How are you supposed to just hold it in? "What?" "You heard me babydoll." He licked behind your ear and bit on your lobe. "Do not cum yet." He sternly stated.

"How?" "Just do it."

How are you supposed to hold back your orgasm? No hookup has ever asked you to hold it back. Actually, they need you to cum quickly or else they'll finish before you. You whimpered and bit your lip. No, you're going to cum. "I can't," You panted, "I just can't." Joel didn't respond. "Joel!" You moaned out, reaching your hand behind his head and tugging on his hair. He grunted and bit down on your neck.

"Cum for me."

That was it. You moaned softly as you coated his cock in your fluids. You let go of his hair. Shaking in his lap, Joel continued to rub your clit until you came down from your high. It overstimed you even. "Holy Christ." You moaned. You went to turn your head to kiss him but he lifted you up and chuckled. "I still haven't finished." He then pushed you down onto the couch, doggy style, and began to pound into you.

You moaned loudly and gripped the couch beneath you. Your knuckles even went white. He moved so skillfully inside of you. Each pump was one of excellence. "Wish I could cum inside of you." He whispered, running his hands up and down your back before he ultimately rested them on your rear. Joel gripped your ass, squeezing it tightly before leaving multiple slaps onto it, all of which made your moan or squeal.

With just a couple more thrusts, Joel finished. He quickly pulled out and stroked himself. He finished all over your ass and lower back. "Fuck sakes." Joel groaned, caressing your ass as he came. You pushed your ass against his manhood and giggled. He spanked you again and snickered. "One sec." He leaned over and grabbed a random wipe, cleaning your ass and back off. He tossed the rag to the other side of the living room and you chuckled.

Joel heaved deeply and lifted you up by your waist and pulled you back into his lap. You were basically completely naked, only in panties whereas he was fully dressed. So unfair. "Was it good?" You asked him, resting your head against the arm of the couch. He glanced down at you, still breathing heavily. "You're a funny girl." He leaned down and kissed you softly. "It was fuckin' glorious." He then nibbed on your jawline, making you giggle cutely.

You hummed and looked up at him. "You're the only man whose ever denied me of finishing, by the way." You snorted. "That's because you've only done slept with boys who finish too quickly. I think it's sexy to see a woman be restricted of her pleasure." You giggled at his words. "It felt better." "That's the point babydoll." He caressed your cheek and you brought yourself closer to his face, kissing him gently.

He breathed in deeply and cupped your face firmly, holding you in place. "Don't convince me to fuck you again." He said with a smile against your lips. "If you can't handle it..." You bit your lip. You acted like you were about to get off of his lap and you suddenly squealed as he tossed you back onto the couch and put you in missionary. Your legs went over his shoulders and you smiled.

"Oh I think I can handle it."

That was where the next of many rounds began.

[hunters-vigil]

The Archon's Baby - Chapter 5 - The Next Morning

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

request from ao3: Make one where they have a child but the female character doesn't tell Mavuika that she is expecting a child and distances herself from Mavuika please 🙏🙏

warnings/mentions of: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, there's some bra talk and bra scenes, an attempt at writing flirting...

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu.

The pyro archon is more than a trained warrior, a strategic mind, lightning fast reflexes, impeccable senses... and yet, she remained sleeping as you rummaged in your bag for another shirt. Finally finding one, you dropped your bag into the chair, moving to tug it over your head.

"Well, this is a sight I haven't seen in a while..." a squeak escaped your lips, turning to spot Mavuika staring at your exposed body from the bed the two of you had slept in last night. "You don't need to hide, my love." Mavuika began to pout, noticing how you were holding the shirt over your chest and stomach to shield it from view.

"I... I just got back from breakfast and I'm kind of bloated. It's not pretty." Your words were laced with the truth, you had snuck out to breakfast, having grown hungry and craving Xocoatl and Cups O' Grainfruit. The bloating wasn't from that however...

"This is new..." Mavuika ran her fingers over the your shoulder, eyeing the bra strap with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Good morning to you too..." you hummed, leaning into her touch, her lips beginning to trace down your neck, "don't get any ideas, especially since you ripped the last one."

"I remember, I liked that one, but you looked better without it." Mavuika admitted, trailing her fingers further down your body until you began to squirm.

"That tickles!" the giggles began to escape your lips, the pyro archon's face lighting up at the sound, reminding you of an excited puppy whose tail was quickly wagging side to side.

Unfortunately the fun with your lover was forced to come to an end, as a voice grew closer towards your room at the inn.

"Chasca, are you sure she stayed here last night?" Chuychu sighed, turning towards her older sister, who had been leading the way since the two arrived at the Stadium.

"Mualani told Kachina and Xilonen that Atea had her walk our younger sister back here for the night. I spoke to Chanca, she served her breakfast then she went back to her room, which should be... this one." Chasca replied, heading towards your inn room door.

Your eyes widened, looking at the door as Mavuika's arms tightened around you instinctively. You could pray, but praying to the archon whose arms were currently around you was slightly pointless. Still, you were praying your sisters for once in their lives knocked on the door instead of barging in.

If they barged in, all the pieces would be revealed prematurely. Your sisters would find out it was Mavuika who you were dating and the mother of your baby, and Mavuika would find out you were having her baby...

Chuychu and Chasca continued to talk to each other, but the words weren't reaching your ears as you heard a knock, turning your head to see how Mavuika was reacting. Maybe she would jump out the window and escape? Was she even ready for your sisters to know?

Time was running out...

"Maybe she's asleep. Or this isn't her room. Chasca, I did ask if you were sure-"

"I thought I was... maybe we should wait at a table until she shows up." Your sisters moved away from the door, heading towards the dining area, "do you think she's spoken to whoever she's dating yet?"

"She'll probably have tried to but struggled with words. You remember how long it took her to talk when mom and dad took her in?" Chasca admitted, frowning slightly at the memory.

"They're gone, you're okay..." Mavuika pressed her lips to your forehead, "I'm sorry, this stress can't be good for you, or the baby."

She could feel the way your body tensed, hearing your breath hitch as you shakily looked up at her, "you know?"

"I only figured it out this morning. Your sickness in the mornings, your fatigue, tenderness, plus this bra. Did you think I wouldn't notice that it's a size up from your old ones? But it wasn't those that made me realise. Your hand on your stomach, it reminded me of my mother when she was pregnant with my younger sister." Mavuika confessed, her hand hovering over your stomach, waiting for permission.

"Oh..." you barely made a sound, gently leading Mavuika's hand to rest on your stomach, letting the shirt you'd been clinging to for so long drop to the floor. "Are you mad I didn't tell you before?"

"You were afraid. My only regret is that I made you feel as if you couldn't tell me." Mavuika paused, hesitating for a moment, "you were going to tell me, yes?"

"Of course I was, it was just... hard to get the words out." You let out a sad sigh before deflecting, "at least after your 500 year plan is complete, a piece of you will still be here." You could feel your eyes water but you blinked back the tears as best you could.

Mavuika winced at the ache in her chest, realising that she had forgotten about that. Natlan had less than a year before total destruction... she needed to die to save Natlan, to save you and now the baby the two of you are having too.

"Chasca and Chuychu know I'm pregnant, but not... that it was you. They... ugh, they just know its a pyro user. According to Chasca, I look pyro infused when using elemental sight," shaking your head at the recollection of your sister's words, "I don't know if they're more mad about the secret relationship, or that I'm the youngest..."

Mavuika's fingers began to trace patterns on your stomach, listening to you with a soft smile on her face.

"Chuychu kept asking who 'defiled' me and Chasca muttered something about 'cutting balls off' when she thought I couldn't hear." You admitted, trying to hide your amusement as Mavuika grimaced at your sister's threats, her hand frozen as it touched your belly.

"She won't... archon or not, she won't." You reassured her as your lover wrapped her free arm around you, pulling you closer so she could lean in and nuzzle her face into your neck.

"How far along are you?" She tentatively asked, hearing your intake of breath as you did the calculations in your head.

"Nearly 8 weeks... I found out with my sisters when I was nearly five weeks. I went to Chuychu because of the vomitting, Chasca thought I was just having a check-up but then the conversation changed to periods, and I realised I was late..." you began to ramble, but Mavuika took in every word, not wanting to miss a thing.

"Atea figured it out. I don't know how, but she knows we're together. She saw us in the hot springs, late that night. She thought... ugh, archons, she thought the baby had been conceived in the hot springs!" you shuddered in embarrassment as Mavuika smirked, recalling that night in detail as her hands drifted down your body teasingly.

"Ugh, you! Archon of War or Archon of Horniness, I can't tell sometimes. My sisters are waiting for me outside!" you hissed in warning, although your tone suggested otherwise as you held back your giggles.

"I've missed this." Mavuika confessed once the two of you had calmed down, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. I'm sorry-"

"Shush... you don't need to apologise. My role as the archon doesn't make things easier when it comes to working up the courage to tell me something so important. I only hope... we'll see each other more? I want to spend as much time, and be involved as much as possible before..." Mavuika hushed you, letting out a sigh as she remembered the burden on her shoulders. She had accepted her death over 500 years ago, but you and the life growing inside of you, made her want to live.

"Why would I deny you of that? I love you, Mavuika. I'm never going to stop loving you." You declared, holding back tears as your lover cupped your face in her hands.

"Never once in the 500 years since I was born did I think I would be blessed to meet you, let alone be your lover..." Mavuika leaned in, pressing her lips to yours hungrily, "I love you too."

"I wish we could stay like this for longer, but I need to see my sisters, and you have your duty as the pyro archon..."

"And what of my duty as your lover?" Mavuika pouted, disappointed as you ducked down to grab the shirt you had dropped onto the floor to put on.

"You have been fulfilling your duty well... and will continue to do so, but we cannot let our other duties lack- pfff!" you tried to be serious, struggling to do so at the pout on your lover's face, "you're adorable!"

"Fine, fine... I will see you later, my love, and my child," Mavuika pressed her lips to your forehead, her hand drifting to over your belly before she headed out... through the window? You didn't even think they opened?

"Wait! Don't tell anyone... I'm not far enough along, its too early to have many people knowing, so please-" you tried not to beg, but your eyes began to water against your will. Mavuika nodded, ignoring the capybara that awoke the moment her feet touched the ground.

"Archons... time to face my sisters." You whispered as you continued to get ready, heading out of your room at the inn to spot Chasca and Chuychu staring at you with their arms folded.

"Can you two not look at me like that? You're making me nervous." you cleared your throat as you sat down with them.

"Who was in your room with you?"

[phi8]

Recently rewatched Gravity Falls with its resurgence online, and I was itching to give my take on an older Mabel with an absolute unit of a Waddles (who is a regular farm pig after all). To go along with this, I also wrote some fanfic: a letter from Dipper to Mabel, about his return to Gravity Falls years after the show. Read it on AO3 or below!

Dear Mabel,

I hope everything is going well back home!  I miss you already, but it’s so good to be back in Gravity Falls too. A  lot has changed since our summer here.

The first week of my internship at McGucket Labs has been amazing. McGucket has really transformed Northwest Manor into a fantastic campus (though he still insists everyone call it “the Hootenanny Hut”)! There are so many  brilliant scientists and engineers here, and most of them have a refreshingly open mind about the nature and use of all the weirdness you can find in Gravity Falls. My experience with all that stuff is already paying off big time. Yesterday some PHD dude asked for my opinion on practical applications of necromancy (I told him it was a bad idea)!

Candy says hi by the way! It’s funny, for me this internship is all the way across the country, but for her it’s practically in her back yard, even though we both got that scholarship. Also, she tells me Grenda is more or less officially part of the Austrian aristocracy at this point? Apparently she and that Marius duke guy got engaged, did you hear about that?? Turns out I’m completely out of the loop with your friend group.

Candy and I have been hanging out with, of all people, Pacifica and Gideon. Can you believe it? Pacifica works at Corduroy Lumber these days. Probably in some misguided sense to get back to her roots, but I think it’s doing her some actual good. Working with her hands has been teaching her valuable life lessons I guess. It makes it a bit weird if Wendy also comes hang out, because she’s technically Pacifica’s boss – but you know Wendy’s cool about that.

Gideon is still running the Tent of Telepathy, so, not all winners. But he’s turned into a more lovable kind of swindler I think, like a younger Stan. He’s honestly kinda funny now (except that he’s taller than me). Wendy also told me he has a thing for Pacifica, and once she did, I couldn’t unsee it. He’s all over her! Pacifica hasn’t noticed, even though they spend a lot of time together. Or maybe she just hasn’t deigned it with a reaction... Either way, both of them are a ball to go for a drink with, whoda thunk.

You also have a lot of hugs from Soos, Melody and the baby (Stan Jr is sooo cute). (Yes, I asked. Melody promised to make you godmother of the hypothetical next child. You owe me.) The Shack is as charmingly ramshackle as it was back when we were here, but Soos finally got the old man stink out. I’m staying in Grunkle Ford’s old secret office because our room was converted to baby chamber. I still haven’t gotten the Bill murals completely off the walls and I have no natural light down here, but I spend most of my time at Northwest Manor the Hootenanny Hut anyway.

Or in the woods! Being back here really was a good move for my Youtube channel, there’s so much more supernatural stuff here than in California, and people are loving it. (I saw you liked my last video, thanks!) I’m currently tracking down what I think is the actual Gobblewonker. I analyzed some detritus samples from the lake, and there were feces from a large reptile present. From what we know, none of the dinosaurs in the mine were aquatic, so my current hypothesis is that it’s an unrelated creature. Especially since, according to my research, the Gobblewonker story dates back at least a century. I also gotta show Ford some of my findings. You know they’ve come across some aquatic monsters in the Bermuda Triangle. (Have you also been getting his mails with scans of the fourth journal? Truly fascinating stuff.) Either way, I’ll keep you posted, and you’ll be able to watch the result online.

Give my love to mom and dad, and Waddles a tummy rub! Awkward sibling sign off, Dipper

PS. Along with the photo’s in the envelope is that stuff you wanted. Be safe with it! There’s a reason it’s illegal in the parts of the forest controlled by the gnomes. But also have fun, I have it on very good authority it’s the good stuff.

[suzukiblu]

this is a question that is not meant to come off as judgemental, and if it does i apologise and you don’t have to answer

for you, or anyone out there in the world if they see this,

What is the appeal of (the?) Omegaverse?

Ive never quite gotten it? And it might be the big bold orange, blue and white letters spelling out aroace, or being european, younger than most people who are knowledgeable about that particular genre of content (still 18+) and while I did get on the internet at 11, I didn’t start reading fanfic until 14-15

this is a long and rambly ask so I just want to clarify, this is a genuine question I would like an answer to, no matter how short and sweet, or long and convoluted it may be

It's all good, I don't mind getting questions! And, like, I've written a LOT of omegaverse, so it's a thoroughly relevant question to this blog, haha.

. . . and this definitely wound up long and convoluted. So like, yeah, we are SO gonna need a read-more here, friend. 😅

Obviously everyone's gonna have their own reasons for liking the genre, but as another (much older, I'm assuming) aroace, for me the appeal is the opportunity to use the tag "Fantasy Gender Roles". Like, there's other stuff there, def, but "Fantasy Gender Roles" is my favorite part. Omegaverse is a game where the rules are made-up and the points don't matter, and you can interpret and re-interpret the involved sexes and genders however the heck you wanna, and in fact are ENCOURAGED to. I also really like certain tropes that are common to the genre, like pack dynamics and breeding kink and having babies and feral behavior and courting/courting rituals, I just really enjoy playing with and reading about all of those.

Also, the worldbuilding. I get to do ✨GENDER-BASED WORLDBUILDING✨.

And obvi, like, some people are just into omegaverse for the kink/porn factor, which is totally fair, but personally I am here for ✨GENDER-BASED WORLDBUILDING✨. And then also the kink/porn. Generally speaking a recurring comment I've gotten from a lot of readers is "I literally hate omegaverse but I love yours", so a lot of my stuff is allegedly a decent jumping-on point for the genre if you're looking for that. Like, I'm not the only person who writes omegaverse the way I do, obviously, just I'm a pretty accessible one who's written a LOT of it.

