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inkskinned · 1 year

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one of the things that's so frustrating is how often the arguments against us are actually happening to us. we said - you need to watch out, this will evolve into allowing fascism into legal statute. and we were told: you're a sensitive snowflake. you're annoying and stupid and have no concept of reality. nobody really believes that stuff.

but it's indoctrination for kids to even see queer people. it's grooming for kids to even be around queer people. it's disgusting to even put rainbows on kids clothes. it's inappropriate, shameful, still-an-argument. like any of this is new - we know already. for you, even seeing someone unashamed is the same thing as "forcing" it onto you. because god-forbid you confront any internal thought you have. because god-forbid you practice empathy. rage is better, i guess. it keeps you pretty.

this has always been the way of some people - a while ago, it would have been "sinful" for my white mom to marry my hispanic dad. once, in the year of our lord 2015, someone told me that "mutts" deserve a woodchipper. that one particular insult stayed with me - not because it was the first or last, but because there was something so unbelievably violent about it that i couldn't figure out how to hold it. the idea that someone is so assured of their bigotry and rage that they would paint this kind of a picture. even jokingly, even with the anonymity of the internet, it kind of centered things for me. a sense that, for some people, their rage burned so unimaginably large that it blocked even the basic fact of my humanity.

at one point, while i still had enough fire in me to get into long arguments, one of the bigots i was "debating" (being harassed by) said: to be honest, it's about the sex, not the love. between you, me, and the four walls of this blue hellsite, i actually didn't really care for "love is love" as the slogan of our community. it seemed so placid, so gentle, so ally-focused. where was the vitriol? where was the hours i spent agonizing over myself? where was the quiet moments of my life, filled with the sound of other people's hatred? this static that settles over everything; even for the action of holding her hand.

the world is unfair. i am an adult, and without the veneer and small-pond syndrome of my teenage years, the slogan has started sounding more desperate. the more places i went, the more people i met. love is love. love is defending him on a rooftop bar. the drink she throws at me goes down into my shoes while i stand there, wishing i had a better retort than what the fuck. love is both of us, keeping our heads down, the black SUV full of frat boys (?) pulled up next to us, howling, for five whole blocks, until we both gave up and had to stick our bare legs into the thicket by the side of the road, giving over into tick country rather than let it go on any longer. love is a lazy spring afternoon, my hand on her belly, the fan spinning overhead. did you hear the whole thing about target?

did you hear about being the target? that's a fun little parallel, isn't it. it almost feels like the game that-is-about-me is being played without-my-participation. someone wants to set fire to my life, and i have to wait for a response from a capitalist institution. i am watching a tiktok where a white woman under white lights complains about adult swimsuits, even though i think a lot of people would benefit from having swimming options that are not "instagram-inspired bikini" or "impossible to move in but otherwise pretty".

sometimes it just seems so fucking stupid. like, just to check, the rage you feel and the hatred - you could really just avoid all of that by minding your fucking business. sometimes (and this is true): it's not about you, and people don't need your permission. like, i don't understand any obsession with sports, but it seems to make other people happy. american football literally results in grievous bodily injury - and yet there are onesies for babies that say future quarterback. i personally don't love it, so i just don't buy that stuff. i walk by it, and don't let it bother me. there have been so, so, so many times that i was told - "so what if he's a little bit homophobic, if you don't like him, don't watch his movies." "so what if they fired her. don't buy their product." "so what if they wouldn't make a rainbow cake. just don't support them."

sometimes i feel the meaning of it scud against my body, an orca whale inside of me, threatening the boat. it is too large to see from my place; this shadow of a thing that dwarfs my petty other-concerns. i need to find a dress for an event, and florida is passing more anti-gay legislation. i need to text my friend back and confirm our plans, and someone is throwing beer bottles to the floor in a walmart because a different case had rainbows on them. it is a long fall, if i look down into it; this sense like the bottom doesn't exist. like i have only ever dipped my toes in.

sometimes i am unbelievably tired of talking about it. it feels like it has become too trite in my own poetry - queer writer complains about the state of the world! how original! - and then something else happens, and i am here again. i remember that it isn't a moment. i remember it isn't a scattered population of cartoon evil-doers, intent on world domination from behind handlebar mustaches. it is a concerted effort of real people with real power who really-do want to see my end. it is a lifetime of dodging the beercan as it sails out of the back of the van. it is a lifetime of not-kissing once we leave the apartment. it is a lifetime of watching someone protest our existence and then, very slowly, giving them the finger. it is a lifetime of holding my friends' hands and hearing the same agony in their life that i lived through. it is us, together, our faces turned upwards, the night sky so vast, milky way overhead like a lacework zipper.

it is a lifetime of staring down woodchippers.

#writeblr #this got away from me #i love you #whereever you are. u are mine. i am yours. i am sorry this is happening

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welikeimagines-andfandoms · 8 months

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Kinktober Day 26: Overstimulation- Ivar Ragnarsson

Summary: Ivar shows his new wife just how much pleasure a cripple can give her

Word count: 2, 002

Many people would think that being wed to a prince would be a blessing, especially if he was a brave warrior as well, but those people did not have to marry Prince Ivar. Your mother had assured you that he couldn’t be too bad, but you had heard differently. The many awful stories from many people ran through your mind when you had to walk up that aisle.

Now you sat beside him at the celebration of your arranged marriage and he had still not spoken a word to you. He’d barely even glanced at you since you’d wed five hours earlier, even the kiss he had to give you was barely a peck. Although it was disappointing to have such an inattentive husband, from what you heard it was better than the wrath he could inflict on you.

Despite Ivar’s actions you still managed to have a good evening thus far, his three elder brothers being a lot more charismatic and funny than your new husband. Your previous anxieties were beginning to dull as Hvitserk and Ubbe continued to make you laugh with tales of their childhood and adventures.

While the alcohol seemed to make you feel more excited and Hvitserk and Ubbe to be more funny, it seemed to have the opposite affect on the youngest of the three, Sigurd. The more he drank the more passing comments and glares at Ivar he seemed to dish out. The other two brothers did a good job of distracting you to not notice, but the elder brothers, and unfortunately Ivar, definitely did notice.

So far others had managed to distract Ivar enough that he didn’t react as violently as Sigurd had hoped, that was until a certain comment seemed to cut just a little too deep.

“You know, Y/N, if you ever notice that Ivar is lacking as a husband, I’m more than happy to keep your bed warm in the evening. I mean hahaha I am sorry to say but he is a cripple with a cock that doesn’t work!” He loudly laughed, unknowingly embarrassing himself as he was the only one laughing.

The room stood still, most people in the large hall having heard the suggestive comment.

At hearing such a crass comment you couldn’t help but choke on your wine. It was the forwardness of such a suggestion that caused you to cough out your wine, but unfortunately Ivar thought you were laughing.

“This is my wedding, Sigurd! Y/N is my wife!” His intimidating voice boomed at his brother, startling you slightly.

“Ivar, careful.” Ubbe gently warned as all eyes landed on your table.

With dangerous eyes, Ivar snarled at both you and Sigurd before angrily hobbling away on his crutch.

Even though Ivar was apparently a brute and hot-headed, he was still your husband and you believed his reaction was warranted.

“Wait! Ivar!” You found yourself calling after him as you ran to catch up with the surprisingly fast Viking.

Ivar made you follow him all the way to your shared bedroom, his steps fast and full of understandable rage. If you hadn’t been quick enough to catch the door with your palm, it would have slammed right in your face.

Stepping into the spacious room you make tentative steps towards your rage-filled husband.

“Ivar?…” you quietly call to him.

His head quickly whips around to you, a rage-filled look etched onto his face. Before you could even attempt to calm him, he had you pinned to the door, his strong forearm digging into your chest.

“You are my wife and you laugh with my brother about me.” He angrily growled at you.

“Ivar- I-I…” You began, before his strong hand around your throat stopped you in your tracks.

Seeing your startled reaction to his anger seemed to switch something in Ivar. Though he was infamous for his rage and his bloodthirsty reputation on the battle field, you were his wife and though many saw him as a brute, he didn’t want you to despise him. Ivar had worried what you’d think of him or that he’d ruin his chance at this relationship working out, that’s why he’d been so distant.

His breathing seemed to calm, his breaths coming out in slow huffs through his nose. Though his grip on you loosened and his breathing slowed, he still had a dangerous look in his eye.

His eyes never leave yours as his hand around your throat descends. The light touches across your chest and abdomen surprise you, there was fire in his eyes but grace in his touch. As his hand makes its way to your hip, he grasps it tightly in a strong hold. Though his hold was strong, it was not violent, it was filled more with passion then pure anger.

“What my brother says about me is true, my cock does not work. Though I can not bare you a child, I can however still bring you pleasure and consummate this marriage.” He confidently declares to you.

His gaze was so intense and his voice so powerful, you had not noticed that both of his hands had moved to the neckline of your dress. It wasn’t until you heard a loud ripping sound and you were pulled slightly away from the door that you noticed where his hands had moved to. Your eyes widened and your body shuddered, but whether it was from the strength your new husband had just shown or from the sudden warmth of the fire on your exposed skin, you couldn’t be sure.

Taking his eyes away from yours, they traveled down to your now exposed breasts. His strong calloused hands began holding and squeezing them, looking upon you with marvel.

“You are a beautiful woman, and you deserve someone who can provide you with the pleasure you deserve. Let me show you how much pleasure I can provide.” He tells you, his eyes once again landing back on yours, his gaze softer now.

One of his hands leaves your breast, making its way to cup your cheek lovingly. You lean into his soft touch as he brings his face closer to yours. His lips press against yours in a kiss that is both gentle and passionate. Your tongues do not meet, but he seems to have no problem showing his passion and causing your core to flutter in excitement.

“Take off your dress and lay on the bed for me, my beautiful wife. I will show you just how much pleasure a cripple can give you.” He tells you, his forehead resting against yours as dominance returns to his voice.

