#if this was a fic i'd never recover i think

[taegularities]

this is so random but

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Love in the Times of Charles | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

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Summary: Y/N and Max are on a stealth mission to keep their relationship under wraps. But with rumors swirling faster than a car at Monza, Charles's overprotective instincts kick in—cue the concerned brother alarms! Meanwhile, the boys offer about as much help as a flat tire, with plans so ridiculous they might just need a pit crew. Will Y/N and Max dodge Charles’s protective wrath, or will this love story end up in the wall? Strap in; it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!

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A/N: just wanted to ask if anyone feels annoyed or don't like it when smau fics have story parts? like I don't want to do the confessions and some of the things on text and I wanna write about some of the behind the scenes too and the only way to do that is to write it in a story format but apparently some people don't like that? like what is you guy's consensus on this?

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Part 5 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series: Masterlist

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: Thought coffee was gonna be the most stable thing in my life but even that got replaced by matcha ☕️💔

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Did the coffee leave you for someone else too?

      ↪ y/n_leclerc :

At least coffee doesn’t need a grid penalty to get close to me.

      ↪ danielricciardo:

This roast is hotter than the coffee 👀

      ↪ charles_leclerc:

Don't make me call FIA on both of you.

      ↪ y/n_leclerc :

Charles, pls, I’m still recovering from your last safety briefing.

      ↪ landonorris:

Max back to roasting? Is this the plot twist we’ve been waiting for?

user1:

Why are they roasting each other again? What happened to 'Max is definitely into her'?!

user2:

THE FLIRTING ERA IS OVER?? MAX AND Y/N ROAST ERA INCOMING 🚨

user3:

WE NEED ANSWERS. WHY ISN’T MAX FLIRTING ANYMORE??

DMs between Max and Y/N:

maxverstappen1:

Still thinking about our coffee date this morning. You looked way too good for just a casual date. 😏

y/n_leclerc:

Lol please, I literally rolled out of bed and threw on a hoodie. But I’m glad my ‘effortless chic’ fooled you. 😉

maxverstappen1:

Fooled me? No chance. I knew exactly what you were doing. Strategic as always. 😌

y/n_leclerc:

Strategic? I just wanted caffeine, Max. But if you’re calling my bedhead a ‘strategy’... sure, I’ll take it.

maxverstappen1:

Whatever you call it, it worked. Couldn’t stop staring at you.

y/n_leclerc:

Max. You’re so sappy today, what happened to your 'too cool' attitude?

maxverstappen1:

That went out the window the moment you started dating me. Now, I’m just soft. For you. 🥲

y/n_leclerc:

Soft Verstappen? I never thought I'd live to see the day.

maxverstappen1:

Only for you. Don’t tell the others, though. I have a reputation to uphold.

y/n_leclerc:

Your secret’s safe with me. But honestly, I’m loving whatever this is. Us, I mean.

maxverstappen1:

Same. This whole 'flirting in public and pretending everything’s normal' thing? Chef’s kiss. Watching people lose their minds over it is the best part.

y/n_leclerc:

It’s like we’re living rent-free in their heads. The comments are gold. Especially the ones trying to figure out what the hell is going on with us.

maxverstappen1:

Like the one saying we’re secretly married already? That one almost made me spit out my coffee. 😂

y/n_leclerc:

I saw that! They’ve got theories for days. The one where we’re 'just friends' but you’ve been flirting for a whole week straight? Love that for us.

maxverstappen1:

Right? Like, I was literally flirting non-stop, and now they think we’re back to picking fights with each other like nothing happened. 😂

y/n_leclerc:

We're driving them crazy and honestly, I’m having the time of my life watching it.

maxverstappen1:

Same. But I kinda miss not having to hold back on the flirting. 😏

y/n_leclerc:

Oh yeah? How would you even flirt if you didn’t have to hold back, Verstappen?

maxverstappen1:

I’d take you somewhere nice. Like, I don’t know, a fancy restaurant maybe? 😎

y/n_leclerc:

Smooth. Are you asking me out again?

maxverstappen1:

Depends. Are you saying yes?

y/n_leclerc:

Let’s say I’m free… where are you taking me?

maxverstappen1:

Somewhere where you won’t be able to just wear a hoodie. Gotta dress up for this one. 😉

y/n_leclerc:

A challenge. I accept.

maxverstappen1:

Perfect. Friday night. I’ll pick you up.

y/n_leclerc:

Can’t wait. 😘

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: Dinner for one but looking like a 10 ✨

Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

carmenmmundt:

You’re killing it! 💅 When’s our next girls' dinner??