( and in the event you DO want any jumping-on omegaverse recs from my stuff, I'mma just pop a few of them from various fandoms here. no DC-related ones 'cuz I don't have any of those currently on AO3, only scattered in my WIP tags, but hopefully something helpful will be in here. )

original fic

to the victor go the spoils - human omega OMC/dragon [ GENDER NOT FOUND ] OMC; 16.7k; explicit Fantasy AU. This one includes porn but honestly the heart of it is just one of those fairy tales where the protagonist is somehow both incredibly genre-savvy in their story and yet still a total fucking idiot about other people's feelings, and especially considering it's original fic, it is honestly one of the most popular things I've ever posted, hah.

The dragon arrived early in the morning, and by noon the entire village was in a panic in the town hall. No one in the village knew anything about dragons, aside from what they’d heard in fairy tales and stories, and the plans for dealing with it were about that level of sophisticated.

“We’re not sacrificing a virgin to the dragon,” Viktor said in exasperation.

“Well what would YOU do?!” the mayor demanded.

“I’m going to go talk to it,” Viktor said reasonably, and got up from his seat and went to do just that.

.

Avatar: The Last Airbender

does the pain feel better when I'm around? - beta!Sokka/omega!Zuko, beta!Sokka/beta!Suki, past alpha!Mai/omega!Zuko, polyamory; 3k; teen Societal dynamics-focused fic. Zuko goes into heat at the Western Air Temple immediately after the Boiling Rock happens and goes off to den down alone and stay out of everyone's way without realizing that the local betas are gonna lose their ever-lovin' MINDS about that.

“Cool,” he says. “You realize we’ve been looking for you for, like, two HOURS, right?”

“Why?” Zuko asks, sounding confused, which is kind of sad.

“Because the world is full of people who wanna kill you and you didn’t bother telling anyone where you were going?” Sokka says. “Obviously?”

“Oh.” Zuko falls silent. Sokka glances moonwards in supplication. Yue save him from dumb, dumb firebenders.

every act of communication is a miracle of translation - alpha!Mai/omega!Zuko; 5.7k; teen Post-series fic where Mai and Zuko are about to spend their first cycle together and they're both really awkward about working out how it should go. Not actually a sequel to "does the pain feel better when I'm around?", but you could definitely draw a relationship between 'em.

They leave the office, Mai pretending that all her senses aren’t full of Zuko’s warm, spicy scent, and he keeps looking worried. She wonders if it’s THIS he’s worried about, now that she’s thinking about it. They agreed they’d share their next cycles together, but again, they haven’t really talked about it.

They can talk about it now, Mai thinks.

Unfortunately, that means now they actually have to talk about it.

.

Overwatch

even if I do I don't, even if I could I won't - omega!Genji/beta!the-character-who-was-at-the-time-I-wrote-this-fic-known-as-McCree; 5.1k; explicit Blackwatch-era fic where Genji did not fill out his heat partner designation forms and "Fuck or Suffer Unspecified Health Consequences" is gonna make that a problem. Worldbuilding, assisted negotiation, a touch of workplace-influenced pack dynamics, and porn.

“Yeah, you’re hilarious, kid,” Gabe says. “Get back to work. And Shimada, call your heat partner and we’ll see you next week.”

Shimada’s shoulders tense. Gabe . . . pauses.

“Shimada,” he says slowly. “PLEASE tell me you have a heat partner on base.”

“I have a heat partner on base,” Shimada lies. Gabe and Jesse both stare at him, then Gabe calls up his file, takes one look at it, and starts cursing.

don't, don't, don't let's start (I've got a weak heart) - alpha!Genji/omega!the-character-who-was-at-the-time-I-wrote-this-fic-known-as-McCree; 17.3k; explicit Blackwatch-era fic about Genji and the character formerly known as McCree dealing with their complicated feelings about each other and also the cybernetics and trauma and physical disabilities that are fucking up their sex life, including ED.

“You busy?” he asks. Genji stares at him in bemusement, which is fair. Genji’s only ever busy when they’re on a mission or he’s in the middle of an upgrade. “Dumb question. My heat’s coming on, wanna do me a favor?”

“What favor?” Genji asks, still looking mystified. Jesse tries not to laugh at him.

“The obvious one,” he says meaningfully, tipping his hat back and raising his eyebrows at him. Genji looks no less mystified for a moment, then startles. “THERE we go."

.

Marvel Cinematic Universe

come hang (let's go out with a bang) - omega!Darcy Lewis/omega!Johnny Storm; 5k; teen Darcy almost dies again, tries to figure out which omega buys the courting gifts in an omega/omega relationship, and has her first date with a super-hot superhero.

“Was there traffic?” Jane asks.

“I have a date with Johnny Storm,” Darcy says.

“What?” Jane says.

“Oh, and I almost died again,” Darcy says, pulling out Jane’s papers for her. “But that’s kind of secondary.”

“WHAT?!”

pack up, don't stray (oh say say say) - alpha!Natasha + polyamory; 3.4k; teen Natasha collects a harem pack and Captain America is fucking difficult about it.

Natasha is an alpha on a mission, and that mission is simple and clear.

I said you're holding back, she said shut up and dance with me - alpha!Peggy/omega!Steve/omega!Bucky; 10.3k; mature Alternate timeline where Steve and Bucky don't "die" and they all run away from the States to get married and start a family. Illegal adoption and biokids and lowkey pack dynamics involving figuring out how to fold pups into their lives, oh my!! And also, they all get to dance.

“One alpha mating two omegas? Really, Steve?” Peggy asks, mouth quirking wryly. “What WOULD the newsreels say?”

“We’ll go to France,” Steve says. “No one will care in France.”

“I do love France,” she muses.

oh don't you dare hold back, just keep your eyes on me - alpha!Darcy/omega!Bucky, polyamory; 187.4k; explicit MY MAGNUM OPUS, MY WHITE WHALE, THE LITERAL REASON OMEGAVERSE TOOK OVER HALF MY BLOG FOR HALF MY STINT IN MCU FANDOM. I wanted a goddamn female alpha and I wanted that female alpha to be Darcy Lewis, and Bucky was my fave blorbo at the time so the inevitable happened. The inevitable happened for three and a half years and 187,430 words, to be more precise.

Darcy is thirty feet out of Stark-cum-Avengers Tower when she starts craving cinnamon rolls--the sticky-sweet iced-up old-fashioned kind, yummy and messy and dripping gooshy icing all over your mouth and hands and down your yuuuup, yup, that is a super, super fertile omega that she is smelling, holy SHIT is it ever.

“Jesus Christ,” she groans in frustration, then follows her alpha instincts (and, more easily and importantly, her NOSE) to go track them down. They’re in the middle of New York City; middle of the day or not, not checking on somebody who smells like THAT is, like, the ultimate dick move.

.

OKAY SELF THAT'S ENOUGH LINKS, WE MOVE ON NOW, haha.

I will also say, if you're interested in, like, gender-exploratory AU concepts, apiary genders might be more your thing and more easily accessible for you? It's a MUCH newer thing than omegaverse and really only has a few fics around, some of which are linked in the "inspired by" of that AO3 primer linked above, but the concept is a bit more strongly "hive"-based than a lot of omegaverse is "pack"-based, and also there's no physical differences from baseline. I've got a WIP or two going about apiary myself, actually, but I haven't gotten too far into them yet, alas. The only one I've posted anything from is this one Superbat one.

[emperor-kumquat]

Hello there!!! How’s your day going so far emperor?

Old time fan here! I’ve been catching up on Some of my old transformers fandoms ever since I watched transformers one, and I remember about this awesome project you and many other creators made (btw your work is outstanding, Keep it up!!!) and I’m amazed at how much has changed and it makes me feel incredibly happy that my favorite transformers prime fan-storyline is still here! I remembered finding your videos when it was back in 2020 during quarantine. I always played through the beta version of “mercy” when it first came out and I remember feeling so excited for it; and I’d always wanted to best path for starscream be at least a good guy since he was my favorite character (and still is today)

And now seeing that the game is still in the works and seeing so many new bots is so exciting and happy to see the dedication to this!!! I know I have to catch up on the lore and stuff but it’ll be a fun experience for me, though I just wanted to ask a few questions before I end my first ever question that wasn’t anonymous,

Question 1: is there a discord server where I could possibly join? I want to make sure I could keep up with the latest updates for this project!

Question 2: I know I’ll need to read the Ao3 storyline for mercy but how does predaking and starscreams relationship grow over time during one of the paths? (I can’t remember but I think it was the one where predaking spears him and just keeps an eye on him— along with the predacons going to live in the wild or something? Can’t remember much lol)

And for my last question;

Question 3: Hows the process of “Mercy” going so far? Seeing all the art being made its absolutely stunning and beautifully done!

And that’s all the questions I have for now; until then I’ll be catching up on all the transformers lore that I’ve missed for so many years! I hope you’re having an amazing day Emperor!

————-J

Thank you so much for being a fan of Mercy! I still work on it almost every day! Editing the stories to improve quality, writing new content, drawing, instructing artists, etc.

Have you seen all the art on the Ko-Fi page? I post the commissions there, so there are hundreds of images to see!

For all the latest updates, here is the Discord server. Just so you know, there is a glitch when you enter that doesn't let you interact right away. Stay in the server until I can fix that for you, then you can write your introduction to unlock the whole server. Please read the rules too.

For the storyline you are referring to, I have fully written the story where the Predacons live in the wild of Cybertron with Starscream as their guide. It is THE Starscream story of Mercy and is a tale of friendship. Your adventure gets dangerous later on, so it turns into a fun survival game too! This is the written version of the choose your own adventure story. It's called "Discovery".

The main paths of Transformers: Mercy are on AO3. There are three full length story games available right now and the fourth is in progress. Check out my complete list of works and you may be surprised just how much has been completed since the beta part 1!

Mercy Part 1 (2020): A collection of the various starts to the game. A bit under construction right now to adapt to new plans. Quality is being improved (and the videos will be redone)

Space Adventure (2021): the choice to work with the Autobots on the landing site/spaceport at the end of Part 1. Travel to other worlds!

Reformed Predator (2022): the choice to eat Starscream in Part 1. Become a carnivorous monster then get therapy.

Discovery (2023): the choice to live in the wilderness at the end of Part 1. Explore beautiful lands and befriend Starscream.

Monstrous Heart (2024): the choice to work with the Autobots in the city at the end of Part 1. Discover the dark secrets of the Autobots and Decepticons, thwart the Vehicon mafia.

Right now I'm trying to do a lot of editing for my older content to improve it. I'm also doing a massive effort to prepare Part 2 videos for the Mercy stories so far. And doing my own Mercy art, annd I really need to write Monstrous Heart to completion this year! One novel-length game every year is the goal.

[malk1ns]

november 19 vs lightning, 3-2 OT loss

sidney's milestone yips return 🙄

this series is now on ao3! i'll be adding games in chunks from now on :)

Sanja never believes Zhenya when Zhenya says he doesn’t really get angry with Sid.

Oh, they bicker, of course—you can’t spend practically 24 hours a day with someone for nine months out of the year without small irritations flaring up. One of them will be overtired and crabby, or they’ll disagree about where to go for dinner near the end of a long roadie…stuff like that.

But major arguments, flaring tempers and angry, icy silences? They don’t do that. It’s something Zhenya’s always been smug about.

There is, of course, an exception.

Having a front-row seat to Sid’s career has been a privilege and an honor. Zhenya doesn’t regret a single decision that’s kept him at Sid’s side since 2006; even taking their relationship out of it, because it’s not like they’d break up just because they temporarily lived apart, getting to watch someone live up to the type of potential Sid has and work his way into the record books is not something Zhenya would give up willingly.

The time those records take, though.

Sid overthinks every aspect of his play when he’s getting close to some sort of milestone. He handles the puck like he’s never seen one before, passing when he should shoot and hesitating when he should pass until the lane disappears. He retreats into his routine with a rigidity that he’s mostly shed as he’s gotten older, and he gets snappy with anyone who dares to so much as hint around the concept of a milestone.

It was funny at first. And then Sid entered top-ten categories, leapfrogging over the types of players that most guys won’t come near to matching ever, and the milestones started coming faster and faster, and Sid took longer and longer to actually achieve them.

The goalless drought before 500 had been comical, and ultimately happened in the type of storybook ‘how is this real’ fashion that only Sidney Crosby is capable of and made the wait worth it. Six hundred, though?

“Next time,” Zhenya fumes, slamming the pantry shut perhaps a bit harder than he means to, “you shoot on power play, like, not pass right back to me, I’m get yelled at during break!” He brandishes the bag of trail mix at Sid before ripping it open and cramming a handful into his mouth, chewing with his mouth open just because he knows it pisses Sid off.

“Oh, fuck you,” Sid scoffs, glaring at him so hard that if Zhenya were even slightly less ticked would have him cowering and apologizing. “You passed up plenty of your own fucking chances, eh, how about you get a goal one of these games!”

Zhenya throws his hands up, scattering trail mix across the kitchen island. “I’m not hold whole team up while I pick around on ice, forget how to play hockey, like, need extra-special time for score big goal!” he practically shouts. “Everyone tries to help, like, gets you puck, sets you up, and you’re not shoot. Have to score and move on so we’re play games for real, Sidney, not think about stupid records!”

“You think I want this?” Sid hisses, sweeping some of the spilled M&Ms into his hand and throwing them into the sink so hard a few of them bounce right back out. “All I want—all I’ve ever asked for, every single time this happens, is for people to play.like.normal! I can’t focus when everyone’s watching me, I can’t see the net, I can’t get my grip right…” He tugs at his hair, a nervous habit that Zhenya used to warn would make him go bald until Zhenya’s own hairline started to recede and Sid’s stayed stubbornly put.

Zhenya opens his mouth to snap back, but Sid’s face is twisted in genuine upset, so he takes a deep breath and forces himself to calm down.

Sid needs to get out of his head. Sid needs a distraction. Zhenya’s always been good at that.

“You’re think grip is bad?” he asks, smiling beatifically at Sid when Sid looks at him suspiciously at his abrupt change in tone. “Seems fine this morning, like, tight but not too tight, you know? You’re want to go upstairs and check, practice some more? I’m tell you if it’s good.”

Sid’s expression flickers from suspicion to confusion to disgust to…intrigued. Zhenya mentally high-fives himself. Time to seal the deal.

“And then maybe,” Zhenya purrs, circling the island and crowding close to Sid, “you’re help me get it in goal, like, I need practice too, you know?”

Sid smacks at his arm, but he’s laughing as he abandons his attempt to clean up and drags Zhenya upstairs.

They forget to set an alarm and get yelled at when they skid in late to video review the next morning. Sid’s smiling again, though, and Zhenya would bag-skate himself for a full 60 minutes to make that happen.

[quantum1mmortality]

Wiggity wack yo(🍋Crewel x Fem! Reader x Sam🍋)

Real not click bait

OKAY AHHHHH so I was told by my boyfriend that tumblr is gonna think im a bot for a bit I can assure you I'm not so im offering this for peace

Okay uhm now back to the fic LOLO

♧CW!! Fem reader, fem pronouns, fem descriptions for body parts, sex with older sexy men yummy, READER IS NOT YUU!!!, reader is like staff or some shit idk make your own shit up i dont care, penis stuff, what stuff? Idk yet your guess is as good as mine, anal AND vagina sex, at the same time btw, threesome or however you spell it M/M/F, yeah you're getting them both at the same time crazy shit ik, I can take them both, what? In a fight? Who said anything about a fight? We get praised, bc my biggest kink is being loved, I love these two, im used to Ao3 im so sorry for how this is formatted, also I hella ship crewel x sam and they will be together in this fic dont you dare think they won't.

Okay so yeah the CW does have a lot of jokes in it but im nervous bc this is my first fic thats like this but it does have actual warnings btw so please read them

NOT PROOFREAD!!!

Okay now onto the fic. Enjoy, you horny goblin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~♧♧~~~~~~~~~~~~

♧It had been two months since you came to NRC for the first time.

Crowley hired you to be a counselor for the boys in the school. He decided that having a housewarden overbolt every so often wasn't worth the trouble and they needed a shoulder to cry on. And that just so happened to be you.

Crowley had made it apparent he wanted you, telling the agency you worked with that it had something to do with "women being better at comprehending emotion." You didn't mind, the pay was generous and the students were sweet enough to make you want to stay.

