#but it's safe to assume things have been going alright

[kaliina-catoe-blog]

Danny didn't stop flying until he was on the outermost edge of Crime Alley, floating for a few minutes to catch his-- well. Not literally breath, considering he didn't breathe in this form, but the point stood. He couldn't possibly be less lucky, first he has to hide out in Gotham to escape his parents and now he has to try to heal the older halfa without risking himself.

What was worse? Clearly the man didn't know he was a half-ghost. He probably didn't even know about the Anti-Ecto-Acts or the GIW! What if he was targeted and didn't even get to understand why?

Although. The man also asked Danny why he knew about his death.. As though the man knew he had died. But then, why would he not know that he was a halfa? How would he know that he had died, but not know anything about Ectoplasm or Cores? It wasn't adding up, and Danny knew he needed to figure it out.

For now, though, he was exhausted. He looked around for a second, before settling on an abandoned-looking theater building. The sign was faded, and looked to be rather damaged- as though someone had thrown somebody into it and shattered many of the old lights. Despite the letters missing, and the general damage to the sign, it seemed to be some kind of... Opera? Theater?

"**ake Op**a Ho*se"

He floated down, phasing himself through the roof and directly into the main theater of the building. It was cold, but he could handle cold with his Ice Core. Still, Danny moved over to the stage, he could always make it more comfortable.

After shredding a couple of the old, slightly mildewed and tattered curtains, he made himself a large nest. Transforming back, he tried to search the building some for anything useful.

(Jay)

Jason sighed, snapping his laptop shut a little harder than necessary. He had been out searching the street for the kid he saw earlier and, after several hours of nothing, tried to find anything on the many cameras he had placed.

He didn't want to get the Bats into this, at least not yet, but he was starting to wonder if he needed to talk to Oracle. She would probably be able to find the kid, right?... He sighed again.

Alright. What did he know so far? The kid was scrawny, he looked about Demon-Brat's age but it was hard to tell. He appeared to be malnourished; his hands and wrists were bony and his shoulders stuck out a bit. Jason had to fight the urge to open his laptop again, instead opting to stand and go to his kitchen.

Maybe he just needed to try to run into the kid more casually? Maybe even as Jason instead of as Red Hood. Clearly the poor thing had been terrified of him, and he couldn't blame them when he knew his vocal modulation and large guns probably seemed... Well. Scary.

Making up his mind, he started to pull out ingredients for a simple chicken soup. Tomorrow night, he'd patrol like normal and try to find the kid. Hopefully, if he did, he could quickly change or something and try to give the kid some food. Alfred's chicken soup would be the best, especially in Gotham's freezing cold excuse for fall.

(Danny)

Three bottles of water, two sodas, and a juice were in the concession stand. As well as a few bags of chips, a bag of unpopped popcorn, and several boxes of very old candies. Although, in all honesty, he wasn't sure he trusted those if they'd been in cardboard in an abandoned building for... Who knows how long. He was pretty sure at least one of these brands was discontinued, so he assumed it had been a fairly long time.

He shoved his haul into an empty bag he found, as well as a flashlight he found in what appeared to be a manager's office and some batteries. He could see in the dark, but he liked having the ability to actually have light - it made him feel safer. Lastly, he snooped at the registers. They were all empty, which he supposed made sense. The safe in the office, on the other hand, had $50 in random bills that he took.

He would probably feel worse about stealing, but clearly it had been a long time and nobody else was going to miss it or care. Right? Right. Sure. He didn't feel bad at all... Okay he felt awful, but he just had to remember that he was hungry and the place was obviously not about to need $50.

By the time he got back to the musty curtains on the stage, he was beyond exhausted and starving. Collapsing down into the nest, he pulled out a water and opened it. It probably wasn't the safest thing to drink, but at least it wasn't Gotham tap water.

After half of the water was empty, he grabbed a metal dish he'd found in the kitchen and poured some of the popcorn into it. He wasn't entirely sure this was a good idea, but... Actually. Wait.

He scrambled suddenly off of the curtains, moving to sit on his knees on the stage instead. It was already probably dangerous to try to pop popcorn like this- let alone on a big pile of kindling. He grabbed a lighter out of the go-bag he'd brought from home, and one of the metal cups that Jazz had made him pack. She'd insisted he might need a cup for clean water in case he ended up somewhere in the woods or something. He was glad she was so overprotective now, and he ached as he thought about her.

The cup, which he had put a small fire-starter into and lit, sat underneath the dish. The dish was being held up, just high enough to not smother the flame, using a metal frame-looking thing Danny spotted near the stage. It looked like some kind of prop cage? It was flat enough on top to hold the dish flat and tall enough to just go over the cup without touching it.

Slowly, the popcorn started to cook. He heard it first, and watched as - oh shit nonononono. It was popping, yes, but also flying directly out of the metal dish across the floor.

"FUUUUU-" he cut himself off, swiftly moving to try to stop the popcorn from jumping onto the ground.

He pulled a metal lid from his bag, cursing himself for forgetting it, and slapped it over top. "Ancients damn it."

Dp x DC ideas #1 (please feel free to use, but if you could link it below or tag me or something so I can read any fics based on my ideas I'd be super grateful!)

Ok. Idea #1

Danny's transformation is bright. Like. Really really bright. It might temporarily blind people if they're looking directly at it! Danny and his friends have all become adjusted to not looking, and warning people to close their eyes. But what if the flashing light is also useful for making people not recognize that it's Danny that transformed?

Imagine Danny in Gotham, running into Red Hood somewhere in his civvies. His first thought, obviously, is to panic-- because obviously running into any member of the "Batfamily" can't lead to anything good. But then he can feel the cold puff of air that's suddenly leaving his lips and he realizes with terror that this man is NOT human. In fact. This man is easily twice Danny's size and armed to the teeth *and* he's not human. Danny, being himself, decides in that moment he needs to leave NOW. He starts to move, but. He can't bring himself to go ghost yet- there's something nagging at him that he needs to talk to Mr. "Built like the broad side of a barn" about whatever weird ectoplasm was infecting him. He could swear he could almost smell the rotten ecto on the big guy's clothes.

Jason, meanwhile, is busy staring at the tiny ass teenager that's literally shaking in front of him. Why was this kid even here? For starters, no child this size needs to be out this late in any part of Gotham. And more importantly, why is he in Crime Alley? Suddenly, Jason's not standing in front of some random teenager, he's looking at himself. Black hair, blue eyes, dirty clothes in the middle of The Narrows? Shit. Batman was about to have a field day... Wait. Was. Was this how his Da- how Batman felt? Oh shit. The kid was talking and Jason was standing here completely zoned out thinking about the Batmobile's fucking tires.

"Hey, are you listening to me?" Danny asks again, getting irritated fairly quickly. "I'm trying to tell you something important about your core!"

Red Dude shakes his head a bit, seemingly just focusing again. "Sorry.. Hold on. My what?"

Jason has never felt more confused in his entire life. He was also pretty sure he could mentally see the damn adoption papers filing themselves in his head. Maybe D- Bruce had rubbed off more than he thought?

"Okay. One more time." Danny sighs, "Your core looks like someone literally tried to shatter it and then glued it back into your chest. And you reek like rotten ecto- you need pure ecto to heal that much damage. I don't know what you've been trying to use, but it's contaminated by something and I think it's making you sicker?" He tries to explain, but the weird man just keeps staring and tilts his head.

"My what? Is full of what?" Helmet Bro has some kind of voice changer in his helmet, but Danny can tell he's being serious.

"You... You don't know do you?" His eyes suddenly widen like saucers, and he gapes up at the older man in horror.

"Know what, kid?" Jason steps towards the teen, not fast or anything. Just a shift forward, really, but the kid flinches back like he's been hit and Jason is suddenly 13 and fending off muggers again right here in this alleyway. He puts his hands up, palms out to show he's not trying to do anything, and slowly moves to lift his helmet off.

Danny is cornered, he realizes it the second the Big Scary Helmet Man™ moves forward and Danny is pressing his back into a fence. He didn't want to leave the man with rotting ectoplasm in his core, but what was the risk he was about to be kidnapped? But then Big Guy is freezing, and clearly not holding any of the weapons he's armed with.. And taking off the helmet?

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to lay a hand on you, okay, kiddo? I just need you to explain what you're talking about, and why you're... Here," he gestures with his free hand to the alley.

He has jet black hair, and there's a section near his bangs that's shockingly white. Danny almost thinks the man looks... A little bit familiar? Too familiar. He's not lying though, so Danny tries to relax a bit and raises his hands placatingly. Clearly, the man has no idea that he's a halfa, and he probably doesn't even know he died. Oh man.

"Uh. Well. I don't really know how to explain this to you- and I can't tell you why I know. But... Do. Do you know that you're.. Dead?" Danny asks awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jason has to fight off the green that's suddenly starting to creep into his vision. How the hell did this kid- wait. He asked if Jason knew? "what?"

Danny felt horrible, he could feel whatever was contaminating the older man's core- like it was alive, almost. "So. I know that saying to stay calm probably isn't going to help you here. But I need you to try to not freak out, okay?"

The lenses of Hood's mask were blown wide, and he very carefully nodded. His teeth creaked with how hard he was trying to remain in control of the Pit Rage.

"Okay," Danny continued carefully, noting that whatever contamination was at play it was definitely making the man unstable... Was it time to go ghost? No. Not yet. "Uh. My name is Danny- Danny Fenton. And. You are... Dead. Err. Half dead?"

Jason is shaking now, just slightly, and he hopes the boy doesn't notice it. He's not trying to scare the poor thing, but the green is starting to come back in waves. He feels like he just got dragged out of The Pits all over again.

"How do you know about that?" Jason asks, and the kid flinches hard again. Jason takes a deep breath and holds it, "I'm not going to hurt you. But you need to tell me- right now- how you know about my death."

Danny is shaking, trembling in fear as he realizes he just fucked up. Badly. "Uh. I can't tell you that, " he tries, pressing flat against the chain link behind him.

Jason steps forward before he can think better of it, another question on his tongue-

*FLASH*

Jason staggers back, hands coming up to cover his eyes, "Oh fuck!"

"Sorry! But I am not about to double-die tonight!" Danny yells back as he phases through the fence. He waits a second, floating while Helmet Man tries to clear his vision again.

"Fuck!" Jason swears again, and then he says something in Spanish that Danny doesn't understand but he's pretty sure is probably not PG13.

Danny doesn't hesitate for another second before he's flying away. He'll need to find the older halfa again, but for now he needs to get far away and fast. He wasn't sure what a regular human gun would do to a half-ghost, and he wasn't about to find out.

Jason, finally regaining his vision, whips his head around. The alley is empty, and there's no sign of where the kids went or how he managed to slip past. He shoved his helmet back on, huffing in frustration. Damn it all. He was going to have to track the poor kid down wasn't he?.... Yeah. Bruce rubbed off on him, clearly, because even now as Jason stalked back out of the alley he couldn't help but to mentally fill out paperwork.. He was calling dibs on this one- black hair, blue eyes, and apparently carrying a flash bang? Batman could fight him for custody. Besides... There was something off about the kid- how did he know Jason was dead? And what was all the weird talking about 'cores' and 'ecto'?

[thecrimsonhelmet]

@dramatisperscnae continued from here

Those seconds of silence are enough to have his gut churning with anxiety. Regret. The desperate desire to take the words back and shove them deep down where they’ll never see the light of day. But he can’t take it back, now that the question is out there, so he forces himself to stand there, still and waiting and watching Dick, his grip on the book the only thing keeping his hands from fidgeting.

Then, Dick is grinning, bright and elated, looking like Jason’s just offered him everything he’s ever wanted, plus a trip to Disneyland, on a silver platter. Like Jason’s worth a smile like that. Again, the thought makes him ache. Again, Dick’s words filter through his mind.

You’re a better man than you think you are. Give yourself a chance.

Rather than trying to dissect any of that, any of his current feelings, he focuses on this moment, and this moment alone. Nods once, sets the book down, and grabs his jacket off the back of the couch. “Great. Let’s go.” He pauses just long enough to point a finger at Dick. “Not a word of this to Dean. I don’t need the lecture.”

And then they’re off. Jason takes Dick to a little hole in the wall dive bar in a slightly sketchy part of town. The kind of place where no one will look twice at Jason, obviously underage, drinking. Where the bartender cards him because he has to, but barely even looks at the fake ID, and clearly doesn’t give a shit whether it’s real or not, so long as Jason’s got money.

Which he does.

He maybe drinks a little too much bourbon too quickly, used to needing quite a bit to even feel tipsy, with the Pit. Normally, when he’s been drinking since Dean brought him back, he just has a beer or two. But he’s got a lot of conflicting and confusing emotions swirling around inside his brain right now, and a simple beer just wasn’t going to cut it.

“He’s such an asshole,” he laments to Dick, sitting next to him at the bar, gesturing with his glass and somehow managing not to lose a drop of his current drink. “Goddamn Pepsi, like I’m fuckin’ twelve, or somethin’. Fuck him. I fuckin’ died, Dickie.” Just in case he didn’t remember. “Twice. I think I’m allowed to have a damn beer every once in a while.”

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

One hell of a team | In-ho x Wife!Reader |

Summary: You will follow your husband anywhere.

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Violence - Different back story for In-ho - Blood - Death - Use of (Y/N) - Reader gets called "love" -

The Frontman, the man with the most power within the island, to who the guards obey without question.

Was currently trembling under his wife poited look.

"You want to enter the games?" You asked him, your tone cold and almost jugdmental.

In-ho calmed himself down. It was an idea that stayed with him after the death of the Chairman and even mor with how player 456 had insisted the last two years in finding them. He had played before and won, he knew how terrible others could be, he had walked out like a new man, used the money for himself and you. Never really gave much thoguht on how life were lost.

But, for some reason he wanted to go again.

"Im going with you"

His glass of wishky fell onto the floor, the loud crash did nothing to bother you while you ate.

"No, thats not happening. I need you here to control the games and guards" In-ho started trying to get a valid reason to why you defenetly should not come.

"Oh, you need me to? Well I need you here. With me. With our family. How do you think I would do seeing you there ? I still remember how you got when you came back from these the first time"

"That was different" The Frontman said taking a deep breath "I wont be just one more player, it will be like when the Chairman went in"

"That still does not ease my mind" (Y/N) responded "Till death do us a part and follow you anywhere" you recited showing him your weeding ring. "Remember?"

In-ho felt his chest got thight at the sight and the memory of the small yet full of love weeding you two had back when life was more simple.

"Alright, you can come with me. Its not like you would wait for my approval" he responded smiling at the end "But no one must know that we are married, you understand that ?" He added now serious

"Of course, its what makes more sense, we will just casually meet there and see how it plays" You nodded to him "And please, better clean up that glass before someone steps on it"

"On it, love"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

For the most part pretending not to know each other was easier than expected. While you knew the guards knew who you two were you were still a bit scared. Specially during the green and red light, since both of you had got separated and now you were froze in your spot.

"You need to move" In-ho said from behind his arm playing along "Follow me in the next sing, alright? Just take my hand"

"Im scared, im sorry" You said feeling guilty over wanting to be there with him and starting to fail on the first game no less.

"I know, I was too. But im here, just follow me"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You had to hide your smirk when he pressed the circle to go on with the games, you knew he would do it just to piss off Player 456 and make things more cahotic.

He went with the rest and stood besides you trying himself not to smile at you.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The first approach to Gi-huns team was tense to say the least. You two had voted circle and even worse In-ho had been the vote that ended the tie.

But with his own charisma and yours you two got to be on his good side.

Till In-ho decided to talk, really you sometimes forgot who sassy he could be.

"And some picked umbrella?" He asked faking suprise when he had seen it on first hand. "Most of them died I assume"

You could see the look on player 456 and decided to be more sensitive

"Hey, dont be like that. Im sure they went in blind and did not know what it was about" You said keeping a safe distance so no one would think you two were together or knew each other before the games.

In-ho was having too much fun.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

That first night they both were in their respective beds. Still keeping their false relationship. However once (Y/N) was sure all were asleep she went towards In-ho who was awake like he knew she would be coming to him.

"Are you alright?" He asked in a whisper, worried that for her this would be too much.

"Im fine, I wanted to see if you were fine"

He nodded not saying a thing but taking her hand.

"Also, I saw you break that fight, really ? When did you even learn to do that ?" This made him smile and hold her hand thighter "Really! I only see you in your office all the time"

"You think I would come in here without knowing how to defend myself or you?"

She smiled at him, blushing in the dark. "No....I just thoguht all you did was be in your office and give orders"

In-ho rolled his eyes "Just wait till we are out of here, i will show you just how fit im"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The six legs game was both a chaos and funny. Honeslty you could not help yourself on hugging him and player 456 (who was slowly getting on your soft side) as you saw a team win.

However the shoots that came for these who did not survive were too much. You would swear In-ho gave the guards a cold stare because you would flinch sometimes.

"Hey, dont worry they wont shoot the ones who havent played" Player 456 reassured you with a calm tone

You nodded, knowing that even if you lost they wont shoot you or In-ho. It was still sweet to see him trying to calm you down.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Not a word" He said during the night when you two were able to talk again.

"I was not going to say a thing, but you did in on purpose or were you really missing ?"

In-ho closed his eyes knowing you would later get the recording of him missing during the game and use it against him.

"It was all planned" he said trying to sound as convincing as he could.

"Whatever you say Honey"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The game of making pairs gave you nausea because of the carousel kept spinning around. And the rounds were stress again. The worse part was getting separated from In-ho who find you seeing how two players were dragging you so they could have the number they needed.

You havent see him get that angry in years, his protective self being on as he pulled one from the neck and punched the other one.

He kept punching almost forgetting there was a game you two were supposed to play.

"Leave him we still need two more" You urged only for a guard to shove two confused and scared players besides you and In-ho.

"We got them" He assured getting your hand and going to one room.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"In-ho!! (Y/N)!!" The worried screams of Gi-hun filled the place as he looked for both of you.

Even if he had promised to try and dont get attached to new players and survive he could not help but feel a connection with both of you.

"Gi-hun!" In-ho's voice called making him look over and see him coming towards the rest with you by hand something that made him curious but decided not to ask.

"Im glad to see you two alright" Gi-hun said seeing just a few bruises on you, and noticing blood on In-ho knuckles.

You catched his eyes and went to explain "He saved me" you told the rest looking at them then at In-ho who was looking back at you "I would have not made it otherwise"

The look of love you two shared was so genuine, some wonder if you two were together but trying to be discrete to protect yourselfs.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"They will most likely attack us tonight" Gi-hun explained as he showed the fork the guards had left when the food was given.

The idea only assented itself when the men returned from the bathroom, with blood on them. 

"And what do you propuse us to do?" In-ho asked all of the Xs were in a circle trying to listen to what Gi-hun had to say.

Gi-hun told the others his plan, honestly you thoguht it was nusts, it wont work. They were far suprassed on numbers but you had to shut yourself up.

You could tell your husband was both amazed by it and even kind of respecting it. Or at least that what he showed to him. He needed Gi-hun's trust after all.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Hide well" In-ho said besides you in a low tone "We can trust the guards but till they get here we cant trust the others"

You nodded knowing that very well since this was a typical phase of the game for years.