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

Whenever you’re ready to throw George’s credit card on the line again. 💳😉

      ↪ georgerussell63:

Excuse me, why is my financial ruin the theme of your dinners?

lilymhe:

Okay but where’s MY invite?? You look too good to be dining alone.

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

Lily, your absence was felt, the waiter asked where my better half was. 🥲

      ↪ alex_albon:

Pretty sure he asked that because you flirted for a free dessert.

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

And it WORKED, Albono. That’s called strategy.

      ↪ maxverstappen1:

Dinner for one? Weird, thought you’d be out there terrorizing other diners.

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

Terrorizing diners? Max, I’m not the one who scarfs food down like I’ve been starved for days.

      ↪ maxverstappen1:

That’s called efficiency. You wouldn’t know, with how long you take to pick an outfit.

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

Efficiency? More like desperation. And excuse you, I picked this outfit in five minutes

      ↪ danielricciardo:

Efficiency is just code for ‘I’m hungry and scared of forks.’

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

Daniel gets it. Max probably uses chopsticks like they’re drumsticks.

      ↪ maxverstappen1:

Bold of you to assume I even use utensils.

      ↪ landonorris:

He just drinks soup straight from the bowl. Classy.

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

Honestly, that explains a lot.

      ↪ charles_leclerc:

What is happening in these comments?? Also, Y/N, you look great but maybe stop tormenting Max in public?

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

He does that all by himself, Charles. I’m just here for moral support.

      ↪ maxverstappen1:

Your moral support feels more like public humiliation.

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

You’d miss it if I stopped, Verstappen.

user4:

Y/N and Max fighting in the comments AGAIN, this is the content I live for.

user5:

Max is trying to pretend like he’s not impressed but we all know the truth.

user6:

Plot twist: Max was the one taking the picture at the restaurant.

alex_albon:

maxverstappen1 Why are you pretending you're not paying for that wine?

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

EWW who’d go to dinner with him??

      ↪ maxverstappen1:

And yet, here you are, missing me at dinner.

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

Not as much as you miss your table manners.

user7:

"Max & Y/N: Endless banter, zero chill."

user8:

Y/N is out here eating fine dining alone while dragging Max in the comments, living the DREAM.

user9:

At this point, they should just get married and keep roasting each other forever.

user10:

Wasn’t Max all flirty in the last chapter? WHAT HAPPENED?!

user11:

Max flirting era is over 😭

user12:

Plot twist: Max and Y/N are in a secret relationship where they flirt by insulting each other.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: Monza weekend!! Supporting my favorite Ferrari boy, Charles! ❤️ Let’s get this Win!!

Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 320,456 others.

Comments:

charles_leclerc:

Let’s do this!

user13:

President of the Charles Leclerc fan club, reporting for duty.

user14:

As always, our queen is a Ferrari stan first.

user15:

She’s so loyal to Charles, I love it.

user16:

Imagine supporting a guy and then getting spotted at Red Bull later. Sis, pick a side!

user17:

Did anyone else see Y/N on the Red Bull side?? 👀 I smell drama.

landonorris:

Are you hyping Charles because you have to, or because you want to? Asking for Max.

user18:

Girl, why are there rumors you were seen near Red Bull? 👀

user19:

If I see Y/N at Red Bull again, I’m going full detective mode. Like, pick a lane!

user20:

MONZA DRAMA INCOMING 🚨 Did she swap allegiances?!

pierregasly:

Bet Max is gonna ‘conveniently’ miss this post.

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

He’s too busy finishing ahead of you to notice.