You already met most of the students by now, having all the housewardens in every other day just to express their family issues was something you had to deal with. Having the vice housewardens in afterwards wasn't very pleasurable either, but you had to make do. Sometimes Crowley would come in just to see how things were going, he'd say it was to "be generous", he brought you food Sometimes too.

You found yourself getting very close to the married couple of the school, Sam and Crewel. They were very sweet to you, complementing your style when you'd come in, hang out with you during break, Crewel would even bring you snacks from Sam's shop when he had the chance. You would hang out with them a lot, and though you didn't want to admit it, you did find both of them attractive, but you would never hurt their marriage.

Every once in a while, Crewel and Sam invited you over to their house. You'd have drinks, play games, get into really deep conversations about how Crowley sucked, the things friends do.

You didn't want to admit your feelings. You didn't want to admit how you'd slightly blushing when they were being nicer than usual. You didn't want to admit how your heart would beat out of its chest when Crewel would stand behind you, snaking his hands over yours to guide them to teach you how to make a margarita. You didn't want to admit how you'd get so excited when Sam would willingly buy your favorite snacks and have Crewel deliver them to you. It wasn't worth losing two amazing friends over two simple crushes.

You had just gotten done a long day of counseling all the first years, Ace and Deuce to get their counseling together. It was just as hectic as it sounded, taking up almost 4 hours of your time with other students coming and leaving when they realized how long the wait would be. You needed a way to relax and get your mind off this job. Luckily, Crewel came into your office at the end of the day and invited you over for drinks.

This was the perfect stress reliever, hanging out with your two amazing friends and having drinks sounded perfect after a long day. Crewel quickly noticed how tired you were, your disheveled appearance quaking from the little sleep you had. He decided to schedule the meet up for later in the day so you'd get some sleep beforehand. "We don't want you falling asleep on us, now do we?" Crewel gives you a small chuckle and a wink before bidding his goodbye and leaving.

Getting up from your chair with an exhausted sigh, you pack your notes into your bag and leave your office, locking the door behind you. Crowley said to always lock your office when you aren't there, something about the students being nosy and may snoop around. It didn't matter though, it was the end of the school day and the start of the weekend, who would spend their Friday snooping around in a counselors office?

Finally getting to the chamber room and walking through the mirror, you're at the part of campus where all the staff lives. Medium sized houses in a nice circle with Treins house being the biggest and in the middle. Unlocking your front door, you sigh and take off your jacket while laying your keys down on the table next to the door. Going upstairs and into your room, you take your bra and skirt off, climbing into bed after setting an alarm.

Crewel was nice enough to set the meet up back a few hours, scheduling it for 10. Giving you a nice 4 and a half hours to catch up on much needed sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~♧♧~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After being asleep for around 4 hours, you awoke to your alarm going off. It was 9:25, giving you 30 minutes to get ready.

Getting out of bed you hop into the shower to get washed up. Using the lovely sugar scrubs you usually do and washing your (H/L) (H/C) hair with a wonderful smelling shampoo and conditioner. Getting out of the shower, blow drying your hair and figuring out what to wear.

You finally decided on a nice (F/C) dress, not too skin tight, but leaving enough to the imagination to make it desirable. Luckily it wasn't out of the ordinary for you to wear something like this, so they wouldn't think anything of it.

It was getting to the time of leaving, so you quickly pack your things and head out. Closing the door behind you, you walk across the empty street and make it to their door. Since they lived in the same house, you would often catch them walking out early in the morning. It was convenient to say the least.

Knocking three times before the door opens with enthusiasm, you're greeted with Crewels smiling face as he greets you. He holds the door open as you walk in, taking your bag and coat off and putting them on the hangers near the door. Sam greets you from the kitchen, beckoning you to come and see him.

When you do, he has a bunch of machinery on the counter. "Sam used to be a barista before he started working here. He stopped a long time ago, but his love for coffee didn't. We decided to invest in some machinery to indulge in his hobby. Expensive, but worth it to see him happy." Crewel says as he walks behind you and gives you a smile.

"I've always loved working with coffee, the pure smell alone is enough to drive a man, me, wild. Come here, I'll show you have to work an expresso machine!" Sam says with a huge smile on his face. Something tells you alcohol isn't being involved tonight, perhaps its for the better.

Walking over to Sam he steps behind you and guides your hands to the different cups and powders to make a shot of expresso. Did Crewel and Sam always have similar ways of teaching? They aren't like this to the other staff..

After making the expresso, Sam grabs some coffee he brewed earlier. Pouring it into a mug and the expresso on top, he starts the foam art. Watching him pour the foam in different directions was almost mesmerizing, and soon enough, you had a little foam kitty! How cute!

Sam had finished his and Crewels coffee and you sat down at the coffee table with them. They were silent, more than usual. Their eyes would dart across the room, occasionally landing on you but quickly shifting focus. It seemed as though they wanted to say something, but couldn't figure out how to put it.

"Is something wrong? You guys are awfully silent tonight, I hope I didn't upset you in anyway-" you trailed off, trying to figure out what was going on.

"No, no! Its not you at all!" They both practically shouted while jumping from their chairs, spilling some coffee in the process. Grabbing some tissues and sitting down, they clean themselves up.

"Look, we've been meaning to ask you something- its just- we don't know how to exactly ask about it." Sam says, Crewel still trying to dab some coffee off of the vest hes wearing.

"We think that, maybe, we can open our marriage, but, just to you. We want to try things with you, see what we like, experiment a little." Crewel adds with flushed cheeks. He must be pretty nervous about this.

Sam takes a nervous sip of his coffee before continuing on what Crewel had just stated. "We trust you. We think that you're the only person that could be fit for this, and we're willing to help you explore that side of you. The 'nastier' side, so I've heard the kids say."

Well that was a lot to take in, a bit too much actually. You had felt your entire face heat up as you realized what they meant. A sort of rush of adrenaline creep in. Was this actually happening? You've wanted it bad since you first met them, but you never thought it would actually happen.

Sam and Crewel looked at you as you completely space out. You could feel the tension in the air, their stares getting impatient as their cheeks formed new colors you'd never seen on them.

"We completely understand if you don't want to do this, we won't force you into anyth-" Crewel chimed in after deciding the silence was too much, but was then swiftly cut off.

"I'll do it. I mean- I want to, that is. I've been wanting to, I just didn't want to make you guys uncomfortable. I mean, you're always so sweet to me, I thought we just had something platonic going on, but I had no clue you guys felt the same." You say while practically being out of breath. Pressing your thighs together as an instinct, Crewel quickly switches his gaze to a lovely house plant as his cheeks heat up more.

"Are you sure you want to do this? We'd never force you into anything, but we do want your full consent." Sam practically sighs out. Crewel is still red, but now is occasionally sparing glances at you.

"Yes, im sure. You may do whatever you please." Chuckling, you say with a smile directed to them. Sam gives you a soft smile while Crewel stands up from his chair.

"I'll get everything situated. Sam, if you want to take her into the bedroom and get her situated, that would be appreciated, I'll be in as soon as I'm done getting everything ready." Crewel says while walking out of the room, giving you both a wink on the way out.

"Alrighty then! Let's get you ready!" Sam yells while taking your hand and leading you to the bedroom. When you walk in, you take in the beautiful scenery. Large king sized bed, beautiful red curtains, their bedroom is huge! "Dont be intimidated, Crowley decided to give us extra space. He says we're his 'little gay friends.' We're not even completely gay! Wiggity wack, yo!"

You were so grateful that Sam knew how to break the silence and make you comfortable you didn't even notice he had left your side to go to one of their personal cabinets. "We had been planning this for awhile, we just didn't want to scare you away is all. Crewel and I had picked up a few sets of lingerie for you. You can try them on while we wait for him to get back! No pressure of course. I just figured you may not have expected something like this to happen and you wanted to change into something more... fitting... for the occasion."

Then, it hit you. You were wearing such normal panties, it hurt! Shame on you, shame on you!

Going to the cabinet, you skimmed through the sets of lingerie. None really caught your eye, until you landed on a lacy white two peice with pearly accents. Sexy, baby!

"Oh, you like that one? Thats Crewels favorite. Hes gonna go batshit crazy if he sees you in that! Personally I dont give a shit what you're wearing, you'll be naked and in my arms by the end of the night so it doesn't matter." He says with a smug look on his face. Was that... a threat? Why was it sexy for him to say if it was? He was leaning with his arms crossed on the cabinet, looking for any sign that you were uncomfortable. They really were putting your needs above theirs.

"Go! Try it on! I wanna see Crewels face when he comes back!" He lightly shooshes you away with a hearty laugh that made your cheeks red. After showing you to the bathroom, he leaves you to the privacy of the semi cold, hard floor room. Getting changed, you heard the door open and Crewel walk in. Sam and him were talking about something you just couldn't hear what. Putting the panties to the lingerie set on, you had realized they untied at the sides. How convenient! Stepping outside, you felt their eyes practically rip you apart.

"Hot diggity dog! I'm so sorry, that sounded so weird oh my god." Sam slaps his face before cupping his eyes in embarrassment. Crewel sent him a death glare before looking back at you with wide eyes and completely red cheeks.

"Uhm.. we should uh.. go over safety precautions. Our safeword is going to be, 'blue', understood?" Crewels voice was shaky and he was clearly avoiding your gaze, but he did sound serious. Shaking your head yes, he continues. "Alright. Remember, any time you get uncomfortable, or you want to stop, or anything, just say the safeword and we'll stop immediately. As for everything else, I got some things for us. Just to make everything a smoother process is all. Lube, vibrators, simply just things to have your body relax. As for protection, both Sam and I can't have kids. In our defense we didn't think something like this would happen."

"In short, you're gonna be fine. We'll make sure you're treated nice and good, don't worry. Crewel and I are, as the kids would say, 'freaks in the sheets', but we'll wait until later dates to actually try those things with you. If you're comfortable, that is." Sam smiles at you. It was comforting to see all the precautions they're taking.

"I'm okay with anything really, I mean, I dont have very much experience but im willing to try things out! It's just, im a bit nervous is all.." Sam looks at you as though he's seen something so otherworldly gorgeous he can't explain it, and he gently takes your hands.

"Hey, dont be scared, okay? We'll go as slow as you want, and if at anytime you want to stop we will. We just want you to have a good time." Sam winks as he gives your hands a gently squeeze of reassurance. Crewel was silently taking off his coat all the while looking at the way the lingerie was hugging your body. Blush was covering your cheeks as you take your hands out of sams grasp and cup them together in a nervous fashion.

"Thanks.. its just this outfit im wearing is starting to be a bit uncomfortable." You say while looking away from their prying eyes.

"Well let's take it off then." Crewel says with a grin on his face while making eye contact.

"Mhm. I agree. If its making you so uncomfortable we should take it off." Sam says while giving you his signature grin. He takes your hand and leads you to their shared bed, sitting you on his lap in the middle of the comfortable mattress. Crewel followed and crawled towards the two of you, while landing front of you and spreading your legs gently.

Sam slowly leans into the crook of your neck, "I'm gonna take these off, okay?" He whispers in your ear as he places the strings of your panties in his fingers. Nodding in agreement, he gives the shell of your ear a soft nip, earning a small yelp from you, making the men giggle.

He slowly takes his fingers and pulls on the drawstrings, Crewel in front of you, watching in anticipation. Shyness taking over, you instinctively shut your legs close when Sam begins to take the peice of loose fabric off.

Crewel places one hand on your inner thigh and pries them open, clicking his tongue while shaking his head in light hearted dissapointment. "Ah-ah, no hiding sweetheart, cmon, you'll be begging to be touched more by the end of the night, we have to start somewhere, dont we?" Crewels voice was laced with last, you had never heard him act like this before, but God you wanted more.

You you began to crawl up Sams lap in a stroke of nervousness, to which he only gave a soft smile at. "You'll be a good girl for Divus, wont you? You'll be so good for him, let him eat you out, right?" Sam says from behind you in a teasing tone, while Crewel waited patiently for your response. Nodding yes, Crewel dove between your legs like a starved man.

A loud moan escapes your lips from the sudden burst of pleasure, earning a chuckle from the man behind you. Placing both hands on Sam's thighs in an attempt to keep your balance, you only ended up digging your fingernails into his skin. Leaving harsh, painful nail marks on his legs, Sam groans at the sudden pain. He takes his hand, interlocking it in Crewels hair and pulling him forward so he can reach deeper parts of you. You moan loudly at Crewel being able to hit spots no one else could, and Sam takes his hand out of Crewels hair and places two fingers on your clit, making circular motions with light pressure.

With all the stimulation, it doesn't take long for you to cum, which you do with a loud moan. Crewel licks all of your juices up and swallow them in a single motion. "Delicious, as expected." He says as he softly caresses your cheek for comfort. Sam begins to rub slow circles into the flesh of your thigh, giving them light pinches every word often.

Crewel begins to unbuckle his belt with one hand, the other still stroking your cheek. "Are you alright with taking us both at the same time? Its alright if not, we can take turns if you'd like." Crewel makes eye contact with you as he asks, making you swallow hard in anxiety. As you begin to think, Sam lays his head in the crook of your neck in anticipation.

"I'm alright with taking you both at the same time, its just please be slow, im a little scared is all... this is my first time doing something like this..." you say as a small chuckle comes from them both. "Of course we'd be slow silly! You're our main priority, so we just want to make you comfortable." Sam says as he kisses your neck and slowly retreats from his resting place on your shoulder.

"I'd suggest you prepare her for... well, anal. You're alright with that, right?" Crewel asks with concern in his eyes. Now THIS was something you didn't expect tonight, but not unwelcome.

"I'm okay with it! But please, please be gentle, I've never done this before." You say as you look behind you at Sam. He gives you a smile before ruffling your hair. "I know I know, I'll be gentle I swear." He says as he begins to let his slender fingers roam to you ass. "Get ready, okay? This is gonna feel weird and possibly hurt for a minute, but it'll get better."

Taking a deep breath, you nod your head. Sam takes one finger and begins to slowly inch his way in, letting you stretch out. You slowly grown out at the alien feeling, gripping Sam's thighs harder than you were before.

He begins to curl his finger in you, slipping in another one as you start to loosen up more. Crewel could sense the way it hurt, he leaned down and started kissing and rubbing your thighs gently, hoping it would help you ease.

Sam could feel you loosen from this, to the point he was able to slip a third finger in, earning a moan from you. He began to curl his fingers upwards as he kissed and sucked on the sensitive skin of your neck. With the stimulation, you ended up cumming after a few minutes.

As Crewel lapped up your juices again, but gently this time as to not overstimulate you, Sam began to praise you more. "Look at you, doing so good for us, taking us so well. I cant wait to have you coming undone on us." Sam said as he placed a light kiss on your cheek.

Crewel took the rest of his clothes off, leaving him in just his boxers, letting you stare in awe at how well built he was. He took your hand and let you sit in his lap. "Just a second doll, Sam needs to undress himself." He says as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, placing sweet kisses on it. After a minute, Sam was done and was also in just his boxers, guiding you back onto his lap.

"Which hole ya wanna take? Rock paper scissors? No, thats too cliche.." Sam rambles on. "I'm fine with whatever, what do you want, y/n?" Crewel tags into the conversation as he scoots closer to the two of you, holding your waist in the process.

"I'm okay with the position we're in right now, with you being in the front, Sam in the back.. it seems fine like this." The men smile at how genuine you're being, voicing your concerns, ect. Its cute to them. They nod and hum in agreement as Crewel grabs a bottle of lube.

"I reckon I won't have to use this as much as you will, Sam. Take it slow, hurt her and I'll beat the shit out of you." Crewel says with a smile on his face, sort of whispering that last part.

"I am gentle! I'm always gentle, some would even call me a gentleman!" Sam says with a playful scowl, taking the bottle from him. You begin to giggle as you see Crewel slowly take off his boxers, reveling his already, very hard member.

"Sorry love, you looked too cute, couldn't help it, yknow?" He says, giving you a wink as his breath speeds up. You feel Sam shifting under you and you feel him take off his boxers, throwing them to the side.