"We will be safe" You said holding his shoulder. "Do what you have to do, dont worry about me" You tried to make him feel at ease but he could not. The only thing that scared him more than anything were the other players trying to get to you.

"Just hang in there" He responded his forehead against yours.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The fight was on its hot spot. The players were killing each other without a second thought.

Nothing like living it, even if you have seen this type of thing multiple times. Its was unnerving to see them just going at each others troath. The screams and cries were too much for a moment, the dark did nothing to help.

Thats when you felt it. Someone had dragged you out from under the bed and was now on top of you. You saw the player move their left hand ready to Strike at you. You tried to punch and defend yourself but the person on top was too strong.

A cold scream left your mouth as the fork pierced your shoulder.

You could not help it, the adrenaline and anxiety was getting on you.

"In-ho! In-ho help me please" You screamed for him, your husband the love of your life.

"Shut up, the next one will be your neck" The person said and for a moment you saw it. Dying in here and leaving In-ho.

Till you felt the person being pushed and the screams of them. You blinked trying to make sense.

It was In-ho, he had taken the fork from the player and was now piercing the neck of the player, not even leaving a chance for them to survive.

"GO HIDE NOW!!" In-ho ordered, he being scared himself and angry. He saw red when you were dragged and it was for the brutal grip Gi-hun had on his arm that he did not move faster.

You did as told getting under another bed and making sure no one could reach you.

"You fucking scum! How dare you lay hands on my wife" In-ho almost screamed too angry to see that the player was now dead. All his face and hands where covered in blood.

"Stop it!! They are dead, we need to continue the plan, the lights will be back soon" Gi-hun said taking him and pulling him away from the dead player.

"Get (Y/N), and be ready" Gi-hun told him trying to keep himself calm even when he was close to jump over and save you and In-ho. He wondered if he had hear it right, you were his wife?

In-ho did not waste time, searching for you in the dark till he noticed you. He went quick, pulling yourself out from the bed telling you its was him.

"Shh shh its me, its over dont cry Love" He said trying to make you feel better.

"In-ho?" He nodded and you cried harder "In-ho I was so scared"

"I know love I know, just a bit more alright? It will be over soon. Listen once the guards come in and we follow Gi-huns plan do not come. Someone will come and get you"

"Im going with you, im not leaving you in a bullet fight!"

"You know nothings gonna happen to me, I want you here, safe, alright?"

Finally you accepted.

"I love you In-ho"

"I love you too Love"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

As In-ho had said when the guards got back after the fight one took you, Player 120 tried to protest but was put back in her place by other guard.

"You are under suspect of have been part of the riot. You are now eliminated from the games"

The guard said playing his role, starting to get you out of the room while you screamed following the act.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

"Apologies Madam, orders from the Front Man" The guard said bowing once you two were outside and out of reach from the others players.

Even if you were still breathing hard you nodded. "Dont worry, just take me to him". The guard nodded.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

He knew he was needed in the control room but refused to let you alone like that. He went to your share room, his heart broke at your image, bruises and blood over you. A guard was checking your shoulder but left after he order them to.

Silence fell over both of you as he went to you and hugged you careful not to hurt your shoulder.

He removed his mask to look at you properly.

"Im sorry, I should have never let you come, I should have stopped this sooner" He said with pain in his voice

"Dont blame yourself, I told you I was going in with you. This was not your fault In-ho" You reassured him feeling sad and worried over him.

"I cant not blame myself" He gently passed his hand over your cheeck "You are the best thing in my life and I almost lost you because of my own desires, never again"

You two kissed softly grounding yourselfs. You two were safe and together nothing else matters from now. Only the love and devotion you two had for each other.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

[clockwayswrites]

Birds and Mice and Tea Parties 20

Masterpost

AN: B really was trying his best to protect Danny last time, he just was missing too much information. Poor Danny...

No reading over. We suffer and post at 2am.

-

It had been two weeks since the last rogue Wayne visit.

Danny hadn’t intended to keep track. There was no reason to. One visit from Cass and one from Tim did not a pattern make.

He tried to dismiss the observation. He had plenty to do; it wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. The bi-weekly trivia group would start meeting again soon. He also had a TTRGP session that did its best to meet around all that life threw at them. Tucker and him played online games when they could make schedules match and he and Sam talked when she was stateside. He even had regular lunches with coworkers!

Still, there had been something different about spending time with the family.

So no, Danny hadn’t meant to keep track, but he still knew it had been two weeks and a day. But of course he wouldn’t see the Waynes that often. Bruce was a very busy man and most of the children would have no reason to come to W.E. They had their own lives with work and school and being kids or young adults. The other visits had simply been flukes, as nice as the visits had been.

The subtle feeling of melancholy that had settled over him was ridiculous and he wasn’t having it. His mood was simply off because of the whole Ancient thing. The way it was affecting his health didn’t make feeling better any easier either.

Danny leaned against the wall of the elevator as he tried to catch his breath. He really shouldn’t be walking right then to get lunch, not with the way that he felt, but he hadn’t had anything at his place to make lunch with. He hadn’t had the energy to go shopping. He’d just go somewhere close instead of walking to anything on the other side of the park.

The natural reverb of the lobby assaulted Danny as he stepped out of the elevator.

He just had to get through the lobby, the street, the restaurant, back through the street, and through the lobby again. Then he could hide in his office and eat. Or he could hide in there and eat as long as Lucius didn’t find him. Maybe even Lucius would give him a break today though.

“Dr. Fenton…?”

Danny looked up from rubbing his neck.

It was Tim. Damian was at Tim’s side, flanking him like a little guard dog and scowling. Tim was frowning too. Danny immediately wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

“Look at that, a pair of Waynes. How are you two?”

“That is unimportant,” Damian said with a little sniff. “You are clearly unwell. I assume you are returning to your apartment to rest?”

“Oh, no, I’m just going to go grab lunch. I’m alright, really,” Danny said and put on the best smile he could muster.

Tim and Damian looked at each other in some sort of silence conversation. Danny started to edge away from them, thinking he could escape before they came to some sort of end. He really needed out of the lobby and its echoing sounds.

A startled shriek from the entry way cut off that plan.

Danny twisted to face the sound as he stepped in front of the kids.

Of course it was a rogue, what else would it be in Gotham? It was a rogue, but at least it was the Mad Hatter and his squad of likely mind controlled goons. He usually wasn’t prone to death and destruction like some of the others were. But still, Danny felt his metaphorical hackles rising. The kids were here.

The kids were here and sure to draw the Mad Hatter’s attention if he saw them. Danny stepped slowly backwards, herding the kids away from the scene. At least they weren’t far into the lobby.

“Back up to the stairwell,” Danny said lowly, trying to cast his voice behind him.

“Tch. We can—”

“The elevator, the back left one,” Tim said quietly but firmly over his brother’s protest. “I have a code to take it to a safe room in the basement.”

“If he kills the power,” Danny started.

“The elevators have emergency back up.”

“That’s not very good behavior for a tea party, is it?” the Matter Hatter shouted at someone.

Danny bit back a rising noise of anger in his throat. His fingers twitched to act. But he couldn’t. The best plan was to get the kids out of there away from any action.

“Yes I see, Damian,” Tim hissed. “We’re almost to the elevator.”

“Call it as soon as you can,” Danny said. Was there a reverb to his voice? It felt like there was a reverb to his voice. No, no, he couldn’t, he had to…

“That’s better! See? This is how you behave when someone invites you to a tea party! Now where is that little dormouse?” the Mad Hatter called. “I know I saw him come in here! With an even littler one too.”

He wanted Tim.

“Calling the elevator.”

“Another mouse? A rat? A cat?"

The Mad Hatter wanted Tim and Damian.

“Here mousy mouse mice… where are you?"

Danny would not let that happen.

“Oh there you are! Hiding back by the doors, of course he is!” The Mad Hatter said. The crowed parted in fear. His wide, manic eyes looked right past Danny and he grinned. “Get them. We have a tea party we’re late for.”

“Over my dead body,” Danny growled.

The Mad Hatter blinked at Danny like he just noticed him for the first time. His goons rushed past him and through the crowd. “Oh, who are you? Never mind, if death is what you want, we can make that happen.”

Danny couldn’t hold back the chortling laughter. “See, that’s where you have a problem you don’t even know you could have.”

“And what is that?”

“You couldn’t handle my dead body,” Danny said just as the first goon reached them.

Danny stepped forward. He ducked under the swing of the punch and used the momentum to spin the goon around. With a push of his ghostly power, he sent the attacking goon careening into the next one and they both went tumbling.

“Danny, it’s here!” Tim shouted.

Not turning his back to the attackers, Danny stepped backwards into the elevator. Tim slammed a button and the doors basically snapped closed, much faster than they should. Danny was left staring at the polished metal surface of the elevator. Luminous green stared back at him. Soft black feathers dotted his temples. His fingers ended in talons. And he could feel it.

He could feel the skin on his back started to split.

Wings.

[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper!reader x undercover bodyguard!bucky)

word count: 3.3k

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

���Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

[captainreecejames]

Pick Me Up?

Charles Leclerc imagine

summary : the four times Charles picks you up and the one time you pick him up.

pairing : Charles leclerc x fem!reader

I believe there is no mention of YN, but I'm not 100% sure.

word count : 3.5 k

warnings : none that I can think of

note : I only read over this once so if there's spelling errors or other mistakes that's what happened. Next up should either be Logan Sargeant my ex is a footballer or the social media accompanying fic. Anyways, enjoy and me if you like it!!

1. Charles picks you up from a bad date

The date had started fine.

Actually more than fine. He showed up on time, was pleasant to the waitress, and had good manners. Really, he would have even gotten a second date, if he hadn’t brought up Formula 1.

It’s a topic you tend to avoid when meeting new people, as they either tend to know a lot already and want to use you to get to Charles or they don’t know anything and assume that you are using Charles, when they know nothing about your relationship. It was a hassle you learned to shut down before it even began.

But back at the date with Vince, he had brought it up and that’s when things started to go down hill. 

Despite your best efforts, when people brought up Formula 1, you grew taller and more focused on the conversation, it’s like a switch flipped. While Charles driving for the best known team certainly helped your interest, everything about the sport was fascinating for you and you couldn’t help but geek out when the topic came up. 

Vince noticed your reaction and his casual demeanor turned critical. “You only know about it because you think the drivers are hot.” That had made your smile drop instantly, brows furrowing as you tried to respond. “Probably can’t even name all the teams.” He thinks that stumps you, but you’ve dealt with enough shitty men in this sport, you’re not taking anything more from this wanna-be investor.

“I don’t have to prove my knowledge of F1 to you,” you state, deciding that this dinner is now over.

“Oh, now I know you can’t even name five drivers.” Your frown deepens, picking up your napkin and placing it on the table next to your plate. It had gone down hill so fast, how disappointing.

“Your attempt at insulting me into submission is falling flat.” His eyes are wide at your comment, and he must not have expected you realize his move. You flag the waitress over and she walks quickly back to your table, noticing how you’re not smiling anymore. Seems like this date is a bust, so another twenty note must be added to the jar of bets amongst the staff of this restaurant.

(You and Charles visit the place often as it was the sight of your first job, but also the food and people were lovely, and bringing a first date here was the safest option.)

(So they all knew you and were betting on when the dam breaks and you two admit your feelings for each other.)

You hand Lucille enough money to cover both yours and Vince’s meals, not bothering with the change. Your goal now is to get as far away from Vince as soon as possible. He  opens his mouth to say something again, but you are already out of your seat and walking towards the front door, phone calling Charles to pick you up.

He answers on the first ring, always on alert when you go on dates.

(Not because he’s jealous or anything, but because he’s worried about you and needs to make sure that you stay safe. He’s been tempted to bribe the staff of your little restaurant for information during dates after a particularly bad one, but his mom talked him out of it.)

“Ma cherie, is everything alright?” You roll your eyes at his question, just knowing that there’s a smirk on his face right now. He didn’t have a great feeling about Vince, but he wouldn’t say I told you so.

“Can you pick me up please?” You barely need to finish your question before he answers with an ‘of course, I’m already on my way.’

“Need me to stay on the phone?” You glance back at the restaurant, looking in the window to find Vince scrolling away on his phone, oblivious to the movement around him.

“No, focus on the streets. I’ll be fine.” Charles hums his answer and hangs up, leaving you to look busy on the streets of Monte Carlo.

He pulls up not even two minutes later, stopping the car haphazardly in a tow-away zone. You rush to the side, opening the door and shimmying in as fast as you can because even though this is Charles Leclerc’s very recognizable Pista, you don’t want to risk any tickets. While he pulls away you realize how fast he showed up and a question forms on your lips, but he speaks before you have the chance to ask.

“I was only down the road at the marina.” He seems sheepish, like the answer is rehearsed, but you don’t push it because you’re still grateful that he showed up. What would you do without him to pick up after a bad date?

2. Charles picks you cause your car breaks down

This time when you call him should feel less embarrassing than other times, but really it only feels worse. How are you going to admit to him that the car you’ve been saving up for and desperately wanting since you were 7 just crapped out on you before you could even get out of the parking garage? Especially when he advised you against such car. It would be humiliating. 

Alas, you made the call, practicing in your mind what you would say to him. 

Again, he picks up on the first ring, though this time you’re not sure as to why he answered so fast.

“Is everything alright, ma cherie?” You blush, grateful he can’t see your face.

“I’m stuck,” you exhale, ready to face what ever he has in store for you.

“Stuck?”

“My car won’t start and I’m still at work, everyone else has left and I’m in need of a ride.”

“Okay,” he answers, relief filling you. “I’m leaving the gym with Andrea, I should be there in 15 minutes. Don’t talk to any strangers.”

“Love you too, Charles.” You roll your eyes, hanging up on him and sitting in the drivers seat of your beloved, but broken, car. That’s some good money about to go down the drain for the tow and mechanic fees. As you debate calling your dad to help you out with diagnosing what’s wrong with the car, a familiar rumble enters the garage, and you see the ever famous Pista pulling up next to you, a smirking Charles in the driver’s seat.

“Someone call for a pick up?” You want to roll your eyes at him, but the smile on his face makes the irritation melt away. After a long day at work, made even longer because your stupid car that you really wanted wouldn’t start, all you feel is relief and affection for the man in front of you, and it’s a little too overwhelming.

Tears pool in your eyes and Charles frowns, cutting the engine and climbing out so he can hug you. He only admits it to his mother, but holding you is just as good a driving when he’s driving on the track with a car that responds to his every command.

(And what he won’t admit to anyone is that if holding you feels like that, then kissing you must feel like he’s just won a world championship.)

“Ma cherie,” he whispers, pulling your body into his own and stroking your hair to soothe you. He doesn’t ask any questions, which you’re grateful for, you don’t actually know what’s wrong other than everything is just too much and him showing up makes you feel safe enough to let it all out.

When you’ve finally slowed your breathing and made yourself relax he pulls away, looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Now you know what it felt like to drive under Binnotto.”

The comment is a shock and it makes you snort, which is what Charles was going for. Your laugh that he thinks could make him smile even in the darkest moods. “You can’t say that Mr. Ferrari.” You smack his chest while shaking your head, but the rueful smile on your face tells him that you still haven’t gotten over the team principle screwing him over.

Then the smile eases into something much more natural, and he knows the tense moment has passed. “Takeout?” he suggests, ushering you to the passenger side of his car. You nod at him and he’s pretty sure that he would do anything to make you smile.

3. Charles picks you up for a spontaneous lunch date

The next day it’s he who calls you, but you still an answer on the first ring.

(You’ve dedicated a Måneskin song as his ringtone so you always know when he’s calling)

(He made your ringtone a Mika song after you dragged him to a concert)

“Charles,” you answer, confusion in your tone.

“Ma cherie!” he sounds excited and you can’t help but want to follow him anywhere he goes when he sounds like that.

“Is everything alright?” You ask it this time, because shouldn’t he be packing for a race now?

“I’m outside, we’re going to spend the day on the water.” After leaving your home last night, Charles decided that you needed a pick me up, and what better way but to spend a few hours lounging around on his yacht, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company.

(No one else would be there, but this wasn’t a date.)

(Seriously Arthur, it wasn’t a date.)

You spare a glance around your room, laundry begging to be done and dishes waiting to be washed. Yeah, you could use a day away from chores.

“Let me grab a bag,” you tell him, already throwing more clothes around the room in search of your favorite bathing suit. He hums through the speaker and you put your phone down to keep searching for the bathing suit. It was your favorite red crossover one piece and you be damned if you didn’t wear it today, anything to manifest a Ferrari win.

When you finally manage to find it, in the pile of clean but not put away laundry, you pick your phone back up and tell Charles you’ll be right down.

In two minutes you’re out the door of apartment, eyes landing on Charles leaning against his car. He looks so handsome with the windswept hair and Ray-bans on, you really have to wonder why he’s spending the afternoon with you and not some model he met in a garage.

(He’d say it’s because it’s the weekend before a race and this is a tradition, spending the afternoon with you before he leaves is the only way to ward off bad luck.)

(Seriously, before the Netherlands race last year you'd been unable to make it because of a bad cold and he had to retire the car that race, so safe to say you were forced to the boat, or his apartment, or he came over before the plane every time after that.)

Maybe the question is what would he do without you?

4. Charles picks you up from a girl’s night

This time Charles doesn’t pick up on the first ring, in fact, he barely makes it to the phone in time to answer. That’s because it’s not you who is calling, but rather a friend.

You and few girl friends had decided on a girls night out for one of them going through a bad break up, but after a few pregame shots and then drinks at this club, you were pretty intoxicated.

Looking for your group after coming back from the bathroom and the bar, you had spotted Lando and Max across the room, which made you think about Charles.

(Not that he ever really left your mind.)

And when you think about Charles, you wonder where he is, so you went to your friends. Both their faces lit up when they saw you, indicating that they were also not sober. After a quick hug for both of them you turn to survey the rest of the bar, looking for your Monagasque. 

“He’s not here!” shouts Max, trying to be heard over the noise. Your shoulders drop, turning back to the two racers with a pout on your lips.

“Where is he?” you ask, trying to seem nonchalant, but drunk you can’t hide her feelings as easily as sober you.

(Many would argue that sober you can’t hide her feelings easily either, but all that matters is that Charles doesn’t find out. And since he’s too occupied in hiding his also obvious feelings, you’re both oblivious to the other’s pining.)

Lando says that Charles stayed at home, something about playing the piano and having an early night was more tempting than drinks. The real reason being that if Charles went out he would not have been able to stop thinking about you and your potential suitors, which would lead to him drinking to forget. He was not up for another heartbreak hangover.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Charles playing the piano, sitting down in the booth with them. “Oh! I bet it’s going to sound wonderful!” Both drivers roll their eyes, and to their disappointment, you’re not drunk enough to miss it. “You don’t like his music?” The accusation in your tone makes them readjust their face. It’s not that they don’t like his compositions, it’s just that when Charles explains them, it’s almost always about how you looked on a certain day and he just was so inspired he had to put something down. They’re really tired of the back and forth between you too.

You begin your speech on how talented Charles is at the piano, which then morphs into how talented he is as a driver, and then as a person. It all turns into a ramble about how proud you are of him, something they’ve all heard before.