Intrigue filled your body and mind as you quickly pushed off the door, the eager way you rush to remove your clothes causing your new husband to chuckle. His eyes never leave your body as new skin is exposed to him.

Finally laying on the soft furs of the large bed, you find your breathing getting heavier just from watching Ivar make his way over to you. Though he walks with support from a crutch, there is still dominance and power in every step.

Finding his place on the edge of the bed, his fingers lightly trace from your ankle to your inner thigh, goosebumps following the path of his light touch. His passion filled eyes meet yours again as his fingers inch closer to your core. Your legs instinctively bend and spread at his touch.

Taking his other hand, his strength surprises you once again as it wraps around your thigh and drags you closer to his seated spot. Your surprised yelp quickly becomes a moan as his fingers make contact with your warm wet core. He has barely touched you and already your body is alight. Dragging his fingers up and down the length of your pussy, his eyes marvel at the way your body responds.

“You’re so beautiful and you’re all mine.” He speaks softly, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

“All yours, Ivar.” Your soft voice speaks up, causing his head to shoot up, like you’re a dream he’s just realised is real.

His eyes become slightly dangerous again as his strong fingers begin to push into and circle your sensitive bundle of nerves. The way your head pushes back into the soft bed and the sweet moan that escapes your lips, drives Ivar wild. He craves to hear more of your sounds as he positions his body to be between yours legs.

Leaning down he begins to bite and kiss your already quaking thighs, desperately trying to pull more of those sounds from your gorgeous lips.

The feel of his fingers on your clit mixed with the hot kisses he leaves all over your sensitive skin is quickly pushing you to your release. You can feel your core tightening, desperate to come undone.

“Oooh-Ooohh! Ivar, I’m gonna cum!” You call out, your nails digging into his strong forearm.

“Mhmmm. Do it, my love. Scream my name and let everyone hear who makes you feel so good.” He demands, the force and speed on your clit growing more intense.

“Oh fuck! Ivaaarrr!” You scream out in pleasure as your head shoots back in pleasure and your nails dig into his skin harder.

As you lay there catching your breath, you barely register your husband manoeuvring your body to lay against his against the headboard, until you feel his fingers on your sensitive clit.

“Ooohh Ivar! It’s too much!” You pathetically cry out.

His strong arm wraps itself around your centre, holding your squirming body still. You attempt to escape the intense pleasure by closing your legs, causing Ivar to growl and bite at your neck.

“Do not deny me your sweet sounds, my darling wife. I wish to draw as much pleasure out of you tonight as your body is able to take. Be good and keep your gorgeous legs open for me.” He growls lowly in your ear.

Though the overstimulation begins to hurt slightly, you can not deny such a command.

Your next orgasm approaches embarrassingly quickly as you loudly shout Ivars names once again, your head slamming back onto his chest. Ivar chuckles delightedly at your state of overstimulated pleasure.

Once again giving you no time to come down from your orgasm, Ivar deftly thrusts two fingers into your wet pulsing pussy.

“Oh fuck!” You shout out in surprise at the intrusion.

Wasting no time, his fingers begin to curl and thrust into you as his arm holding your middle moves slightly to rub your clit. The combined pleasure of Ivars skilful fingers hitting the sweet spot inside you and rubbing deliciously on your clit is too much for your body to handle, and once again your body thrashes and scream out in overstimulated ecstasy.

“No more, Ivar, no more.” You weakly beg him, your mind feeling fuzzy and your body heavy at the way he’s now made you cum three times.

“Just one more for me, my gorgeous princess. I know you can give me one more.” He almost begs you, sweetly kissing the side of your face as his hand strokes along your inner thigh.

“Just one more.” You weakly nod to him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He excitedly chants as he kisses your cheeks and his fingers return to your clit.

The light chuckle that his sweet kisses cause are quickly cut off by a loud moan of pleasure. This being the fourth time of the night you will cum, your body takes barely twenty seconds before it is thrown into a feeling of blinding ecstasy once more.

The pleasured scream that leaves your body is animalistic as your body goes completely limp against Ivar. Breathing heavily, your eyes begin to close as you feel sleep taking over you.

“You did so well, my love.” He gently coos as he positions you under the soft furs.

His strong arms wrap around you and you feel a sweet kiss on your forehead before you fall into a blissful sleep.

#Ivar #Ivar imagine #Ivar x reader #Ivar the boneless #Ivar the boneless x reader #Ivar the boneless imagine #Ivar Ragnarsson #Ivar Ragnarsson x reader #Ivar Ragnarsson imagine #Vikings #Vikings imagine

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heyftinally · 4 months

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Y'all are going to like this one.

SWIFTIES DON'T TOUCH THIS POST WITH A TEN FOOT POLE, I SWEAR TO FUCKING HELL-

So my friend sent me this article, and I'm going to tell you why I think it's complete bullshit.

1) wishing us a happy Pride month is the BARE MINIMUM. As someone with her presence in the media and social influence, she could - and should - be doing SO much more than just wishing us a happy pride four days in.

2) "the singer has been an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community" not a good one. She seems to only remember us when it's convenient or benefits her in some way. Case in point:

2018 - "When it comes to feelings and when it comes to love and searching for someone to spend your whole life with. It's all just really really delicate. You know?" Taylor then performed her song "Delicate."

2023 - It’s painful for everyone, every ally, every loved one, every person in these communities.

In the first example, the intentional song reference comes off as extremely tacky. This is people's LIVES you're talking about. People are MURDERED for who they are and who they love (or don't love). This isn't an appropriate time to pull out the "oh-so-quirky" act and be cutesy.

In the second, the fact that she can't even center queer people in their own experience is so, SO telling. I promise, however painful it is for allies, it's 1000x worse for us to LIVE it. Allies don't have to wonder "am I going to get hate crimed wearing this?" before they leave the house - we frequently do. To not acknowledge that shows me that everything she says is performative at best.

3) I wouldn't call what she does "advocacy". She mentions us every now and then when it's convenient for her, profits off of us when we fit her marketing plan, and I've yet to find where she actually apologized for the homophobia in the original version of Picture to Burn. Also, she's real good friends with Travis Kelce's dad, who is a raging transphobe (and I bet his kids are, too). You don't get to call yourself an ally if you willingly allow the people around you to be violent bigots.

4) "always" is a strong word for someone who seems to show her support situationally at best. The full quote was "The way for that to happen is for us to continue to keep pushing governments to put protections in place for members of the LGBTQ community. And I promise to always advocate for that." Yet she doesn't do that.

5) what she speaks out, I've noticed that it's nearly always in the states that primarily agree with her. We don't see a whole lot of her "inspiring ally" speeches in places like Texas or Florida. But I've seen plenty of them come out of already notoriously queer-friendly places. If you aren't willing to face the heat of the difficult places along with the comfort of the easy ones, you don't get to call yourself an ally. Allyship is not easy. Anyone remember when Lady Gaga advocated for us in Russia, under threat of arrest, and her response was "arrest me, Russia! I don't give a fuck!"? Yeah, I've never seen even half that level of true commitment from Taylor.

6) STOP. MAKING. STRAIGHT GIRL SONGS. "GAY ANTHEMS"!!!! FFS it's such a slap in the fucking face of REAL, ACTUALLY QUEER ARTISTS that y'all keep calling these piss pathetic straight girl over produced crap songs "anthems". Fucking stop it. If they aren't queer, they don't qualify to be a queer anthem or icon. Start supporting ACTUAL queer artists with ⅛ this energy, for the love of FUCK. This bullshit pisses me off. Do you need a list of queer artists? I'll make you one by hand if you promise to stop trying to label Raylor Swift's straight girl shit songs as "gay anthems".

7) rainbows and gender subversion are not exclusively nor inherently queer. If that's our bar for "gay anthems", the bar is so low Lucifer himself needs a damn Webb Telescope to just barely see it from hell.

#anti taylor swift #taylor swift critical #anti swifties #swifties dni #SWIFTIES I SWEAR DO NOT TOUCH MY DAMN POST

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mechaknight-98 · 8 months

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Skyline (NSFW) Ft. Eunbi and Hyewon

Authors note: an unexpected and unplanned Eunbi/Hyewon fic. Enjoy

You wake up tied to your chair confused you try to move but you are chained.

“Oh good you are awake,” a familiar voice says to you.

You are done playing nice at this point though. You turn to the voice which is behind you, “Look I don’t know who put you up to this but you are going to get yourself killed playing this game. So I suggest you back off while you still have bones.”

“Oh, what your super-powered girlfriends are going to hurt me. No, I told them if they came here you're dead. Now if they want to see you again I am expecting a formal retirement announcement from Eunbi.” the voice said, you break out of your chains and groan.

“Oh you're Superior,” you say recognizing the voice.” look I am going to leave, and if you follow me or do anything to come for me I am taking you off the census,” you add as you get up and begin to leave. You turn to make sure he sees your face. As you walk out. His face is furious and you realize that you are going to have to kill him when he says,

“You think I'll let you just leave?” you shoot a laser beam through his skull vaporizing his nervous system. He fell to the floor dead. You groan as you fly back to your apartment. You do hate killing it was messy and left too many variables in play but you weren't going to let a D-tier hero keep you as a hostage or kill you. You had too much pride for that. When you open the door Eunbi and Hyewon are waiting for you patiently. You smile at your girlfriends. Eunbi approaches you with a cute pout. She has a needy look in her eyes. Hyewon sneaks behind her. Hyewon grips Eunbi’s bountiful chest and brings her tits out. Hoping you would fuck her wild tonight. She also wanted you to destroy her pussy as well but she knew Eunbi’s tits in combination with the bloodlust you felt after a kill would be more than enough for you to be ready, but she needed one more spark which came to her when she remembered what she caught Eunbi earlier

“You know this slutty hero has been getting off on your stories right? I saw her in the bathroom masturbating to a recording of one of your early fights.” to her credit Eunbi tried not to give into her arousal but when she was aroused she came fast and violently. She desperately screamed for you, “God Overlord I love your rage please take it out on my pussy. It's so wet and ready for you.”