Oh no, they're both huge! Crewels is long, around 7-8.5 with reasonable girth, while Sams is 6.5 and a lot thicker. How are you gonna take them both at once?

"I know what you're thinking, you'll be alright. We'll take it slow, build up speed with time." Sam says as he places a quick kiss on your temple. He squeezes the lube on his hand, rubbing it together to warm it up before putting it on his cock. Earning a hiss from him, he sighs and places both hands on your waist. Lifting your body up, both him and Crewel line themselves with your holes, and wait for your confirmation.

Placing both hands on Crewels shoulders, you nod your head before they begin to slowly sink themselves into you, stretching you out more in the process. Moans from all three of you fill the room as they lower you down more and more.

Once they are fully in, they both huddle close to your body, singing you praise after praise as they wait for you to let them move. After a few minutes pf being out of breath and simply just panting you give them the go ahead.

"You can move, I'm okay now." And with that, they pull their torsos away from you and place their hands on your waist. Starting at a slow pace for you to get used to it, they slowly and gradually add more speed as they both bounce you on their cocks.

Sam rests his head on your shoulder, panting in your ear as his grip on you tighten and his muscles tense. Crewel doing the same, but while bouncing you, he begins to thrust upwards when you come down to make a larger impact, earning a loud moan that makes you tense around them.

Ssm gets jealous of how Crewel seems to be fucking you better, so he starts to do the same, meeting his thrusts with your timing. You were all moaning messes and by the looks of it, none of you could last very long.

Sam grits his teeth as his hands make their way to your tits, softly squeezing and pinching them. Crewel let's his hands wander to your pussy, taking his thumb and rubbing circles on your clit. You dont last long after they begin to do this, and cum for the third time this night, riding out your high as Sam and Crewel chase theirs.

You can feel Sams breath speed up and grow more hoarse as his grip on your thighs and breast slightly tighten. "Shit shit shi-" a loud groan erupted from his chest as he spills his seed in you. Crewel falling seconds after, cumming in you as he thrusts upwards, keeping it in.

You all lay on the bed for a few seconds, basking in eachothers presence while catching your breath. Crewel slowly pulls out, earning a whince from you. He walks into the bathroom and comes back seconds later with a wash cloth.

"Cmon Sam, you gotta get out." Crewel says as he looks at him, with a whine Sam pulls out too, letting both their juices spill out of you. "Such a good girl for us, keeping all our cum in her. You did so well for us dear." Crewel says as he cleans you up. Lightly dabbing the cloth on your now sensitive areas, he softly chuckles at the way your body reacts.

Sam walks to the other side of the room, going into a small fridge and grabbing three waters and a few snacks. "I've got waters for all of us and some chocolates for the girl of the hour." He says with a wink. Crewel is done cleaning you and goes to throw the soiled towel in a wash basket as Sam opens your water and chocolates.

Replenishing your thirst and munching on the surprisingly delicious chocolates, Sam picks you up unexpectedly and moves you to the front of the bed. "What, you didn't think we were gonna kick you out after this, did you?" Crewel says chuckling as he comes back from being in the bathroom.

"Honestly, im not sure what to expect from you guys anymore." You say with a chuckle. Both men chuckle aswell as they make it into bed with you, sandwiching you between them. Shifting the pillows and blankets around until you're all comfortable, you lay in a comfortable silence.

As you all say your goodnights as the lights in the room turn off, you can't help but think of what situation you're in. Having two men who just fucked you into oblivion now cuddling you goodnight? You could get used to this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~♧♧~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: im lorde yaya im lorde yaya

[kivino]

TAKE US BACK || ZOMBIE AU || KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK X GN!READER

Word Counter – 6.4k words

Summary – The new world was rotten, and you rotted away with it. 

Tags/Warnings – Zombie AU (heavily twd coded, don’t expect some l4d type of stuff /lh. Death and turning after the bite ARE slower, however. For the sake of drama. obviously), gore, blood, gn!Reader, established relationship, heavy angst, major character death. 

A/n – So, this fic is my contribution to the spooky season! Special thanks to @mockerycrow for helping me with the pictures for the header, you're the best, pookie!!! I have a playlist for this fic too, so in case you want to read this with complete immersion I’ll link it here. Enjoy <333

also available on my ao3

upd. if you saw that unfinished paragraph you didn’t see anything, move along 👁️👁️

“Kyle, I think…I think I’m bitten.” was all it took to shatter him into millions of tiny pieces. Just like that. Nothing mattered anymore, even that you promised each other to stay alive, no matter what. In the back of his mind, he knew all those promises muttered into his lips while he feverishly kissed you were empty, shallow attempts to silence his mind, to make him sleep in peace, thinking you’ll be there no matter what. And of course, he didn’t doubt your words even for a split second.

Kyle knew he was a fool to believe that. To think the two of you were inseparable. In a world like this, how could one even think of something staying forever untouched by decay that spread far beyond the horizon? Rot overtook everything, and if something was still untouched by it, soon enough that wither would find a way to slither inside, spoiling it forever. It would even find its way into people’s minds, ruining humanity in a manner no physical disease could ever hope to damage them. Kyle and you have seen it happen far too many times, and his only wish was for you to meet your end together, peacefully. But now…he only wished he had the strength to go on, he truly did. 

Because you needed him. Now more than ever. 

And so, he kept trying. If he didn’t then both of you would be done for. You didn’t deserve that, not when all he wanted was for you to be safe and well, not caring much about himself. You were the one who saved him when all the shit went down, now it was time to return the favor. So, he pushed himself through every agonizingly slow day. But he was starting to feel the already feeble remains of his strength slipping away from him. He wouldn’t give up, however. Never. Not when your life depended on it. 

That’s why while you were bedridden, weakness setting in your body as a permanent, bitter resident, Kyle was scouring the old town for fever and cold medicine, trying to be as quiet as possible, not to attract any undead. He had a gun, but he did not use it – too loud and bullets were a luxury, not a commodity. Kyle only had one bullet, following the advice of a nice older man with mutton chops he remembered meeting in one of the survivor camps a long time ago.

“Always save the last bullet for yourself or your loved ones. You never know who’ll need it more”

Methods aside, recent days were spent wandering abandoned houses in attempts to find at least some food for the two of you. Only when the darkness started to settle, Kyle would head back, throwing his backpack over the fence and barely managing to climb it, sore muscles and empty stomach sending jolts of pain all through his body. Even then, he was restless, sitting by your side, wiping your forehead of sweat, and taking your temperature. Your breathing was strained, chest rising and falling under thin blankets that barely kept you warm. And each time he looked at you for more than a minute at a time he felt his insides twisting in pain, eyes getting white-hot with tears, and throat closing, barely letting him take a short breath just so he doesn’t suffocate in his misery.

And then the sun rises, warm rays painting the room in a variety of colors, falling over your face, morning birds wake up Kyle from his nightmare-filled sleep. He jolts awake from the dreams, filled with the image of you, dying in agony over and over, crying out for help, begging him to do something. You get torn apart, your intestines spilling out on the damp floor, pulled out by a crowd of the undead who devour you with vigorous hunger, biting into your flesh until he can’t recognize your face from the bloody and mangled pulp that rotting hands and jagged teeth turn you into. Your raw, pained screams haunt him even when he’s awake, observing you lose your life all over again. Much slower and in a much more painful way. 

The sun rises. And so does Kyle. Your desperate pleas that drag from the dream are muffled as soon as he sees you sleeping. Forgetting, that you were getting weaker with each day that passed. Choosing to bask in your tranquil glow, in the way your eyelashes fluttered while you slept, choosing to neglect the worry clawing on the back of his mind just to stay like this with you for a little longer. Kyle knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable, but he still decided to make the best out of the short amount of time he had left with you. Hoping that some miracle would happen and you wouldn’t succumb to the decay. That the bite would turn out to be a bad dream you both had on the same night, waking up from it in cold sweat, searching for the comfort of each other’s embrace, while letting out relieved sighs, realizing that you’re safe. 

That would be great, wouldn’t it?

Instead, he shakes you awake with a gentle hand, almost not wanting to wake you up from your slumber. You blink up at him, looking even more tired than before you went to sleep. Circles under your eyes are even darker than the previous night. And Kyle is in pain once again. He wants to help you up, throwing your arm over his shoulder, to lead you through the long, silent halls of the school where you were staying, full of dust and damp, moldy smell, to have breakfast together. Like good old times. But he sees that in your eyes, you’re too weak to pull your weight up and stand up. So, he brings the heated-up cans of beans here, putting one on a stool in front of you, helping you to sit up before he even thinks of touching his food.

“Kyle, that’s twice what I usually eat.” You mutter, watery eyes rising to him, sitting on the mattress in front of you with his legs crossed. He raises his eyebrow and his head shifts to the side in a questioning motion.

“Well, you have to eat plenty to recover.” He said, matter-of-factly. You stay silent, unwilling to have that debate right now. You barely managed to stay awake as it is. Let him think that you’ll get better, despite everything you saw together. Despite every rule that you’ve discovered. Let him live in the illusion, in the waking dream that all will be well if he tries hard enough. “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s growing cold” 

You didn’t realize that you’d been drilling the can of steaming beans in front of you with your glassy gaze for the past several minutes, submerged in your thoughts deep enough to suffocate. You pick up the spoon with a weak, shaky motion. Then your eyes fall on the can. Somehow, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to pick it up. Failing at something so simple…you knew it’d hurt your pride even more. So, you opted to push the tin closer to the edge of the stool.

Kyle glanced over at you, beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. He sensed the fatigue from you, lacing the air that surrounded you and leaving dark, oily traces over anything your fingers lingered on. You breathed sickness. Your hands, which were able to easily bash an undead’s head on the wall just several days ago, now could barely hold a spoon steady without it trembling and threatening to fall, spilling all the contents over the moth-eaten blanket. He felt his heart squeeze in pain, and he swore that something shattered inside of him once again. 

“Let me help you.” Although it sounded like an offer, Kyle didn’t look like he was going to let you debate it, shuffling closer to you, taking the spoon from your hand in a swift motion. You purse your lips, knowing that protesting that would be stupid. If it wasn’t for how weak and sick you were, and for a lot of other circumstances, it would be a cutesy moment. Your dear spoon-feeding you something? Please, one’s teeth would rot from how sweet it is. But now it was just another deep, bleeding gash on your pride. Kyle blows on the food, cooling it off and promptly moving it towards your mouth with his hand cupped just under the spoon. You obediently clamp your lips around the spoon. “There we go.” He gives you a small smile, but you see the melancholy in his eyes when Kyle wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb. He means well, yet you can’t help but feel like you’re a burden to him. 

You loathed being like this. Being this weak. Fragile. You were able to fend for yourself, you had resilience and strength, but now you were just rendered useless, only dragging Kyle down, depriving him of the freedom to go on.

He’ll die if he continues like this.

You knew it. He was exhausted, and you’ve been like this for a little over a week. Survival wasn’t about skill anymore, it was about luck. You lost yours already, the moment rotten, jagged teeth sunk into the flesh of your forearm like it was butter, drawing the first blood. But Kyle, he…sooner or later he will lose his luck too. And it was apparent that it was coming sooner than you anticipated. A bullet he won’t be able to dodge. An infected scratch. An undead that he simply didn’t notice because of how tired he is. A bear trap in the vicinity of someone’s camp. Something will get to Kyle. Or someone. And thankfully, you won’t be here to witness it. Hopefully.

 “What are you doing? Where are we going?” You barely managed to mutter out, clinging to him with all the strength you had, which, to be fair, wasn’t a lot. He could feel the cold of your hands clasped around his neck even through several layers of his clothes. Kyle’s hands carefully held you under your thighs as he went up the stairs, not showing any signs of exertion except for beads of sweat on his temples. 

“Just thought we might watch the sunrise together, like good old days” You could hear the soft smile that tugged on his mouth when he said that. Another reminder for you that he probably loathed the way you lived right now and would prefer to go back to the way things were. With you not being his…burden.

You didn’t need to be reminded of this. Of the “good old days”. Finding that abandoned farm, deep in the buttcrack of the countryside was what saved the both of you when the world started going to shit. You and Kyle met each other years prior, but it didn’t matter anymore. Not when everything as you knew it was gone.

Hiding there gave you a sense of normalcy you missed so much, after having to live for months, years like an animal. You didn’t feel like the world as you knew it was falling apart beyond that fence with cracked white paint. Deserted fields full of dead crops, empty house with a bunch of stuff forgotten or thrown around messily - it was obvious the owners wouldn’t come back any time soon. Snooping around gave you too much information - you couldn’t help but feel a bitter burn on the back of your throat when you picked up a framed family photo from the fireplace, five tan faces staring back at you with perpetual smiles etched into the glossy paper. 

You didn’t have the gall to throw away or burn everything personal the previous family left behind. Photo albums, children's clothes and toys, diplomas, drawings, letters, posters, and even something as small as shopping lists on the fridge, five life stories were packed into several boxes, taped and put in the attic. Kyle didn’t understand your wish to preserve something that wasn’t even yours, but he didn’t interfere, choosing to give you a hand instead. If it helped you to sleep in someone else’s bed calmer, replacing the presumably dead strangers, he was willing to indulge you.

Despite how far away from the civilization this farm was, seeing an undead roaming around wasn’t a very rare occurrence, but at least you could handle the occasional walking corpses. You wake up, you go on patrol. You finish patrol, and you meet the sunrise with Kyle by your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, with a blanket thrown over the both of you, sitting on the front porch, right on the creaking stairs. These fleeting moments felt so right. Like home.

Eventually, you had to continue moving. Started to run short on supplies ever since then. Running into all sorts of different people, relying on strangers, leading a nomad way of life. It wasn’t unfulfilling, since you only needed the company of each other to keep it together. In a variety of groups that you’ve been through it was always a known fact that you’ll stick by each other before someone else.

All he needed was your loving hug when you came back from a supply run. A soft kiss that you would put on that scar right on his cheek. Or to hold your hand under the table when you sat down to eat with whatever group you were with this week, like your love for each other was a secret meant only for the two of you. All you needed was his warmth, his comfort, his mere presence, that would light up your shitty day like a damn light beam. He managed to take your breath away each time he looked at you with such gentleness and softness that sometimes you didn’t think you deserved it. You’ve found the world in each other. A purpose.

So what is Kyle going to do when you’re gone?

The morbid thought suddenly crosses your mind, while the man carefully sits you down on a worn lawn chair with a soft grunt, plopping down on the ground by your side, warm palm reassuringly resting on your thigh. Bringing you down to earth. Gusts of frosty wind brush through your hair, nipping at your cheeks, nose, and ears. You missed the outside, despite it being quite cold and unwelcoming this time of the year.

“I think the herd's close. See that dust?” Kyle taps you lightly on your leg and points towards the horizon. And true to his words, there is a fine dark line separating the sky, burning up in a mix of reds and yellows, from the earth. “They’re moving weird.”

“What does that mean?” you croak at Kyle, not able to peel your eyes from that sheet of gray, bunched-up dust that sat on the edge of the horizon like a shadow.

“Means if we’re lucky they’ll pass the school.” Kyle mutters, trying to reassure you, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze.

And then it clicks.

When he came back from the supply run you were nowhere to be found in the wind-torn building. There were no traces of you in the old cafeteria on the first floor where the two of you would heat up the canned food that your taste buds got used to over the long months the end of the world stretched over. Before you got bit.

He felt his heart sink to his stomach, so nauseous from the mere thought of something happening to you. Kyle fought himself not to double over, press his forehead against the wall and throw up everything you two had for breakfast until he feels the acidic burn on his tongue and cries his damn eyes out from the pain. You knew that the herd was getting closer, why did you have to disappear right now? You two were supposed to wait it out together, by each other’s side. What were you doing, and more importantly, what were you thinking? Nothing made sense. Nothing at all.

Kyle felt the wall with an awkward, stiff motion of his hand, before putting his weight on it and sliding down, he felt like his legs could not hold him anymore. You barely had the strength to sit upright, where would you go in your condition? 

The only place he could think of that was close enough for you to get to was the motor inn down the street. Of course.