When you’ve somehow made it to Leo and how Charles chose the perfect puppy, the man himself shows up.

“Ma cherie,” he interjects, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turn towards him, and Max swears that there should be cartoon hearts in your eyes.

“Charles!” you yell, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” You’re slightly too loud for being in his arms, but he doesn’t care if you yell his ear off, it’s still you.

“Max said you were ready to come home.” Your brows furrow at that, because you don’t remember ever saying that, or even Max disappearing to call Charles, but you can’t be mad at him showing up.

“One more drink?” you ask, eyes pleading with him. Charles shakes his head, he can feel how much he’s supporting your weight even while sitting and knows that any more alcohol will likely end with you tripping over yourself.

“Water,” he answers and you’ve agreed to the words coming out of his mouth because it’s Charles, and he’ll never steer you wrong.

Charles heads to the bar to grab a water, running into your group of friends there. He tells them your status and that’ll he’ll be taking you home after this drink. They all nod along, most of them predicting that the night would end like this: Charles showing up and driving you home.

When it’s finally time to leave and Charles has ushered you out of the packed club into his Pista, you remember that you came here with a completely different group. “The girls!”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I saw them before we left and told them I’d take you home.” The gentle smile on his face is enough to put one on yours. Where would you be without him, indeed.

+ 1. You pick Charles up from the airport

You’ve got a new car now, thanks to Charles, and since he needs to be picked up from the airport, you’ve decided to take it for a nice spin. The roads are relatively clear for the drive, and you’re there in the usual 30 minutes. That makes you early for Charles, but you take the time to work out what you’re going to say to him.

Before you get out of the car you text him your location, so that he can head right out and find you, rather than you going into the terminal to look for him. He always was better at finding you.

The last night out had not only ended with Charles taking you home, but with a revelation. You couldn’t keep living like this. Loving him so much and not telling him was suffocating. It made you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff with nothing to keep you safe, and you were tired of it. So the question was, how did you tell him.

“Charles, I’ve been in love with you for ages,” you said, but shook your head. That didn’t sound right.

“Charles, I have to tell you something really important. I think I’m in love with you.” No, you shook your head again and groaned. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, I know I am.”

“Charles, you’re the most important person in my life, I don’t know what I’d do with out you.” Okay, solid start, you might have something with that.

“Charles light of my life.” No. “That’s too cheesy.”

“God, I wish I could put into words how much you mean to me. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. It’s like I need to feel you to be able to breathe properly. All I really ever need is for you to look and smile at me and I’ll know that everything will be alright. I can get through anything with you there. If you love someone else it would break my heart, but knowing that you’re happy is all I need to be okay. I’d live with the thought of you loving someone else, because if they made you as happy and good as I feel, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Yeah, that sounded-

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

You screamed, turning around to see Charles behind you in all his glory. Black sweatshirt and baggy jeans, hair messy like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, face turning red enough to rival Ferrari.

“At Charles, light of my life.” He shrugged, like you hadn’t just bared your soul out to him. “Though, I disagree, it’s not too cheesy.” Could you get any redder? Feels like this is as red as a human being could get before self-combusting.

He’s just standing there, with a dopey smile on his face that you want to kiss, but you can’t. Something is holding you to the spot. You force yourself to say something. “Can you say something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything else, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t say something.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” He adds a shrug to the end and you narrow your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, you want me to say that I love you too.”

“I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.” If you were a kid you’d add a stomp to the end, as if you were throwing a temper tantrum. He furrows his brow like he’s confused and still you want to kiss him senseless.

“Well, I mean it.”

Now you’re the one confused. “What?”

“I love you too, and I don’t think I’d be okay if you loved someone else as much as I love you. Because I’m selfish and a terrible man and I want you all to myself.” He shakes his head. “I need you all to myself,” he corrects. “You’re the love of my life and if I wasn’t yours then I don’t think I could go on. But you said you do love me, so everything is so much easier now.” Each sentence is punctuated with a step closer, until he’s just a few inches from you, like he needs you to take the last step. You do, without hesitation, because you really would do anything for him.

Eyes glancing at his lips and back, you catch him doing the same thing. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’d give up racing if you asked, I do anything for you.”

Another glance at his lips. “I’d never ask that of you, Charles. But, I love you too, and I’d do anything for you.” His smile at those words would normally catch you off guard, like you’d stop breathing at it, but somehow it just makes everything easier right now. So you kiss him.

Leaning forward those last few inches to grab his shoulders and pull him down so you can kiss him with as much love as you can muster. If words can’t explain how much you love him then maybe kissing him will convey it. That you love him more than words, actions and thoughts can combine. You love him.

(And he loves you.)

[ddejavvu]

How about Tyler Owen's x scaredy cat where he catches her spraying his cologne on his pillows and one of his shirts because sometimes it's really hard to sleep without him next to her.

Pillow Talk - Tyler Owens x Reader

come participate in tyler owens night !

You'd hoped that the cologne in the air would dissipate by the time Tyler returned from loading up the car. He'd left only his toiletry bag behind, which had worked perfectly seeing as his cologne was tucked gently inside for you to scavenge for. You only used a few sprays, but they're strong and the scent is still thick and heavy in the air when he returns to collect his last few items.

"The wind's startin' up out there," He grins, thrilled that his current target is only a few hours' drive instead of across states, "I think this one's gonna be at least-" His nose wrinkles, and despite nodding coyly throughout his speech, he sees through your attempts to be nonchalant.

"'S that my cologne, darlin'?"

You cock your head to the side but he doesn't drop it, "I didn't bother puttin' any on today; don't need to smell good for Boone. Did you spray it, sweet thing?"

Your tongue wants to lie but your brain doesn't supply anything fast enough, so you're left with an awkward silence before conceding and nodding sheepishly.

"I didn't- I wasn't trying to waste it, I- I know it's expensive, but I just- it's for your pillow, because I, well, sometimes it's really hard for me to sleep when you're gone so I thought that maybe if your pillow smelled like your cologne then I could hug it and it wouldn't be so hard for me to fall asleep."

Tyler does an excellent job of listening along despite the second half of your ramblings being strung together into one almighty word-vomit. You cut him some slack when it takes him a moment to process, but he's surging forwards in no time, hurriedly but gently gathering you into his arms and tucking you snugly into his chest.

"Oh, darlin'." He murmurs, voice a hair thicker than normal as his large hand cups the back of your head and presses your face further into his chest. If he hadn't been hugging you you'd have assumed the worst of his silence, but you hear a deep inhale before he pulls away from the hug and takes you by the shoulders instead.

"Angel baby, don't do that to me," He pleads weakly, eyes red-rimmed and voice shaking, "Y'can't- y'can't go around tellin' me you've got trouble sleepin when I'm not here, that- that just makes me sad."

"Don't be sad," You hum, tears pricking at your own eyes at the sight of his, "It's- I just got used to being with you, that's all. I'll just take melatonin, or- or I'll lay off the coffee after lunch, or-"

"No, just-" He sniffles, aggressive like he's angry at his nose for running, groaning and squeezing your shoulders, "Use my cologne, baby, and I'll leave you one of my sweatshirts, and when you start gettin' sleepy tonight, you call me and I'll tell you all about Boone and Lily and Dani and Dexter, and- and all the crazy shit they say, and it'll be just like we're in bed together and I'm talkin' your ear off."

He finishes with a wobbly smile, one that's perfectly mirrored on your own face as you let out a soft, gentle sob. He's eager to pull you back into his arms and his large hands rub soothingly up and down your back.

"There we go, that's it," He croons, squeezing you tightly while you sniffle into his chest, "Poor baby, I'll be back soon. Shouldn't be longer than a day. I- I might even make it back tonight, who knows?"

"Don't rush," You mumble pitifully into his chest, "I don't want you driving all night through with no sleep, especially after a tornado. Just- just get home safe, okay? Not quick."

"Alright. Alright," He agrees, stroking once more down your back, "I won't drive through, but," He pulls away once more to stare down his nose at you, a stern expression on his face that typically isn't there when he's gazing at you. His hands hold your face in place, locking you into his scrutiny, "You can't stop me from calling you from the motel and talking you to sleep."

"Okay," You laugh, a thick, wet, pathetic sound that's mottled with the remnants of tears that Tyler wipes off of your cheeks, "Maybe- maybe around ten tonight?"

"It's a date," He grins, his hands gently shifting your face upwards so that he can crane down and kiss you, "What should I wear?"

"Something real sexy," You muse, barely able to fight a grin off of your face, "Maybe a thong?"

"I don't think Dexter would appreciate that, darlin'." Tyler laughs, your shared tears long forgotten, "If we're gettin' a motel tonight it's our turn to room together."

You bask in Tyler's laughter until it fades, the way he's still holding you close to his chest producing the same contentment. Finally you hum, "Thanks for letting me use your cologne, baby."

"Anytime." He vows, pecking a kiss against your forehead, "Don't be shy now, askin' for stuff like that. I'll do whatever I can to help you, darlin'."

You find yourself unable to speak, too overwhelmed by a mix of bashfulness and adoration. You sink into his arms instead, and he presses yet another kiss to your head, seemingly on a mission to cover your entire face before he leaves.

"And hey," He hums, the words thrumming against your nose where you nestle into his chest, "If all else fails, I'll bring home a thong for tomorrow night- we'll go so hard you'll sleep through next week."

[reysdriver]

Cruel Summer | E.M.

Eddie does his very best to help you through the current heatwave — eddie x pregnant!reader fluff

warnings: pregnancy, a little angst if you squint

words: 1.6k

Boiling. 

That was the only way your trailer could be described right now. It was one of Indiana’s hottest summers on record, and it didn’t help that you were six months pregnant and living in an aluminum box. 

You owned three electric fans, and they were all on full blast and aimed at the couch, but they really weren’t making as much of a difference as you needed.

There was a series of thuds coming from something or other outside the thin walls of your trailer, so you assumed your husband was home. And you were proven right when he entered, immediately apologising for leaving you alone in this heat. 

He had no reason to be sorry. Eddie has been so attentive and helpful through this pregnancy, showing you exactly why you fell in love with him everyday, and he was even proving it now. 

Since he just came back from a quick run to the store for some ice, fruit, and frozen treats, he set everything he bought on the recliner before crouching down next to you. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and started lightly stroking some of your hair. 

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asked. 

You gave him a side eye, too exhausted to even lift your head. “Take a guess, Teddy.”

He smiled slightly. If it was at the use of your favourite nickname for him or your exasperated joke, you weren’t quite sure. 

“I know that, sweetheart, and I’m sorry. Hopefully I can help a little.”

“Thank you. Did they have black cherry ice cream?”

He hummed out a quiet ‘mhm’ then stood up with a stifled groan. “But it might have melted a bit on the way back. I’ll put it in the freezer and we can have it soon.” 

“What about oranges?”

That was your latest craving. The ice cream and popsicles were luxuries to get you through the heat; the oranges were necessities. You were thankful that your cravings switched from tomato soup to citrus just in time for the heatwave, or you weren’t sure how you would get through it at all. 

Eddie made his way back over to the living room and picked up a paper bag from the recliner. 

“Big bag of ‘em, just for you.”

Hoping to dive right into the bag of fruits, you attempted to sit up, but the baby bump paired with the immense summer heat rendered the process slow and tiring. 

Eddie watched as you moved sluggishly, pitying how this heatwave was taking an extra hefty toll on you. 

“Don’t push yourself.” He advised gently while holding out his hand for you. “I’ll help you with whatever, even if it’s just getting up.”

You thanked him, then grabbed a cutting board and paring knife so you could slice the oranges how you like. 

“You know,” Eddie spoke again. “I was thinking that we could stay at someone else’s place for a bit. Just to get through the heat, you know? I’m sure everyone we know would be more than happy to have us over.”

You started shaking your head before Eddie even finished the proposition. He and you both knew what your answer would be, but Eddie figured there was no harm in asking. 

He really just wanted the best for you. He wanted you to be safe and comfortable, and although that obviously was something you wanted too, you just couldn’t accept his offer. 

“Eddie, I know you just want me to be happy, but I promise you I’m happiest here, at home, with you.”

He sighs, torn between wanting to get you out of this sauna of a trailer and letting you decide what’s best for yourself. In the end, he had to go with your choice, even if it meant suffering; both of you suffering together wasn’t the worst thing ever, he supposed. 

“Alright. Want me to at least draw you a bath?”

“Will you feed me orange slices and ice cream while I’m in the bath?” With wide eyes, you flashed him a hopeful smile. 

He rolled his eyes jokingly, then smiled sincerely back at you. “Of course, anything you want.”

You let out a happy giggle, then took the ice cream out of the freezer almost as quickly as it got there. 

He kissed you on the forehead before heading off to the small bathroom. 

You heard the sound of running water, then your husband’s voice. “Make sure to scoop enough so I can have some too!”

You happily obliged and doled out an extra scoop into the bowl. Then you plucked one ripe cherry from the bag in your fridge and placed it atop the dessert. That was Eddie’s favourite, and if he was being so nice to you, then you would return the favour. 

You took the time to clean the kitchen up, then brought both the ice cream and the orange slices to the bathroom to see Eddie sitting by the tub and turning off the water. 

“It’s a little bit cooler than usual.” He warned. “I just didn’t want the water to be too hot when the whole place is already hot and you’re—”

You cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips, then another on the corner of his mouth. 

“Thank you, baby. Now hold these while I get undressed. And then turn around.”

“I don’t get to watch?” Your husband asked, baring one of the most betrayed looks you’ve ever seen.

You shook your head. “I promise, you don’t want to see me struggling to get my clothes off because they’re drenched in sweat and I’m about to enter my third trimester. I mean it, don’t look. I don’t want you losing all attraction to me.”

Your husband sighed dramatically, then obeyed and turned slowly to face the other way.

It only took a bit of effort, but you took off your dress and placed it on the towel rack beside you. Then came a wolf whistle from right behind you. After turning around, you noticed that Eddie could totally see you in the bathroom mirror. 

“Pervert.” You mock accused. “Does me being all gross and pregnant really turn you on?”

“Everything about you turns me on.”

And he meant that. Not an ounce of insincerity in that promise. 

You faked a gag and then smiled just because you couldn’t help it. Holding out a hand, you asked if he could help you into the tub and he obviously did so after putting your food down on the counter. 

“How’s the water?” He asked. “I can add some hot or cold water if the temperature is off.”

“It’s amazing, handsome. Perfect temperature for some orange slices.”

Eddie chose the slice that was calling to him the most and held it for you to bite. Some of the juices missed your lips and dropped into the bathwater, but you paid that no mind. 

You were thankful that your husband bought a whole bag of these, because you had a feeling your diet over the next few days would be mainly oranges. 

After a few more slices, you decided you now wanted some of the black cherry ice cream that you had also been craving recently. 

As Eddie held the spoon up close to your lips, he noted that this was similar to feeding a baby—something you would be experiencing soon enough. 

“I don’t know about that.” You said. “I think a baby would be a lot more difficult to feed than me.”

Eddie cringed exaggeratedly and shrugged, telling you he doesn’t know about that either. 

Maybe proving his point, you splashed about a cup’s worth of water at his chest, taking care in your aim to make sure none of it got in your ice cream. He ‘retaliated’ by doing the same to you, though the water didn’t affect you when you were already in a whole tub of it. 

“Do you want to join me?” You proposed, gesturing vaguely to the tub so small that you had to cram just to sit alone in. 

“I don’t think this thing can fit both of us, baby. You enjoy it now, and a big tub will be on the top of our list when we buy a new house.”

“It’ll take a while.” You told Eddie. “A lot of our savings are gonna go to the baby, and who knows when we’ll be able to leave the trailer park.”

“Don’t say that. We’ve been working hard and saving. We’ll get there soon.” Eddie assured you. “And even if we can only afford a place without a big tub, I’ll live in the dark and eat nothing but salt and pepper for as long as it takes to get you one.”

You tried to hide your grin, but you knew you were failing at it. Maybe he didn’t think you believed him, so he kept going.

“I’m serious. We’re almost there.” Eddie looked down at your bump sticking out of the water. “Our baby is gonna have a good life”

“You’re so cheesy, Teddy.”

“I’m in love. Love makes you do cheesy things.”

“Like feeding me ice cream in the bathtub?” You asked, attempting to not put your true intentions on display. 

But Eddie understood, just like he always does. He picked up the spoon once more and scooped a heap just for you. 

“Like feeding you ice cream in the bathtub.” He nodded in agreement.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 7)

Masterpost

Danny was very happy to be dragged around by Damian being introduced to all of his pets, first outside to the barn to meet Bat Cow and his ducks, and the giant weird dragon creature which was so cute!! It was all over Danny too, obviously liked him. Danny had a feeling if he woke up from nightmares or couldn’t sleep he would end up finding his way back to the barn to cuddle up with these animals. At this time of year it would probably be a bit cold and night but the cold never really bothered him and Goliath was warm. 

Then back into the house to meet all of the pets, the dogs, and snakes, and Alfred the cat, and finally a second cat and her kittens. 

“This one is just a foster,” Damian said, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed in a half lotus as Danny sat on the floor next to the box the mama cat was in with her four little ones. Danny felt like he might cry, it was so cute! The mama was a little wary of him but he was easing her way into her trust and good graces.

“Mhm?” Danny sounded, he was listening but he was scared to move since the mama cat was sniffling his fingers.

“I found her while she was heavily pregnant, feral cats usually have kittens in spring, at this time of year they would have been too vulnerable outside. I’ll rehome them when they’re old enough,” Damian explained. “I was glad I got her to trust me enough that I could be present and make sure nothing went wrong while she had the babies.”

Danny held his breath as he tried to pet the cat. The quiet stretching between them until he felt ready to talk without scaring the cat. “Am I your next pregnant stray,” Danny joked.

Damian gave him a guarded look over. “... I have been told humans don’t like being compared to animals,” He said bluntly, and Danny laughed. 

“Ya most don’t. But you take very good care of your animals, when you’re making this comparison, I’m guessing what you’re trying to say is that you’ll do what you can do be here for me and make sure I have what I need for me and the babies to be healthy and safe?” Danny said, giving Damian a fond smile. 

“Yes,” Damian said stiffly. This was why he usually preferred animals, they could read his intentions and didn’t require him to say such embarrassingly vulnerable things. At least Danny was saying them for him so he just had to agree. 

Danny finished petting the cat and moved to sit next to Damian on the bed. “It’s okay Damian, I really appreciate that. I know handling these emotions can be hard, they feel too big for our bodies and they’re hard to express. I’ll let you in on a secret though, they’re more easy to express physically, and I’m not made of glass just because I’m pregnant. We should spar later.”

“Are you formally trained?” Damian asked stiffly. 

“My mother was an expert martial artist and she taught me, but I’m very strong too. I promise you won’t hurt me Damian,” He promised, bumping his shoulder against the kid’s and giving him a smile. 

“Alright, I will go easy on you.” Damian promised, just as stiffly.

“Until I prove you can’t afford to,” Danny joked and Damian scoffed and shoved Danny’s shoulder. “But really, thank you Damian. It means a lot that you and your family are willing to stick your necks out for me like this.” He sighed, if he didn’t know better he might have wished his parents had been the ones to protect and support him like this, but wishes were dangerous things.