      ↪ pierregasly:

Unnecessary.

maxverstappen1 posted a photo:

Caption: Calm before the storm. Let’s get it. 💪

Liked by charles_leclerc, y/n_leclerc, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

y/n_leclerc:

Storm? More like a light drizzle with a 10% chance of embarrassment.

      ↪ maxverstappen1:

Says the girl who can’t walk in heels without tripping over nothing.

      ↪ georgerussell63:

This is the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever seen.

      ↪ alex_albon:

George said what we’re all thinking.

user21:

They fight like an old married couple but without the actual marriage.

f1_gossips tweeted:

SPOTTED: Y/N Leclerc cheering for Charles at Monza, but sources claim she was ALSO seen at the Red Bull garage earlier. Trouble in Ferrari paradise? Or is Y/N just mixing allegiances? Stay tuned for more.

Comments:

user22:

This girl is living her best double agent life.

user23:

Y/N is just here for the drama and we love it.

user24:

I’m convinced she’s trolling us all. A queen of chaos.

user25:

She’s doing what we all want to do—have a Ferrari brother and a Red Bull ‘friend’ 😂.

user26:

Ferrari fans about to lose it 😂

user27:

Plot twist: she’s there for the energy drinks.

user28:

She’s definitely with Max. No other explanation.

user29:

Charles is gonna crash into Max out of pure sibling rage, I can feel it.

user30:

Y/N in the Red Bull garage?! Someone call Charles, this is a scandal!

user31:

This is the chaos I signed up for. I NEED MORE TEA.

user32:

Not Y/N being Ferrari’s biggest fan and then sneaking over to Red Bull. Iconic.

user33:

Ferrari by day, Red Bull by night?

user34:

She’s playing both teams and we stan.

user45:

Charles has no idea his sister is secretly living a double life.

user36:

How long before Charles throws Max into a wall, tho?

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: CHARLES WINS AT MONZA! I TOLD Y’ALL 🔥 FORZA FERRARI, FORZA LECLERC 🚀❤️

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 520,439 others.

Comments:

charles_leclerc:

Best fan out there ❤️ Grazie mille!

user37:

She’s literally the president of the Leclerc fan club.

user38:

Low-key love how Max isn’t even on her radar right now.

user39:

I give it 10 minutes before someone spots her with Max and the chaos starts.

user40:

This is why Y/N is the ultimate sister.

user41:

She’s living her best life as Ferrari royalty, honestly.

user42:

I’d celebrate Charles winning too, if I didn’t also think she was spotted on the Red Bull side.

user43:

Wait, no, seriously, can someone confirm if she was actually with Max at Red Bull today?

f1_gossips tweeted:

BREAKING: Charles Leclerc wins the Italian Grand Prix in stunning fashion! Meanwhile, sources at the post-race afterparty spotted Y/N Leclerc getting cozy with none other than Max Verstappen. Are the rumors true? Check out this pic below!

Comments:

user44:

Bigfoot and UFOs have more clarity than this pic, but I can still see Max.

user45:

Y/N said Ferrari win, but Max is the prize.

user46:

She went from Ferrari girl to Red Bull real quick after that win, huh?

user47:

Charles won the race, but Max won Y/N.

user48:

Y/N’s living her best ‘support Ferrari but flirt with Red Bull’ life.

user49:

Blurry or not, I KNOW that’s Max. The man’s silhouette is unmistakable.

user50:

Y/N and Max cuddling up after Charles' win?? Ferrari fans, we okay??

user51:

Monza afterparty tea is always the spiciest.

user52:

I can’t believe she’s out here celebrating with Max after her brother won.

user53:

Y/N’s like, ‘Congrats, Charles, but I gotta go check on my Red Bull guy real quick.’

user54:

This girl’s got her Ferrari heart and Red Bull eyes 👀.

user55:

Plot twist: Max and Y/N are secretly dating and just troll us all online for fun.

f1_gossips tweeted:

MORE DRAMA: After celebrating Charles’ win, Y/N Leclerc was allegedly spotted again at the Red Bull garage. The blurred lines between Ferrari and Red Bull have fans in a frenzy. Is Y/N really just here this weekend to ‘support her brother,’ or is something else brewing between her and Max Verstappen?