The herd was already here. Kyle had no time to spare, he needed to act now, to get you and run away as fast as possible. He remembered there was a car in that old motor inn, so that could be your getaway plan, sure thing he could figure something out…and to get there…He can use that old trick that another group of survivors taught you two. “If you smell like them, they won’t notice you, simple as that. Just make sure not to bump into anyone, or they’ll get real friendly with you.” Of course. It was that easy. You never resorted to that trick, preferring to avoid or dispose of the undead on sight. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Kyle cringed at that sinking feeling in his stomach, but not at the thought of having to walk through the herd and probably be eaten alive, no. The possibility of you not being in that motor inn was what made that hollow pit inside of him grow. The fact that he might never see you again. Or that he would find you already gone.

He moves with calculated precision. Catch the undead’s attention, yellowish whites are dull under the daylight. Let it get close enough, it groans with each movement, joints snapping and clicking. Make the undead lose its balance, kick it in the knee, and the rotting leg almost falls off under the force that Kyle unintentionally applies. Destroy the brain, put a hunting knife right to the forehead, and let it thud to the ground, finally at rest. He’s thoughtlessly going through the motions, every step ingrained into his consciousness, almost like second nature to him. Rips through the stomach of the undead, black, resinous blood oozing out. Sinks his hands in the intestines, they smell so strong Kyle tears up and gags, hands shuffling around clothes caked with dirt and grime, swiping putrid, nasty mass all over himself. But it’s nothing. It’s alright. It will be worth it when he finds you.

After that, everything he remembers is under a thick blanket of haze, accompanied by the smell. You never get used to it. He feels nauseous, his insides twisting in worry, gnawing and biting at his heart like a terrified, desperate dog. His eyes grasp onto anything, but all Kyle sees is the sea of rotting flesh all around him, groans and moans of the undead so echoing in his ears loud all he wants is to tumble to the ground and end it all. He barely breathes with how tight his chest is squeezing his heart, it feels like in a split moment his insides will collapse onto themselves, capturing him in this meat cage. He has to remind himself that he’s not doing it for himself, he’s doing it for you, only for you. Kyle has to let his thoughts travel to your voice, to the way your nose scrunched when you laughed, to the frown between your brows when you slept in his arms just so he doesn’t go mad. Stares from decomposing, milky white eyes with yellows, blues, and reds here and there felt like stabs right through him, each could be the last if he gave himself away.

He could be grabbed by any of the half-rotten hands with sickly yellowish bones sticking out like spears of the cavemen, bitten, dragged away, or devoured. But he pressed on through the seemingly endless crowd of the undead. He would be lying if he said it didn’t affect him. That abandoned motor inn was like a beacon right now, but his imagination still ran wild, his hope growing more and more dim with each minute spent away from you. He didn’t feel like any hero. Kyle was scared. Mostly for you, but he could feel the tremble in his knees at the mere thought of any undead in the crowd recognizing him as an impostor. If that happens, he won’t be able to mutter even a single word. Rotten fingers will dig into his flesh, tearing it apart and Kyle will meet his end like this, on the damp ground, abandoned and scared out of his damn mind.

When Kyle pressed himself against the closed door of the motor inn, he finally could breathe in again. It wasn’t the time for a break, however. He still needed to find you. He wanders through the dusty, ransacked rooms in a daze, fixated on finding any traces you left, noticing the old rusty car in passing. The getaway plan. If the two of you are lucky enough. Footprints in the dust. They look new, and similar to the ones on the soles of your old boots. He follows. Your thin blanket lies forgotten on the stairs. Kyle practically flies up to the second floor, picking up the blanket, while he’s at it. More footprints in the dust, door to some old office is left ajar.

First, you felt the smell. Then you heard him cry out your name in surprise. And then you finally saw Kyle. He’s a blur of red, black, and brown. Covered head to toe with blood, guts, rotting flesh, and dirt, you presume. A sad, heartbreaking sight. Kyle, however, doesn’t mind it and immediately runs towards you, falling on the floor with a loud thud, and you’re sure he might’ve scraped his knees with how hard he landed. His arms cage you in a tight hug and you hear him let out a shaky exhale. Tears start to sting your eyes when you feel him pressing your head into his shoulder, stroking you with a gentle motion. You weren’t sure if he was trying to comfort you or reassure himself that you’re real, and not a fragment of his imagination. Regardless, you manage to reciprocate the hug, raising one of your arms and wrapping it around his back.

All of these days you saved up your energy for the last push. You needed to get away from him. You couldn’t trust yourself to remain near Kyle anymore. Any moment you could turn. You felt it in the way your bones ached with every gust of wind, how your blood boiled under your veins and your vision turned even more blurry. And in that case, you’d be a threat to Kyle, possibly getting him at his most vulnerable. It didn’t matter that you’d be long gone by then, you would still never forgive yourself if there was any possibility of it happening. Because, deep down you knew. No matter how skilled and ruthless Kyle was with handling the undead…he didn’t have it in him to bash your head in. So, you only had one choice to ensure his safety.

Yet he finds you. Here. You could feel your cheeks burn from being so angry at him, for his lack of acceptance that you were on the brink, and all it would take for you right now to fall into the abyss would be a light gust of wind or a slight shove. But you couldn’t blame him. You thought a lot about what you would do if the roles were reversed. The scenario brewed in your mind, haunting those short hours you were awake and trapping you in restless dreams.

You would want to live in illusion too.

“There you are.” You could practically feel something inside of you crack when you catch his smile beaming at you. Kyle just went to hell and back to get to you. And he still finds it in himself to smile at you, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders with hurried, but soothing movements. You were so weakened by the bite that you couldn’t even find any strength to go down the stairs and get the blanket when you dropped it. Humiliating. “Come on, we have to go, now, we can’t stay here.” He tries to scoop you up in a warm hug again, but you dig your heels into the ground. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he looks at you again, trying to catch what is wrong,

“No.” Kyle looks you over, eyes open wide, expression of confusion and sadness on his face. Of course, he doesn’t understand.

“You don’t…have anything on you. Then how, how did you even…” You didn’t have any grime on you at all, looking like you just walked through the herd of the undead without any preparation. But then his eyes trail lower and he sees it. Your left hand, cuffed to the rusty radiator. Suddenly the wave of terror cuts through him, like a fine, thin string through a block of fresh clay.

You came here to die.

“They stop paying attention to you once you’re far along enough. So…I guess that’s it.” He hated you for saying that. God, he hated you so much, he wanted to cling onto your body and suffocate you, arms wrapped around you in weak, pathetic attempts to shield you from any harm. “I…I don’t have any time left.” Kyle felt like he got punched in the gut. Air squeezed out of his lungs, wheezing in pain that he felt for you, because of you, chest aching, tearing apart, and baring his heart under the cage made of bones. 

“No. No, no, no, no, you can’t say that! Why are you saying that?” And for the first time, since Kyle saw the bloodied, ragged teeth marks on your flesh, he broke down into minuscule, fragile pieces right in front of you. His voice trembled, frantic and exerted, refusing to believe you even dared to make peace with the inevitable. He grabs your shoulders firmly and his fingers dig into you so hard he can feel how cold you are through your clothes.

Key. He has to release you from the handcuffs. The herd was here, the way the floor vibrated under his feet, and the way gargled moans and sighs echoed outside made Kyle even more agitated. Where did you get those handcuffs anyway? It only takes a moment for him to remember. One of the supply runs that feels like a lifetime ago. Police station. Searching the bodies, or rather, what was left of them, for anything useful. You take out the handcuffs and show them to Kyle, telling him some kind of joke. He can’t remember what it was or the way you smiled, only that you made him laugh. 

He wished instead of quiet rasping he could hear your laugh again.

“Where is the key from the handcuffs, where did you put it?” Kyle jumped to his feet and started looking over the room in a hurry, suffocated by the fear of losing you. He was wishing, hoping that you would show him where you hid the key, somewhere, anywhere, Kyle needed to throw you on his back and run right this moment.

“Fuck, listen to me, listen. To me.” you tried to snap him out of his delirium, with your harsh tone, freezing palms digging the bloodstains Kyle left on your blanket “You know what you have to do.” He shook his head wildly, looking at you like were mad for even suggesting something like this. “I don’t want to become one of them! You have to make sure I won’t come back.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?! I-” Kyle didn’t understand you. How can you say, make a request like this? Something was fundamentally wrong and the bite, the illness were to blame.

“Have you?” you interrupted, pouring all of your strength into this yelling match. You didn’t care anymore. You felt your fingers going numb, black, inky spots dancing on the edges of your vision, taunting you in their vicious dance macabre. You did not have time for his lame excuses and whatever it was he was trying to be right now. “I’m asking you one thing, and you can’t even do that! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You couldn’t feel the way tears burned your cheeks.

“Listen to me, please! I’m not putting a bullet in your head; do I look like a fucking murderer to you?” Kyle pinches his brow in frustration, not even able to look at you right now. Every single suggestion and comment from you stings, fucking hurts and tears him open once again. Because you’re talking nonsense. Absolute bullshit. And you don’t even realize it, he thinks, blinded by your sudden chase after death.

“I’m fucking dying and you’re worried about not being a murderer? Are you being fucking serious right now?” You couldn’t believe your ears, quite frankly. It was the only thing that you had asked of him. The only thing that you wanted. To be finally released. You couldn’t bear it anymore. Your body working against you, living with the constant threat of turning any second, massacring and desecrating Kyle’s corpse as a bloodthirsty, disgusting creature, that will have your face, your body, your hands, and your voice, but not anything that makes you – you. No memories. No love. No inner strength and compassion. Just hunger and urge to slaughter, destroy, and ravage everything in your sight.

“You know that’s not what I meant! Why are you doing this right now?” Kyle felt like he was about to collapse into himself from despair. He couldn’t just do what you were suggesting. And you knew it, yet you chose to ignore it and refuse any acceptance? You always listened to him, even if you didn’t quite agree. You always were patient with him. What’s gotten into you now, what happened?

You don’t have any more time. That’s what happened.

“Oh, so I run away, trying to keep you safe so you live another day and see another one of these stupid sunrises, cuff myself here just so I don’t harm anyone and you can’t even do what I’m asking you to?!” Your voice rises to a volume you didn’t even know you had in you right now, after dragging yourself through the imitation of your former life for a little less than a week. To think your suffering so far lasted less than a week, yet you were ready to end it all right this moment.

Because you could feel it in your bones. You were close.

“Well, tell me, what’s the point of me living if you’re dead?!” You can hear the way his voice breaks in the end. Desperate. Pleading.

The silence rings in your ears with how loud it is. 

“I’m sorry.”  You croak at him after a short while, eyes trained on the dirty floor. Kyle chuckles, the sound that you love so much, but then it’s followed by a muffled sob. He kneels in front of you once again and your eyes rise to meet his. You can’t help but think that he looks even more beautiful covered in rotting guts, with his eyes full of light and love for a doomed failure like you.

It’s almost impossible to breathe from how hard your heart aches. God, you love him so much. You want to take all the pain from him with you, into the vile, putrid abyss. Kyle takes your hands in his. You’re terrifyingly cold. And he’s too warm. You feel tears rising to your eyes, prickling at them, as you fail at your attempts not to break down right now.

“I can’t stay mad at you when you make that face.” Kyle says with a small laugh that breaks into dry sobs, as his shoulders shudder violently with every single one, before he clings onto you, seeking comfort and reassurance, that you’ll be here. With him.

His embrace feels suffocating. It’s so tight you think any more pressure from him will break your bones into yellowish sharp daggers and fine dust. And you’d forgive Kyle if that happened. You’d forgive him for anything, quite frankly. Funny, how now you have the answer to what you would do if he was the one turning. You’d let him devour you wholly, in the ultimate show of love. You’d let him bite into you, whatever he wanted – neck, arm, a leg, he could have. You’d lay in the pool of your blood, muffling your pained cries by stuffing that worn blanket into your mouth. You’d slowly slip away into oblivion, letting your undead beloved gnaw on your bones and taste the love that would seep out of your flesh. You would probably turn a lot faster if that happened too. And then you’d be together for eternity. You knew Kyle always wanted you two to be together. Both in life and in death.

“I’ll wait for you. I promise.” You barely manage to squeeze a smile out of yourself to comfort Kyle, feeling your strength leaving you. Succumbing to the weakness that spread a dull ache over your body, to that festering rot inside of you, that was finally overtaking. You felt cold, thin digits of terror sink right through your chest, sweat prickling once again on your forehead and temples. There was no use clinging unto something that was unsalvageable. Your body and your mind were beyond repair. You knew it. Only he kept you here.

“Please…don’t leave me.” Kyle couldn’t feel anything besides the pain and hot needles jabbing his eyes. Your touch almost felt unreal, how weak, subtle it was. He tore away from you only for a moment, bloody palms cupping your face. His lips pressed against yours in a quick, feverish kiss, and even more pecks like this followed – to your forehead, eyelids, corners of your mouth, and nose. As if this would save you from inevitably losing the remains of your strength. As if you weren’t clinging to your last seconds with him as it is. “Please…please.” He whispered against your skin. His tears glittered like gemstones in the dim glow of the sunset. Kyle looked so beautiful like this. Yours.

He missed the moment when he stopped feeling short, warm breaths on his neck and your body started to get cooler to the touch. But he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. A little more time, that’s all he needed. So, he lays your head across his lap, carefully, gently. Like he’s trying not to wake you up from a peaceful dream about places far better than this world. Kyle desperately tries to find that strength to make sure you won’t come back, to grant your last wish, but he just…he can’t. Now when you were right here, beside him, getting your well-deserved rest.

But you started stirring back to life unexpectedly, and just when Kyle wanted to say something, he realized, that it wasn’t quite you. The glazed-over eyes with a milky white cloud over them looked right through him, the blood that was dripping down from your nose, ears, eyes, and mouth after your brain finally shut off from the illness. The strained rasp, full of pain and hands that started grabbing and clawing at Kyle with crooked fingers, contorted into bizarre figures.

Kyle’s heart leaped down to his feet again in fear and he forced himself to push away your undead form, reaching out to him, pleading for something he no longer understood, as he crawled away, still facing whatever you turned into. If his heart wasn’t pumping blood through his body as fast he would’ve felt the small cuts from scraping his hands on the dirty floor. But his eyes were on what was left of you.

There were no traces of what he was searching for in this hollow shell, stolen from his love, stolen from you. Crimson trickling down from the mouth, the creature in your shape bares its bloody teeth and lets out a gargled moan, stretching the trembling hand towards him, demanding flesh, demanding sacrifice. And in Kyle’s mind, this isn’t you. This just can’t be. Absolutely not.

Kyle thought about the way you held him in your arms, while he gripped his shoulders in a tight hug. He thought of the way your thumb brushed over his knuckles. His thoughts traveled to the distant past, when you met him years ago in that summer camp, even before the world started rotting, only to be reborn a sick copy of itself.  He remembered your smile when you sat near countless bonfires. The way fire played in your eyes. Your old leather jacket, the tent in your old survivor camp, the older man with mutton chops.

It wasn’t long before a bullet was between his fingers, being drilled by his sharp eyes. Kyle sat there, silent, eyes trained on the gun in his hand, unable to even look at your cuffed undead. Contemplating. Letting his mind stir around, thoughts sticking to the inside of his skull, brewing and bubbling there, like heavy resin. Kyle’s heart sent waves of dull, ringing ache all over his body. His eyes were on fire, burning and raw from tears.

Nothing made sense anymore. Kyle’s endless search through his mind landed on another memory again. Survivor camp in the forest. Ring of mountains to the west. A woman with dark, brown eyes and a shaved head.

“Turning is not the end. They still harbor the memories of their former selves. They’re just prisoners in their own bodies. I know that it’s not the end for them, it can’t be.”

Right now, Kyle would’ve clung to any lie that would explain to him your state. He would’ve believed any tale. You can’t just be gone in an instant, just shedding all that made you yourself like a snake sheds its skin, or a bird picks out the old feathers. How could he ever accept that you were gone, like a puff of smoke on the wind, leaving no visible trace, only the gaping, bloody hole in his heart and years’ worth of memories in his head?

All he ever wanted was to be with you. In life and death.

A minute passes. Another one follows.

A single gunshot echoes through the valley, drowned out by the rumble of the herd.