“This family is made entirely of strays, tragedy is a prerequisite. You’ll fit right in,” Damian promised before getting up from the bed, apparently that was enough emotion. “Do you want to train now?” he asked looking back at Danny. 

“Sure, I assume this being the home of the bats and birds there’s some sort of training space?” Danny asked getting up from the bed. 

“Yes. This way,” Damian agreed and trotted out of the room with Danny on his heels, making sure to close the door behind him so none of the kittens could wander out. 

--------

Jason took off his helmet and dropped it on the couch with a sigh of relief before wandering back into the kitchen to grab a drink. So what if he was technically still too young for it? He’d done a lot worse just in the last 24 hours then half a glass of scotch. He had been off grid for a couple of days on a mission and had just gotten home. He was exhausted and half of him wanted to have his drink and go to bed, leaving his phone off for another day so he could get a proper rest. 

But he had responsibilities, both to his gang, his turf, and more recently even to his family, so he turned it back on and grimaced when more than a dozen notifications popped up in a row. Damn, something big must have happened while he was gone. Why could there never be just a quiet day around here?!

He opened the most recent message from Bruce that just said; ‘can you call me when you have the chance?’ which made him sigh. But at the same time, it wasn’t urgent, it was ‘when he had a chance’ not immediately or anger about him not answering sooner. So knowing that he scrolled back down to the oldest message so he could get a feel of what was going on.

Cas, 28 hours ago: New brother! 🤗

Oh, well that was a very good start to the context, it seemed that Bruce was in the process of adopting some other poor schmuck. Well, hopefully they’d do better by it then Jason had. And explained why Bruce wanted him to call, he always worried now how Jason would react to new siblings, as if he wasn’t well over that. He’d only been mad about Tim at first but he wasn’t even Really mad at Tim anymore! Ya he felt the urge to attack him regularly, but only the same way Jason did with everyone else in the family now.

Tim 22 hours ago: I’ve got a favour to ask, or maybe a tip for you depending on how much you want to kill someone right now. Vlad Masters brought a pregnant 16 year old to the gala last night. Apparently he’s the baby daddy. 

Oh that had Jason seeing green, his lips pulling back in a silent snarl. That man was good as dead, especially when Jason paused to google him and saw someone who must have been old enough to be the kids Father, if not even grandfather judging by the gray hair! 

Tim 19 hours ago: Don’t rush in! Turns out he’s got superpowers of the magical variety. You’re going to have to prepare for this one, and talk to Danny.

Danny must be the new kid then, the pregnant 16 year old Bruce was no doubt making quick steps to at least foster. Where were the kid’s parents in this? 

Tana 16 hours ago: Please make sure your wards are set up and you have that anti-possession charm we gave you. There is a situation still developing. 

Huh, well, good to know both that she was involved and what sort of powers they might be dealing with. 

Tim 8 hours ago: We have the parents in custody but didn’t have the resources to hold Masters. Danny and his sister are staying at the manor for now. You’ll like her, tough-as-nails red head.

Jason rolled his eyes, he dated one amazon and now everyone thinks the only people he’s into are tough ladies! He likes tough boys too god damn it! Why doesn’t no one get after Dickie about this?! (He knows they do.)

The last text from the family before Bruce’s was one from Damian, which was rare.

Damian: Hello Todd, you should know before you meet him that Danny has also previously died and come back. I believe you and he are quite similar and I do not know if that will mean you get along well or if you will repel one another. You should know that if you hurt him there will be consequences. 

Well wasn’t that just the cutest! Demon brat didn’t usually get attached to new people so soon.

He texted Bruce back: No I will Not call you. But I can be bribed to come for dinner tomorrow if Alfred makes lasagna. 

He checked the messages he had from his lieutenants about business and replied to the ones that needed it. Then the ones from his friends. He was just about to turn his phone off again when he got a text back from Bruce. 

Bruce: Done, we’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sorry Jay.

Well that was ominous. Jason sighed and turned off his phone, setting it down on the coffee table and heading to bed. He needed to fucking sleep. Whatever the hell Bruce was sorry for could wait until tomorrow.

--------

Bruce had asked Jasmine for a copy of her slideshow, and Tim for a copy of his notes and updated the files on Danny, Jasmin, Damian, and Jason. He always felt a bit odd about the files he had on his own children, but they were important! Both because his memory wasn’t infallible and he needed to remember all this, and because if he needed to tell someone about his children quickly it was good to have all that already typed out and ready.

Not he was just sitting at the Bat-Computer, staring at the cover picture of the slide show. All of them were so young, and all dead or irrevocably changed by the actions of adults around them. His goal, all their goals, had always been to make a safer world for children, and everyone but especially children. And every time he was confronted with the abject failure to protect a child it tore at his heart. If he found who had blocked them from contacting the JL he was going to have very strong words with them.

“You can’t save every child Master Bruce,” Alfred said making Bruce jump. He must have been staring at the computer for longer then he realized, to not notice the butler’s approach. “There are billions of people on the planet, you cannot catch every single one, especially the clever ones who hide it well. They’re responsible for the harm they cause, not you for not being able to stop it.”

They’d had this conversation before when Bruce got too hanged up on the people he’d failed. He knew that wallowing didn’t do any good, and depression got in the way of action, but he couldn’t always help it. As hyper-logical as he tried to be to compensate, he was still human, and seeing these things would always hurt.

“It’s not just Danny and Jazz,” Bruce said, rubbing his face. “It’s Jason too, I’m trying to figure out how… how what Jazz said about liminals and ghost changes how I feel about him. She says they can look like their immoral but it’s always amoral, following their obsession. I feel like I failed him that this is how he came back. And I blamed him so much, and put him down so much. She said their obsessions have to be supported, if they don’t indulge in their obsessions they die.

“No wonder he’s reacted so negatively every time I talked to him about this revenge quest, this thing that he’s doing. Now that I know I wonder if we can compromise, if we can’t then what? I don’t know if I can blame him at all for what he’s doing, but I know what he’s doing is wrong. I don’t know what to do Alfred.” Bruce said, rubbing his face hard.

“Well, it sounds to me you’re putting the cart before the horse Master Bruce. You haven’t even spoken to him about it yet, and you haven’t slept in more than 24 hours. Sleep, then talk to him, then you’ll know how worried to actually be,” Alfred advised.

“You’re right, as usual,” Bruce chuckled and got up, shutting down the bat computer. “What would I do without you,” He chuckled, patting Alfred’s shoulder affectionately. 

“I’m sure you’d be just fine,” Alfred said, in a tone that made it clear he was just being polite and a playful twinkle in his eyes that made Bruce laugh. 

“Thank you Alfie. Let’s all get some rest.”

Next

[sleepy-grav3]

The Moon Child Part 2

Part 1

A/n: Wow. I posted the first part to this and you guys like- rushed to it like starving animals holy SHIT... Should I be scared???? anyway- here ya go

Summary: Danny meets the Aqua Family and gets the love he deserves, plus a little comfort.

Tw: hurt/comfort, bad parents, mentioned discrimination, angst, ghost animal cruelty, swears, objectification, fluff

I forgot to mention Danny goes by he/they pronouns, Atlanteans know a lot of animals, and gender is weird sometimes so they aren't assuming anything and that's fair since Danny could shapeshift if he wants

The Moon Child Part 2 - The Moon Loves the Sea

Warm. He felt warm while in his core. And he could feel the soft cushion he was placed on. He heard the stories that Aquaman Arthur would tell him about all of his adventures and the rambles about his family. He was even told the secret about his stepbrother, Orm, who's death was faked and now lived on land.

It was... nice. Safe. He hadn't felt so loved in a long time. Or, at least, he thinks he hasn't. He had lost track of time while in the labs. It was painful to think about. Visibly so. Apparently, when he drifted into those dreadful terrors, his core's soft light would flicker into a dimmer one which resonated with his sobs. Arthur or his wife, who would keep him beside them at all times, would pick him up each time and hold him close to their heart.

"It's alright" They would say. "You're safe now."

Their heartbeat would always calm him down. It pulsed out reassuring feelings with each beat of their hearts. It was soothing and he never felt so safe. Not even when he was alive. To think he needed to die to feel this way.

It took a while for the pain to finally go away, but he soon felt ready to come out of his core. He couldn't recuperate as much as he wanted to. Not to use his full abilities of his ghost powers. No, there wasn't a massive supply of ambient ectoplasm like in Amity. He learned that what he was absorbing the most was the magic, which acted as a saline solution to blood (which he was pretty sure his blood was fully ectoplasm now).

It was interesting how magic tied in with ectoplasm. He wondered if that's why summoning worked best for those in the realms for that reason. Maybe the specific rituals to summon them even tied closely with their ecto-signatures? It's an interesting thought really.

That isn't the point though. What is, is that he was healthy enough to come out of his core.

"Ok, Danny. Deep breath. Here we go-"

-

Arthur was doing his usual thing: struggling to wake up in the morning and only really doing it because he didn't want to worry the literal spirit of a god. And it's not even because they're a god, but because they're a child. Should he have kept them in the same room. He feels like that might've been a better choice than just leaving them in a room next to his.

Arthur shook his head, rubbing his eyes as he swung his legs over the edge only to jump at the cold feeling of the floor.

"All kinds of water magic and they still can't stop the floor from being cold."

He huffed, getting up and picking out some casual wear that didn't have a bunch of jewelry with protection runes. Some normal clothes to hang out with family.

Kaldur came back yesterday, so they're having breakfast together. He hoped that he'd believe the whole moon deity thing. Kaldur was pretty good and believing new things, but this was their main religion they're talking about. Religion is iffy, or at least it was for those on land. The ocean folk are... extremely loyal.

Should he worry about them trying to destroy the new moon...?

He shook his head. No, they probably couldn't get past the layers of the atmosphere. Hopefully.

He walked out of the door, now thinking about how sea creatures would even pull that off before knocking on the door of the room next to his.

"It is uh, me. Again." It never sounds less awkward. Maybe I should try adding the dramatics?

And with a twist and push, he opened the door only to freeze with widening eyes. The stone wasn't there.

"Oh my god- I lost-"

Only to hear a chirp. he flinched, attention darting over to the full body mirror on the other side of the door that pushed into the room. A door he was going to have fixed to avoid heart attacks like these.

He let out a huge sigh of relief, walking over and bending down with a crooked grin.

"Well, good morning. I didn't expect you to appear for a while. But hey! Perfect timing! Kaldur's going to be joining us during breakfast today, so we could introduce you guys! We could meet Orm soon too! I bet he'll be absolutely surprised!"

The child only looked at him with their big wide doe eyes. Hope sparked in them, but anxiety kept their body tense.

"You... You were serious about it? About me meeting your family?"

Arthur placed a hand on their shoulder, he could barely notice the cool temperature of their body before he saw them jump. He was going to pull away his hand, but then the child relaxed a bit more. It was as if they hadn't had affectionate physical contact in a long time.

"Have they ever been anything but a moon? Are all moons like this? What about other planets? Earth... we have so much pollution. If it were alive..., would it only just barely be clinging?"

"Yes, I was and still am. You're a part of it now for as long as we live. And even when we pass, you will continue to have a place in the ocean. You might not have realized this, but the ocean worships you like a god. In fact, I think I'm going to have to talk with the Justice League about offering an apology gift of some sort."

The child blinked, eyes wide and glistening as a layer of moisture sparkled more yet made the eye look foggy. Looking closer, Arthur could see how moonstones came to be when they cried. It would hurt if it was a literal stone the kid cried. Like- like kidney stones! He was thankful that it wasn't like that.

"You... You aren't scared of me being dangerous to them? You don't think I'm evil or non-sentient?"

Arthur blinked. What?

"No... Nobody- Why would anybody think that?"

The child pursed his lips into a thin line, averting his eyes. With each blink, a silvery white liquid would start to drip and condense to the moonstones he found.

"I... don't know how things work around here... But on land... I've... They don't respect the dead or those associated to the concept. I've tried to keep both sides from trying to destroy the other- but... but..."

Arthur took a breath, pulling the spirit into his arms into a tight embrace. They clung to their veil that was wrapped around their arms like a shawl.

It seems that he had some lore to read up upon and some things to investigate.

-

(This bit's about Danny's POV. It'll be continuing with his while he meets everyone)

Danny didn't know what to think when he looked at himself in the mirror earlier. He didn't have a shirt, but the scarf thing was comfy. He could make it into some kind of make-shift shirt if he wanted to too. His memory on how to do it was... foggy and fractured. Some parts of speech were muffled and what he saw from that time would blur or seemed made up.

He knew the person teaching him.

Why can't he remember them clearly? He could hear whispers of something in his head telling him who that was.

And when he pushed that thought aside, he'd look back at other memories and realize who that was.

Tucker. How could he ever forget about Tucker? Why was he forgetting him?

What made it worse was how much he had to stare at the damn mirror to get the knots right. His chest... it wasn't ever that clean. No Lichtenberg scars. No burns, no cuts, no incision scars. Nothing. It was clean of any of his failures. His struggles. His learning experiences.

And yet... he still imagined them being there. Each time his fingers would brush up against places where he knew scars should've been, a shot of pain would spike as if he'd been electrocuted.

It hurt.

He hated how he remembered.

He hated that he didn't.

He used to remember all of it. He did when he was sobbing for days on end.

Now, it was foggy. Now, it was hidden away. He couldn't reach it.

"Oh my god- I lost-"

He chirped in surprise, turning with widened eyes. Oh. It's just Arthur. I really need to get out of my head.

Arthur walked over, looking slightly drained, as if he was relieved of a sudden weight placed on his shoulders. And by the vibes, Danny's guess seemed right.

Relieved Happy Happy Excited Nervous Happy

He was always so cheery in the... well, what seemed to be the day. Sucks to be out now that he thought about it. It would be rude to just fall asleep at random now that they could physically see if he's awake or not.

Arthur greeted him warmly, cheerily saying how he didn't expect him to come out of his core as if the event was a surprise gift. That... was confusing to say the least. It's easier to have a pet rock than a guest. Now he has to feed him to be polite, or at least offer. He has the room covered since the beginning. It was a really big room. A waste for something someone like him.

He felt his body freeze and start muffling sounds when Arthur started mentioning Kaldur and Orm. His family. Close ones, from the stories he would tell.

M4Dd13 and J4Ck would never allow strangers near him, much less Jazz.

"You... You aren't scared of me being dangerous to them?" He couldn't stop the questions from slipping out even when his expression shifted. "You don't think I'm evil or non-sentient?"

He doesn't even know how he could even think of himself as otherwise. He could remember the custom-made, high voltage tasers that targets his ecto-signature itself until he acted how they expected him to. How they wanted him to.

His eyesight became extremely cloudy. It was similar to the green he'd see before he would start crying after he couldn't cry water anymore.

Ghosts... Ghosts cry ectoplasm. What... What was he crying? What is he now? He was- Why wasn't he gone? He was Ended, wasn't he? They got rid of his heart and crushed his core to determine the durability- there wasn't a way to come back from that.

So why was he alive?

Why can't he-

"-think that?"

Shit- he wasn't paying attention.

Danny couldn't bare to look at the man, guilt eating away at him.

"I... don't know how things work around here..."

He could barely register that it was his voice.

"But on land... I've..."

Why was he still touching his shoulder?

Why isn't he disgusted?

Why isn't he scared?

Why isn't he angry?

"They don't respect the dead or those associated to the concept. I've tried to keep both sides from trying to destroy the other- but... but..."

But they destroyed me instead.

It was all for nothing.

Why didn't he listen to the Ancients?

Why did he just kill people?

They already expected him to do so anyway.

So why didn't he?

He couldn't feel the hug he was pulled into until he stopped crying.

What was he even crying about?

-

Ok so- Maybe Danny should start scheduling his breakdowns. So far, he's had ones at random or ones that goes on for multiple days without any stopping. Or- if he did stop, he really doesn't remember them.

But this is getting embarrassing. He was lucky Kaldur came home late or else they might've either came late or completely missed the breakfast reunion.

Ugh- and don't get him started with anxiety.

His eyes must be puffy or something. Great first impression, Danny! All ya gotta do now is cry again in front of everyone to make it one of the worst introductions in life.

Well, it wasn't really a good start even without him. Arthur had just dropped him onto a very cushiony chair and exclaimed: "Thank the seas! I'm starving!" And just went to devour a whole plate before calming down a bit with Mera scolding him.

He was just awkwardly watching until a plate was placed in front of him. He slightly tensed, attention going from his plate to the hand pulling away from the plate now that it was down. That's when his eyes made contact with Kaldur's. He seemed a bit startled to, as he blinked owlishly before smiling politely.

"Hello, I'm Kaldur'Ahm. You may call me Kaldur."

"U-um.. I'm..." What should he be called now? Phantom didn't feel as right anymore. Ah, what the heck. It's not like they know little ol' Danny Fenton. "I'm Danny." For some reason, that name didn't feel too right either.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard that you've been in a stone, so I was surprised to see you carried in by fa- Arthur."

Curious Happy Happy Nervous

Danny relaxed a bit, turning to his plate once eye contact became too difficult. He picked at his food

"I didn't have much strength when I first formed. I wasn't meant to even have a body but I... didn't want to be discovered and have my core cut up and carved into for some jewelry or something, so I forced myself. you could say it's like... an energy conservation form."

Danny started to actually eat his food, though a bit quicker than he usually would. Stress eating, how lovely.

"Is it a lot of work to stay as you are now? You don't have to stay like this if you're too drained." Kaldur started to fret for him, looking for any sign of strain.

Danny, feeling the worry from him, smiled. It's been a while since someone was worried for him.

"I recovered enough energy that I have a bit extra. I can't do a lot of the things I could before, but I don't feel any pain anymore. So, I'll be fine."

Kaldur relaxed a bit, though still held a slight frown.

"Tell me if you ever feel anything. I'm more than able to hold onto your core and protect you."

Danny hummed, continuing to eat. That's about the time Kaldur remembered that it was breakfast time and started- no, continued to eat from his plate. He must've served himself when Arthur started to or even before that.

"Hey hey hey! Now that the kid's awake, why don't we take a family trip toooooooooo" He dragged out the word as Mera glared at him. "-my brother's grave! I bet he'd love to meet you! And on the way, we can go to the burger place and shop for some clothes, meet my dad-"

Danny looked over at Kaldur, who shook his head fondly at his obvious father-figure. Really, that slip up wasn't getting past him, no way, not possible.

"Don't mind him." Mera sighed. "He's an idiot."

"Hey!"

"Danny, you could always say no. We could go a different day." Kaldur mentioned.

"Danny?" Arthur questioned. Mera rolled her eyes.

"Pay attention, will you?"

"No, it's fine." Danny shook his head with a nervous smile. "I'd like to see him too."

"GREAT!" Arthur exclaimed, making Danny jump and Kaldur wince at the volume. "Hurry and finish your meals! I'll call over the pups!" and then he ran off.

"Pups?" Danny asked.

"Sharks." Mera clarified with a fond sigh. "Ever since he heard someone call them sea puppies, he's been calling them pups and puppies ever since."