Eunbi and Hyewon began to strip as they continued to watch you. Eunbi eyes you with hungry eyes as you take your cock out and give it a few precautionary strokes. Eunbi’s eyes are wide.

“Is my good boy going to let me suck his cock.” she says as she manages to pull away from Hyewon long enough to get close to you. You nod as Eunbi smiles.

Hyewon smiles behind Eunbi as the duo leads you to the bedroom. “He's not a good boy.” she teases. The three of you walk into the bedroom and they begin to strip you. Eunbi starts by slowly pulling your pants and underwear down. Your cock points at her aggressively. Eunbi looks up at you eyes full of rampant lust and pent-up frustration. You caress her face letting her know it's going to be okay. She subtly nestles in your touch. You can feel her worry about your safety fade, and in its place respect and lustful fear. She looks up at you and says, “How did you ever become a villain? Everything about you is so caring and considerate. You cook meals for us. You take us shopping, heck you cuddle with us all night. Everything about you screams safety. So what made your heart so dark?”.Eunbi asked as she swallows your cock.

You consider your words carefully and ask if she wants to know. Her responsive gaze is full of lust and adoration as she nods. You turn to Hyewon she smiles and mouths “Tell her.”

“Do you remember a new hero about 8 years ago named Skyline?” you ask.

Eunbi’s eyes squint as she struggles to suck you off while answering your question. She just wants to engorge herself on your rod, gag on it, and lose herself to the pleasure but can't because she needs to be present for the conversation she asked for. As she remembers your question she nods before giving a few more bobs of her head before breaking the connection and crawling to your side. She began to leisurely stroke you. You moaned. Hyewon began to kiss you. She loved when your mind was clouded by passion whether it be derived from lust or wrath as it always led to a “good fuck” afterward.

“So what was this about skyline?” Eunbi asked you.

“Well I was Skyline,” you said to Eunbi. Your voice was heavy with the sadness of the memories. Eunbi looked at you with eyes full of soft care

“Wait how? I remember hearing that you died destroying that meteor. The same meteor That destroyed Pleasanton.” Eunbi asked as she held you in her hand. She massaged your balls as your body confused jolted into her touch, as both several emotions blurred and mixed in your mind.

“Well the reports of my death were greatly exaggerated but the short story is. I got a call from the UNSA telling me that a meteor was coming down. What they didn't tell me was that in my dealing with it would still cause damage. See they told me it was a baseball-sized meteor. So imagine my surprise when it turned out to be the size of a minivan. The UNSA figured that the meteor would kill me and they get rid of the malcontent who was vocal about the way the bureaucracy ran superhuman endeavors, but that's not what happened. Now yes my tracker and super suit all burned to ash but obviously, I didn't die. My powers mutated beyond what they were due in part to two things, the exertion of trying to stop the meteor and the radiation that it gave off, but what really “killed skyline” was the aftermath. Because the president of the UNSA used it as a platform to install the Aegis program, which I was deeply vocal against. The worst part about it all was that. Oh god.” as you spoke Hyewon felt your rage swell and it aroused her. She took matters into her own hands and started stroking you faster until you couldn't take it anymore. You got up from the bed and lined your cock with her pussy before plunging in. Hyewon moans

“Yes babe give it to me,” Hyewon said

“You dirty girl,” you say to your girlfriend before you spank her ass. You thrust slowly at first giving her time to adjust

“Just fuck me. I need it.” Hyewon whined. You grunted in response and began to thrust harder and faster. Hyewon arches her back into you as your cock sends shock waves and ripples through her ass. She smiles at you.

“Damn Hyewon you're so wet and tight tonight,” you growl. As you continue to impale her with your cock.

“Yeah, babe I got so wet thinking about you fighting.” Hyewon cooed

“Oh so you like it when I'm bloodlusted,” you question

“Oh god yes. You always are so rough with me just the way I like. I get to feel your strength tear me apart.” Hyewon moans as you pick her up to kiss her. Her tongue rapaciously invades your mouth as she tries to dominate you, but you're in charge right now not her. You lift her and put her in the mating press position.

“Oh God. You're so deep.” she moans as you lift her off and on your cock repetitively. Having not tasted her tits in a while you lean down and begin to suck on her left nipple. It drove her crazy. Both Hyewon and Eunbi had sensitive nipples so sucking on them always elicited a favorable reaction. When you finished with the left nipple you attacked the right nipple. You notice Hyewon has a nosebleed but when you mention It she says, “Don't stop keep pounding my pussy”. as you came up from the air you saw Eunbi fingering herself as you dove into Hyewon again. The dripping sounds of her sex taking her fingers in and out serve as a double dose of dopamine as you pleasure Hyewon. Her wanton look encourages you to thrust deeper and harder. Your loins are burning with the desire to fill Hyewon’s pussy. As you turn back to face Hyewon after ravaging her right nipple She moaned then yelled, “I'm cumming.” you continue to fuck her through and past her orgasm. She began to scream at being overstimulated as you kept fucking her.

“You like how I fuck her,” you say to Eunbi who watches with vehement lust. She nods as she encourages you to continue to wreck your shared girlfriend. Her pussy is now audible from across the bed as the squelching noises tell you all you need to know. Eunbi is loving the show you're putting on for her.

“Fuck that slut till she can't walk anymore,” Eunbi says with unbridled lust and lidded eyes. You gaze into her lidded eyes that scream harder and more. So you oblige you continue to fuck Hyewon through her orgasm harder and harder until she finally uses the safe word

“Sea pirate.” she gasps. You immediately cease all of the activity and set her down. Hyewon breathes heavily as you look at her with concern. Eunbi also stops pleasuring herself to check on Hyewon.

“I'm fine I just blacked out. You were too rough and I got scared.” Hyewon replied. You nodded and let Hyewon rest. She tried to convince you to get back to it but in your serious voice you responded

“No, you're done for now. I got carried away and lost control.”

Hyewon groaned, “ I just needed a little breather but I'm good now. I wanted you to fill me up.” she wined

“Another time Hyem. Right now rest.” both you and Eunbi say in your serious voices.

The rest of the night is significantly less aggressive and just somber. You spend time working on various projects to alleviate your lust. Hyewon passes out after you two stop. Later into the night, Eunbi approaches on the couch. She tells you Hyewon is still sleeping.

“Okay good I'm worried I went too hard on her.”

“She’ll be fine. It isn't the first time someone has been rough with her in bed to the point of passing out.”

You nod then a question that's been on your mind pops into your head.

“Go ahead ask it,” Eunbi says with her adorable gap-toothed smile.

“How did you know I had a question.”

Eunbi pointed to your right hand, which was opening and closing repeatedly, “You do that when something's on your mind” she answered, “let me guess how did me and Hyewon meet?”

“No that wasn't my question. I know you all were a part of the same Hero collective before the corporation backing you all disbanded,” you answer with a shrug, “my actual question was why is everyone so obsessed with me seeing red? I mean a consistent theme of my life had been people tiling me up just to see the reaction. Don't get me wrong I love being so free and expressive but I don't want to always be that.” Eunbi was stunned at your question. She had always figured that you reviled in the depravity but as she considered it again everything about you was calm nurturing and peaceable. You didn't want to fight unless it was either needed or it was to refine skills. Everything you did was in the pursuit of Honor. Every Conquest every trial had a goal She thought. The more she considered your temperament the more It made her reconsider several of her opinions and ideations of you. It shook her but also weirdly aroused her. Like her mental image of you before was this wild and free spirit but seeing you in such a grounded and focused sense made her view even more as a strong man, and if there's one thing Eunbi loved it was strong men. You watched as Eunbi lost herself in thought at your question. You didn't want to interrupt but you were taken aback when she said,

“You'd make such an excellent dad I need to make you a dad breed me now.” your cock sprung to life at her words but your mind was reeling from the mental whiplash. “Excuse me?” you questioned

“I just realized that you'd make an excellent dad. So please fuck me and put a baby in me.” you squint as you listen because none of this is how you expected the chat to go.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #izone hyewon #izone eunbi #izone smut #kwon eunbi #eunbi smut #hyewon #hyewon smut

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peachdues · 9 months

Text

THE SWEET FAR THING — SNIPPET

Knight!Kyojuro x Princess!Reader • Royal AU

A/N: yes, there’s going to be smut, but there’s also going to be angst (because who am I if not the connoisseur of angsty romance?)

“Do you think this is easy for me?” Rengoku exploded, whipping around to face you. The fire in his eyes could have burned you alive, could have reduced the magnificent castle around you to ash. “Do you think it does not tear me apart to know that you are meant for another?”

Rengoku swore violently, his outburst making you flinch.

“That I cannot have you the way I desire — and I do not mean merely taking you to bed,” the knight’s anguish was palpable as he gripped at fistfuls of his hair. “I mean that I cannot claim you as mine for the world to see; I cannot kiss you. I cannot marry you. I cannot love you.”

Once, his admission — his confession — of his true feelings for you would have made your heart soar. That he would’ve wanted you as ardently as you’d longed for him would have soothed the inferno raging with your heart; tamed it to a steady, tender flame that burned for him and him alone.

Now, you only felt cold.

“And yet you’ve still taken liberties with me,” you fixed your gaze upon the stone behind his head, unable to bear witness to the way he visibly deflated. “You have touched me and tasted me with abandon.”

Even the cadence of your voice felt foreign. “Some would even argue you’ve compromised my virtue.”

It did not matter if he’d revealed the depth of his feelings for you; the earnestness of his confession was poisoned by his own actions — by his disregard for you in favor of his own selfish wants.