Taglist - @mockerycrow, @stridersdiner

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𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈

Yandere Dick Grayson x GN Reader

❥ Part I >> Part II >> Part III >> Part IV

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: Wanted to write a platonic older brother Dick Grayson story, but depicting his spiral into yandere-hood. Tumblr can’t handle my swag AO3-length writing, so multiple parts it is!

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒: platonic sibling yandere content, older brother Dick Grayson, younger sibling reader, non-vigilante reader, adopted reader, slow burn yandere(?), the pacing is very a-day-in-the-life-esque, kind-of stalking, unsettling build-up, Dick isn’t a full-blown yandere yet, starting off tame, biblically accurate Batfam, CLIFF HANGER!!

❥ 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝐁𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃.

Richard Grayson didn’t really like you.

He never told you outright, but you knew. It was painfully obvious during your initial meeting (one that was “long overdue,” according to Bruce), back when Alfred dropped you off at his Blüdhaven apartment with all your belongings. Though he offered a welcoming smile with complimentary dimples, something dark swirled in his sapphire eyes, a stony cold stare contrasting with his warm greeting of, “nice to finally meet you, (Y/N).”

You didn’t know that much about Richard Grayson, other than his role as your pseudo older brother (and the fact that he was Robin, and now Nightwing, but you were still wrapping your head around the idea of your filthy rich adoptive father being fucking Batman, so… there’s not much you could say on that). He seemed friendly enough in all the gala interviews you’ve seen, but you were starting to realize to not take someone’s press persona as gospel: after all, Bruce Wayne seems much more put together in front of the cameras than he does in the manor. So, while unsettling, you couldn’t say you were too surprised by this official first impression.

Maybe he was just tired, you told yourself. He probably doesn’t get much sleep, with the whole crime-fighting thing and all.

(Yeah… crime-fighting thing… y’know, cuz your pseudo older brother is Nightwing, and your filthy rich adoptive father is fucking Batman.)

However, after getting all your things settled into his spare bedroom — Alfred being a big help, as he always was — you were getting the sense that your gut intuition was right; Richard Grayson didn’t really like you at all. He may have acted all cordial, giving you a tour of his apartment and making polite jokes, but as soon as Alfred left and he excused himself to make a phone call in his room, his true feelings on your collective predicament became painfully apparent, as thin walls did nothing to hold in his heated argument with Bruce.

“B, why the hell are you doing this to me?! ……. No, they’re in their room. Getting all their stuff settled in right now. ……. I know I did, but now that they’re here, I just—!! ……. No, they’ve been okay so far, it’s just— come on, B, I know you’re an empty-nester, but if you weren’t ready to take in a kid, why’d you—?! ……. Really? So adopting orphans is just a hobby now?! ……. Yeah, and it’s really unfortunate what they’ve gone through, but you can’t just pick up every stray you see, especially if you’re this fucking paranoid about them wanting to—”

This was the only time you could understand Bruce’s response over the phone; “I DON’T WANT ANOTHER DEAD CHILD, DICK.”

… Ah.

There was a beat of silence before Bruce continued, though his softer tone made it impossible to make out what he was saying. He went on and on until Dick sighed. “Bruce, I want them to have a happy home. And, yeah, I sure as hell agree that the manor might not be the best choice, but I’m off doing my own thing just as much as you are. At the very least, Alfred— ……. What would’ve been good for both of you was to not sign the papers in the first place. You’re still healing, and they need someone who can be there for them. ……. No. No, they’re already here. I’ll stay true to my word, B, but they can’t stay here forever; you know that. It’s just not healthy for all of us. ……. Yeah, I know. I’ll do my best. Look, I gotta figure out what I’m gonna make this kid for dinner.”

And then, without a single goodbye exchanged, the call went dead.

So, yeah. Richard Grayson didn’t really like you.

Which was fine. Really, it was. You weren’t even his sibling by law, as you learned from Alfred that Bruce technically never even adopted him, yet here he was being asked to take care of you, a reminder that he can’t escape Bruce Wayne or Batman no matter how hard he tries. While you were still learning the full situation (again, your filthy rich adoptive father is fucking BATMAN), what you already knew didn’t paint a pretty picture. Honestly, you didn’t blame Richard Grayson for being a little spiteful towards you. It did make sense.

You just wish it didn’t make you feel so… unwanted.

“How was school, kiddo?”

A questioning hum was startled from your vocal chords. The car ride had been so silent, you found yourself lost in your own thoughts, almost forgetting that you were buckled into the passenger seat of Richard’s — Dick’s, rather; he told you to call him Dick the day you moved in — older, copper-colored car. After taking a few moments to collect yourself, you threw your temporary guardian a glance only to find he was pointedly staring at you (which was concerning, as he was driving).

“Uh…” your voice faltered a bit, forcing you to cough in your fist. “It was alright.”

His eyes lingered on you for a bit longer before returning to the road ahead. You thought that was the end of the conversation, but then he spoke up again. “Did you learn anything?”

A bit of an awkward thing to ask, but at least he was trying. “Factoring in algebra. And I guess a little about the Mongol Empire.”

“Factoring,” he said with distaste. “Wasn’t a fan of that. Though it didn’t really help that I had the worst algebra teacher. Ended up with a 70 in that class by some miracle.” A small beat of silence. “Do anything fun with friends?”

You grimaced. Though you tried your best not let it show, you knew Dick probably caught it through the rear-view mirror. “I, uh, haven’t made any friends yet.”

“It’s already October,” he skeptically stated with a quirked brow.

“I know. It’s just…” you clutched your book bag closer to your chest. “It was my first day here, so… gotta make new friends.”

“… Oh.”

As much as you wanted to dryly chortle at his reaction, you refrained. It probably wasn’t his fault he didn’t know about being transferred from Gotham to Blüdhaven Academy, since Bruce apparently had a habit of keeping people out of the loop with things. For all you know, Dear Ol’ Daddy Bats just gave Dick an address and said, "drop off at 9, pick up at 3:30," leaving your pseudo-older brother to fill in the blanks from there (“this is an address to a school, so I’m assuming this is where they go to school,” or something like that).

So, all you could do was shrug. “Yeah.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his jaw tighten. He seemed to be deliberating on something, eyes burning holes through his windshield as he let out a sigh. “So, guessing you have no one to stay with for the night?”

“Stay with?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean, stay with?”

“Well, I’m gonna be out tonight,” he explained, his tone sounded a bit exasperated. “Can’t just leave you on your own. Do any friends from your old school live near by?”

You were at a loss for words. He wanted you to stay with someone? For the entire night? “Wait, hold on… you just wanna dump me at a friend’s house anytime you do your hero shit—?”

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, kiddo, but we’re in Blüdhaven,” he spat at you. “And my apartment isn’t exactly in the nicest part of town.”

“But— it’ll be fine, ‘cuz you have a Bat-level security system,” you protested.

His grip got tighter on the steering wheel. “Doesn’t matter. You’re used to the manor, not street-level crime, kid.”

“I grew up in Gotham,” you retorted. “I’ve known street-level crime way longer than I’ve known the manor.” Before he could say something to that, you beat him to it by following up with, “and besides, all my friends from Gotham live in areas that are just as bad as your apartment. Wasn’t all that popular with the socialite kids with mansions, you know.”

No response for several seconds. Dick’s expression was far from pleasant, and you were starting to worry if you were getting yourself into some sort of trouble. Eventually, however, he let out a frustrated sigh, his cold eyes snapping towards your figure. “You make one hell of an argument, kiddo. But listen. We’ve gotta go over home-alone rules when we’re back to the apartment, alright? I don’t want anything happening to you under my watch.”

“Fine by me,” you shrugged.

The conversation was then dropped.

A small smile started to bloom on your face. He really thought he could rid of you like that, didn’t he? You knew he didn’t really like you, but using it’s not safe as an excuse to a Gothamite? Really? Yeah, that’s a bunch of bogus.

… Though, you had to admit, it was nice that he at least sounded considerate.

You woke up to the sounds of disgruntlement coming from the living area.

It wasn’t too loud, as you couldn’t exactly comprehend what was being said, but it was loud make you realize the disgruntled party was extremely ticked by something. Getting out of bed, you put your ear to the door for better listening.

“I already told you, I can’t. I’ve been leaving this kid home alone far too often for my liking. ……. Where, Roy?! Where can they stay?! Bruce isn’t in the right headspace to have another kid in the manor, and— ow, fuck— it’s not like they have any friends to crash with for the night! ……. Transferred schools. Would’ve been nice if Bruce said something about that, but— ……. Said their Gotham friends live in areas just as bad. Besides, there’s no way in hell I’m letting them step foot back into that hellhole without me being there. ……. ‘Cuz it’s fucking Gotham, Roy! It’s only city in the world that has a death by killer clown statistic!!”

Ah. Another phone call. Dick had been making a lot of those, recently. You never knew who was on the other line, except if it was Bruce or (by rare chance) Alfred, but you had a general idea that it was always one of his super hero friends. Not very many people casually talked about beating up thugs and criminals, after all.

“No— absolutely not. Bruce would be pissed if he found out!! He’d think I’m trying to make them into my sidekick or something, and god knows what happens to them after that. I’ve been through the system, Roy. While I’m not too keen on keeping a kid around, putting them back there is not an option. ……. They’re just— safer in my apartment than anywhere else right now. I can’t have anything happening to them. Not after Jason. Bruce would never forgive me, and I— I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. ……. I’m sorry, Roy. Maybe next time. ……. Yeah. Tell the other Titans I’m thinking about them, okay? ……. Yeah, good luck tonight. Try not to show up on the news. ……. Yup. See you.”

Your ears picked up on a low beep, heralding the end of the call. As Dick let out a string of curses, you couldn’t help but feel… empty. You were more than just a pain in the ass for Dick; you were a full-blown problem. It wasn’t just the fact that you were keeping him from having hero fun. Even if he wasn’t all that fond of you, he still considered you his responsibility, and seemed genuinely worried about your safety when he wasn’t there. You were under the impression that he went out at night to forget you existed, but…

Jason…

Jason was a name you were only vaguely familiar with, usually used as a heavy blow in a Dick v. Bruce argument. While you don’t exactly know the full context, Alfred did make mention once of a kid who lived in Wayne Manor before you (the one who is “no longer with us,” as the butler solemnly said), and upon stumbling into the Batcave by accident, some of the only coherent mutterings he offered were, “Jason,” and “no, not again.”

Again, you didn't know the full context, but it's easy to put together the pieces from there.

A particularly loud curse from the other side of the door brought you back to reality. You at first wondered if you should go out there and make sure your current guardian-figure was okay, but you decided against it, as A.) he was probably just patching himself up from a particularly rough skirmish, and B.) he didn't seem like he was in the mood to see you. Besides, with your thoughts on this Jason kid, you didn't know if you had enough self-control to keep your burning questions locked away on your tongue.

So, instead, you decided to lay back down in your bed, brainstorming ideas to get Dick to talk about Jason.

This was… kind of a terrible way to ask.

Sure, you were curious. The thought had been haunting your thoughts since Bruce’s breakdown, and being out of the loop was slowly eating away at your mind. But maybe you could’ve been less… abrupt… and given Dick a little bit more time to be mentally prepared. It was an extremely sensitive topic, after all, and you knew even he was healing from the aftermath.

You hoped he understood your question wasn’t just morbid curiosity; Jason’s death is in-part the reason you’re here, after all.

Dick stared at you across from the dinner table. His fork had a few pieces of macaroni skewered one the prongs, half-raised to be shoveled into his mouth. Blue eyes stared right through you, blinking owlishly as he presumably tried to process what the fuck you just asked him. All you could do was hunch into yourself in your seat, mentally scolding yourself for how fucking rude your question probably was. Painfully long seconds ticked by with no sort of response, and you eventually decided that the best course of action was to do some preemptive damage control.

“You— actually, you don’t have to answer,” you weakly sputtered. “I’m so sorry, that’s— that was so uncalled for. I’m really sorry, Dick.”

He set his fork down. “No, it’s fine. I’m just… did Bruce not— he never told you?”

You shook your head.

“… Ah,” was his reply. His eyes wandered towards the window, an unreadable expression falling onto his face. He seemed a bit… lost. Which was understandable, as you didn’t exactly give him prep time for a conversation like this. You gave him as much time as he needed to put his thoughts in order.

Finally, he gave an answer. “Killed in action. Ended up in the hands of the Joker, and… well, he didn’t come home. No Robin ever since.”

The flat tone that carved through his words caused your hair to stand on end. He kept the details vague, but you didn’t find yourself minding all that much. If the Joker was involved, it probably wasn’t that much of a lovely story. “So, he was Robin after you?”

A hum of confirmation came from Dick. “The mantle was open, since I took up a new name. After finding out that Bruce was Batman, he practically begged to be trained as Robin.” He slowly brought the fork to his mouth. “That’s what Bruce said, anyway.”

It was then you noticed the silverware rattling from some sort of rhythmic thumping. After a few moments, you realized it was from your knee hitting against the table, causing you to will your legs to stay still. “Um…” you cleared your throat. “Were you… close with Jason?”

“I mean, we were friendly.” He still neglected to make eye contact with you. “I tried to be a good example to him, but I was busy doing my own thing here.” His gaze dropped to the linoleum floor. “Didn’t spend enough time with him.”

A heavy pressure crushed down on your chest. While you didn’t know Jason personally, you were no stranger to the concept of loss, and the more you learned about his death, the more your current situation was starting to make sense. Jason discovered Bruce was Batman. He wanted to be Robin, and Bruce let him. Then he died as Robin. Bruce’s adopted son died on the field, in the costume.

So, after you found out Bruce was Batman… it probably felt all too familiar.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you practically whispered.

Dick only sighed. “It’s alright, kiddo.” Finally, he raised his eyes to look at you. “Say, how are you doing in that chemistry class?”

… Huh?

The abrupt change in subject was… interesting. But definitely understandable, as talking about Jason’s death probably wasn’t all too pleasant. Guilt started to eat away at your conscious, the thought of making Dick uncomfortable by reminding him of his grief and regrets making your heart feel heavy. So, you merely offered a shrug and said, “uh… I’m doing fine.”

“Thought you were having trouble with valence equations,” he mused.

You could only dumbly stare at him. Okay… this was new territory. Sure, he always asked how school was while picking you up, but this was the first time he’s talked about it at dinner. Then again, this is the first time you two have talked at dinner period, since most dinners were spent eating in total silence, so maybe he was just trying to cleanse the awkward air that you created from randomly inquiring about Jason (because you can't do anything right, apparently).

So, ignoring the warmth that swirled in your chest at the thought of him actually caring about your life outside of the polite, seemingly obligatory after-school exchanges, you indulged.

Blüdhaven nights weren’t all that different from Gotham’s. They could get noisy, the sounds of the city mixing together into one cacophony. You’ve learned how to sleep through it all, and it’s not like it’s all high energy for the entire night; around 1 in the morning, there’s a lull in activity that yields little to no sounds to disturb your slumber. Some would even call this hour the most peaceful that places like Gotham and Blüdhaven can get, despite all of the dubious activities that are probably happening.

So, something like the sound of a window sliding opening is enough to disturb this peace.

It was your window. It sounded like it was right in your room, so it had to be your window. You stayed as petrified as a statue in your bed, the fog of sleepiness immediately airing out of your brain from your nervous system screaming, holy shit, someone is opening my window. Well, maybe, if you continued to stay still, they wouldn’t recognize the obvious lump in the bed, take whatever the fuck they wanted, and be on their merry way. With any luck, Dick was done doing his hero shit, and the unfortunate sap breaking into the apartment would have a run-in with Nightwing.

That’s when a your bed began to creak from a new weight being added to it.

… Ah, shit.

You didn’t move. There was no way in hell you were moving. Even if the intruder seemingly knew you were there, you could do nothing else but stay stagnant in place, waiting for them to make the next move. Maybe, if they touch you, you could swing your arm to hit them and catch them by surprise. That might give you enough time to run, find Dick’s room, and pray to god he’s home. If not, then you could at least lock yourself in his room and hold out until he does.

Your thoughts were cut short when a familiar voice rang out.

“You didn’t lock your window.”

… That bastard—!!