"That's... really cute actually." Danny snickered.

"He sneaks away to play with them all the time." Kaldur groaned, remembering the number of meetings he had to take over for the man.

Danny reached over and patted Kaldur's forearm.

"You poor child."

"At least you understand."

-

Kaldur... well, Danny didn't really know how to put it. He was really nice and all, but he was a bit...

"These earrings would look great on you." Kaldur hummed as he held up dangling pearls to his ears.

Kaldur's already bought 3 bags of stuff for him in the last 20 minutes since coming to Reef Town (completely made-up place, just go with it). He even had to adjust his ghost clothes so he could wear the pants and shirt, and other stuff that were bought for him. He still kept the veil since it was really soft and soothed him when he rubbed it between his fingers.

"Ah, but this goes with your clothing... Perhaps we should order one to be made in Atlantis?" Kaldur trailed off, mumbling about different shops and what materials they had along with design names Danny had no clue about. He was almost sure that some of those words were made-up with how they sounded.

"Oookaaayyy- how about we think this over later?" Arthur insisted, a hand on Kaldur's shoulder and the other taking away the earrings in his hands. "We have someone to meet in... about 5 minutes."

"Right, sorry! I got distracted-"

"You're fine, you little urchin." Arthur chuckled, pushing Kaldur towards the door. "Now let's go meet Orm!"

Danny felt a hand on his head. It was a gentle, motherly touch. It nearly made his core let out a purr. Only Jazz could do that with touch alone. Though he nearly started to do the same when they'd mark where they'd cut next. They didn't do that as often with how much they liked to see his organs and bones regenerate.

"Tell Kaldur if it's too much. He's just really excited to have you around and is used to having to give something to keep sea creature friends around."

Ah, he knew that voice.

"Ex..cited? Why?" Danny looked up at Mera, leaning into her touch.

Mera smiled down sweetly at him; her eyes were filled with love that would be pointed to her own child.

She didn't have that drunken lust M4Dd13 had in her eyes each time she came back.

It made his core flutter.

"He sees you as a younger sibling. He's wanted one for a little while now. I... I can't get myself to try again, so he didn't expect to have a sibling. He was really excited to meet you after he heard that you agreed to stay with Arthur. You didn't reject my touch either. I hope it was fine that I held your... core, was it?"

Danny felt her finger card through his hair. He melted at the soothing touch.

"Yeah. It's... it's everything to a ghost. Heart and soul. And... I heard about you from Arthur while I was in my core. And you were the reason Arthur knew to comfort me. So, I knew I could trust you."

Mera smiled a bit more brightly and knelt down, hands holding his face with all the love in the world before she placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm glad. Now, let's go catch up with the boys. I'm sure Kaldur and Arthur must be panicking."

Danny could barely follow after her, having to make himself float as she grabbed his hand to lead him outside. Everything was too fuzzy and happy; it was hard to focus.

-

"Did you kidnap a child spirit?!"

That was the first thing Orm said when he saw Danny, immediately looking at Arthur incredulously as he slammed the table with his hands.

He immediately walked over and knelt down in front of Danny.

"I am so sorry about him-"

"Hey! I didn't-"

"-he's an idiot and really doesn't know any better."

"I didn't kidnap him!"

Orm arched a brow at his brother before looking over at Mera.

"No contracts were made."

Orm looked back at Danny.

"You went with him willingly?"

Danny snickered. "He looked like an idiot."

"You too?!"

"You really can't blame him." Kaldur agreed, smiling over at Danny.

Danny giggled and looked back at Orm.

"I'm Danny."

"Orm, that idiot's older brother. Stepbrother. Now, why did a saintly spirit decide to tag along with this family?"

Mera walked over, placing a hand on Danny's head again. He leaned into it, barely able to keep in a purr.

"You remember the incident with the moon?" Orm nodded. "Well, they're the spirit of the moon."

Orm's eyes widened, head snapping right back to Danny.

"You- you're-"

Danny blinked. He's a what? Wait, not the time to dissociate-

"Is... Is that bad?" Danny hesitantly asked.

"No! Not at all- I just- I've always believed in you, it's just that- Seeing an idol is a bit of an experience-"

"An idol?" Danny questioned, looking up at Orm. He was still kneeling, doesn't that hurt?

"Well, I've heard stories about how you'd battle against the sun gods and sent blessed rain to heal those under incurable plagues. That you split your own soul to assist physically on this world to help those that roamed on it! I've traveled to different places on the land just to see your descendants. And what beautiful white features they have. Did you know that humans call them albinos?"

"Really?"

"Yes! They deserve a better name that fits the position of blessed descendants! The fools!"

"I-it's fine, really! I'm glad they're doing ok and- and that my blessing still lives on."

Orm sighed and stood up.

"You're much too kind. Even after they replaced you, you don't hold it against anyone."

Oddly enough, he felt his chest tighten. It was as if...

"Someone has to do my job in controlling the currents, right?" Danny smiled sadly.

The others seemed to feel sympathy for the spirit, Kaldur going over and pulling him into a hug.

"It's alright. The ocean will stand by your side. Forever. They still worship you even now. So don't think you were only a tool, ok?"

Danny nodded. "Ok.."

He fought back against the tears.

-----

A/n: well, that was a bit longer than the last one. I was planning to write more for this chapter, but I'll just add it to the next one. Sorry if it seems a bit stiff, it'll be better eventually... hopefully.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed.

[bibluebutterfly]

Alright, so one thing I absolutely love about the potential later conflict between Fizz and Ozzie is that they both come from very understandable places.

For Fizz, he has every right to want to be out by himself and just do things independently. You can tell up until he ran into Blitz he enjoyed his day out and getting to do something on his own.

And then we have Ozzie's perspective. He's overprotective of Fizz but to be completely fair, considering what we've seen so far, he's seen Fizz get hurt a LOT. Like A LOT a lot.

For instance, as far as we can tell, he's the only one who works on Fizz's limbs, and considering the fact that he has spare parts around, we can safely assume that Fizz needing a tune up isn't exactly a rare occurrence. Plus the fact that he's probably been there for the better part of Fizz's recovery would show him more just how vulnerable Fizz really is. It also probably doesn't help that Fizz still manages to get hurt even when Ozzie is literally right next to him.

Ozzie knows that Fizz isn't helpless, but seeing someone you love get hurt can is really scary. And considering Ozzie likely feels that kind of fear constantly, it makes sense that he would be just a tad too overbearing. Plus considering Fizz never makes a serious fuss about his tendencies and even seems to agree sometimes, Ozzie thinks that Fizz is fine with how things are.

Back to Fizz, despite him and Ozzie being on numerous levels of understanding, he likely feels like he can really say anything because it turns out that Ozzie's worries were in fact valid. Not to mention that because he and Ozzie are so in sync, he probably knows how Ozzie feels about this whole thing and would feel guilty bringing it up.

People interpret this frame as either Fizz feeling guilty for worrying Ozzie and getting himself in trouble, others interpret it as sadness that he probably won't be able to go out alone in at least a while. Why can't it be both?

That being said, Fizzmodeus is still a wholesome and healthy couple, but it's interesting to see how this topic will be brought up in the future. I just like how the two of them come from very understandable places, and how neither are entirely in the wrong (Fizz should speak up and Ozzie should be less protective). It's also kind of refreshing to see a relationship with problems where one isn't entirely in the wrong (like M&M), and they are both on equal levels with each other (unlike Stolitz).

(Because whereas Stolas and Blitz are in places where they can't really understand each other or talk about their problems, Ozzie and Fizz are in a place where they understand each other so well that they don't feel like they need to.)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

hi there, could I get poppy playtime (if that is to many characters then just catnap and dogday are fine) with a reader that has pica (if you don't know what that is it is where a person can tend to eat or bite on things not edible, like paper, erasers, eca)

I can do a few!

.....

Huggy (saved/rescued) + Poppy

While in his "idle mode" on the podium, he sees you munching on a piece of paper like lettuce and then plush stuffing like it's cotton candy.

And then you just snatch the key from him and move onto the next puzzle, and he goes "???????"

Why did you eat those things? Did they somehow sustain your hunger?

Huggy only gets to learn more after you save him from falling (and tame him with an actual edible snack you brought along), taking a breather after freeing Poppy from her box.

When he grabs one a random paper, you assume he wants to draw something as a way to communicate...until he starts chowing it down.

In his mind, humans DO eat paper and he's been starving and cannibalizing toys (and trying to eat you) for nothing...

But then he spits it out, picking shredded bits out of his teeth, before glaring at you as if you told him to eat that.

You're a little scared and confused until Poppy explains that he was only trying to mimic what you do, and she asks why you eat such random little things.

Eventually you explain to the pair of your condition called "pica".

You've had it most of your life, with an official diagnosis to boot, but it never really hurt your digestive tract.

Over the years you've cut the habit, although being stuck in this factory meant you had to find other sources of food...even those not even considered food at all.

Some of your coworkers knew about it, and their only complaint was the occasional eraser going missing thanks to you (which you deny stealing...most of the time).

"I always joke about having a cast-iron stomach," you tell the toys. "Food is the least of my......"

But you pause and look at Huggy, realizing he might be offended by you shrugging off food as negligible to your survival.

No matter what, though, it's not gonna stop him from trying different non-food items and seeing what tastes good.

He might've eaten pieces of clothing and plush fabric/stuffing over the years, albeit none of it was delicious by itself.

Dogday

"They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit--fill what feels empty inside themselves."

"Jesus, that sounds horrific." You say as you crunch on a piece of chalk (one of several that you got from the schoolhouse) nonchalantly.

Dogday takes immediate notice and is rather concerned. He knows the chalk and crayons here are made to be non-toxic, but insists they're not safe for human consumption.

He fears it's gonna kill you and begs you to stop, saying you needed to live.

Before you could fully explain your condition, the mini-critters are closing in, so you free him and haul ass out of the playhouse of horrors.

After making it somewhere safe where you could patch him up, he presses you on why you continue to eat all these foreign objects.

But he jumps to the conclusion that you got desperate after running out of food, going mad from hunger like the other toys did...

He recalls Picky Piggy going through something similar, and he gets a bad flashback to the Hour of Joy when he had to stop her from eating Crafty's paint....and the corpse of a Smiling Critter -

"Dogday? Hey stay with me..it's okay. I'm here, I'm here.." You console him, calming him down from his panic attack. "I'm not going crazy, alright? I just have this small condition called pica."

"...p-pica? Oh. I thought...kids grow outta that.." He mutters, finding familiarity with that term.

He's had his fair share of toddlers putting things in their mouth that could be choking hazards.

You shake your head, explaining that it stuck with you, but it doesn't cause your stomach any pain as long as you're careful about what you eat.

Dogday's relieved you're not losing it.

Even so, though, he's gonna feel nervous if he catches you eating another piece of chalk.

But it's just his instincts as a child caretaker, so you couldn't blame him.

Catnap

He hangs out in the shadows for the most part, watching your every move...and he does pick up on your strange habit of eating non-food objects.

It's something orphaned toddlers in the playhouse often did, and he'd see the other Smiling Critters hurry to take the items away from them before any emergencies happened.

But those memories mean nothing to him.

All he's doing is waiting for you to eat the wrong thing and keel over.

Unfortunately for him, you just keep trudging on, munching on a crayon like it's normal before throwing your gas mask back on.

He doesn't know how you manage to stomach so many things, and honestly is kinda envious.

Why can't he and the others sustain their hunger like you did?

It does make for some rather..amusing situations, though. Such as when you're in the smoke factory and use the elevator to escape him.

You just stand there as the doors close, eating some chalk and crunching it loudly without breaking eye contact with Catnap's horrific eldritch form.

Obviously, you're stress-eating at that point, but he doesn't have to know.

Miss Delight

The schoolhouse was like a cafeteria for someone with pica, aka you.

While looking for generators, you just pick up whatever you find: erasers, chalk, crayons, etc. and start biting them, or even chewing and swallowing them.

It only succeeds in angering Miss Delight right away, as she sees you doing all of this and snaps at how "childish" you are for eating things you shouldn't.

But you when shout back that you have pica, the PA system suddenly goes quiet.

Like Dogday and Catnap, that definitely triggered some memories for her, which she dwells on for a while before realizing you were still in the school..

And seeing you eating stuff makes her howling stomach grow louder.

"Barb" says you're mocking her own hunger, especially since she notices you gathering the notes she left around the place, and insists on killing you.

When you finally do encounter her, she is visibly disturbed by you crunching on a piece of chalk and throwing it to the ground to distract her, buying you time to break eye contact and flee.

She calls you "crazy", but you're not the one chasing her with a weapon made of a ruler and colored pencils.

[demonic0angel]

If you aren’t too busy, is it possible for you to do a small one shot of Batfam meeting Fenton! Damian for the first time? 🥹🥹🥹🥹

(I’m not sure if you meant a drawing or a piece of writing, but I’m going to assume it’s writing. Also, Damian met them at separate times, so I’ll just write the scene that I imagine what happens when Damian meets Tim and Steph, since it’s one of the earlier scenes and most vital.)

Damian was darting through the streets when he felt Shadow brush against him, ears perked up as they tilted their head and looked behind them.

Damian paused and turned around. A figure in red and black, and another in purple, looked at him with curious tilts to their heads. He flinched but stayed calm as he tried to relax underneath the vigilantes’ searching gazes.

Robin and Spoiler had just arrived.

They stared at each other.

Then Damian said, "Uh, hello?"

Robin gave a small smile. "Hey there, kiddo. It’s dangerous to be out here at this time. Where are your parents?"

Damian frowned. "I'm fine. I have my dog with me."

Spoiler then asked, "Oh! You're the kid on the roof that Nightwing met!"

Damian said, "I'm not on a roof right now, though."

They chuckled and Robin said gently, “Still, it’s not safe out here. You’re not from Gotham, right? You should go back to your parents.”

“I can’t,” Damian said, stressed, and the looks on the vigilantes’ faces changed into something harder and more protective. Quickly realizing that perhaps they were reaching for a bad conclusion, Damian quickly continued, “I have to find my friend. He moved to Gotham a few weeks ago and he hasn’t contacted me since then. I heard that his parents died, but I can’t find him.”

“What about your parents? Shouldn’t they know? Or help you?” Spoiler asked.

Damian fidgeted with his shirt. Truthfully, he didn’t want to tell Jazz. Jazz was quick to worry and already tired from whatever daytime work she was doing, but if she had helped, the search would have definitely been faster. It was just that Damian liked doing things on his own and he hated stressing her out.

“I don’t want her to worry,” Damian said, “And I would like to do it on my own.

Spoiler nudged Robin, and then pulled him aside. Damian crouched to pet Shadow, trying to pretend he wasn’t listening in as he stroked Shadow’s velvety, mist-like fur, while the two whispered to each other.

“Patrol is going slow… So how about we just stay and help him? We protect a kid, hopefully help another, and we can avoid B for awhile!”

“Well…. I think I’m on thin ice with B. I’m not sure I should go out on my own…” they looked at each other for a brief moment and without another word, both turned and Robin grinned at Damian.

“Okay, so how about we help you? We’ll come with you to find your friend, and in 2 hours, we’ll bring you back to your home and try again tomorrow, alright? Do we have a deal?”

Damian tilted his head, but Shadow barked, a hoarse and crackling sound. Both vigilantes stared warily at them, but since Shadow agreed, Damian had no real reason to say otherwise.

He smiled, reaching out to shake Spoiler’s gloved hands. “Deal!”

[revelboo]

Okay well, I juat sat up all night to read your Star x reader x Soundwave x reader fic and now MY HEART HURTS from the last chapter so far. A large part of Mr is desperately hoping that Starscream and Soundwave sparkbond fully to their little human and find comfort together for all three of them, because this is painful, in a good way.

They have to get through the drama first. Normally I’ve got a word constraint of around 70-80k to work within so I wouldn’t have time to properly work out a reverse harem with characters so at odds with each other. They’d need to be at least established to get along to keep the story on track- brothers/friends. No such issue here. They don’t like each other at all and I can take my time getting them at least to a grudging understanding and tolerance of each other

Everything is Alright Pt 84

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Hearing Starscream tiredly venting, you wonder if this is a mistake. You’re pretty sure he thinks it is, that trusting Soundwave is only going to hurt you. Again. But you want to believe that he really did think he was doing the right thing, that he believed there really was no other way forward. How much of that is just you wanting to believe everything is alright, though? That he’d done this because he had to, not out of cruelty or to manipulate Starscream. Wish you could get into his head again to see the truth there, but considering that had only happened the one time while he was inside you, there’s no way to ask him to have sex with you just to see if he’s lying. “So, Megatron. How do we deal with him?” You ask.

• “There’s no dealing with him. He’s unpredictable at best,” Starscream mutters, sliding a servo between your shoulder blades as he glowers at Soundwave. His presence tarnishing the pleasant hum left over from bonding. “As long as he finds it amusing to toy with you to get at me, you’re, well, not safe, but safer.” Because you mean nothing to the warlord beyond a temporary amusement. As long as he makes it abundantly, theatrically, clear how much he hates Megatron being around you, that should keep him interested in keeping you around. It’s too much to hope that he’ll just return you once he grows bored of his game. Too dangerous to assume he won’t discard you or break you out of spite.

• Tension still humming through him, but easing with every word, Soundwave wishes he could hold you. With how the Seeker is glowering at him, all cold hatred, that’s not going to be tolerated. “Talk to him,” he suggests, seeing the Seeker’s wings twitch upward in affront. Because he’s caught glimpses of Megatron’s mind despite himself. Knows how tired of the fighting and the betrayals he is. That he doesn’t really trust anyone anymore, not even Soundwave. Not completely. So used to putting down schemes, that he assumes there is one behind every smile, every word. But you befriended Starscream, maybe because you’re only human. Only an organic and no threat to him. If so, you can do it again with Megatron maybe. If you’re more than just a pawn to use and throw away, your survival odds are much higher.

• It’s pretty much what you’d already decided to do, but you nod slowly. Feeling better that Soundwave had the same thought. Because you’re not even a person to Megatron right now. He sees an organic, but not you. And you need him to see you, to understand that Star isn’t a threat. At least, you hope not. You’d seen his plots, his desire to usurp Megatron while you’d been bonded to him. His fear that the cause is doomed under Megatron’s tired leadership. Is he still playing that game? Tangled in him, it was impossible to tell past from present, all aspects of him blended together and inseparable. Looking up at him, you wonder if he’s still driven by that ambition, by the belief that his way is the only way forward. No matter what.

• Hates that trust of yours even as it’s what drew him in, because you want this to all be okay and Starscream knows that’s impossible. His spark still aches with you, knows you’d be happy with him as he is now. That you have no desire for machinations. But they’re necessary. Especially now. Megaton’s a threat to you and him. Soundwave is a threat. The only way to ever be safe is to sit on that throne, to seize control. With you at his side to temper him. To be his conscience and moral compass.

• Those eyes and that grief. Why do they linger in the back of his processor? It’s not guilt, Megatron’s done much worse things. Still can’t figure out Starscream and Soundwave’s obsession with you, why they’d risked so much pain to keep you secret. Like you’re not only a pet to them. Like the little human matters even though you’re one of millions. An insect. Gone in an instant. Rubbing a hand against his helm, he sits on the edge of his berth. It doesn’t matter. You don’t matter, but he keeps thinking about it. Thinking that he’s missing something important. Something dangerous. Why protect one human? Why suffer just to save you? Why do you matter to them?