Rengoku dropped his head in shame. “I know.”

Your accusation had been made in earnest, and yet you recoiled all the same from the ugly stab of his words.

It would’ve hurt less if he’d hit you.

An uncomfortable silence hung heavy in the air until the knight roughly cleared his throat.

“And that is why I am to join the Hashira — why I am to leave the castle by the next full moon.”

Your lungs constricted harshly, your breath eking out of you in a pitiful, strangled wheeze. “Y-you’re —?”

His pained expression was a sure mirror of your own. “I cannot do it, Y/N,” he said roughly, not bothering with the formality of your title. “I cannot sit back and watch as you’re married off to another.”

The skin of his knuckles turned white as the knight balled his fists. “It is tradition that the Guards of both parties attend the consummation — to confirm the marriage is valid.”

Rengoku’s eyes screwed tightly shut, and his head turned stiffly to the side, as though he could avoid facing the ugly truth of it all. He exhaled harshly, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he worked to open his eyes once more.

“You cannot ask me to bear witness to that.”

And yet, he was asking you to endure life as a caged bird without even the hope to dream of flight; of him.

“If you leave, I will have nothing left,” you whispered, eyes wide and unblinking. “I will have no reason to continue on; nothing worth living for.”

Rengoku’s attention snapped to you in alarm. In a flash, he’d closed the distance between you, his hands locking around your shoulders, fingers digging uncomfortably — urgently — into your skin.

“Don’t,” he warned, voice low and full of anger. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t you dare even think it, not even for a moment.”

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kyojuro rengoku #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #kny smut #demon slayer smut #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader

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fettuccin-e · 11 months

Text

Strictly Stress Relief

Kinktober Day 21: Hate Sex

Tags: Javier Peña x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it irl i'm begging), pulling out method lol, hate fucking, semi-public sex (in a supply closet), slight amounts of pining because i am weak for romance (w/c: 1K)

A/N: Back to Javi because this man is a bastard but damn it I'd really like to bang him like a screen door in a hurricane,, anyway I also couldn't help myself from sliding in a little bit of yearning because I need the romance okay?? (For Kinktober I have been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

Javier doesn’t really know when it started, how it started.

He knows that you just get to him, in ways that he’s never felt before. You dig under his skin with smarmy comments under your breath, going behind his back with intel and planning raids without him involved.

“You’re reckless, Javier,” you say to him as an excuse, even as he looms over you, his jaw clenched with unshed rage. “It’s going to get you, or worse, somebody else, killed.” You're always so cool and collected, like you hadn't just stolen his fucking win.

He knows he drives you crazy with his methods of collecting intel, the girls that he brings in for questioning. He knows that you hate when he breaks protocol, and that you hate it even more when it works.

He knows that when you both used to butt heads, small arguments turning into full screaming matches at the office, he’d go home and drink half a bottle of whiskey, call one of the girls that always lets him treat her exactly how he wants. He’d fuck her rough, violent, working out every single bit of anger you’d stirred up in him that day. Usually, it was enough anger that it left the poor girl with bruises on her hips and a hefty tip in her bag.

What he doesn’t know is how he deviated from that habit, how he’s got you here, right now, pressed up against him in a supply closet of all places. He doesn’t know how he came into this new addiction, turning your arguments into excuses to fuck you anywhere, anytime.

He’s not sure you know how this happened either, but God, the way it feels inside of you makes him not want to fucking worry about it anymore. Your nails dig into his shoulders, a bite of pain that makes everything so much sweeter as he fucks you into the door of the closet.

You’re both making too much noise, but fuck, it doesn’t matter when you whine into his mouth, biting into his bottom lip.

“Fuck, Javi, harder, you have to fuck me harder,” you gasp, one of your legs hitched onto his hip to get him even deeper. The sticky wetness of your cunt is sticking to the wiry hairs at the base of his dick every time he pushes in deep.

“If I fuck you any harder, we’ll break down the goddamn door,” he grunts, but he grabs your hips anyway, pulling you into every one of his thrusts and grinning when you keen, your head tilting back to lean into the door. “Fucking needy, hermosa,” he grins, and you sneer at him.

“If you could fuck me better, maybe I wouldn’t be so needy,” you snarl, moving your hips forward to keep meeting him every time he drives forward.

“You say that I’m not fucking you like you need, baby,” he says, leaning close enough that his lips nearly brush yours. “But the way this pretty pussy is dripping down my cock tells a different story.”

He angles his hips just a little different, pounding up into your cunt, and he knows when he’s found it. That little spot inside that makes your eyes roll back, makes you clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle the way you scream. He slams up into that perfect little spot, over and over and over, relishing in the way you clench around him every time he reaches it.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, sweat beading on his forehead, his curls sticking to his skin. “So pretty like this, taking my cock so well. If I knew that this is what I needed to do to shut that smart mouth up, I would’ve been fucking this sweet pussy for months now.”

You gasp around a response, unable to form words as Javier breaks you apart, his cock jamming into parts of you that you can’t even reach on your own. He fucks you like he fights with you; rough, primal, reckless. Strangled groans rip their way from his chest, and fuck, he can feel his orgasm creeping up, threatening to blow him to pieces right then and there.

You have to cum first. He has to make sure you cum first.

He reaches a hand between you both to rub maddening, tight circles into your clit, and God, the way you whine, high in the back of your throat, will haunt his fucking dreams tonight.

You’re goddamn beautiful when you cum, an angel in real time, though Javier will never admit that out loud. This is strictly stress relief. Mind-boggling, life-altering stress relief.

Javier pulls out of you when you shake through the aftershocks of your orgasm, furiously jacking his cock in his hand and gasping at the way you look up at him, all doe-eyed and goddamn beautiful. You moan softly when he splatters his cum all over the outside of your pussy, letting it drip down your skin. It fuels something deep inside him, fills him with a sense of ownership that he should not be fucking feeling.

When you both finally catch your breaths, you pick your skirt up off the ground, yanking it up and over your hips. Javier ignores the fact that you don’t wipe yourself off, that you didn’t tug your panties back on. He absolutely does not think about the fact that his cum will be dripping down your thighs throughout your ride home tonight.

“You should-” you breathe, glancing up at him. “You should follow that intel we got today. You questioned that girl in the first place, it should be your win.” There’s something in the way you say “questioned” that makes his heart beat hard in his chest. It sounds bitter, jealous even.

You break from his gaze, not offering anything more than that as you tug on your heels.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Javier,” you mutter, and you slip out of the closet without another word.

#do i want to smack him or fuck him #the correct answer is both #javier pena x you #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier peña x female reader #javier pena fanfiction #narcos smut #narcos fanfiction

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samodivaa · 10 months

Text

Soul-debasing Interrogation

Winter Soldier x Agent!Reader

Both his mentality and body can withstand anything—to err is...human—you are the human in this situation.

Warnings - smut, rough sex, choking

Words - 2900

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His face is a reflection of the past, of what is left of his life before, but his humanity has long forgotten where it belongs. You are now looking at something resembling a semi-death state, you can’t even comprehend the present condition of his soul, the mental pain or unbearably oppressive suffering he has been put through—a living creature, somewhat both broken and whole at the same time.

His eyelids slowly open, dark orbs focusing on the floor as he lets out a loud groan. He has the violent urge to move, but behind his back, both hands are bound with rope designed to eat away at the skin when he moves, even slightly. His ankles are as well bound to the legs of the chair—he makes an internal scoff at his current state.

“Here we go” you are already standing in between of his wide spread legs, grabbing his chin in a painful hold, waiting to speak when his glossy eyes are fully focused on yours “Try not to let this room scare you.”

A slumbering rage is stirring, rippling just beneath the surface. You are on the borderline, caught between the tides of fear and fury—him looking at you without blinking dismembers you mentally, but at the same time convinces him of the necessity to fight your fear.

It’s been days and nothing works, he seems unbreakable.

“Talk”

his jaw between your fingertips, grip still painfully tight, fingers turning white.

You are so sweet with your business-like tone—just imagine ripping out the tongue, so you could never speak again.

You study his features for a moment longer before letting go of his chin to slap his face hard, frowning in a sign of dissatisfaction.

“I said talk!“

„Ты так красива, что я забыл что хотел сказать тебе“ (You are so beautiful that I forgot what I wanted to tell you)

He finally says after a dramatic pause, his voice carrying its mocking undertones.

„You sick son of a bitch!“

You slap him again, he doesn’t show any reaction.

„White clothes, белый как снег?” (white as snow)

You put your hands on his knees and bent down, to whisper in his ear.

„I will fucking kill you”

A thin line closes around his throat and goes through, slowly cutting into his skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. After this, his head flies back, manicured fingers whirling around his hair, the little hairs on the back of his neck prickling. A groan escapes his dry lips, one that he doesn’t realize he’d been holding.

You drop the thin plastic line and place one nail under his chin, moving slowly, fascinated, nova-flare blue eyes blazing into your own.

„Will you talk now?“

he just sighs, shifting uncomfortably.

„Fuck…“

you whisper, a hint of exasperation and affront in your tone. You almost laugh, guilt twines with another failed attempt of getting any information out of him—you looks down at his trousers, then your eyes widen

„You are enjoying this”

In a full-fledged case of desire, Soldat is able to form both mental and physical representation of the thing he wants now and you don’t plan on initiating action to diminish his state.

Winter snorts at your words and looks at you with a smirk. He is obsessed with the situation, fascinated by you, infatuated with you. He hungers for your taste, your smell, the feel of your skin touching his. He is burning with desire, but keeps quiet about it—that’s his punishment he brings on himself, but there is no way he is begging his enemy—even in this state.

“Yes, I am” he says, with a venomous sneer “My eyes are up here, darling” he breathes.

That uncomfortable feeling is spreading over you as your eyes lift up to his lips, watching them part, taking deep breaths, the longing for him grows especially strong. You stand as though hesitating, suddenly the blood rushes to your head and sends a glow to your cheeks.