Relief crashed through your body like a tidal wave. A heavy breath tumbled out of your lips — one that you didn’t even know you were holding in — which alleviated the growing pressure in your chest. Now that you could feel your limbs again, you willed away the shiver that wanted to travel through your body as you turned to face this so-called intruder. “Kind of an unconventional way to come home, don’t you think?”

Your eyes met the pearly white lenses of a domino mask. The shadowy figure sitting on your bed had his arms crossed over the unmistakable azure symbol of Nightwing, which, oddly enough, had an intriguing iridescent shimmer under the moonlight. Huh… none of the cameras really pick up that detail, you mentally noted, glancing back and forth between the contrast of matte black and shiny blue. You were no professional superhero costume critic, but it was a nice little touch.

Dick’s tired sigh snapped you out of your thoughts. It was a grim reminder that — oh, yeah — you’re about to get chewed out by your vigilante kind-of-older-brother… at an ungodly hour. “Kid,” he began, the chastising tone you were becoming more and more acquainted with lacing every word, “you can’t keep forgetting to lock everything like that. What if I was some crook, or kidnapper, or worse?”

“Good thing it was just Nightwing coming through my window to give me a heart attack,” you humorlessly mused.

Though you couldn’t see underneath the mask, you knew he was giving you that one unamused stare you’re all too familiar with. “(Y/N), I’m serious. This is about your safety, your life, even. If something bad happens while I’m out, I won’t be able to protect you. For god’s sake, kid. I could be on the other side of Blüdhaven while you’re getting taken, or murdered, or whatever!!” He took a moment to heave another sigh. “Just… promise me you’ll lock your window next time, alright? Please.”

All you could do was wordlessly nod. After taking some time to process what he was saying, you admittedly felt bad. He was right; neglecting to lock your window like that could very well mean death in Blüdhaven. It’s not like growing up in Gotham is any different, so you knew this fact very well. Maybe your time at the manor caused you to become less careful, as it’s unlikely any criminals are hitting up the Wayne residence anytime soon; and it’s not like any of them know about the Bat-level security, either.

A springy click echoed through your room, and you looked up to see Dick inspecting your window (you’ve long stopped questioning how he just teleports like that). After deeming it to be safe, he softly padded towards your door. His hand was on the knob, but he seemed a bit hesitant to turn it. Then, almost as an afterthought, he looked at you over his shoulder and said, “goodnight, kiddo.”

“… Goodnight,” you mumbled.

He was out the door.

Click.

Now alone in your room, you could finally replay what just happened. Dear Big Bro Dickybird just gave you the scare of a lifetime, chastised you about being irresponsible, and left to assumingly go to bed (though you’re not sure if that man actually sleeps or not). The conversation — well, more like lecture — played in your mind, repeating on loop like a broken record… because of course your mind wanted to make you feel guiltier than you already did.

That’s when something weird stuck out to you.

“You can’t keep forgetting to lock everything like that.”

… Keep?

As far as you knew, that was your first time actually forgetting…

So... how did he know?

Thwack.

Before you could even begin to register whatever the fuck just hit your forehead, a teasingly dry voice rang out from above. “Your handwriting really sucks, y'know."

With furrowed brows to showcase your confusion, you forced yourself to sit upright on the couch. A small notepad fell from your chest to the floor, the pages sprawled out from the metal spiral to reveal your list of things you wanted from the store. “I was writing fast,” you grumbled.

"Sure you were," cooed Dick with a less-than-friendly smirk. He then cocked his head to the side, arms crossing over his chest. "Wanted a change of scenery or something?"

You felt your face scrunch up. "What does that mean?"

"You usually watch your dumb little YouTube videos in your room," he explained. "Not sprawled out on my couch."

Honestly, you weren't even going to question how he knew that. Maybe it was that dumb Bat-detective intuition, or the fact that you probably need to start turning the volume on your phone down a notch (thin walls, remember?). Rolling your eyes, you situated yourself so that you were once again lounging comfortably on the couch. "Trying to tell me something, bucko?"

"Yeah, actually." Before you knew it, you were being ripped away from the cushions, an indignant yelp leaving your lips as you dangled mid-air from your legs. You had to adjust to your new upside-down view in order to throw Dick an incredulous glare. The bastard merely offered a shit-eating grin, simply stating, "get off my couch."

"... Could've just told me that," you spat out.

He began to walk you out of the living room. "You wouldn't of listened."

"Wha-- I totally would've!"

"Somehow, I doubt that."

Whatever retort you wanted to throw at him dissolved into a heavy OOMF as he dropped you onto the floor. You found yourself glaring up at him once more as he swiped invisible dust off of his hands, giving you a champion smirk before heading back in the living. You managed to orient yourself into an awkward squat just in time to see him confidently throw himself into the couch cushions.

That asshole just kicked you out of your spot.

You were not about to let that slide.

With an animalistic yell, you began to gallop — yes, gallop; it was a weird mix of running and crawling, as you were already on the floor — at him full speed. He barely had time to react to your charge (as you victoriously noted from his surprised OOF as you pounced on him), and within seconds, the both of you were locked into a fight to the death. Dick might've had the upper hand when it came to combat technique, but what you lacked in experience, you made up in dedication as you tried your damned hardest to push him off of the couch.

"Hey," he wheezed out. "Quit it, you little freak!!"

"You quit it," was your breathy reply. "I was here first!!"

"But it's my couch!!"

"Didn't see you using it!!"

"Just 'cuz I was getting your dumbass groceries!!"

"You were out for a whole-ass hour!!"

Despite giving it your all, the battle was beginning to turn against you as Dick managed to wrestle your upper body between his forearm and bicep. He eventually managed to pin your viciously kicking legs under his arm, and looking back on it, the scene probably looked reminiscent of a zookeeping holding down a trashing crocodile. This didn't deter you however, as you began to gnaw at his forearm, drawing a sound of disgust from your captor. "I had to spend, like, 30 minutes trying to decipher your shit handwriting," he scoffed. "Now can you just accept defeat and stop biting me!?"

You tried to respond with something along the lines of, "not until you give me my spot back," but it came out as garbled nonsense with your mouth full of his forearm. He aggressively told you to repeat yourself (probably under the pretense that you were giving him some major lip), and during the time you relieved his skin of your teeth to say something much worse than you initially did, a cheerful little tune began to play from Dick's pocket.

"... Hold that thought," he murmured.

Respectfully, you kept still and allowed him to use one of his hands to fish his phone out of his hoodie (you thought about using this as an opportunity to escape, but that would go against the unspoken rules of battle). He squinted his eyes to read the caller ID, only to heave a frustrated groan. “Bruce,” he curtly informed you. You were about to ask if he wanted some privacy, when he suddenly released you from his hold and sent you careening towards the ground. So, taking that as an answer, you scrambled off of the floor and headed towards your room, phone somehow materializing in your hand in the process.

From your room, the call sounded so faint.

… Maybe the walls weren’t as thin as you initially thought they were.

You let out a jet of hot air through your teeth. “The hell is taking him so long?”

The time was 3:50, but Dick’s old car was nowhere to be seen in your school’s parking lot. You shot hit a text 5 minutes ago that has yet to be read, and if you were being honest, you were more anxious than annoyed. Dick was never late to pick-up. Late to drop-off, sure (there was one time you showed up to school at 11:25 due to him sleeping in from a late-night drug bust, and you got the pleasure of making up an embarrassing excuse at the expense of Dick’s pride to the front office), but never pick-up.

So, this meant one of two things; he’s finally forgotten about you, or there’s an emergency.

Just as you were debating on checking the local news, your phone buzzed in your hand, screen lighting up to reveal a message from Bastard. You could feel your apprehension melting away as you unlocked your phone to read his message:

robbery going on

… Ah. That explains the spike in police siren activity going on around you.

You were about to shoot him a classic, “what the fuck” text, but his typing bubble popped up. After a second, another message followed:

gonna be late

Okay, now you decided to send your, “what the fuck.”

The read status under your text didn’t show up until a few minutes later (because that’s what you needed in this moment; more anxiety), and he immediately got to typing.

sorry kiddo

stay put

be there in a sec

Your shaky fingers managed to type him a message along the lines of, “be careful, good luck,” which was left unread by him. A snake of apprehension began to squeeze at your lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe. You had to force yourself to suck in a good bit of air to calm your nerves. Maybe he was just busy kicking some ass, that’s all. He’s stopping a whole-ass robbery from happening, so it’s not like he can keep up with your messages. Besides, he told you he would be there “in a sec,” so he’s probably wrapping everything up now.

Calm down, (Y/N), you scolded yourself. Your brother is Nightwing. He’ll be fine.

That’s when you witnessed an explosion light up the sky.

It was distant, but big enough to send a low rumble through the ground. You watched in absolute horror as the violent orange and yellow dissipated from behind the cityscape, leaving an inky trail of smoke behind as its calling card. More and more sirens of different origins — police, fire, ambulance — were overlapping in a terrible harmony, though it was hard to process from the brazen ringing in your ears, clogging your brain out from the outside world.

Oh, shit.

What if that was—?!

You desperately fumbled with your phone, unlocking it to reveal your still unread message to Dick. You were hoping for some sort of sorry about that text, or at the very least to see his typing bubble, but you were met with radio silence. Apprehension became pure fear when your thoughts began to race. Something bad happened to Dick. There’s no way in hell an explosion happened coincidentally, so something bad just happened.

Not good, not good, not good at all…!!

It took longer than you wanted to get your fingers to type something:

Dick??

Dick, you okay??

I saw that, are you okay??

Dick??

Dick??

… Nothing.

You resorted to calling him.

… Beeeeeeeeep…

… Beeeeeeeeep…

… Beeeeeeeeep…

“Come on,” you muttered. “Come on, come on, come on, pick up—!!”

… Beeeeeeeep…

…

“Hey, you’ve reached the voice mail of Dick Grayson, just shoot me a text and I’ll—”

You hung up.

This was bad. This was so bad. Something bad is happening, and you’re not even sure if Dick’s okay. Hell, you saw how big that explosion was. Is he even fucking alive?!

You couldn’t help but utter a watery, “no…”

You’re not going through this again.

Without a second to spare, your legs began to carry you forward in a full sprint. You weren’t exactly sure where the explosion went off, and it’s not like you’re all that familiar with Blüdhaven just yet to know where any possible candidates for a robbery could be, but you followed the smoke pillars like a beacon, gauging how close you were based on the surrounding sirens. People stood like statues on the sidewalks to ogle at evidence of destruction wafting through the sky, and no cars dared to run you over as you cut through the streets.

“Come on, Dick,” you said between huffs. “Please— please be okay..!!”

He had to be okay.

You couldn’t lose someone else in your life.

[darlingsart]

your oc is so adorable! 😍 can you tell us more about him?

Thank you!! 🥺❤️ Here he is (+ His little brother!)

Okay SO I've had these Patchilles OC's for like 3-ish years now and I've never shared them on here before bc they mean so much to me the idea of putting them out here seemed super scary BUT here are two of my Patchilles kids Maximus and Hyacinth 👉🏼👈🏼 (Yes that name is intentional and supposed to be ironic lmao)

More about them + the lore under the cut!

Basically, this is canon divergence and the lore is that Pat and Achilles don't go to Troy and instead stay in Phthia after their time on Pelion. Thinking that they no longer have to worry about a prophecy, they end up getting married and starting a family but, unbeknownst to them, the prophecy doesn't exactly go away, it gets passed down to Maximus and becomes it’s own big thing as the war goes on for well over a decade overseas. Thetis is the only one who actually knows about this and she keeps it a secret from Achilles and takes it upon herself to train Maximus and turn him into the next aristos achaion.

I'm actually in the middle of writing this as a series on ao3 (Currently on the 4th work!). If you're interested, you can start with the first fic, New Beginnings, which explains everything a lot more (their engagement, the reason why they stay) OR you can jump right into the story I'm currently working on, The Rest of Our Lives, though you might be a bit confused!

Maximus is by far one of my favorite OC’s but I love developing his siblings as characters too. If you read/have read The Rest of Our Lives, you’ll see that Maximus definitely takes after Achilles like without a doubt and it’s brought up several times but as he grows older, he becomes a well rounded mix of them both and I like to think that Pat’s attributes shine more then though I haven’t written it all out just yet! Maximus is just a fun loving, rambunctious kid who tries his best with the cards he’s dealt, he’s very loving and kind hearted and an overall good kid!

Hyacinth is about four years younger than him and one of my favorites too, especially as he grows into his character. So they do have another sibling but I’ve only just gotten there in the story so I don’t want to spoil anything, but he is a true middle child lol it’s actually an important part of his character that really gets explored later on in the series. He’s also a sweetheart, a little more reserved than Maximus but I wouldn’t call him an introvert, he’s just not as…. Hyperactive as his older brother lmao but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get roped into Maximus’ antics too.

I’ve also written modern au stuff with them (which I haven’t posted anywhere), so like now whenever I imagine any au with Pat and Achilles, it’s hard not to picture these two, especially Maximus, in it too lol

Sorry for rambling so much, this is the first time I’ve actually talked about these two outside of my writing 😅 I hope y'all enjoy them as much as I do! And feel free to ask me about them from time to time if you want :)

[sheepheadfred]

Ectoberhaunt Day 7: Bury/Unearth

Summary: Three young kids bury a time capsule together. Years later they dig it back up as teens.

AO3 link

(Bury: Years in the past with an eight year old and two six year olds)

"Jazzy! Jazzy Jazzy Jazzy Jazzy!"

A young child with fluffy black hair and the brightest blue eyes excitedly pulls his sister to their backyard, where his best friend is waiting.

"Danny, what do you want? I'm trying to read my big kid books."

"But Jazzy, me and Tucker saw some older kids do something cool and you say to make sure you know what we're doing if we need tools!"

Taking a bit to respond, the big sister goes "Why do you even need tools? Cause I'm not giving you the stuff mom and dad use in the lab."

"Nuh uh! Some big kids had a box full of cool stuff and buried it, they were talking about coming back for it in the future! We only wanted a shovel because our plastic ones weren't working!"

Tucker quickly nods his head, equally excited to do this with his best friend and needing Jazz's approval.

"Of course you don't know what a time capsule is," Jazz acts annoyed with them but the boys could see her starting to smile, "Only if I can put stuff in it, too."

"YES!"

"Permission acquired!"

The three kids quickly found an unused small box, Jazz made sure it was plastic and could seal so it could last, and grabbed some things they don't mind parting with for the time being that still hold meaning.

"OK, the last step probably isn't required but we should leave a message to our future selves!" Jazz proclaimed, as excited as the two younger kids now that they are almost done. Having a blast alongside them.

Messages written and placed in individual envelopes, all promising not to read each other's, everything was set to encase their capsule in the earth until further notice. They hoped maybe ten years but none of them ever put a year on it, just a promise that it will happen when they are grown.

It took all day and a bit past dinner, after Tucker called his parents to stay over, and the deed had been completed. It was the closest they have ever felt until now.

---------

(Unearth: Present day: ten years later. Parents are gone for the day and the kids goof off as Jazz enjoys a rare day to relax.)

A rare day with no parents and a light amount of ghost attacks finds Team Phantom a chance to chill together. Cujo runs around the Fenton backyard in puppy form, adorable as ever.

Suddenly, Cujo comes to a dead stop. As if possessed, ironic right, and starts to dig up one small section of the yard. Only stopping once he reached his goal.

"What do you have there, buddy?" Sam, asked the currently small dog. He had a dirty, plastic container in his mouth. Or at least the corner of it. The thing was as big as his small body as a whole box.

Covered by ghostly dog slobber. Ewww.

Sam may not have recognized the box, but three others did. They forgot about all of that but now, seeing their time capsule, has it all come rushing back.

"Is that our time capsule?!" Jazz broke the stunned silence.

"Totally forgot about that thing!" Danny laughed in disbelief.

"Dude, we need to see what we put in there!" Was shouted by Tucker in childlike glee.

All three voices overlapped in shouts but each were understood. Not helping with the noise level was Cujo, yapping alongside them to be included.

Sam, now frustrated and annoyed at being out of the loop, interrupts the noise.

"Alright, already! C'mon, just open the thing up if you're this excited over a piece of nostalgia."

She acts like she doesn't care but they can see her smile and the way her eyes zero in on the box, curious to what was put inside.