Previous

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[unconventional-lawnchair]

Cat and Mouse

Dark!Dad!Barty Crouch Jr. x Mom!Reader

Wc: ~4k

Summary: The reader can never truly get away Barty, no matter how hard she tries. He'll always find his family.

CW: Dark!Possessive!Barty, AFAB!Reader, reader has a young daughter, themes of control and manipulation, being stalked, break in, a brief moment where the reader thinks her daughter is in danger

AN: Heavily inspired by this fic, 1000% recommend

Your daughter's giggles were always your favorite sound, especially so early in the morning. You could swear by it, it was better than any alarm clock.

Today was no exception. As you crawled out of your bed and got to your feet. You couldn't help but smile, wrapping yourself up in your silk robe and slipping on your slippers, following after the lovely sound to your daughters room. You put your hand on the doorknob and leaned down to bring your ear closer, smiling brighter as you heard her giggles persist.

“Is that funny?” You heard a deep voice coo. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Suddenly, the bright sun of the morning chasing away all the dangers of the night felt like a fool’s tale. The shining walls and work you'd done to get here meant nothing. The summer heat that chased away the night chill did nothing to warm you as the feelings of dread overtook you.

You opened the door, trying to school your expression. Your eyes locked on your daughter who turned and smiled wide at you. “Momma! Momma, Daddy's home!”

She always looked so happy. Whenever he would come back, whenever he would find you, your daughter would look at you with those big delighted eyes. The same ones she shared with the man in front of her. You couldn't help but notice a bit of a breeze crawl up your back, not from the stare of the monster before you, but as you turned to discover, your hall window was open..

You don't know what was more terrifying, the fact he was able to get past your wards or the fact he was able to do it without waking you.

“Yeah, princess. Daddy's home.” Barty gushed to his little girl, finally getting you to turn and face him. His eyes were already locked on yours. His eyes said it all, he was challenging you, to say anything, to deny him, to push him over the edge. You had grown familiar with Barty’s looks.

In Hogwarts, he would use them to keep your quiet, remind you not to let people see you get too close to him, to keep you obedient and complacent in the web he meticulously crafted just for you. The web he still had you trapped in all these years later- you struggled, that's all you could do.

Because what could a muggleborn witch like you do to protect yourself from falling in love with a Crouch? To fall victim to his endless worship of you, just to turn around and scorn your blood in front of the people he craved to impress. It was for your protection, he guaranteed, that Voldemort would make an exception of you. That he knew your soul was destined for him and he would make it clear to everyone else that it was true.

“Darling, I'm just going to speak to mommy for a moment, alright?”

Your daughter pouted, holding up her tea cup and he laughed, waving his wand to show her the same thing you assumed he must have been showing her to make her giggle. His bloody magic. The magic you begged him not to expose her to. It wasn't safe, not for you. Certainly not for your daughter, a stain on his family tree.

When he finished he gave her a kiss to her temple, and ruffled her hair. Standing up and walking across the room to you. Quickly, you turned and grabbed your wand from your pocket. Muttering a quick spell on the window as you passed, on your way to the kitchen.

It was the same routine, everytime he found you. Fix whatever damages had been caused, close the blinds, he would dismiss your daughter so you two could talk. You knew Barty could never bring himself to hurt you, in no world would he let any harm come to you or his little girl, but that didn't mean you didn't fear his anger.

You learned what testing his limits could mean. When the war began and you found out you were pregnant, Barty was ecstatic. He bought a home in the Hogwarts highlands, he used you as his get away. He would fight in a war against who you were and come home to dote on you like you were some god. It worked, at first, you were so blinded by love you didn't stop to think about what he was doing.

It was the friends you had closed out that brought you back to reality. Sirius showed up when he knew Barty would be gone, begging you to see reason. He promised you he and Remus would be there when you came to your senses. It took a few days but eventually you packed a bag. When Barty came home you begged him to leave with you, to either join your friend's side of the war or leave it completely with you.

But Barty, he had a way about him. A way that made you foggy minded and willing to forget yourself for hours. When you woke up in his bed, alone again the next morning, you knew it was time.

You'd spent months on end trying to keep away from him. But no matter where you went, he always found you.

Your daughter's giggles echoed in your mind as you moved through the motions, trying to calm down. The warmth of the morning now felt suffocating, as if the very air had turned against you. Barty’s presence had that effect- stealing the light, replacing it with a cold dread that settled deep in your bones.

In the kitchen, you set your wand down on the counter, your hand shaking slightly. You didn’t bother with tea or the pretense of normalcy. There was no use in trying to act like this was just another visit. He always saw through that.

The sound of his footsteps was deliberate, slow and measured as he entered the kitchen behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was watching you, that smug sense of control radiating from him like a dark cloud.

“You’re getting better at hiding,” Barty said casually, leaning against the doorframe as if he belonged there, as if he hadn’t just broken into your home and stolen another morning of peace. “I almost didn’t find you this time.”

You tightened your grip on the counter but didn’t respond. Any words you said now would only fan the flames.

“Still,” He continued, his voice calm but with an edge that made your skin crawl, “you should know better by now. There’s no point in running. Not from me.”

“What do you want, Crouch?” You snapped, your voice sharp but low, desperate to keep your daughter blissfully unaware in her room. Your jaw tightened as your heart raced, every muscle in your body screaming at you to act, to escape, but you knew better.

“Ouch,” Barty murmured, the word drawn out like a mockery of your tone. He gave a low, familiar chuckle that made your skin crawl. “No ‘hello’? No ‘it’s good to see you’? Have I fallen so far in your affections, my love?”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you in a smooth stride. Your body stiffened as his hand slid over your arm, slow and deliberate, the other curling around your waist. Even as you resisted, he pulled you firmly back into his chest.

You felt his breath against your neck, warm and slow, the press of his nose grazing your skin as he inhaled deeply. “Still wearing that perfume I like,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as though you were lovers reunited instead of prey cornered by a predator.

“Let go of me,” You hissed, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t. Instead, he hummed softly, almost contentedly, as if he had all the time in the world. “You know,” He began, his voice silkier now, “I always miss this when you’re gone. The way you fit so perfectly here-” his hand pressed against your waist, possessive, “-like you were made for me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch his cold, calculating eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” You shot back, forcing as much venom into your words as you could muster. “That this is love? That what you’ve done to me- to us- is anything but a twisted game now?”

Barty’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your waist just enough to remind you of his strength. The smile on his lips faded, replaced by something darker, something far more dangerous.

“Careful,” He warned, his voice dropping to a whisper, a quiet menace laced in his tone. “You’re upset. I’ll forgive it this time, but don’t mistake my patience for weakness. I’ve come too far, sacrificed too much, to lose you now.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay still. Reacting would only make things worse. He thrived on control, on watching you squirm under the weight of his presence. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction- not now.

“What do you want?” You asked again, your voice calmer this time, though the ice in your tone was unmistakable.

He tilted his head, a flash of amusement returning to his features. “You. Her. Us. Isn’t that obvious by now?”

“There is no us, Barty,” You said through clenched teeth, daring to step out of his grasp. This time, he let you, though his gaze never left you, sharp and predatory.

“You keep saying that,” He mused, leaning casually against the counter as if he belonged there. Watching as you stayed a foot or so away. As if he was unsatisfied with the distance, he reached forward and pulled you back to him.. “And yet, here we are. You, me, and our perfect little girl.” His smile returned, sinister and self-assured. “I hate fighting with you. You know what?” He mumbled, pressing lazy kisses up from your neck to your cheek. With all your fight you couldn't bring yourself to attempt to push him away again.

Because despite everything, he was still the man you loved more then life sometimes. The only person you'd ever care more for now- was the very person tying you to him.

It was the same game every time. Barty would find you, tearing through the fragile walls of peace you’d built, leaving only fragments of the life you’d tried to carve out without him. He’d remind you of who he was- not just with his suffocating eyes or possessive touches, but with the way he’d command your space, your air, your very existence. He loved you the way a bonfire devours kindling, bright and all-consuming, but he swore you were the creatures he warmed by his flames.

In truth, Barty was a forest fire. Unrelenting, destructive, impossible to escape. He touched every tree but left none standing. He created a cage of danger, an inescapable labyrinth of fear and passion that kept you tethered to him. And you- trapped between wanting to run and wanting to stay- played right into his hands every time.

The moment you found a new place to call home, he would be there, clawing his way back into your life as if he had every right to. He’d paw at you like a man starved, eyes ravenous, hands desperate to feel every inch of you again. He’d spoil your daughter rotten, making her laugh and smile in ways that made you both grateful and bitter all at once. And then, when he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d leave.

Every time. He’d leave.

To fight a war against the very thing he swore to love.

And yet, it wasn’t the war that broke you. It was the time in between- the stolen mornings, the whispered promises, the moments where you allowed yourself to believe he could change.

Because between the fights, between the harsh hands and the soft touches, you would melt. You would dissolve into the girl you once were, blinded by the love you still harbored for the boy he used to be. The boy who worshipped you with a ferocity that made you feel invincible. The boy who told you he would destroy anyone who dared to harm you, even as he slowly became the very thing you feared.

And somehow, in the fleeting moments of quiet, you still loved him.

The realization burned like a curse, hotter and sharper than any spell. Because even now, as you stood in the kitchen with his shadow still lingering in on the counter you clung to- as he continued to trial his lazy kisses across your skin, your heart betrayed you. It clung to the memory of his laugh, his touch, the way he’d hold you like you were his whole world.

Your heart ached with a contradiction you couldn’t reconcile, the tangled knot of love and fear twisting tighter with every lazy kiss Barty trailed along your neck. His lips were soft, familiar, stirring a warmth you hated yourself for feeling. Even as your mind screamed at you to pull away, to fight, to remind him that he had no place here, your body betrayed you, frozen under the weight of his presence.

He whispered something, too low for you to hear, his breath brushing against your ear. It didn’t matter what he said; the words were always the same. Sweet nothings designed to make you forget the darkness he carried, the danger he brought into your life.

Your hands gripped the counter tighter, your knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself. But his voice, his touch, the intoxicating familiarity of him- it was suffocating.

“I miss this,” Barty murmured, his tone deceptively gentle as his hand slid from your waist to rest against your hip. “I miss you.”

You closed your eyes, willing the tears threatening to spill to stay where they were. He didn’t deserve them. Not anymore.

“You don’t get to say that,” You whispered, your voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady. “You don’t get to miss me, Barty. Not after everything you’ve done.”

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above your skin. “Everything I’ve done,” he repeated slowly, as if the words themselves amused him. “Everything I’ve done has been for you. For us. For that perfect little girl you gave me- thank you.” He breathed, low and condescending, even as you felt his lips curl into that familiar sweet smile. “Thank you for her.”

“Fuck you.” You hissed, tears finally slipping past your eyes. “You don't get to thank me. How dare you-”

"Momma? Daddy?"

The small voice cut through the tension like a spell, making both of you freeze. Your daughter stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed owl, her eyes wide with curiosity and a touch of worry.

Barty turned first, his entire demeanor softening in an instant. The dangerous glint in his eyes disappeared, replaced by warmth and affection so convincing it made your stomach churn.

"Hey, princess," he cooed, crouching to her level. "What are you doing out here? Didn't I tell you to keep practicing your tea party skills?"

Ophelia tilted her head, looking between the two of you. "You were shouting," she said simply, her tiny voice laced with innocence. "Are you and Mommy mad?"

Your throat tightened, and you struggled to find the words, but Barty was faster.

"Of course not, darling," he said, his tone dripping with sweetness as he reached out to her. She took his hand without hesitation, allowing him to pull her closer. "Mommy and I were just talking about grown-up things. Boring, silly stuff, nothing to worry about."

You wanted to scream. To contradict him.

You hated it. How well he treated her, how much of a father he could be. You knew it had to be some form of healing for him, wanting to give his daughter the father he never had. But it didn’t make it any easier for you to watch. It didn’t make it easier to stomach how easily he could shift from the storm that haunted your nights to the warm, doting father who seemed so perfect in her eyes.

"Mommy?" Ophelia’s voice pulled you back to the present, her wide, curious eyes locked on yours. She had Barty’s eyes, that same piercing gaze that could see straight through you. It was both beautiful and heart breaking, knowing what those eyes had seen before they became hers.

You forced yourself to smile, though it felt as fragile as glass- quickly brushing away your tears in hopes she didn't see them. "No, sweetheart," You cooed, your voice soft but tight. "Mommy and Daddy aren’t mad. Daddy’s just being… silly, as usual."

She giggled, the sound like bells in the tense air. Barty gave her a conspiratorial wink, as if the two of them shared some secret that didn’t include you. It made your skin crawl but your heart throb all the same. This wasn't fair.

"See, angel? Everythings alright.” Barty scooped her up effortlessly, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. His expression softened further, the love in his eyes so genuine it made your heart ache. “Mommy just worries too much sometimes,” He teased with a gentle laugh, brushing a stray curl out of Ophelia’s face. “But you don’t need to worry, do you? Daddy’s here to take care of everything.”

Ophelia rested her head against his shoulder, her small fingers clutching his collar. “Promise?” She asked softly, her innocent trust making your chest tighten.

“I promise,” He replied, his voice warm and soothing. His eyes flicked back to you, the unspoken challenge still lingering beneath his tenderness. “Daddy always keeps his promises, doesn’t he?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away, busying yourself with the kettle on the counter. Anything to avoid the sight of them together, to ignore the knot of guilt and helplessness that twisted tighter in your chest with every word.

“Daddy,” Ophelia murmured, her voice muffled as she nuzzled into his neck. “Will you stay this time?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling as you gripped the edge of the counter. You dared to glance over your shoulder, catching the way Barty’s expression softened further. For a fleeting moment, there was no malice in his eyes- only love, raw and unfiltered.

“For as long as I can, my little star,” He said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She beamed at him, her giggles filling the room again as he twirled her around, the tension momentarily forgotten. But as you watched, the weight of reality settled heavily on your shoulders. This was the game he always played- pulling you in, wrapping you in the warmth of a family you desperately wanted to protect, only to remind you of how fragile it all was.

“Ophelia,” You called, your voice gentle and thick. “Are you hungry, baby?”

Ophelia perked up at the sound of your voice, turning her head just enough to look at you over Barty’s shoulder. “Yes, Mommy!” She chirped, her stuffed owl clutched tightly in one hand. “Can we have pancakes? The ones with the happy faces?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you stepped toward the pantry. “Of course, sweetheart. Go wash your hands first, okay? And don’t forget to set up your tea party things for later.”

She wriggled out of Barty’s arms with the unbridled energy only a child could have, her little feet padding across the floor as she darted out of the kitchen. Her laughter echoed down the hall, leaving a momentary warmth in its wake that quickly dissipated as you felt Barty’s gaze settle on you again.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, you busied yourself with gathering the ingredients for pancakes, focusing on the mundane task like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

“She’s growing up so fast,” Barty murmured, his tone soft but pointed. “Every time I see her, she’s more like you. Stubborn, sharp, and so full of life.”

You bristled at his words but didn’t respond, your hands steady as you set a mixing bowl on the counter.

“But she has my eyes,” He continued, stepping closer, his voice lowering to that dangerous, familiar drawl. “Doesn’t she?”

You slammed the whisk down a little harder than intended, finally turning to face him. “What do you want, Barty?” you demanded a final time, your voice low and sharp. “You’ve played the loving father card. You’ve made your presence known. What’s next? What do you think this is going to accomplish?”

He tilted his head, studying you with that infuriating smirk that never quite reached his eyes. “Accomplish?” he echoed, as though the very word amused him. “Oh, love, this isn’t about accomplishing anything. This is about being where I belong. With my family.”

“This isn’t your family,” You shot back, the venom in your voice unmistakable. “You don’t get to waltz in and pretend you belong here, not after everything you’ve done.”

His expression darkened, the playful edge to his smirk hardening into something colder. Then, slowly, he smiled. That same boyish charming smile you always thought to be true. He stepped behind you, running his palms down your arms with a low sigh. “I really do hate fighting you, star.”

His hands slid down your arms, his touch deceptively gentle, but his grip firm enough to remind you of the power he held. You froze as Barty leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"I hate it," he murmured, his voice soft, yet laced with something darker. "I hate how stubborn you are, how you make me work so hard to remind you of what we have."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him, to meet those piercing eyes that could always see straight through you. “What we had,” you corrected coldly, though your voice trembled.

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You can say that as much as you want,” he said, his fingers trailing down your sides to your waist, holding you in place. “But we both know it’s not true. We still have it. You feel it every time I’m near, don’t you? Just like I do.”

“Let go of me,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of his presence. You hated how weak you sounded, how easily he unraveled you.

But Barty didn’t let go. Instead, he turned you to face him, his hands settling on your hips as his stormy eyes bore into yours. "You’ve given me the best gift, love,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze flicked toward the hallway where Ophelia had disappeared. “Her. You. You’re my everything. Both of you. And you know that.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as his words pierced through your defenses. “You don’t get to say that,” you choked out. “You don’t get to act like you’re some devoted father when you’re-” Your voice cracked, and you bit down hard on your lip, desperate to hold yourself together. “You’re the reason I had to run. The reason she’s in danger.”

“In danger?” Barty repeated, his voice sharp now, his hands tightening on your hips. “You think I’d ever let anything happen to either of you? Do you really believe I’d let anyone touch my family?”

“You’ve already put us in danger,” you shot back, your anger flaring despite the tears threatening to fall. “Your choices, your loyalty to him- you’ve made us targets, Barty. Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he leaned in closer. “Everything I’ve done has been for you,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “For us. I took that mark to protect you. I fought for a place in his world so he wouldn’t touch you or her. Do you know what I’ve sacrificed to keep you safe?”

“You don’t get to use that as an excuse,” you hissed, tears streaming freely now. “You don’t get to justify everything you’ve done by pretending it was for me. You made your choices, Barty. You chose him over me. Over us.”

His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as his grip felt possessive, inescapable. “I chose you,” he insisted, his voice trembling with a rare vulnerability. “Every single time, I chose you. And I’d do it again, star. I’d do anything for you.”

“Then let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Let me live my life. Let me protect her.”

“I can’t do that,” He said, shaking his head as his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re mine. Both of you. And I won’t let you take her- or yourself- away from me again.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in the space between you, suffocating and undeniable. You hated how your heart ached at the raw desperation in his voice, how a part of you wanted to believe him, to give in like you always did.

“You always do this,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You make me forget how much I hate you.”

He smiled faintly, his lips brushing against your temple in a touch so tender it made your chest ache. “That’s because you don’t hate me, love. You never have. And you never will.”

You wanted to scream, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as your tears soaked into his shirt. “This isn’t fair,” you choked out, your voice muffled against him.

“No,” he agreed, his arms wrapping around you as if to shield you from the very chaos he’d brought into your life. “But I’ll make it right, star. I’ll prove to you that this is where you’re meant to be. Where we’re meant to be.”