You are unable to endure his persistent stare, but you raise your downcast eyes and you finally smirk triumphantly at him as you struggle to breathe, suddenly straddling his thighs, loosening all of the ropes.

Winter watches with growing interest as you lean down, tucking a strand of his dark hair behind his ear.

Soldat’s eyes are the interpreter of the animal lust beneath, there is an unhealthy sallowness in the color of his orbits, he doesn’t even blink—his body is tense, a steel trap just waiting to be sprung open, but you don’t know that.

Your greedy lips are on his skin, devouring everything you can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back your throaty moans. You drag your lips up his throat, along his jaw, back toward his mouth.

Eyes meet again.

The smirk on his face has disappeared and leaves an intensity behind in his eyes, narrowing into a glare. He is a silent fury who no torment could tame—but the finest fury is the most controlled, there is a murderous look in his eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

you cry, face white and distorted, with a wan smile.

He laughs spitefully “It's either kiss you or kill you, that's how I see it”

His soul is overflowing but with mingled feelings, no single sensation stands out distinctly, but there is a need in his heart and his body. He grabs you by the hips and gets up with an unexpected growl. Sexual perversions mix with lust and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity, dropping you slowly on the cold floor.

The moment your feet touch the ground, you want to scream, but you are cut off with a rough kiss on your lips. He grinds his pelvis into you, so you can feel his hard length against your lower belly, and grips your ass through the flimsy pants.

“I will fuck you” he croons his plans into your ear, and then places a cold palm around your neck “But you need to beg me”

Dominance. Control.

Winter has lost control over everything, even the places in his head… it's paralyzing…of course he has an obsession about female obedience—his human fingers start teasing the crotch of your panties.

You gasp into his mouth, and the opening of your lips let his tongue slide through.

Your arms come up around his neck and he pulls you against him, hands flatten against your back…and you are up on the tips of your toes, kissing him as fiercely as he is kissing you.

He pulls away from you briefly to say gruffly “Come on, I want to hear it” his soul, overflowing with rapture, yearns for your pleas, skin, touch “I know you want me” he whispers with implicit faith in his words.

A whirl of the most fantastic notions takes possession of his brain when your eyes meet again—he clings to you more tightly, knotting his hands in your hair, wordlessy begging, hands sliding down to your waist.

He raises the metal hand to his mouth, sucking on his fingers before the slightly damp digits are sliding into your panties and teasing your aroused folds and you exhale sharply, turning into a whining mewl as he circles your clit with ease.

“Say it”

he chuckles ruthlessly as the other hand bruises the skin on your waist, while his thumb circles down under your clit, closer to your entrance, fluids start to leak out. Your eyes meet again and something dangerous sparks, you suddenly feel your legs growing weak under you.

“Please-” you whisper, trembling with need and delight.

Winter almost stops when he hears you, his own breathing hitches a bit. He is watching you with an icy expression, voice falls to a whisper, as though he’s talking to himself

“Keep begging” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

“Please, don’t stop”

You shamelessly lift your leg up, placing it across his lower back and he swipes his thumb over your now throbbing clit before using two fingers to spread your lips apart. You never felt such stretching. It is cold and uncomfortable, but he forces his fingers inside as far as he can. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, your skin breaks out into a pale sweat as he eases into a slow rhythm, curling his fingers inside, fracking, until your body twitches and walls clench around his fingers.

“Need me more” He pistons in and out of you as you clench around his fingers “Beg me more”

Every synapse in your brain short out—the gut-wrenching terror you feel, with a balance of sweet pleasure slide into mindlessness—

“Please, I need more, I need you-” you are cut off with an involuntary moan of rapturous pleasure, you are so close.

Those who constantly hunger for control outside of self are undoubtedly starved for peace inside of self—it doesn’t fucking matter, does it?

You’re powerless, weightless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his gaze as he is staring at you, time stops. Those eyes are piercing yours, this is what makes you cum, he looks at you like he owns you.

The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, he rasps something in your ear as he mouths against the skin of your neck, but you are too lost to hear it.

You are pushed against the wall, he tilts his head back and lowers his lips to yours and they get bitten to the point of bleeding. Winter feels a metallic taste on his tongue as he pulls back to admire his work, licking his lips, smiling disgustingly.

The sharp taste of blood only whetting his appetite. Winter wraps long slender fingers, around your throat, squeezing slightly and the feeling is too cold for it to be a human hand. His mouth is so close to your ear it makes your hair stand on end as he presses his hips against you, licking along the shell of your ear.

It is arousing, but dangerous—very dangerous.

Your other hand trails down his abdomen to his belt, and a finger dips in before you retrieve it—teasing him, the other hand still rubbing small circles on the tip. He shifts closer so his hardness presses against your hand unwillingly to your plans.

His right hand digs fingers into the flesh of your waist, the grip turning bruising and hard as before—the metal one now resting on the wall close to your head—as a warning, a reminder of the power he holds.

„Don’t you dare stop“ he whispers, the bite of his threat lost somewhere in his need for you to touch.

You need moments to unbuckle his pants, and Winter continues to trail your skin with kisses and whines when a hand slides into his boxers, the other holding closely to take the large cock in your small hands, covering it as much as you can.

You look down at his slick cock and nearly gag at the idea of just having it in your mouth, you want to be on his knees for him.

Drops of pre-cum drop to the floor.

Winter clenches his metal fist, trying to resist the urge to moan loudly, closing his lips he inhales through his nose, face contorting with openly weeping pleasure. He groans in reply, unable to fight your gentle touch, trying to fuck himself against the grip of your hands, too small to cover his whole length, throbbing with delight of that thought, orgasm begins to creep up on him.

You can’t help, but hang your jaw in bewilderment at the sight before—he is falling apart from the need to come, all he can do is tighten the grip against your waist—to urge you to please him.

He lets a choked moan escape his lips as you start to move your hands up and down, languidly stroking at his cock—his metal fingers whirling naturally around your neck, squeezing, not enough to break it, whines and whimpers escaping him as if he has no control over them any longer.

You observe every reaction and sound with wide lips and sultry eyes—heavy breathing from both of you as the pleasure hadn’t stopped yet—mesmerized yet almost confused as you’d never seen a killer be so needy for an orgasm, but you don’t dare comment.

“Don’t slow down”

He breaths out, eyebrows furrowing, his eyes shut, only grunts fill the cold air.

He opens his eyes, glossy and unfocused, and his face is deeply flushed—he is faced with your eyes stained with tears as you struggle to breathe—you nearly lose consciousness, how fragile your body is and how strong his is.

He chuckles at the sight—lust twisting his features, the grip around your neck finally loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by erratic breathing.

He uses the moment to prise his tongue into your open mouth, forcing himself into you. You try to push and trash, but he holds you firm against the wall, his tongue sweeping over your lips, against your teeth, claiming you—leaking your tears.

Tasting the life he can easily take away from you.

You wiggles slightly, when he rips off your pants off, those piercing blue eyes trying to get a glimpse of your nakedness as his cock is still out, his fist tightening around the base, stroking slowly as his eyes drift south—dragging his metal finger slowly through your slit, the other hand once again moves on the waist in the same place—it hurts, bruises already forming from his tight hold.

It is obvious that Winter is not human, his body, his dick is too big to be human. You shiver at the sight of his length, hard and needy. His eyes are completely blue, with no pupil or white, two seas full of desire—he will drown you in them.

Soldat lifts your leg to gain a better angle to your hole. Your lips are slick and swollen, but the opening is stretching tight around his cock, trying to enter you completely, you cry out, your back arching at the pain. You freeze, blood running cold as he slaps you hard across the face.

The dark-haired man stares back with ill-concealed suspicion.

He is big, wide and fills you deliciously—every time you assume that he's fully sheathed, he pushes in a bit more and makes you moan loudly.

You buckle your hips as best you can despite his rough movements, meeting him thrust for thrust, desperate to feel him buried inside of you.

He is rough with you, not taking his time, not easing you into it.

“Please, slow down, it is too much-”

“Shut up and take it”

he trembles at the way you say beg, because of him, his mind was a blank canvas accosted by nothing—now, it is all about you, about pleasure.

And you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as if you are his prey. He thrust with force, you don’t even have time to adjust, he is too eager.

You moan both from pleasure and pain—It's so tight, squeezing the life out of his cock and he loves the idea of hurting you, it is too erotic not to think about it. He fucks you with lazy, slow thrusts, just enjoying the sensations of sex.

“You are taking me so good” he pants against your throat

he enjoys the suction feeling onto his cock, pummeling your cunt ruthlessly, hitting over the tender spot and you groan, loudly. Your throat feels raw from all the moans.

You exist there, whimpering, taking a fortifying breath, feeling the approach of your own orgasm, compressed by him as he ravages you, marks you.

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You immediately bite your lip, panting, stopping yourself from moaning more, but your spine bends back and your body stretches taut, insides clenching and spamming around his cock—the sound that escapes your lips is so unearthly that it drives him to the edge.

He slams into you as his cock explodes in an endless amount of cum, overflowing out of you, dripping on the floor. He groans as he continues to slam into you, even as you feel overly sensitive as your own orgasm reaches its peak.

He leans down, far enough that the dark ends of his hair brushes feather-light against your face, his metal hand is around your throat, squeezing tightly—you lose consciousness, thinking that he is killing you, but you just pass out.

Sex is another practiced art to him. Each move is calculated. His brain is programmed to perform, his body seducing his prey with ease, noting each response of his target.

Fear and seduction, repulsion and attraction—that's how corruption is spread, turning squalor and nastiness into thrill, seduces the target into his own web—and leaves with the corpse on his hands.

What a devilish creature, master of the art of Death and Seduction, all its nuance, all its depth and complexity—but he spared your life?