Comments:

user56:

I’m convinced she’s playing us all for fun.

user57:

Y/N’s trolling everyone, and honestly, I’m here for it.

user58:

I don’t care who she’s with, I just need answers!!

user59:

I swear Y/N’s gonna give me a heart attack with these mixed signals.

user60:

Charles winning, Y/N maybe dating Max, and blurry gossip pics—F1 drama is at an all-time high.

user61:

I’m starting to think Y/N is the real mastermind of the entire F1 circus.

user62:

Next race, Charles is taking Max out for ‘unrelated’ reasons. Bet.

DMs between Charles and Y/N:

charles_leclerc:

Y/N. WHAT IS THIS I’M SEEING ABOUT YOU AND MAX AT THE MONZA AFTERPARTY?!

y/n_leclerc:

Charles, relax. What are you even talking about?

charles_leclerc:

RELAX? I’ve seen the pictures! Cozying up with Max? The one guy you literally fight with all the time? What the hell is going on?!

y/n_leclerc:

Oh my god. First of all, I would rather fight a swarm of bees than 'cozy up' with Max. You really think I’d be into that? Insufferable, annoying, always-has-something-to-say Max?

charles_leclerc:

The pictures don’t lie, Y/N. You were standing way too close. What were you doing with him?!

y/n_leclerc:

We were arguing, obviously. You know that’s like our thing. Five minutes in the same room, and he’s already saying something dumb. I’m just trying to live my life, and he’s there, being all Max-y.

charles_leclerc:

Arguing? That’s it? You swear?!

y/n_leclerc:

Yes! We were literally just arguing. You know, me calling him a pain in the ass, him being all smug. Classic Max-and-Y/N content.

charles_leclerc:

Mon dieu, Y/N. You scared the hell out of me! The way these gossip pages were talking, I thought you two were about to get married or something. 😤

y/n_leclerc:

Married to Max? I’d rather shove my head in a tire wall. Relax, Charlie. Nothing is happening. It’s just Max being his annoying self, like usual.

charles_leclerc:

Okay, good. I don’t need that headache in my life. Gossip pages making a big deal out of nothing as always.

y/n_leclerc:

Yeah, chill out. Like I said, I’d rather throw myself into a DRS zone than let that happen. 😂

charles_leclerc:

Good. I thought I was going to have to block you from every race event if something was going on. Max Verstappen... ugh.

Groupchat: “The Snafu Society”

y/n_leclerc:

GUYS. WE HAVE A MASSIVE PROBLEM.

(sends screenshot of her convo with Charles)

What the hell am I supposed to do?? Charles is going to KILL me when he finds out I’m actually with Max and I lied about it!

lando.jpg:

Ohhhh, you are so screwed. 😂 Like, RIP Y/N. 💀 It was nice knowing you.

georgerussell63:

Big yikes. I’m sending flowers to your funeral. What’s your favorite color?

alex_albon:

Maybe you can tell him Max saved a kitten from a burning building? Or like… became a monk? You gotta soften the blow somehow. 🐱🔥

danielricciardo:

Tell him Max is actually a long-lost Leclerc cousin. Boom. Problem solved.

maxverstappen1:

EXCUSE ME?! A Leclerc cousin? Why am I suddenly part of the family? also that's incest?? 😂

y/n_leclerc:

I’m SERIOUS! He’s going to legit lose it! I’ve been stalling but… there’s no way out of this. What if he literally crashes into you on track, Max?? 😳

maxverstappen1:

Okay, calm down. He won’t crash into me… I hope. Maybe. Probably.

lando.jpg:

Definitely gonna crash into you. Like, 100%. F in the chat for Max.

danielricciardo:

New idea! Fake your own disappearance! Hide in a bunker until the season’s over. It’s flawless.

alex_albon:

Or just make Max wear a disguise next time you two are together. Like, put him in a Ferrari hat, maybe Charles won’t notice.

georgerussell63:

Ferrari hat? Genius. Max, you good with that? 

maxverstappen1:

NO. I’m not wearing a Ferrari hat. 😤

y/n_leclerc:

This is NOT helping, you guys! Max, are you just sitting there being all calm about this?

maxverstappen1:

Look, we’ll figure it out. Worst case, I’ll just charm him with my winning personality.

lando.jpg:

Winning personality, Max? The only thing Charles is winning is the fistfight with you when he finds out. 😂

danielricciardo:

Tell him you’re pregnant. Just drop it like a bomb. He’ll be too shocked to kill Max.

y/n_leclerc:

EXCUSE ME? Daniel, you’re banned from giving advice.

alex_albon:

Seconded.

georgerussell63:

Honestly, Charles is probably already suspicious. But Max, maybe send him a fruit basket to soften him up? 'Thanks for not killing me—yet.' 🍍

maxverstappen1:

Guys… Let’s just stay calm. We’ll tell him soon, and everything will be fine. Right, Y/N?

y/n_leclerc:

Fine?! I’m about to be disowned!

lando.jpg:

Don’t worry. We’ll visit you in exile. 😂

maxverstappen1:

Okay, okay. I’ll talk to him if I have to. Just… try not to panic. It’s me. Charles likes me… kinda. Right?

y/n_leclerc:

You wish, Max. He’s gonna use you as a traffic cone.

danielricciardo:

Let’s be honest. If anyone’s gonna crash into Max, it’s gonna be Arthur, just for fun. 😂

y/n_leclerc:

Great. Now I’m even more stressed.

lando.jpg:

And I know the perfect way to destress! drinks on me when we go back to monaco

f1_gossips tweeted:

🚨 Monaco Scandal: Y/N Leclerc and Max Verstappen Caught Kissing! 🚨

Hold onto your racing helmets, folks, because the latest tea is HOT! 🔥 Forget everything you thought you knew about Y/N and Max’s so-called “rivalry,” because sources in Monaco just served up some serious tea! 🍵rumour has it that Y/N Leclerc and Max Verstappen were spotted not only getting cozy while waiting for an elevator, but actually kissing. Yes, you read that right—kissing. 😳

According to eyewitnesses, they looked all kinds of cozy—like, too close for two people who “can’t stand each other.” To make it even juicier, Max was overheard calling Y/N “Schatje” and “Liefje.” Yes, you read that right. Pet names. Dutch pet names. 😱

They weren’t exactly trying to hide it either, full-on PDA while waiting for the elevator at a fancy Monaco Bar. With Max's arms around Y/N and her hand on his chest, it's safe to say things are heating up faster than a Monaco track in July. Is this the confirmation we've all been waiting for? Are they finally going public? Fans are losing their minds, and we are here for it. 👀💋

#MaxYN  #PlotTwistOfTheYear #ElevatorEscapade

Comments:

user63:

 WAIT, WAIT, WAIT. Max calling Y/N schatje AND liefje?!? I’m screaming. 🚨😱

user64:

 My man went from being jealous of the elevator guy to being the elevator guy himself

user65:

This is the enemies-to-lovers plot twist I didn’t know I needed.

user66:

 If Charles finds out, he’s gonna drive Max off the track. 😬

use67:

 Okay but I bet they were arguing over who pressed the elevator button first.

user68:

 What is miss girl’s obsession with elevators?!?!?

user69:

 So Max is soft now? Pet names and everything? I’m unwell.

user70:

I swear this whole time they’ve been pretending to hate each other, and now they’re cuddling in elevators. Someone explain. 😩

user71:

WAIT THEY WERE KISSING?! I was not emotionally prepared for this news. 😳

user72:

So Max’s love language is Dutch pet names and y/n's is elevator kisses? I’m dying.

user73:

KISSING in MONACO? This just became the most iconic off-track moment of the year.

user74:

I can't believe Max Verstappen of all people is out here calling Y/N "schatje" in public. 💀

user75:

Charles is gonna lose it when he finds out his sister is locking lips with his biggest rival. 💀

user76:

Monaco’s about to get real awkward if Charles runs into them... just saying.

Y/N woke up to the sound of soft, rhythmic breathing beside her. Her head pounded, and she felt like someone had stuffed cotton in her mouth. She blinked, trying to get her bearings, and slowly realized where she was: in Max’s bed, in Max’s apartment, with Max’s arm thrown lazily over her waist, holding her like they hadn’t just gotten plastered the night before.