And as much as you wanted to fight, as much as you wanted to push him away and reclaim the life you’d fought so hard to build, a part of you- the part that had always belonged to him- knew he was right.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter how hard you fought, Barty Crouch Jr. would always find his way back to you.

And you would always let him in.

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Lemon Cakes

I just...I had an idea and I was emotional about S2E7 (beware spoilers!!) so I wrote a thing. We're not taking S2E8 into account, and we're assuming Brimby managed to escape from Eregion. Anyway, enjoy!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Celebrimbor (RoP) x Half-Elven Healer!Reader

[A/N: This contains mild references/innuendo so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Fluff, angst, yearning, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, minor descriptions of the same, spoilers for RoP S2E7, crying, kissing, both think their feelings are unrequited but they're very requited, nudity, mild references to male anatomy.

~*~

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts and fears that I didn't bother noting where I was going. All of Eregion was safe, so it didn't truly matter which pathway I took. However, it still would have been wise to do so.

Wisdom wasn't exactly the foremost concern in my mind at that moment. Court whispers, idle gossip, occupational politics...those had unfortunately taken center stage as I hurried through - was I in Eregion's gardens? Grudgingly, I supposed that the hedges were a dead giveaway that I'd somehow wandered into them without realizing. I'd been drawn to them countless times over the decades that I'd lived in the city. Ending up there should not have been a surprise.

My mind dwelled - foolishly, perhaps - upon my worries. How was I supposed to ignore what they were saying? It wasn't as if the other healers were trying particularly hard to hide the fact that they despised me for my heritage. After all, in their eyes a Peredhel - one of Half-elven descent - could never do as well as someone who possessed only Elven blood. I'd trained under several of the best healers known to Elvendom, but still that was not enough for the wagging tongues attached to judgmental minds.

All I wanted was to help heal the injured, but because of my status, I was relegated to organizing supplies and sweeping the floors of the infirmary. Had I been given the chance to prove my worth and demonstrate my training, I might have been able to advance further. As it stood, however, I only had a few of the common families of Eregion who trusted me enough to tend to their wounds and ailments.

Despite my situation, I made an effort never to complain. I took what opportunities were offered and made do. After all, if I had complained, not only would I have been seen as ungrateful, but I would've been proven to be, in the eyes of those who disliked me, even weaker than I was already perceived to be. I was allowed to remain in Elven territory. Should that not be enough for one lowly Peredhel?

That didn't stop me from feeling frustrated, though. Overhearing the last of the other healers' insidious comments after a long day was what broke my resolve. As I wandered through the maze of shrubbery, hot tears rolling down my cheeks, I hated that I'd let them bother me this much. Was I truly so weak-minded that I could not handle a few insults? Surely, I must be.

"Are you alright?" A warm but tentative voice called, and I tried to quickly wipe away my tears. Whoever had been kind enough to check on me didn't need to be bothered by a weepy Elleth.

"Yes, of course," I called as I posted on a faux smile and turned to find– "Lord Celebrimbor! Forgive me, hir-nin."

I began to drop into a low, deferential curtsy, but a gentle hand grasped my shoulder, stopping me.

"Please, my lady, there is nothing you have done which requires an apology." Having only seen him from a distance, I'd never spoken to Lord Celebrimbor before. I hadn't expected his voice to be so kind. I looked up, and he smiled at me.

I had never been looked at with such radiant warmth in all my life. Words utterly failed me. I should have said something - anything - but I could not seem to speak.

The light of the setting sun created a golden aura around Lord Celebrimbor's head, making him look like a heavenly being sent by the Valar. For a moment, I forgot all about my frustration and grief.

Those closest to him must scramble for even a few moments with him. How could they not? The greatest of the Elven smiths was also the most attractive Elf I'd ever met.

"There we are," he murmured as my eyes met his. "Would you perhaps like to join me?"

For the first time, I noticed he was holding a plate of lemon cakes. He'd likely come out to the gardens to relax with a sweet treat, only to find a distraught mess instead.

"O-Oh, thank you, my lord, but, truly, I do not wish to intrude," I stammered, but he let out a gentle laugh that made my heart twist in my chest.

"I will not force you, of course, but you should know that I would welcome your company," he said, glancing between myself and the lemon cakes. "Over the years, I have found that something sweet can help lift the spirit. Besides, I don't think I should eat all of these myself. My tailor would be quite cross if he had to replace my entire wardrobe."

I doubted a figure like his could ever be diminished by the insignificance of a few lemon cakes, but the need for friendly companionship was so great within me that I allowed myself to take his not-so-believable excuse at face value.

"Only if you're certain, my lord." His smile widened, and he eagerly led me to a bench nestled between a pair of pink flowering dogwood trees. Once we were seated, I finally took a moment to observe my companion. Wearing deep blue velvet robes, delicately embroidered with beaded leaves and vines, Lord Celebrimbor of Eregion sat beside me with all the gravitas and dignity of a king. His gaze was as soft as his touch had been upon my shoulder.

But he was a lord, and one of the most skilled Elven smiths in history. I was only a Peredhel. No matter how handsome I found him, common people like me did not end up with nobility.

Distracting me from my sobering thoughts, Lord Celebrimbor offered me one of the little iced cakes. I couldn't help but smile at the slices of candied lemon decorating the top.

"I must admit," he murmured as I gratefully took one, "that sweets are somewhat of a weakness of mine. The bakers whose establishments I frequent across the city have become rather aware of the fact that this variety in particular are my favorite. I fear they quite effectively know how to convince me to part with my coin."

That fit him quite well, in my opinion. The brightness of the citrus, the sweetness that tempered the flavor...nothing could have suited his personality more fully. Those cakes were light and sunny, as was he.

After we'd eaten in peace for a time, conversing quietly between ourselves about everything and nothing, Lord Celebrimbor looked at me curiously.

"If you don't wish to discuss it, I promise you are under no obligation to do so, but is there someone to whom I should speak in your defense?" I looked at him in askance, and he gave a small smile. "'Tis heinous behavior to bring such a lovely lady to tears. If there is someone who requires a stern speaking to, please consider my services in that department most humbly offered."

His gaze was so earnest and concerned that I had to avert my own lest I tear up again. None had ever offered to come to my defense before, opting instead to suggest that I grin and bear it, or that I develop a thicker skin as comments like that were to be expected for one of such low, unworthy birth.

"You are very kind, my lord, but, truly, you needn't trouble yourself." I barely dared to look back over at him after a moment's pause. "After all these years, I should have developed a thicker skin."

Celebrimbor wiped his fingers on his handkerchief and leaned a little closer to me, clearly engrossed.

"About what, my lady?"

I hesitated. It was perhaps vain, but I did not relish seeing the kindness in his eyes melt away when he realized with what sort of person he'd been conversing. But there was nothing for it. One did not simply ignore the Lord of Eregion when he asked you a question, especially not when he'd been kind enough to offer you food, comfort, and company. As much as I wanted to run, I remained seated.

"I am Half-elven, my lord," I nearly whispered, dropping my eyes to my lap where I was wringing my hands nervously. "My heritage is...somewhat of a common topic of discussion, especially with regards to my abilities."

"Abilities?" He asked gently, and I nodded my head.

"I am a healer, my lord. I was trained by some of the most skilled Elves I have had the fortune to know," I elaborated. "Truly, I do not mind helping where I can, and if it were a simple matter of my skills not being necessary, I would not be quite so frustrated, but..."

I trailed off, unsure of how to express the rest of my thoughts without sounding pathetic and childish.

"...But you've been overlooked because of who your parents were," he finished sounding somber. "My lady, I am truly sorry that you have had to endure such unjust treatment. None should behave so dishonorably, especially not here in Eregion. After all, in Lindon, our High King's herald is Half-elven. Ability has nothing to do with blood, as my people should be aware. I daresay you've likely heard some unworthy remarks, as well, for which I can only apologize. My people should know better."

I expected pity or disdain when I finally dared to look up at him again, but instead, I found only a reassuring smile and warm eyes skimming my face.

"Thank you, hir-nin, for your kindness. There was no need for you even to speak with me, much less be in my company, but I am so very grateful that you did."

Celebrimbor's smile widened, and he caught one of my hands between both of his. I couldn't help but marvel at how large they were, and how strong the calloused pads of his fingers felt. He must work quite diligently at his craft.

"It has been my honor, I assure you."

He paused, looking unsure as if considering whether he should say what was on his mind.

"Do you know, my lady, I have seen you walking in the gardens before. I should have wished you a good day or stopped to say at least 'good morning,' but I...well, I did not wish to intrude upon your peace," he said, and I looked at him in awe. "You always seem so relaxed when you are amongst nature, strolling through the starlight. Oft in the evenings, I take a break upon the balcony of my tower, and I have the loveliest view of the moonlight cascading down upon you."

He'd seen me before? I hadn't been aware that he knew of my existence, much less remarked upon the walks I took to clear my head.

"I wish I had mustered my courage earlier, however, since I cannot change my prior cowardice, I would like to focus instead upon the future. Might I have the honor of knowing you better?"

How could I have possibly refused? Why would I? That evening had been the start of a friendship that I'd never expected to have. Celebrimbor was always courteous and warm with me, allowing me to see his forge and discussing his work with me.

He never admitted to any involvement, but I suspected that he was the reason why barely a week after our initial conversation I was allowed - finally - to put away my broom in the healers' halls and begin treating patients. Even the cruel whispers and rumors died down to only the most occasional instance.

The Lord of Eregion shared my joy when my skills were begrudgingly praised, delighting especially when one of Lindon's visiting generals bore witness to my work. He was so pleased with how I'd patched up a small squad of his soldiers that I'd received a letter of thanks from the High King himself by royal messenger not long after the general had reported home safely.

Celebrimbor had been so excited for me that he'd sent his smiths and apprentices home early and opened a bottle of wine in celebration. That night, it had been particularly difficult to tamp down my growing admiration for the gorgeous Ellon who'd been so kind to me. Undoubtedly, he'd never feel more for me than friendship, but my heart did not seem to grasp that particular fact. When he finally walked me to my door and bid me sweet dreams, I knew for certain that I was doomed to love one who could never return my feelings. I was content, however, to simply be around him.

As the years passed, I slowly climbed the ranks of Eregion's healers, eventually earning the grudging respect of my peers, and the one person who had believed in me from the start seemed no less proud of me than he had from the beginning. It was not uncommon, of a free evening, to find me curled up in the uppermost room of Eregion's tower, discussing my lord's latest projects or ideas, or sharing herbal tea and something sweet from one of Eregion's bakers.

Eventually, after about a century's residence in Celebrimbor's city, and after having spent about three quarters of that as his friend, he summoned me to his tower during one of my shifts in the healers' halls. That, in itself, was not uncommon. He and his smiths were rather prone to accidents, especially given the nature of their work. Celebrimbor always asked for me personally, and as this time was no exception, I gathered a bag of medical supplies and hurried to see what might have happened.

The Lord of Eregion had been quite consumed by his latest project, and, though it was a rare occurrence, he had not discussed it once with me. I'd thought it strange that he was being so secretive, but after all, he was the Lord of Eregion first and foremost. He owed me no explanations. I thought nothing of it.

When I arrived, however, instead of seeing the forges blazing and the smiths all chattering about their work, I found only Lord Celebrimbor seated beside one of the windows, holding a letter in his hand. His forges were stone cold, and a sad, worried sort of expression played across his face.

"My lord?" I called quietly, hovering in the doorway. I felt as though I was intruding upon something private to which I ought not be a witness, but he had summoned me. I could not keep him waiting. At my quiet question, he looked up and plastered what I easily recognized as a forced smile across his lips. "You asked for me?"

"I did, mellon-nin," he said, gesturing for me to come closer. "Come, sit with me."

I did as he asked, setting my bag at my feet and looking at him curiously as I perched beside him on the divan.

"Are you hurt?" I could see no evidence of an injury, but he'd hidden them quite well before.

"Oh, no. No, forgive me. I hope I did not worry you," he said patting my arm gently. "Actually, this morning I received a rather important letter from High King Gil-Galad."

Silently, he held the folded parchment out to me, and I accepted it carefully. The King's seal was unmistakable upon the outer fold. My eyes skimmed the neat, swirling hand in which he'd penned his missive, and I had to reread it twice before the meaning fully sank in.

Wide-eyed I looked over at Celebrimbor whose smile now reached his eyes. He still looked rather sad, though.

"The High King wishes me to come to Lindon?" I asked feeling rather stunned. "But...why me?"

"From what I understand, he has heard many positive things about you and your skills as a healer from his soldiers and several of his friends," Celebrimbor said as I handed the letter back to him. "He wishes you to train a group of healers so that Lindon will be in good hands as Eregion is."

I was speechless. Only just managing to keep my jaw from dropping, I blinked uncomprehendingly a few times.

"You come highly recommended to him. In fact, he asked for my opinion, and I told him the truth: that you are one of the most skilled healers of your age that I have ever encountered. Your bedside manner puts your patients at ease, and you are able to tend their wounds calmly and skillfully," Celebrimbor continued, setting the letter aside and grasping my hands. "There is no one better for the position, I assure you. You will excel in Lindon as you have here."

Finally forcing my voice to work again, I found myself stammering.

"I...Did the King specify how long I would need to remain there?"

"He said it might take two years, perhaps three," he answered, and as if he could read my thoughts, Celebrimbor tilted my chin up and looked into my eyes. "Eregion will still be here when you return. In any case, it was not a request. It was an order. You shall need to leave in the morning."

"That soon?" I asked feeling nerves start to bubble up within me. I was excited for the opportunity, of course, and honored beyond words that Gil-Galad had asked for me personally, but...the thought of leaving Celebrimbor and my home at such short notice frightened me.

My lord's arms wrapped around me, drawing me into a tight embrace which I returned wholeheartedly. Burying my face against his shoulder, I savored the feeling of being so close to him. I would not get the opportunity again for a long while.

"Stay here with me tonight," he murmured against my scalp, and I nodded my head silently in agreement. The pair of us barely let go of each other, and when we awoke cuddled together on the divan with the morning light streaming across our sleepy faces and rumpled clothes, there were no sufficient words to express all that we felt at this forced parting.

The final glimpse of Eregion's gates as I passed through them atop my horse, flanked on either side by guards, felt terribly final.

--

Lord Celebrimbor and I had corresponded via messengers since my arrival at Lindon, but shortly after his new forge had been built, his letters had all but ceased. I tried not to let my heartbreak show, but the High King, who had quickly caught on that my feelings for Celebrimbor were slightly more than friendly, noticed immediately.

After one of my meetings with him discussing the progress of his healers-in-training, he called me to a halt as I prepared to take my leave. His herald - my new and very dear friend, Elrond - was still there, but courteously acting as though he could hear neither of our voices as he packed away a stack of parchment.

"My lady, I have no doubt that he is simply caught up in his work," Gil-Galad said as he offered me a softer look than I was accustomed to seeing upon his regal features. "Given how Lord Celebrimbor has spoken of you in the past, he would not give you up so frivolously."

If only I believed he was right. Oh, I did not believe Celebrimbor to be cruel enough to do so, by any stretch of the imagination. I did not, however, believe myself to be important enough to deserve his attention, even after so many years of friendship.

Instead of voicing such concerns, however, I merely thanked the King for his reassurance, bowed my head respectfully, and went back to my duties.

A few silent months later, however, Elrond sought me out in the healers' halls and led me to an urgent meeting with the King. Beside a small table stood High King Gil-Galad and one of his commanders.

"Thank you for coming, my lady," the King said ushering me to a seat. He dismissed his commander, and I looked at him in askance. "I would not normally trouble you, but I'm afraid this concerns you."

I glanced up at Elrond and found a concerned, slightly guilty expression on his face.

"My lady, we believe that Sauron is in Eregion," the King said, and I felt as though I'd been slapped. "His goal is to create rings of power similar to the trio we already have. Naturally, to do this he would need a skilled smith..."

He trailed off, allowing me to come to the conclusion myself, and when I did, my stomach churned.

"Celebrimbor," I breathed, and he nodded his head.

"We are gathering our armies now, preparing to defend the city against another threat, but as we do so, we will also attempt to remove Lord Celebrimbor from Sauron's influence." Much of what the King said afterward was a blur. When he came to my particular duties as a healer, I paid close attention, noting all the preparations which would need to be made rather rapidly.

Before Elrond could leave, I dragged him into a hug and made him promise to be safe. Not long after, the rest of Lindon's army departed, and I was filling my time with work to distract myself from my fears.

--

Waiting for the High King and his soldiers to return was tantamount to torture. I had friends who were risking their lives in this conflict, of course, but even more than that, the fate of Eregion terrified me. The city had been my home for nearly a century, and I was naturally concerned for its people, but I was even moreso for Celebrimbor.

If I dwelled for too long upon that distinction, my own selfishness closed around my throat like a vice, forcing conflicted tears to well up in my eyes. When I thought of his kindness and all that he'd done for me, however, I found it easy to blink them back. I could not find it within myself to feel guilty for my concern over one so gentle and warm.

So, I waited with the other healers, giving orders where I could for casualty preparations, ensuring all of the supplies were well-ordered and accessible to all of us. Our patients would have traversed a long road home, victory or no, and we did not wish to prolong their discomfort any more than was necessary.

Horns blared at the gates a few days later, and we rushed out to receive the soldiers, injured and exhausted as they doubtless were. Fear scraped away inside me when I contemplated how many might have been lost when I saw how somber the mood was.

Tamping down my personal feelings, I moved with the swarm of healers, pulling aside all who were injured and beginning to treat the most serious problems first. We'd been working for only a few hours when a hand landed on my shoulder.

Elrond, dirty, defeated, and utterly bereaved stood at my side.

"Mellon-nin," he breathed, and I wrapped my arms around him. He embraced me fiercely, silent sobs wracking him as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. "Eregion..."

My heart constricted at his tone.

"The city fell," he mourned, and I felt a rising sort of panic.

"Did any escape? The people? The soldiers?" I asked, hesitating before I added, "Lord Celebrimbor?"

His nod against my shoulder brought tears to my own eyes. When he pulled back, he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"The High King wishes to see you. Immediately. You will want to bring supplies with you," Elrond murmured, but I caught sight of blood-soaked fabric peeking out from beneath his armor. I waved one of my best healers over.

"Thank you, mellon-nin. I am glad beyond words to see you returned. I'll go to the King now, but you are not to leave until your injuries have been seen to. No arguments, darling herald."

He gave me a damp smile and acquiesced to my demand after stealing another quick hug.

Tucking into a bag everything that I would need to treat potential injuries inflicted upon the High King, I rushed down the corridors on the heels of the soldier sent to guide me. He would not have sent for me unless it was serious. Instead of finding the King inside, however, he was just outside the door speaking with one of his guards. Gil-Galad dismissed both guards almost as soon as I arrived.

"Thank you for coming with such haste," he said, and as I took him in, he looked dirty, bruised, but otherwise unharmed.

"I was told you required a healer, Your Grace."

"Not I, though I did send for you. Your patient is within. You needn't knock," he said gesturing to the door to his guest's rooms. I made to go inside, but he caught my elbow, drawing me to a gentle stop. "My lady, I should warn you...'tis Lord Celebrimbor."