#okay but hear me out #winter soldier smut #winter soldier fic #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier fanfiction

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dancingbirdie · 1 year

Note

hi! can I request Astarion x Tav where Tav is crying (same innocent type Tav from your last fic) and Astarion has to comfort them? (like after his confession scene in act 2 but before his final quest please?) tysm for your time!

Ask and you shall receive, my dear anon! Although a word of warning: this fic has a lot of fluff and a whole lot of angst. Also damn I really explored some of my own shit in this fic and am feeling very vulnerable but also very good. PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS/TAGS BEFORE READING <3

If I could nominate a song that inspired this writing, it would be "When The Lights Go Out" by Gabrielle Aplin.

The Dark Sun

Word Count: 1.6K

Rating: Teen

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of death, grief/trauma response to death of loved ones, mentions of blood, emotional pain, hurt & comfort, FLUFF, ANGST, non-sexual comfort, Astarion x GN!Tav, Minor Act 2 spoilers.

None of the others had ever seen Tav like this. They weren’t about to let anyone see them in this state now. After all, Tav was the sunshine of their party. Sunshine had one job; it was in its very name.

It isn’t true. It isn’t! Get away from me. Go!

Sitting in their tent, as far away from the other party members as safely possible, Tav was powerless to stop the replaying of Arabella’s words over, and over, and over, in their mind. They saw in their mind’s eye the maelstrom of emotions that had played across the young tiefling’s face when Tav gently broke the news that her mother and father had been killed. Shock. Anguish. Disbelief. Rage. Despair. Resentment.

Tav knew those feelings well. They had felt them before. They still felt the echoes of them, even now, so many years after the death of their own parents. Tav had been so like Arabella in their youth. They had recognized a kinship with the tiefling as soon as they met her in the Emerald Grove. To be the one who ushered in those emotions for someone so young and so full of unbridled joy - it was a cruel irony. To be that bearer of such unspeakable news, to a mere child.

Though Tav knew that time would eventually take the immediate sting from this news, they also knew from their own experience that Arabella would forever be scarred. Even before she was aware, the world had been violently reforming beneath her feet. Life would never be as it once was. And the knowledge that they would forever be intertwined with Arabella’s memory of losing her parents, even if those deaths had not come at their hands, felt like opening the fissure in their heart all over again and injecting acid throughout its crevices.

The reality of it all had Tav doubled over, sobbing into their hands in a feeble attempt at hiding their pain from the rest of the camp. None of the others had ever seen Tav like this. They weren’t about to let anyone see them in this state now. After all, Tav was the sunshine of their party. Sunshine had one job; it was in its very name.

Most of the time, Tav didn’t mind being that cheery glue that held people together. It was a role that was helpful to others, and they had performed it very well throughout their life. It also had the added benefit of distracting Tav from hosts of problems that were better left in the far corners of their mind. Seeing them like this, in this state of despair? It would topple the whole façade. And given where they were, in a bleak forest of darkness, fumbling through perpetual night, Tav knew the party needed sunshine more than ever before if they had any prayer of making it through this area alive.

So, no, Tav resolved to work through this pain in solitude. They had done so before. They could do it again.

***

The Shadow-Cursed Lands were not exactly an Eden for animals that could quell Astarion’s thirst. Most of the beasts were either blighted or dead. Given this, Astarion had purchased an ox and some boar from the Harpers at the Last Light Inn for the express purpose of draining their blood and storing it in vials he could consume along the way. Gale had come up with a handy little spell to keep the containers cool and prevent the blood from spoiling. He estimated that those reserves, coupled with Tav’s generosity of allowing him to feed off them, would be enough to keep him stable for several more days.

He heard the sound as he was exiting his tent to retrieve a vial of ox blood from the camp supplies.

Muffled choking sounds. Someone was…crying? He piqued his ears, concentrating to locate the direction from which they came.

Tav’s tent. He was sure of it.

Pitched as far away from the others as possible, Astarion had thought it odd earlier in the evening that Tav had positioned themselves so far away from everyone, including himself. Normally, they rested at the dead center of the camp, where they could easily chatter and joke with the rest of the party. But, given his own proclivity for solitude, he hadn’t pondered it further, assuming Tav had just needed some quality time to themselves.

Hearing their quiet sobs now, in the middle of the night, Astarion could have kicked himself for not realizing sooner that something was wrong.

Though he had confessed his feelings several days ago and found them wholeheartedly reciprocated, his new… status… with Tav felt like learning a new language. A language with an alphabet wholly different than anything he had ever known. He certainly wasn’t fluent yet. He wasn’t even sure if his ability to… speak it, per se… was passable. But, if for nothing else, he was grateful to Tav for their patience and understanding as he navigated this entirely foreign situation. They never asked for anything more than he was willing to give, and that empathy continued to compel him to try. For himself. For Tav. For their future prospects.

Of course, knowing all of this made Astarion feel all the more worse for failing to intuit Tav’s emotional state. They were not exactly a closed book. Had he not have fallen back on old ways of thinking and processing people’s behavior, he likely could have recognized the signs of Tav’s distress. But 200 years of habits and mindset was hard to break. He could hear Tav’s voice in his head, gently reminding him to be patient with himself, to afford himself grace.

They were always giving him the space to be vulnerable. This time, he wanted to try providing them with the same assurance.

Astarion quietly padded over to Tav’s tent and cleared his throat in a somewhat awkward attempt at announcing his presence.

Immediately, the sobbing ceased. “Um, just a moment!” came Tav’s watery reply.

Astarion listened carefully to Tav’s quiet sniffles and movements about the tent. He assumed they were quickly trying to right themselves, slip that cheery mask they wore so well back on. The thought broke his heart.

“Tav, darling, can I come in?” he asked softly so that their fellow party members would not be able to hear.

“Oh sure, are you thirsty? I was just lying down… resting,” Tav added lamely before finally poking their head out from between the tent flaps. They gave him a tiny smile, a weak attempt at normalcy, before pulling back and making room for him to enter.

Astarion seated himself across from Tav, who began rearranging their pillows and preparing for what they assumed to be another feeding session. He took in their ruddy cheeks, their tearstained eyes, swollen from crying so much. Tentatively, the movement still so foreign but becoming more familiar, he reached out a hand to cup their cheek.

Tav stilled at his touch, sucking in a breath. He watched as tears began welling in their eyes.

“Darling, you don’t need to hide your pain from me,” he gently intoned.

Tav gave a breathless laugh, traitorous tears leaking down their face.

“I didn’t want any of you to see me like this. Especially you,” they warbled, sniffling.

“And why ever not?”

“I’m ‘Tav The Sunshine,’ remember?” they said with a self-deprecating grin. “The sun only ever shines on us. That’s its job.”

“But the sun isn’t always shining,” Astarion reminded them softly. “Times of darkness are allowed.”

Tav released a quiet sob. “I don’t… w-want you to see that darkness. It’s too much… I… I can’t-”

Seeing Tav fall apart before his eyes, so broken and disconsolate, the urge to take them in his arms felt like second nature. Not a foreign language at all, not a struggle to initiate a touch. Astarion couldn’t explain it; his subconscious had known how to respond and barreled through all those years of self-loathing, manipulation, and disgust to reach out for Tav. Quick as a flash but so very gently, he pulled them into an embrace, maneuvering them so they sat cradled in his lap, their arms wrapped around shoulders.

“My sweet, sweet Tav,” Astarion crooned as they cried into his shoulder, tears quickly dampening his nightshirt. He raised one hand to push back the locks obscuring their face and softly caressed their cheek.

“I want to tell you something,” he continued. “And I want you to truly listen... I’ve walked in darkness for over 200 years. Mostly alone. Committing depraved acts against others in the service of a master who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end… There is nothing - nothing - in your darkness that could scare me away. I swear it.”

Tav raised their head to look at him. Slowly - as one would approach a wild animal - they raised their hand and kept it hovering right beside Astarion’s face.

That Tav would still be thinking of his comfort, even in their abject sadness, unleashed a powerful wave of… some strong emotion in him.

Is that love? Is that what it feels like? He thought.

He couldn’t be sure. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Acknowledging their silent request for consent, Astarion pushed his cheek into their hand. He turned his face for a moment to kiss their palm. He felt Tav shudder in his arms.

“You’ve already borne so much sorrow in your long life, Astarion,” they whispered. “You deserve lightness and levity from your partner.”

“And you have given me that every day since we met, darling,” he returned, carding his fingers through Tav’s hair. “But we also agreed to share something real between us. That isn’t possible if you hide a part of yourself away. You deserve space for light and darkness inside yourself, Tav.”

They sat in silence for some time, Astarion allowing Tav to empty their tears onto his chest, until they were finally calmed.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Tav finally sniffled.

“Shh, shh. There’s no space for apologies here, love. But, there is space to share your pain. And I’ll carry it with you, as you do for me,” Astarion promised.

And in that quiet night, in the heart of the Shadow-Cursed Lands, Tav opened their darkness to Astarion.

And he was not afraid.

#dancingbirdiewrites #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldur's gate fanfiction

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gilbirda · 5 months

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I'm just a simple guard, man

Part 6 of my Danny is an Arkham Security Guard AU (og tumblr post)

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

<< Prequel - Clown around and find out | First Part

There was silence and tension as they watched Batman go through the motions, tying up the unmoving but awake Joker and moving him to somewhere closer to the entrance. Joker was surprisingly responsive and lucid, just mellowed and obedient. Somehow it made it better — if he was a vegetable Jason knew Batman wouldn’t let that go until Danny undid what he had done.

Danny.

The Ghost King.

Jason didn’t know exactly what that meant. Heck, until today he didn’t know that ghosts were kind of a thing. Mythical creatures, he could buy. Apparitions, imprints of conscience that were unavenged — that he could buy too. But a Ghost King implied an organized society with status and a legal organization. A power structure.

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention that.”