"Yeah, Sam's right. That and we don't want to summon you know who just by holding a cubic container." Danny says with an eye roll.

Danny makes the move to take the box from Sam and be the first to unseal it. A plastic container with the word 'Fenton' on it, made to contain even the most wryly of ectoplasmic movement inside. He is now grateful they did not get in trouble, or noticed, for taking an easy to reach one. Their parents always stored things all over the house and not just in the lab, after all.

Reaching in, he felt the trinkets and pulled them out one at a time. Showing them for the whole group to see.

First thing he touched was a book of some kind, must have been Jazz's contribution.

'Dragonology'.

"Forgot you were once into dragons..."

Face beat red, Jazz snatches the book from his hands. "Don't you start, Danny. I was eight! If dinosaurs could exist, why couldn't dragons?!"

"Y'know, she has a point," Sam piped in," We now know ghosts exist and we can't forget that Dora and Aragon have those amulets that turn anyone who wears them into dragons. There were several historical sources of them alive wearing those amulets. It even transformed me to a dragon before, too!"

"Fair enough," the boys both get it and there isn't really a point in arguing when she backs it up like that."

"Forgot that you were able to research Dora and that amulet the night of the dance. A lot has happened since then. Had to keep you from killing Paulina as a dragon for one." Danny recalls.

"Can I borrow this, later?" Sam asked Jazz after giving Danny a nod for that, heard and understood.

"Sure Sam," Jazz allows and passes the book to her, a bit fond and glad they can bond over something.

Sam, currently holding the book noticed something white and rectangular peaking out from behind the cover. "What's this?"

"Oh yeah, we wrote letters to our future selves! This one is clearly mine. Hand it over, please."

"Read it?"

"Yeah! Read it Jazz!" The boys both echo Sam's request.

"Ok, ok! I will," she looks at the trio in fond exasperation as she opens the letter. "Let's see..."

"Dear Future Jazz,

How are you? Do you get to accomplish our dreams? We are still super smart and helpful, right? Do I get any close friends like Danny has Tucker? Maybe when I'm your age, mom and dad will find spending time with us more interesting than ghosts and playing with their loud invenshuns that scare me and Danny!

P.S.

I hope you still take good care of bearburt!"

"Hey, what else is in there?" Jazz redirects the focus to the time capsule from her teary gaze, making a move to see for herself before Danny's hand went back in. He's the one holding it so she cant just take it!

"Up next is...." Danny pauses for dramatic effect as he grasps an object blindly, "Oh wow! Look at this blast from the past! Does it still work?"

An original game boy in all its glory.

"So that's where i put it! It was my dad's and i used to play that thing all the time before this. I forgot about it completely when my parents got me that game boy color when it was new." Tucker informs everyone as he remembers it all while inspecting it for its condition. "Good thing Jazz convinced me to take the batteries out! Hehe!"

Another envelope taped to the game boy containing another message from the past. This one went unnoticed until Danny was already reaching for what past Danny left for him, Tucker taking it and putting it in his pocket.

For once he doesn't mind not being noticed. But alas, none of them forgot that 'we' and that it wasn't just Jazz who wrote one.

Sighing and preparing for future embarrassment that he's sure something he wrote when he was little would bring him, he begins.

"Hey future me,

I guess if you're getting this, we remembered to dig this up. HA HA! How much has technology advanced since this great year of 1996? Bet me an' Danny are still super close, right? Can't wait to see what kind of empire we create together. Best of luck future me, your past self."

None of them were surprised to hear that message.

'Huh, that was actually pretty sweet.'

Tucker fears were not met at all and he was greatly relieved.

"Maybe I should show my dad I found it when I get home. He was pretty heartbroken when he found out I lost it. We could even pop some batteries back in this bad boy and see how it plays!"

The group laughs at his statement, having fun reminiscing.

The last thing was unsurprisingly a toy rocket, paint still crisp while in the box. Like it literally blasted off to meet him again. Danny's breath caught seeing it here.

"This was my special rocket, I used to play with this all the time. I even slept with it." Danny was able to identify his childhood toy he forgot about in an instant. A hidden pang of sadness hit him over the memories, hidden from the rest, as he recalls his favorite toy. A small, sad smile playing on his lips.

"If it was your favorite, why did you bury that one?"

To him it didn't matter who asked, he can tell they were all thinking it.

"To be honest, I don't fully remember the reason why." He begins, "I think it was a combination of dad's penchant for careless destruction around the house where anything could be a victim of it as well as our continuously reanimated dinners. I was scared it would get broken and when we came to Jazz for help with the project, this was the most special thing i could think of to seal away for my future I guess."

His words hang for a minute before Cujo starts to yap up a storm. Trying to get Danny's attention and praise for finding his toy like he once did for the pup, Cujo runs around and through everyone's feet. It even still smelled a little like him somewhat and he is a good boy, he found the box he couldn't phase through and now Danny has his toy back!

The perfect distraction from his own letter. Danny picks Cujo up as the group heads inside to watch some movies, everyone wanting to chill after these memories were shared.

Danny glanced at his own letter while everyone heads inside, sucking in a deep breath, and shouts.

"First one in gets to choose!"

And all four teens book it, lauhghing.

Intangibility forgotten.

Or more accurately, ignored.

Danny lagged behind, opting to read his letter sent from the past. Bittersweet and full of innocence.

Dear Future Danny,

Will you take this rocket with you when you are an astronaut? I'll miss it, but it will be safer with you. So please take good care of it.

Are mommy and daddy right about ghosts? Are they evil like they say or can they be nice? They say they are evil and that if the ghosties say otherwise then they are trying to hurt me. That doesn't make much sense but mommy and daddy just want to protect me, right? Even if they get loud and yell-y when they think a ghost is here. Or during Christmas please tell me they stopped

Are you still friends with Tucker? Is he still our bestest friend? Do we get lots and lots of friends? Other kids like to be mean to me because their parents want to be mean about mommy and daddy. At least that's what Jazzy said.

Do we ever get a pet? Maybe other kids will like me more if I had a dog or something? That and I just like dogs. Maybe it could even be friendly and cuddly and protective and never is too busy for me.

Please think of me when you reach the stars as an astronaut. Maybe one day we could even live up there! Wouldn't that be cool? I'd never want to come back down from space. Earth has bullies and mean kids and attacking dinner.

P.S.

Jazzy helped me write this. She an' Tucker finished fast but I had a lot to say to you. I love you future me!

Movie sounds and laughing ahead as he is stuck, standing there reading these innocently hopeful words while his friends start without him. For all his past self's hopes, not many came true. He technically did get a dog but not many can know about it. Tucker is still his closest and truest bro. But the things that didn't change for the better hurt, reminding him how cruel fate feels sometimes for circumstances not theirs to control.

Fresh tear stains hit a blank part under the paragraphs of things his younger self wanted him to know and possibly answer next to dried, years old water stains that look identical.

Wiping his eyes and hiding the letter, he rejoins the group with an excuse of sorts and the kids continue to enjoy their day.

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Tumblr Fic List Part 1

Hi everyone! With AO3 currently down, I thought I'd remind you all that almost all of my fics are also available to read right here on Tumblr! For years I've had the habit of cross posting just about everything so if you're looking for a particular fic, you should be able to find it on good old Tumblr.

I tag all my fics with: Precious Posts so you can also use that to find anything newer I haven't added here yet.

This is all my older fics, from my Masterlist. When I get a little more time I'll do a part 2 with my newer stuff.

To Teach a Robin to Cook: Jason teaches Damian how to cook

Baby Bat Vs the Evil Librarian : Steph and Damian take a trip to the library

Grayson’s Guide to Robin Boys Movie Night (IMG): The list of rules Dick wrote for movie night

Guide to Robin Boys Movie Night (FIC): Dick decides to write some rules for movie night, the other Robins have opinions

Movie Night: The Mummy: Jason does not like bugs

Movie Night: Cheeto Bomb: Dick thinks Jason planted a Cheeto bomb in the DVD player. Jason insists otherwise.

Lost Boy: Tim’s mad at Damian (again) and takes a walk to cool off

Fireworks: The Batboys attend a fireworks show for the 4th of July and Jason has flashbacks. Angsty

Baby Teeth: Bruce notices that Damian has lost a tooth, and decides to play Tooth Fairy. Fluff pure and simple.

Talk Yourself Out of This One: Dick get’s kidnapped and is forced to wait for help to arrive.

Kidnapped With You: It’s all Jason’s fault. Or is it Damian’s? Either way both managed to get kidnapped and now have to get along until Batman arrives

Misplaced Mail: Tim decides to go to college and doesn’t tell the other Robin boys.

De-Aged Tim: Timmy gets shrunk down to a six year old and Damian has to help him get back to normal.

Magical Mix Up: Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian all get body swapped. Will they fight or get along long enough to fix things?

Lights Out: Jason finds himself in a situation when Tim passes out on him while his chest taser is still on

The Hunt: Bruce and Damian go on the search for a missing remote

Prank War: It’s Batboys vs Batgirls

Something in the Tea: Damian drinks hallucinogenic tea and can’t escape the visions of what he wishes his family would be like.

Party Chaos: Duke just wants to survive this party, unfortunately for him the rest of the Batboys are at the party and intent on causing trouble.

Trust: DickBat era fic where Damian gets into some trouble after a fight with Dick.

Karma: Damian’s got the hiccups so Dick tries to help him out on patrol.

Comfort Sweater: Damian get’s caught stealing one of Dick’s sweaters.

Play Lessons: Mindless Fluff as Dick and Dami play Cheese Viking together

Burdens: Written for Dynamic Duo Week 2016 day 6: Leave Me Alone

Discovery: Dick and Damian do a science experiment with Geodes

It’s Called a Hug: DickBat era. Damian doesn’t understand that hugs aren’t just a reward for good work.

Like Any Other Kid: Damian can’t stop having nightmares, finally he decides to go to his father for comfort.

Nightmares and Dreams: Bruce has a nightmare that Damian’s still dead and decides to check up on his son.

Cuffed: Dick and Tim end up handcuffed together and have to rescue Jason

Chosen: Based on a HC where Damian has trouble believing Bruce really wants him.

Album: Tim’s looking through one of his old photo album’s when Dick and JAson find him.

Father Time: Tired from the night before Bruce decides to stay in bed all day. His children decide he needs company.

Favorite Colors: While Dick and Damian are shopping for a new hoodie for Tim Damian makes an interesting purchase.

Lost Not Gone: My version of Damian’s reaction to Tim’s ‘death’

Super Sleepover: Jon sleeps over at the manor

Father Daughter Dance: Bruce and Cass go to the Ballet

Learning to Ride: Bruce teaches Jason how to ride a bike

Adoption: Alfred pushes Bruce to adopt Tim

If I Live to See the Dawn: Jason’s hurt and Damian’s got to get him home

Learning to Ask: Dick takes care of an injured Bruce

Heartbeats: Takes place between Batman Rebirth issues 16-17 and follows Bruce taking care of his kids

Target Practice: Damian and Steph play laser tag

Anxious Heart: Damian deals with some latent fear toxin, Bruce helps him out

Art Show: Tim runs into Damian while going to see one of his photos on display

Family Attire: Dick and Damian go clothes shopping. DickBats era

Unintended Consequences: In trying to hide his own illness Damian ends up getting Tim sick

Always Interesting: Cass buys a waxing kit and all the boys want to try it

Not a Burden: Tim gets hurt on patrol and doesn’t want to bother the family

With Love and Patience: Dick muses over taking care of Damian, there may also be suspenders involved. DickBats era.

Long Overdue: Jason offers to take Damian on patrol with him

Some Kind of Normal: Sometimes Bruce forgets just how young Damian is

Trapeze Training: Dick takes Damian out on the trapeze

Sick Day: Bruce is sick and Damian wants to make sure his father gets proper rest

Haunted Manor: Damian and Jon explore a haunting in the manor

Checking In: The batboys start to worry when Bruce is out of town and hasn’t contacted anyone in a while

Preserved Heartache: Damian sees a video of his own death

Hugs and Cookies: Dick brings a ‘get-along’ rug for the holidays

Like Old Times: Bruce and Dick on a stakeout

Safety Net: Snapshots of Damian learning to trust Dick

Irritating: Damian picks on Dick

This Stupid Family: First person pov. Jason’s little brother’s realize he too is a little brother and act accordingly.

Then and Now: Bruce dealing with Jason’s death juxtaposed with the family now

In Charge: Jason and Bruce make lunch while Alfred is out. Robin!Jason

A Little Craft Project: Damian asks Babs for help cheering Dick up

A Bad Night and Good Tea: Bruce can’t sleep, thankfully Alfred’s there to help

To Pass Through this Night: Dick died during Forever Evil. His brother’s find out and help him deal with it.

Faking It: Damian fakes being sick, Dick reacts to it. DickBats Era

Dreams of Wires: Damian’s feelings on the chip his mother put in his spine

Don’t Get Sentimental: Tiger takes care of Dick

Robin in the Batcave with the Rope: Damian get’s kidnapped by the Riddler and Scarecrow and forced to play clue

Breathe In Breathe Out: Damian gets buried, Dick worries Part 1 2 3

This Weight Off Of Your Shoulders: Damian gets sick, Alfred takes care of him

After Everything We’ve Seen: Dick finds Damian curled in the corner of the couch

Bone Tired: Dick is tired, Bruce is there to help him out

Just to See You: Temporary blind Damian, Big brother Dick

You Won’t Wake Up Alone: Dick knows he’s about to die, he just doesn’t want to do it in front of his little brothers Part 1 Part 2

First Breath After A Coma: Dick ruminates on his death, Damian’s, and all the terrible things that have been happening lately. Angst, no fluff

Your Job or Mine: Bruce gets hurt, Dick takes care of him

New to This: Dick’s getting used to his new busy life, and learning to take time for Damian

Accustomed to Standing Alone: The first time Damian’s kidnapped as a civilian

Bleeding Heart: Damian finds a dying doe and sits with her, Dick helps take care of the rest

Sun Spot: A lazy day with Dick and Damian

Of Baskets and Braids: Dick can’t sleep so he goes to find Bruce, and they get lost watching Youtube videos

As the Years Go By: Dick is growing up, and Bruce isn’t really sure how to deal with it.

A Bird in the Hand: Damian gets turned into a robin…for real. Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Those Days We Miss: After Damian picks a fight with Dick, he ends up kidnapped and pretty sure no one is going to come for him.

Stay Here, With Me: Damian gets soaked on patrol, and as a result he ends up sick. Rest and medicine should help, but Damian finds himself getting worse and worse. Thankfully he’s got Bruce (and later Dick) to help sort things out.

You Always Bring Me Home: When Batman is caught by an explosion he calls the person who can always find him, Alfred.

The Care and Yeeting of Robins: Bruce comes home to find Jason in his bed. Jason refuses to move, so Bruce does what he has to in order to stand his ground and decides sleeping on the floor is the only option.

Flash/Prompt Fics:

Damian and Tim: That’s Not a Dog

Dick, Damian, and Cass: No, no, it’s okay, I’ll be your bridge. You can walk all over me

Damian and Dick: I stabbed my last twelve brothers. Why should you be different?

Jason and Steph: Not only am I a late bloomer, I’m late for everything

Young Dick: Not only am I a late bloomer, I’m late for everything

Steph and Damian: I stabbed my last twelve brothers; why should you be any different?

Tim and Damian: Would you mind not setting my stuff on fire every time you get angry

Older!Damian: I find this to be highly illogical, incredibly ridiculous, and absolutely irresistible. Let’s play

Damian and Alfred the Cat

Tim and Damian: Damian attempts to irritate Tim

Tim and Jason: Tim’s tired and saying weird things

Batman Voice: Damian’s got a ‘Batman voice’ and it comes out at the best of times

Shrunken Sweater: Bruce’s sweater has shrunk to the perfect size

Being Sick is Stupid: Robin Dick and Bruce fluff and minor sick fic

Damian gets tricked into sleeping

Dick and Damian angst-fluff

Long Fics:

Super City: Damian and Jon on an adventure in Metropolis

Losing You: Dick loses his memories of Damian and the two try to deal with it while going after the villain responsible (plus Tim and Jason get to help)

Finding Us: The sequel to Losing You. Explores Jason and Tim’s relationship to the Batfam