My heart nearly beat out of my chest with worry.

"How bad is it?" I rasped, and the High King's expression softened.

"Breathe. It is not life-threatening." I nearly fainted with relief, sagging heavily against the wall and allowing my eyelids to flutter shut. Gil-Galad placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder. "He was being held and manipulated by Sauron. He was chained to his forge with unbreakable restraints. The only way he could escape was to...remove one of his thumbs."

My eyes snapped up to meet his in utter horror at what Celebrimbor had been forced to do simply to preserve his own life. Finally, I forced myself to draw a steadying breath.

"Is there any swelling? Inflammation?" I managed to ask, and the King shook his head.

"No, there have been no complications thus far," he said, but he hesitated a moment. "I called for you, not because of the severity of his injury, but because he needs you. He rested only fitfully in his saddle. He called out for you...wept in his sleep."

Me? He'd called out for me?

"You are the greatest comfort he could have, my lady. He may not yet know that he has your love, but he needs it nonetheless."

I straightened as heat spread across my face. Gil-Galad had known of my feelings for Eregion's lord for some time, but we'd never discussed it so openly before. Oh, certainly he'd eluded to the subject before, giving subtle hints and encouragement when our correspondence effectively ended, but this...

"Thank you, Your Grace," I said in the steadiest voice I could manage. I hoped he understood that I didn't just mean for the reassurance. When he bowed his head and took his leave, I faced the door, steeling my nerves as I pulled it open–

And my breath froze in my chest. There, kneeling upon the ground in the middle of the floor, staring out into the sunlit garden, was Lord Celebrimbor. He seemed not to notice my entry. Closing the door behind me, I walked slowly over to him. Seeming both penitent and relieved, Eregion's lord remained stationary as the golden light of day poured across his skin. Dirt, grime, and dried blood covered him, but he was still the loveliest sight I'd ever laid eyes upon.

"My lord?" I murmured quietly, setting aside my bag as I knelt beside him, and with a slow blink, he roused himself from whatever thoughts had so captivated him. Slowly, he turned to face me, and amidst the dirt on his face, there were tear tracks.

His lips parted in surprise when he saw me, and when I offered him a gentle smile, he lifted his uninjured hand, caressing my face as if he could not believe that I was truly there.

I leaned more solidly into his touch, closing my eyes against the rising emotions within me, and a broken sob of my name tore from his lips.

"Y-You're here. You're real," he croaked as he began to weep. I drew him into my arms without a moment's hesitation. Clutching at me as if I might disappear, Celebrimbor fell to pieces in my arms. I could do no more than whisper reassurances and press gentle kisses atop his head.

An Ellon as sweet as he did not deserve to feel as terrible as he clearly did. The urge to smite Sauron - to rend him in half with my bare hands - grew with every tremble of my lord's frame beneath my hands.

In fragments, he spilled the story to me, explaining all that had happened between himself and Sauron - including how he found fragments of one of his letters to me in the corner of his forge where the manipulative bastard had thrown it. Hushing Celebrimbor's subsequent apologies, I ran my fingers gently through his hair, trying to soothe him.

Eventually, his tears dried up, his breathing became steadier, and he lifted his head from my shoulder. Without thought, he cupped my face with both hands. A grimace twisted his features and he began to whisper shame-filled apologies as he pulled his injured hand away.

I caught his wrist carefully, and pressed my own fingertips gently against his lips to silence him. Celebrimbor looked stunned even as his cheeks reddened.

"Have you forgotten that I am a healer, my lord? You needn't apologize. I have seen and treated much worse." His shoulders dropped a small measure at my reassurance, and I turned my attention to his poor hand. At least the cut had been clean. It was already beginning to heal quite nicely, but it would still need a little help. "Truthfully, this is doing quite well. Might I make a suggestion?"

"Anything," he breathed, and the sincerity in his eyes tore at my heart.

"It would be wise for me to give this a preliminary wash, then cover it in a protective layer so that we can get the rest of you clean. Afterward, I should be able to patch you up much easier, but only if that is agreeable to you," I said, but he was already nodding his head.

"Yes. Yes, entirely agreeable," he said beginning to smile tentatively again. "I shall humbly submit to any treatment you think is necessary."

My breath hitched in my throat. How could he still be so trusting even after everything that had happened? I vowed to myself that I would never abuse his trust. I loved him too much to even consider such treachery.

"Let me fetch a basin and send for a bath to be drawn, and I shall be right back," I promised, and he drew a shaky breath as I stood.

I was only apart from him for a few moments, but when I returned with the basin of water and the supplies, he looked up at me like he'd never been happier to see me. The joy radiating from him even beneath the dirt and dried blood covering his skin relaxed a ball of tension that had resided in me since I heard about the threat to him and his city.

He was here. He was alright. And Sauron had not broken that which was most important: his spirit.

Setting everything beside us, I laid a towel across my lap and gently pulled his sleeve back past his elbow. Shuffling a little closer so that neither of us would strain ourselves in the reach, I began to clean his wound, as well as his arm so that he needn't get it wet during his bath.

As I worked, we fell into a companionable silence that was only broken when a few strands of hair fell into my face having escaped my hair ribbon. With a touch lighter than a smith should ever have, Celebrimbor moved them behind my ear, his large, warm fingertip brushing over the point.

He'd never done that before.

I looked up to thank him, and I was taken aback by how close we were to each other. My nose was barely an inch from his. I swallowed heavily, forcing my heart, racing though it was, to remain silent.

"Thank you, my lord," I whispered. His breath caressed my skin, and I forced myself to look back down and finish my task. He did not need to be bothered with a childish infatuation. Why, oh why was professional distance so difficult to maintain around him?

Wrapping a few protective layers over the freshly cleaned wound, I tied it off carefully. It was a bit looser than I would normally make a dressing, but it was only meant to last long enough for a bath.

A knock sounded at the door as I finished up, and that, thankfully, was the announcement that it was ready - apparently the speed was thanks to High King Gil-Galad's foresight. He'd ordered the water drawn and heated when he sent for me, to be delivered when I asked.

Once we were both on our feet, however, Lord Celebrimbor seemed to freeze, nerves playing across his features.

"Is something amiss? Are you in pain?" I asked, but he'd shown no sign of it thus far. He drew a deep breath, his cheeks turning a bright red.

"You needn't do this if you...if this causes you discomfort, I'm certain I could manage." He sounded so embarrassed. At my confused expression, however, he elaborated. "I do not wish to be improper. To force you to see...well, more of me than is decent."

The precious man. Was that all he was worried about?

"There is no need for shame," I murmured, "in my occupation, nudity is as common as leaves on trees. I shall touch you no more than is necessary, and the moment you wish for privacy, you need only tell me, and you shall have it."

Celebrimbor seemed relieved, which wasn't surprising since Sauron had been holding him captive. I doubted he'd been left alone for even a moment.

"I...do not wish to inconvenience you, but I...don't think I..." he stammered as he tried to compose his thoughts. "Washing might be difficult on my own. I should be able to do some myself, but the rest..."

Holding his good hand with my own, I gave him a gentle smile.

"It is no inconvenience, and you should not be made to feel guilty for daring to ask for help." After a brief hesitation he nodded his head.

"In that case, thank you, híril vuin. I would be glad of your assistance," he said allowing me to lead him to the bathroom.

Carefully, I untied the laces of his tunic, easing the fabric from his injured side and apologizing every time I even expected him to twitch in discomfort. His bare chest ought not to have surprised me; he was used to laboring in his forge. His defined musculature was well-earned. Once he was down to just his leggings, he blushed brightly, and he asked if I might step out while he got into the bath. He would still need help washing, so I would need to return, but I could easily grant him that.

"Thank you, my lady. I realize that it is silly for me to ask, but..." he shrugged and trailed off bashfully.

"It is not silly, especially if such a simple thing would help you feel comfortable. Oh, by the way, have you eaten today?"

"I believe so, but...several hours ago." Nodding quietly to myself, I formed a plan.

"Then, I shall have some food sent up. I'll just be in the other room, so when you're ready to wash, call for me," I ordered, and he nodded his head. "Do not be afraid to ask for help should you need it before then."

I expected him to protest, but he agreed easily, allowing me to pat his bare shoulder before I stepped out.

Locating the servant that Gil-Galad had assigned to us, I asked for a dinner tray, along with a plate of lemon cakes and a pot of herbal tea - a sweet combination that I knew Lord Celebrimbor favored.

Though the cakes would not heal his thumb, they were exactly what he needed to lift his spirits. Something familiar that might bring him some comfort.

Ducking back into the bathroom when he called for me, I saw that my patient now lay with his eyes closed and his head resting against the rim of the tub behind him. Injured hand aside, he looked like one of the Valar lounging after a battle - a beautiful, larger-than-life figure in resplendent repose. I almost hated to disturb him.

He'd clearly managed to clean his face and part of his upper body, but his hair and back needed a little attention, along with his right arm. As I approached, I did my best to keep from looking lower than his neck, staunchly ignoring the part of my mind that was too focused on how good he looked while wet.

I moved a stool beside the tub and picked up the washcloth that he'd draped over the rim. When I looked back up at him, Celebrimbor's eyes were already watching me as a small smile stole over his lips.

"May I touch you, mellon-nin?" I asked, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb the calm spell that seemed to have fallen over us both. Had his pupils blown wider, or was that my own wishful thinking?

"Of course, you may. You, of all people, need never ask," he murmured.

"If you want me to stop at any point, tell me, and I swear to you–"

Celebrimbor grasped my hand.

"I know, mîr-nin," he said leaning forward until his damp forehead could meet mine. "I trust you. You have never hurt me, nor would you ever do so."

Drawing in a shaky breath, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut. He'd never called me his jewel before. Surely, that was a sign of his exhaustion. Celebrimbor always had become softer and more prone to displaying platonic affection when he'd worked for too long, ignoring his own growing fatigue. As much as I wished it had meant more, I knew it never would, but as our breath mingled in this stolen moment, I felt a flicker of hope.

When we eventually pulled far enough apart for me to help him wash up, I tried to focus on the task at hand, rather than the feeling of my lord's muscles beneath my soapy fingers. Although, admittedly, I did allow myself the indulgence of giving him a small scalp massage as I washed his hair, combing my fingertips through his locks until not a single tangle impeded their flow.

Eventually, the water lost its heat, and I fetched a bathrobe and some towels from the side, bringing them closer for his use.

"If you would like me to step out..." I began to offer, but Celebrimbor shook his head.

"No. Truly, I should not have sent you out before. I was...Well, I feel much more like myself, now," he said, "and I have never been afraid of you seeing all of me. You know more of me than any other."

With a gentle smile, I moved the stool I'd been sitting on back to its place in the corner, draped a towel over my arm, and offered my lord my hands. He didn't hesitate to take them. Once he was on his feet, I glanced down to help him step out of the tub and–

Where toned thighs met, I was not at all surprised to see that his endowment was as attractive as the rest of him. And suitably sized.

My eyes met his, and I had no doubt he could tell I'd looked. Professional distance aside, I couldn't help giving him a mischievous smile.

"As I said before: you have no reason to be ashamed," I murmured, hoping that he could hear that which I was too afraid to say - the opinion which I, a mere healer, had no right to hold.

In no time at all, Celebrimbor was dry and wrapped in a soft set of silk robes. We thought it best, as he would be recovering from his ordeal for the next few days at least, to forego higher maintenance garments.

"Lemon cakes?" Celebrimbor asked as he took a seat on the divan that I'd moved farther into the sunlight - he seemed to savor it before. He looked between me and the tray as if attempting to solve a problem. "They're my favorite, but...how did you...?"

I couldn't help but smile as I crushed some herbs in a mortar and pestle, adding in some oils to bind the mixture together.

"You mentioned it the day we met," I answered. That day was one of my most pleasant memories, despite how it had started. The scent of dogwood blossoms still lingered in my memory as sweetly as perfume, lulling me back to that day as gently as a spring breeze.

"But...that was decades ago. Why would you remember something so trivial?" He asked, and looked up at him. Disbelief colored his features along with something softer - something I'd never dared to imagine seeing upon his face.

"Because it's something about you," I admitted as my heart hammered in my chest. Dropping my gaze back to the herbs, I tried to act as though I was still completely focused on creating the poultice my lord's hand required instead of my poor racing heart. Dropping my voice to a whisper, I both hoped and did not hope that he would hear me. "Everything about you matters to me."

Carrying the mortar and pestle over once I'd gathered myself, I took a seat beside him and lifted his injured hand.

"Forgive me. This will sting for a moment, but the oils should soothe the pain away quite quickly," I stated. With all the care I could muster, I scooped out part of the light green substance and dabbed it ever-so-lightly upon his wound. He didn't even flinch as I worked.

Truly, I should not have been surprised. Celebrimbor was a smith. He was used to injuries, even if they were not on par with...well, this. I'd set a broken bone in the same hand merely a decade before I was sent to Lindon, and even then he'd only let out a slight hiss of pain. Pride stabbed through me. Of course he'd escaped Sauron. How could he not with such strength?

My vision blurred as I reached for the gauze and cloth that I was meant to be covering the wound with, but I didn't truly process that I was crying until Celebrimbor brushed my tears away with his uninjured hand.

"What are these tears? Am I not meant to be the one in pain?" He asked giving me the same sweet smile he'd offered the day we met.

Turning just far enough to kiss his wrist, I tried to reassure him.

"I'm not in pain. I am more relieved than I have been in all my life." That was far too close to an admission for my taste, but after coming a hair's breadth from losing him, did I really want to stay silent for much longer? Carefully, I began wrapping his hand, ensuring that it was not too loose or too tight.

When I tied off the end over his palm, however, it occurred to me that after all he'd been through, Celebrimbor did not need a declaration of that sort after such a harrowing experience. He just needed a friend to be there with him. As that was all I would likely ever be to him, I smiled up at him and asked him how it felt.

"Perfect," he murmured in a lower, slightly rougher voice than before. Had I caused him more pain? Was the mix of oils wrong?

No. No, breathe. I'd treated Lord Celebrimbor before, and though he was the embodiment of kindness, he would've told me if something felt wrong. Perhaps he was tired? Yes, that was it. His long journey must be catching up with him. I'd noted the same when he was in the bath, so surely that was the only explanation. Carefully, I wiped my hands clean.

"We should change this in the morning and again before you go to bed tomorrow," I murmured, forcing out the professional advice that was so familiar to me. "We'll carry on like that for a few days, and see how you are healing as time progresses."

"As my healer wishes, but..." Celebrimbor trailed off, pausing as if he was considering whether to speak or remain silent. "You're...not leaving yet, are you?"

There was something vulnerable and frightened in his eyes now, something fragile that I was quite sure might break if I did leave. Instead, I smiled at him and shook my head.

"No, my lord. I will stay here with you as long as you wish," I promised, and his shoulders sagged in relief. After setting aside my supplies, I poured his tea how I knew he preferred it, and in the peace of Lindon's golden sunlight, we chatted as we used to. Since our correspondence had been so rudely prevented by a certain dark force, we filled each other in on all that we'd missed.

Celebrimbor insisted during that time, that I help him eat those lemon cakes. By the time the sun had begun to set, we'd even sent for a second pot of tea.

Amidst a lull in the conversation, Celebrimbor covered my hands with his own. My eyes flicked up to his, only to find him looking at me as if I'd hung the very stars in the sky.

"Is something amiss, my lord?"

"I should have told you years ago," he whispered. "I was a coward for so long. I only made it back here - back to you - by the sheerest of luck. I very nearly lost my chance entirely."

"After all these years, 'coward' is not a word I would ever think to call you," I said, but he shook his head.

"But I am. I have been so afraid that I would ruin the rapport that we've built," he insisted. "I am a coward, because I could not tell you until it was very nearly too late. I think a part of me hoped that if I could create something worthwhile...something to change Middle Earth, I would be worthy of risking the admission."

"What do you mean, mellon-nin?"

"My tunic!" He blurted, and at the alarm in his features, I startled.

"I don't understand. What about it, my lord?"

"Has it been taken away to be cleaned yet?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"No, my lord, I haven't had the chance, yet. I can do so now," I said, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank the Valar! No, don't take it yet, but...would you bring it to me?" Without hesitation, I hurried over to the table where I'd laid his clothing and pulled out his rumpled tunic. The stained green velvet had clearly seen better days. I sat beside him once more, and he folded the top inside out. Just inside the neckline, there was a small, concealed pocket. From within it, he pulled a velvet drawstring bag.

Discarding the tunic carelessly on the floor beside him, he took a steadying breath and offered me the bag. I accepted it cautiously, in case whatever was inside was fragile.

"This was the only thing I wanted to sneak out of my forge. The only thing that really mattered besides the nine," he said sounding more nervous than he had for most of the night. Darting his eyes between the bag and my face, Celebrimbor's tongue wetted his lips. "I meant to give it to you before you came to Lindon, but...I wasn't sure if...well..."

He trailed off and swallowed nervously.

"I feel fortunate to even have the opportunity to tell you, late though I am," he murmured. "Please...open it."

Carefully loosening the drawstring, I tipped the contents of the bag gently into my palm. Gleaming silver inlaid with the purest, brightest diamonds I'd ever seen sparkled up at me. Setting the bag aside, I lifted what I thought at first was a necklace, but upon its unfurling, I realized it was something entirely different.

"My lord, this is much too beautiful for one of my station," I protested looking up at him in awe.

"Nonsense. A circlet of a static shape would not adapt well if you wanted to wear your hair in more than one style. Such an adornment was a pleasure to make...for the Lady of Eregion," the last part of his statement came out as a whisper, and I froze. "I-I realize that title would not be applicable now, because Eregion is no more, but...I still wish you to have this. E-Even if you do not feel the same affection for me that I do for you, I still believe it would complement your beauty–"

My lips met his, cutting off his rambling. How could he think I would not want him? After all this time, after a century, I would've thought that I'd failed to hide my feelings quite spectacularly on several occasions. Lingering embraces, rather obviously adoring looks, spending practically all my time with him in his study and his forge - I had not been subtle, mentally berating myself on countless occasions for overstepping my bounds.

"I love you," I blurted as soon as we separated. "Since the day we met, I have held no other in higher regard. But...my lord, I am only Half-elven. You deserve so much better than me."

"Ridiculous. Of all the people I have encountered, you have done something that no other has: you have filled a hole in my heart which I did not know existed before we met. You have given me more to look forward to than just my work and my duties," he said cupping my face so gently between his strong, calloused fingers. The softness of his smile, the lines adorning the outer corners of his eyes - everything about him was so open and vulnerable that despite all the decades of accumulated doubts and fears, I believed him. "Meleth, your light chases away even the darkest of shadows. I love you, and I would spend my life with none but you."

When his lips claimed my own, he tasted of citrus, sugar, and courage. The next morning when High King Gil-Galad asked me to report on Lord Celebrimbor's condition, he noted the gleaming silver atop my head with a conspiratorial smirk and ordered me back to my patient's side. For his health, of course. If he called out a quiet congratulatory wish as I left, well, who could comment upon the thoughts of kings?

~*~*~

Elvish Words:

mîr-nin = my jewel

híril vuin = beloved lady

hir-nin = my lord

meleth = love

~*~

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