He turned towards the doctor well aware his face showed every emotion.

“The fuck?”

“Did that really happen?” Duke was trying to keep calm, but his eyes were wide open and his hands slightly trembling.

“Yeah?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“But—”

“How the heck—”

“ — how did he do that —”

“ — did he set him on fire!”

“ — and is he even human?”

“Children,” Alfred stood from his seat, positioning himself between the brothers and their guest. “Let her breathe.”

“It’s okay, Mr. — uh…” She blushed as she realized she never asked for his name.

“Alfred,” the butler smiled, “Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Mr. Pennyworth,” she nodded politely. “I’m fine. I am aware that after that… theatrical spectacle, explanations are needed.”

“Indeed.” Batman cut in the conversation. “Proper explanations are in order. After I deliver the Joker to Arkham.”

“You can’t be serious!” Did the old man go crazy? Back to that place?

Jazz frowned, seemingly sharing his thoughts. She leaned closer to the microphone and spoke in a controlled voice. “Where are you delivering him? In the hospital.”

Bruce took way too long to answer, so Tim did it for him. “Through the front door?”

Jazz didn’t find it funny. “Wait for me.”

“What?”

“I said, wait for me.” Jazz reached for her discarded jacket, eyeing the door to the elevator back to the manor. “Joker is my patient and I need to be there.”

“What for?”

She turned to look at Jason. “He doesn’t deserve to be left at the mercy of some of the people in the Asylum. They could—”

“He can rot for all I care.”

The vigilante walked up to her, getting in her way and using his height and build to scare her into submission. Jazz held his gaze, defiant, muscles tense and ready to throw down if needed.

“You don’t know that place like I do.”

Jason huffed. “Whatever the inmates want to do to him, he deserves it.”

“I wasn’t talking about the inmates.” Her teal eyes steeled with fury. “Arkham has a history of staff abusing their authority.”

Duke glanced at Alfred, unsure what to make of that statement. He quietly stood up, getting ready to intervene in case Jason decided to get violent; but Alfred held him back with a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“Again, he deserves it.”

Tired of craning her neck to look up at him, Jazz stepped back. “He deserves the judgment of the people he’d hurt in the past — something my brother and I can promise you will happen.” Given what they saw in the camera feeds, nobody doubted the siblings could ensure it. “But I’m not going to tolerate that my patient spends his last years alive being unnecessarily abused.”

“I told you—”

“What do you think,” she interrupted Jason, her gaze cold and her body tense, “will happen if someone dies full of rage? If in their last moments they wish they could enact vengeance on those that harmed them?” She narrowed her eyes, knowing her words were hitting something in him. “What do you think will happen to the Joker’s soul if he’s abused and tortured at Arkham, and probably killed, after he crosses the Veil?”

“I—”

“A huge pain in the ass, it’s what will happen.”

The tense silence could be cut with a knife. Duke couldn’t understand how Jazz not only managed to stare down the six foot something tank that Jason was, but she also commanded the attention and respect. He was a newcomer to the place and he had done more than enough crazy stuff during his time in a gang; but he still struggled with openly challenging Jason and Cass. And Tim, but that was when the vigilante fell into his weird mumbling-in-the-dark episodes.

“I’m taking you there.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the garage section of the cave. Jazz yanked her arm free and stopped to cross her arms.

“I can walk on my own.”

Jason bristled, opened his mouth to continue their fight, but apparently that was when Alfred had enough.

“If you want to get there in time,” his voice was neutral, controlled, and his face wore his signature arched eyebrow, “I'd recommend leaving right now.”

His tone was final.

Jazz and Jason looked at each other, frozen under the certified Alfred glare. They nodded and walked quickly towards where Jason’s signature red bike was parked.

***

Arkham Asylum was a mess when the duo arrived — police cars flooded the entrance, and the Batmobile stood out like a sore thumb in the midst of all the red and blue lights flashing around.

Jazz cursed under her breath. She would have preferred to not turn the situation into a circus.

They managed to walk through the sea of cops and civilians looking in the compound from the metal gates. Funny enough, the few guards blocking the way didn’t move to stop them once both glared at them at the same time.

Jazz made a beeline at the Director chatting animatedly with Batman. Black Bat was standing a bit back with Red Robin, probably discussing what just happened with Danny, but the Arkham doctor didn’t care about them.

“I demand I see my patient.” Jazz didn’t beat around the bush.

The Director blinked and slowly looked away from Batman, as if he couldn’t believe someone had the audacity to interrupt this moment. “Miss Fenton—”

“Doctor.” She corrected him.

The man cleared his throat, throwing a nervous glance at the silent Dark Knight.

“Doctor Fenton,” the word was spit like it was a curse, “your shift doesn’t start until eight.”

“But the Joker is my patient and I know he’s in there.” She gestured at the looming Asylum with her hand. “After such a traumatic event I need to see him.”

Someone coughed a laugh behind the Director. At least the man had the decency of hiding a smile.

“The Joker is not going anywhere, Miss— Doctor.” He added when she glared at him. “You can schedule a session tomorrow. That is, if your patient is up for conversation.” With that, the man deemed their conversation over and turned back to Batman. “Once again, thank you so much, Batman. I’m not going to ask how you did it this time, but we will certainly appreciate the results.”

Jason was as happy as everyone else that Joker wouldn’t be a problem anymore, but the way this bastard was treating Jasmine was outright criminal. He squared up for a fight and tried to step forward, but a cold hand on his forearm stopped him. Jazz moved her eyebrows up and her eyes went over his body before she looked back towards the police. Several new vehicles joined the party — all the Gotham news channels were here to record the event.

And he wasn’t wearing his suit. Right.

He nodded and remained where he was, but made a gesture towards where the Director was waxing poetry about how good Batman was for their city and how much the city owed him.

Do you want me to beat him up for you? He wanted to ask.

Jazz chuckled, hiding her smile behind her hand. She shook her head and patted his arm a few times.

“Thanks,” she whispered, “but not today.”

He didn’t know how serious she was. This was the same person who pulled a gun at Red Hood and five seconds later forced him into a therapy session. The same lunatic that was excited about having the whole bat flock in her apartment so she could question them.

For the first time since the alarm sounded about Joker’s escape, Jason let himself relax a little bit. Jazz was crazy enough to take on Arkham’s finest and leave victorious.

“Director Kallwick,” her voice was pure steel, “I’m afraid it’s imperative I see my patient after such a traumatic—”

“I think there’s something you are not understanding, Miss Fenton.”

“And what is it?” She crossed her arms.

The Director raised an eyebrow, now fully facing her. It didn’t escape Jason how the man squared his shoulders to look bigger and overpower Jazz. He had seen that behavior way too many times, in many different situations — and he didn’t like it when men like the Director used it against people that couldn't fight back, specially women.

He glanced at Bruce, trying to gauge how much the old man would flip if he intervened anyway. He trusted Jazz, but he really didn’t like the Director right now.

“I’m positive that after today’s… development,” he smiled, “things at Arkham will definitely change. For the best, of course.” He raised an eyebrow. “Starting with streamlining our staff and making sure we count on experienced doctors to treat the patients that really need it.”

Was he implying…?

Jazz hummed, regarding the man with as much contempt as she allowed herself to show. “I know you don’t like me, Mr. Kallwick. You never did. I know you hired me because you needed cannon fodder to sacrifice and keep the Joker entertained.” She smiled. “I’m young, but I’m not stupid. And I know men like you — weak, scared, and cowardly.”

“Hey there young—”

“I know you’d rather let your staff die than develop better and healthier outlets for patient’s destructive tendencies.” She lifted a hand and walked closer, poking the man’s chest. “I know that you look the other way when guards and doctors mentally and physically abuse inmates because you actually think they deserve it.” She poked him again.

“I don’t—” He went to grab her hand.

She moved away from him so quickly and so smoothly that it looked like a dance step.

She smiled. It wasn’t nice. “And I know all about what you’ve been doing with the funds and donations.”

Even in the middle of the noise from the crowd at the gates, you could hear the man loudly swallow.

“I know about the embezzling and the bribes and the interesting filing mistakes and convenient registration mishaps, Mr. Kallwick.” Her eyes slowly turned greener. It was subtle, but you could see that her usual teal color suddenly looked greener than blue. A trick of the lights, you could think, but the bats knew better. “I know you don’t care how or why the Joker is unresponsive, but I do; and if you want me to stay in my lane I highly recommend you stay in yours.”

The man processed her words, the thoughts clear in his eyes. He was probably thinking how she could have found out, or who told her, or how was he going to silence her better.

Jason saw the switch to the later thought as clear as day.

Bruce saw it too.

Before the man said or did anything else, the tall and quiet shadow of Batman placed himself behind Jazz, one hand on her shoulder as an obvious sign of his support. The other two bats placed themselves on the sides of the Arkham doctor, arms crossed, looking down at the man who was realizing too late the mistake he made.

***

“Are you still mad?”

“Hm.”

“You sound like the old man.”

Jazz glared at him, violently stabbing her ice cream cup and breaking her plastic spoon.

“You may need to deal with those anger issues. Have you thought about going to therapy?” He said with a bright smile.

She stood up, not caring about attracting attention. Who was going to pay attention to them, Jason didn’t know. It was way early in the morning — or late at night, it depends on how you see it — and Jazz had demanded they go to the closest ice cream place that was open.

Luckily he knew a place, because of course only in Gotham someone would be crazy enough to have an ice cream shop open at this hour.

“Some vigilantes, and some rogues, really like ice cream. It is an untapped market.” The man running the place said when asked, shrugging like it was obvious.

Jazz sat back down, now with a new spoon, and continued eating her sweet monstrosity of layered chocolate and dulce de leche.

“If you are this mad I highly recommend you take it with Bruce. I’m sure he will be very understanding and accept your feedback.”

She kicked him in the shins, rolling her eyes at his sarcasm.