For a moment, she lay there, wrapped in the heavy warmth of his arm draped across her stomach, trying to remember exactly how they ended up in this position. Her head throbbed with the unmistakable ache of too many drinks and too many bad decisions.

Max stirred next to her, shifting slightly but keeping his arm around her like it was a reflex. Y/N turned her head to look at him, his face still half-buried in the pillow, hair messy and slightly wild, looking so annoyingly cute it made her stomach do a weird little flip.

“Morning, Schatje,” he mumbled without even opening his eyes.

Y/N snorted. "Wow, you’re really pulling out all the stops with the pet names this morning, huh? Wasn’t it ‘Liefje’ last night? I’m gonna need a Dutch dictionary just to keep up."

Max laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You should consider it. I’ve got a lot more where that came from. Besides, you’re cute when you’re all hungover and confused.”

Y/N groaned, rolling onto her back and throwing an arm over her face. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I feel like death.”

“Well, I think you look adorable,” Max replied, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She peeked out from under her arm, squinting at him. “You sure it’s not because your head is still spinning?”

“Maybe,” Max admitted, his smile growing. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Y/N giggled, poking his side. “You’re so full of it.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

For a moment, they lay there in silence, enjoying the rare quietness of the morning. It was one of those rare, soft moments—no teasing, no sarcastic comments, just the two of them tangled together, wrapped in the warmth of each other.

“Why did we drink so much last night?” Y/N eventually asked, her voice muffled by Max’s chest.

“Because Lando dared us,” Max answered, sounding almost proud.

"Why do we listen to him?" Y/N groaned, her voice hoarse as she nuzzled deeper into Max’s chest.

Max chuckled, his voice still raspy with sleep. "Because he’s surprisingly persuasive for someone who looks like a lost child."

Y/N groaned again. “I’m never listening to that idiot again. We need to stop letting Lando be in charge of our nights.”

“I agree. Never let Lando dictate our fun again,” Max chuckled, shifting to press another kiss on her temple. “I’m officially banning him.”

“Good.” She sighed contentedly, closing her eyes for just a little bit longer. “I could stay like this forever.”

“Me too,” Max whispered softly.

She giggled, pulling the blanket up over her head to block out the sun. "I still feel like death though."

"Same." Max shifted slightly, brushing her hair away from her face. "But at least I’m dying next to you, Schatje."

"Please don’t," she grumbled, but she couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. "Honestly, I blame you just as much as Lando. You were the one who said, ‘Let’s do tequila shots, it'll be fun!’"

"Because it was fun," Max shot back, smirking. "At least until we ended up making out in front of that elevator."

Y/N froze for a second before she groaned and threw a pillow over her face. "Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m still embarrassed."

Max rolled onto his side to face her, pulling the pillow off her head. "Why? You didn’t seem embarrassed at the time," he teased. "In fact, I seem to remember you being very enthusiastic about it."

Y/N’s face turned red. "Okay, okay, shut up!"

"I’m just saying." Max winked at her, then stretched, looking way too good for someone who was supposed to be hungover. "You looked cute."

"Great," she muttered, rolling her eyes but smiling. "Now I’m cute and dead."

Max snickered, then leaned over to kiss her forehead. "If you’re dead, I’m dead too, because Lando definitely spiked those drinks."

"Speaking of Lando, I’m pretty sure I need to blacklist him from my life," Y/N said, stretching lazily. She reached over the side of the bed and found her phone buried in her pile of clothes. "Let me see if he’s alive."

As soon as her phone powered on, it exploded with notifications. Text after text, missed call after missed call, all from the boys…and her brothers.

"Oh no," Y/N whispered, her eyes wide. She stared at the screen, frozen in horror. "Oh no, no, no." She scrolled through the chaos and saw that her brothers were leading the charge in spamming her. There were also dozens of missed calls, mostly from Charles, Arthur, and—“Why is Lorenzo involved? What the hell did we do last night?!”

Max, who was halfway to the bathroom, turned back around. "What’s wrong?"

Y/N held up her phone, showing him the sheer volume of missed calls. "Max, we’re screwed. We are so screwed."

Max’s eyebrows furrowed. "Who’s been calling?"

"Everyone. All the boys. My brothers. Even Lorenzo. And Arthur. This is a nightmare," Y/N said, her voice rising in panic.

Max blinked. "Lorenzo? That’s… that’s not good."

"No shit it’s not good!" Y/N shrieked, scrolling through her messages frantically. "I’m being hunted down by my entire family!"

Max grabbed his own phone from the nightstand, but it was dead. He shrugged. "I guess ignorance is bliss, huh?"

Y/N groaned, clutching her phone like it might explode. "You’re not helping, Max!"

She scrolled through the texts, all of which ranged from "CALL ME NOW!" to "What the hell is going on?" from Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo. Max peered over her shoulder, his brow furrowing.

"Okay, maybe it’s not that bad—" he started, but Y/N’s phone rang, cutting him off.

"Lando," Y/N muttered. "This idiot better have some answers." She answered the call. "Lando, what the hell did you do?!"

"Me?!" Lando’s voice screeched through the phone. "This isn’t my fault! I wasn’t the one making out with Max in front of an elevator!"

Y/N slapped her forehead, and Max burst into laughter. "Oh my God, Lando, seriously?!"

"Yes! Seriously!" Lando was practically hyperventilating on the other end of the call. "Photos got leaked from last night! You two were caught being all cozy, and now everyone knows. Charles called me at like 6 AM, and I thought I was gonna die. Arthur called next, and then Lorenzo—LORENZO! I had to confess, Y/N! I caved under pressure!"

Y/N’s eyes widened in horror. "Oh my God, Lando!"

"I’m a dead man! You’re a dead woman! We’re all dead!" Lando rambled, his voice climbing an octave with each sentence. "Charles is pissed, Arthur is even worse, and Lorenzo…Lorenzo is probably getting a hitman involved. And now they’re all at your apartment waiting for you!"

"Wait, what? They’re at my apartment?!" Y/N shrieked.

"Yes!" Lando cried. "They’re waiting for you, Y/N! They want answers!"

Max, who had been listening in, leaned closer to the phone. "What exactly are they mad about?"

"MAX! Oh God, Max, you’re so dead," Lando screeched. "They saw the pictures of you two—holding hands, kissing, being all ‘Schatje’ this and ‘Liefje’ that. And now they want to know why no one told them."

Y/N buried her face in her hands. "This is a nightmare."

Lando continued rambling, clearly losing his grip on reality. "Charles was so mad, he almost broke his phone when I told him I knew about you two. And Arthur? He’s got murder in his eyes. Murder, Y/N. I’m not even safe!. Arthur called me ‘an accomplice,’ and I’m honestly afraid for my life right now.”

Y/N exchanged a horrified look with Max. "We’re all doomed," she muttered.

Max, surprisingly calm, shrugged. "I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?"

"Death, Max," Y/N replied, her voice shaking with disbelief. "The worst is death."

Lando piped up again. "You guys need to come up with a plan. Fast. Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo are about to storm the place like it’s a medieval siege."

Y/N was starting to spiral. "I need a plan! I need an escape route! I can’t face them like this!"

Max rubbed her back soothingly. "Relax, Schatje. We’ll go to your apartment, deal with them, and explain everything."

"Max, they’re gonna skin you alive," Y/N said, glaring at him. "You really think they’ll just let this slide? You’re dating their sister."

"And I’ll just tell them that I’ve got good intentions." Max smirked. "Maybe we can distract them with snacks."

"Lorenzo doesn’t do snacks," Y/N deadpanned.

Lando was still panicking on the other end. "I’m staying far away from this. You’re on your own!"

Y/N groaned. "Lando, you’re supposed to help!"

"I can’t help you if I’m dead, Y/N!" Lando whined. "I’m too pretty to die young!"

Max sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, let’s just get this over with."

Y/N looked at him, both amused and horrified. "You’re way too calm for someone who’s about to be slaughtered by my family."

Max winked at her. "I’ve got my secret weapon: my irresistible charm."