“Whatever you say, mister Daddy Issues.”

It was his turn to kick her, but she was expecting the movement and moved away before he made contact. She smirked, taking another bite of her ice cream with a smug smile on her face.

God, he hated older siblings and their knowing smiles.

He prepared to kick her again..

“Don’t even try,” a new voice said, the person taking the empty chair on their little table. “Jazz is like a ninja when she really wants to.”

Jason wanted to differ and explain he had trained with literal ninjas, but the speed at which she whipped a gun on him not that long ago came to his mind. Was it a liminal thing? Or a Jasmine thing? Maybe a Fenton thing?

“Hey.”

“Hey back at you.” Danny sighed, taking Jazz’s ice cream cup and biting directly from the top layer. “That bad, huh?”

Jason bit his simple chocolate cone, watching the siblings talk.

“She’s mad because B scary dog privileged his way into making the Arkham Director submit and it undermined Jazz’s authority. She did a neat speech and everything.” He shook his head. “All wasted.”

She huffed and stole her ice cream back. “I didn’t need his support.”

“I know you don’t.” Danny glanced at Jason. “But it’s better if you have Batman’s backup, yes?”

Jazz ignored him.

Jason took the chance to look at Danny, trying to find anything that was different about the young man. He still had the scene back with Joker burned in his mind.

King of the Ghosts.

He would have never guessed, given the scrawny and sleep deprived raccoon of a man sitting next to him. He was still wearing the same shirt and under the fluorescent lights of the ice cream shop, it was easier to see the scars on his arms and hands — and the ones peeking from under his collar.

“Spit it out.”

“Huh?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “You have questions. Ask.”

“I don’t—” He tried to deny it, but thought better about it. Jason bit his ice cream and cleared his throat. “I want to ask about —”

“Of course you want to ask about what happened.”

A soft thump! came from under the table, and given Danny’s glare at Jazz then she probably kicked him for the sass.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why are you being so forthcoming?”

“I’m feeling charitable today.” Another kick from under the table. “Ok, ok! No need for violence.” He sighed. “Jazz’s right. This is not my territory. If we want to stay, we have to play nice with you guys.”

The way he said it, and the way he made a face when he said it, told Jason that Danny was really struggling with trusting the bats with the information. Trust issues he could understand — one wasn’t in their line of work without being betrayed or hurt enough to warrant these issues.

No. It was something deeper.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

There were many questions burning in his mind and he didn’t know how long they had. “Why… Gotham? Why Arkham? Why a guard?”

“You just wasted your time man. You already know the answer for that.” He pointed at his sister, who nodded in agreement. “I followed her.”

“And I came here because I was interested in the rogues.” She added, licking her spoon clean.

Jason shook his head. “I meant — why is the King of the Ghosts… just… here?” He lowered his voice, glancing at the ice cream man. The man was half asleep on the counter and clearly not listening. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

Danny responded with a dry laugh. “I have no interest in being the king of anything.”

“But?”

He looked away, suddenly very uncomfortable.

Jason glanced at Jazz, but she was glaring at the table.

“What happened?” He poked the siblings, trying to be soft. It was obviously a touchy subject, and whatever happened was painful enough that they’ve been avoiding any mention of their past before Gotham like the plague.

“It was… It happened a few years ago. I defeated the previous Ghost King, but nothing happened for a while. I thought… I thought things had calmed down since ghosts stopped attacking my town so often. And then, after I graduated highschool, the Observants started harassing me about taking the throne.”

“Did they hurt you?” Jason didn’t know what these “Observants” were, but he could guess from context.

Danny shook his head, stealing Jazz’s ice cream again. “They were fucking annoying, but they couldn’t touch me. As the Prince, I was technically their superior and untouchable.” He bit the cold treat and chewed. Somehow Jason wasn’t surprised Danny never got a brain freeze. “It was a few more years of avoiding them and trying to keep peace in town, as well as trying to get to know the Infinite Realms.” He chuckled again. “I even considered, for a moment, that being King wasn’t even that bad.

“It was a pretty normal day when it happened. I went to the mall with my friends. Sam, she — She had a fight with her parents and went there to cool down and cheer her up. The ghosts came first,” he pushed the ice cream back to his sister, and avoided Jason’s eyes, “but nothing was out of the ordinary. We fought. I defeated them. More and more kept coming, faster than I — than we could contain them.”

“I was away at college, but I later learned that it was a massive all out attack on just Danny.” Jazz placed a hand on Danny’s. “It was a coup attempt.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know that so many people were against me being King, and all that time they were planning the attack, and if I just paid a little more attention… If I wasn’t so—”

Another kick under the table. Danny cleared his throat and tried again.

“The GIW came as well. Things went from bad to worse, and by the end of the day it was an all out war between us, the ghosts doing a coup and the GIW. With our parents at the head of the attack.”

Jason frowned. “But you guys knew they worked with the GIW.”

Jazz gave him a warning look. “We knew they collaborated and consulted for them. We knew about the patent weapons.”

“But we didn’t know that they’d lead an attack on me.”

Danny did a brief pause to breathe, and stole more ice cream from his sister. She just pushed the cup towards him, apparently done with the treat.

Jason followed where the siblings were going. “They knew you’d be at the mall. That… That Phantom would be at the mall.” Danny looked up, his tired eyes confirming his thoughts. “They knew.”

It wasn’t a question.

Jazz nodded anyway. “We don’t know how long they did, but the truth is they knew about Danny. And went for him anyway.”

Minutes ticked by. Jason and Danny made quick work of their ice creams, lost in thought. Jazz checked her phone, frowned, and typed a few messages before putting it away.

“People died.”

Jason blinked at the non sequitur. Danny swallowed the last of the ice cream and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Neighbors, friends, people I knew. That day. They were fine and then they were dead.”

Guilt. It was clear as day.

“Is not your—”

“Don’t.” He cut him off. “Please.”

Jason nodded and decided to move on. “So you won the fight?”

“Barely. The ghosts were either captured by the GIW or retreated when they became outnumbered. Tucker and Sam managed to mess up with the idiots in white’s machines and weapons long enough for us to retreat. But we knew that wasn’t the end of it.

“We packed what we could and I hid at Sam’s, with the excuse that I would help her while she recovered — she broke her arm at the fight. We were a hundred percent sure if… if Jack and Maddie actually knew I was Phantom or not, but just in case.”

“I stayed. They didn’t target me so we were positive they didn’t know about me being liminal, so I stayed home.”

The vigilante frowned at Jazz. “What for?”

“Someone had to monitor them to see what they knew exactly. I also hid away any weapon they could potentially use against Danny.” She shrugged. “Not that it actually helped, because neither came back home in the weeks after the incident.”

“They were at the GIW base.” Danny crossed his arms and leaned back on his seat. The young man looked tired. “Because of course there was work to do with the captured ghosts.”

Jason hummed. “So they’ve been working on experimentation since then?”

Jazz shook her head. “We were telling the truth when we said they weren’t involved in that, at least not by the time we left Amity Park. Back then they were more involved in investigation on ghost containment and weapons research.”

He nodded, and turned back to Danny. “And the coup?”

The young man cursed under his breath. “Dealt with them.”

Jason waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What—”

“Listen, man.” He slapped the table and stood up. “That doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. I dealt with it. I accepted the damn crown and then told everybody to fuck off. And they have done that so far.” He breathed in, breathed out. “I’m nobody’s king, I’m just a simple guard now, okay? Nothing more, nothing less.”

With that, Danny walked away and left Jazz and Jason simmer in the tense silence. He looked at her, trying to gauge if he had said the wrong thing, but Jazz appeared apologetic.

“Before you ask — I don’t know either. Nobody does. He just… after we took down the GIW base, he took the captured ghosts back to the Realms. He came back two days later, hurt and barely coherent, and never spoke of what happened there. To anybody.” Not even me, the hurt statement was implied. “He was… changed. He didn’t say what happened but from what we could piece together it was bad, very bad.”

A myriad of possibilities crossed Jason’s mind. How bad is “very bad”? How much did Danny stir things up at the Realms that he had remained unbothered ever since? He tried to map the scars that he saw, and grimaced at the idea of two straight days of fighting after doing a raid to the GIW base.

Danny was done. With being a hero. With fighting. With trying to do the right thing.

What was even the “right thing” here? Going back to being the King of a dimension that doesn’t want him and he doesn’t want in return? Give it up, and risk someone worse taking control of so much power? Destroying the GIW? Going after their own parents?

He thought about the Joker. He asked Jazz when she was back from checking on the clown, and she willingly shared some details about his state. Jason never felt sorry for the fucker, but gained a new appreciation for Danny and his abilities.

The power to take someone’s soul and seal it inside their bodies — what else could he do? What other otherworldly and potentially devastating powers did he have at his disposal?

What else was he choosing not to face? What else was he running away from?

He stood up and followed Danny outside, finding him standing in the cold morning rain of Gotham. It wasn’t pouring, but it was easy to get soaking wet if you underestimated it.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

Both ignored the door when Jazz quietly followed them out of the ice cream shop.

“Good.” The younger man looked up at the gray sky, maybe looking for the sun. Water droplets fell down his face, and he welcomed them with a relieved, albeit tiny, smile. “Because I don’t have anything else to say.”

Jason rolled his eyes. What a drama queen.

He glanced at Jazz, who was shaking her head. “Whatever you say, edgelord.”

She pulled Danny to her chest for a hug, which he only protested with a tiny grumble. Jason chuckled before he was pulled in too by a surprisingly strong grip.

“If I have to suffer sisterly hugs then so do you.”

Jazz giggled but welcomed the addition to her arms, not caring that she could barely hold both of them and her arms fell short. She squeezed them harder towards her chest, humming in delight.

Great, she was a hugger. Jason really didn’t need another Grayson in his life.

<< Prequel - Clown around and find out | First Part

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