Lando’s voice piped up again. “If I don’t hear from you in the next 24 hours, I’ll assume you’ve both been murdered by Charles.”

"Yeah, you’re definitely gonna need more than that," Y/N muttered.

Lando interrupted one last time. "Good luck, guys. You’re gonna need it."

“Thanks, Lando. Very reassuring.” Y/N hung up and looked at Max, feeling the anxiety slowly building. “What do we do?”

Y/N tossed her phone onto the couch. She stood up, pacing the room. "This is bad. This is so bad. They’re probably already plotting my demise."

Max stood up and stretched, clearly unbothered. "I’ll take responsibility. I’ll tell them I made the first move."

Y/N laughed, despite the panic bubbling in her chest. "Oh, that’s gonna go over great."

"Don’t worry," Max said, walking over to her and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I’ll protect you."

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "You’re delusional."

"Maybe," Max grinned, "but I’m delusional for you."

Y/N shook her head, grabbing his hand. "Come on, let’s go. Might as well face the music before they break down my door."

"Or your phone," Max quipped.

Y/N glared at him. "This is all your fault."

Max smirked. "Maybe. But you love me anyway."

She groaned but didn’t deny it, knowing full well that Max was right—about both things.

Y/N ran her hand through her hair, trying to calm herself down. “Okay, okay. We’ll go back to my apartment and figure this out.”

Max stood up, stretching. “I’ll make sure to bring snacks for the interrogation.”

Y/N laughed, despite herself. “You’re way too calm about this.”

“Maybe I like living dangerously,” Max said, smirking.

“Or maybe you just have a death wish.”

“Either way,” Max replied, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek, “I’m with you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “Well, you better be. Because we’re both about to face the firing squad.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[acotarxreader]

Pancake

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: Celebrating Feyre's 21st with a large party at the House of Wind proves to be quite triggering for you as you battle with the demons that followed you out of Under the Mountain.

Warnings: Panic attack (claustrophobia) followed by super fluff

A/N: This is really a cute fic, maybe one of my favourites. Reader has a panic attack so proceed with caution or don't at all if you think this may upset you! Let me know what you think!

P.S laughing that after Jilted I said I'd give you a more silly goofy fic and then produce this 👀 next one I promise!👀

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Fifty years. Fifty years you and Rhysand were separated from your family. Days dripping into weeks, into months, into years. Birthdays, Starfalls, and Solstices lost to the mountain. You had both been reunited with your family for a year now, your first Winter Solstice as a family again. You stood on the balcony watching your friends dance and drink and be free, Rhysand having thrown a large party for Feyre's 21st birthday. A genuine smile grew at the sight of such joy, all on their way to becoming whole again. Your eyes found Feyre and Rhysand drifting up the stairs towards a secluded balcony, your smile doubling in size at the mischievous grin plastering your cousin's face. 

“Don’t you look radiate YN” You turned to look down at Azriel at the bottom of the grand staircase. 

“Don’t I always Az” he nodded in agreement, closing in the distance between you, you had missed him deeply, never thinking you’d have the pleasure of dancing with your best friend again. Azriel had spent your time away from him in utter torment, echoed in his friend's mutual feelings of uselessness at the loss of the two of you.

“Azriel, there you are! Come watch the surprise with me, fireworks I believe” Elains little voice came from behind Azriel, he turned happily towards her, a pang of jealousy beating through you. Before the Mountain took you from your family you and Azriel were quickly developing into more but something cracked in you, you couldn’t find your way back to him when you were freed. He gave you the space you needed to recover and in that time found a new obsession in Elain and you accepted that you may never be fixed but Elain could be. 

“Would you like to come too YN?” you sensed the undertone of pity from Elain that Azriel would never see as anything other than her caring. You tried to keep the smile on your face, faltering for a moment before returning to full strength. 

“I’m actually going to get a drink from inside, but go ahead” You looked up at the night sky, such beauty you missed so much, Azriel looked at you with the same sentiment before following Elain back down the steps. 

You entered the House Of Wind through the gigantic doors, caterers frantically ran from place to place holding various trays and jugs. You ducked and dove avoiding the chaos, no one noticed you as you moved through the mayhem, your speciality. You took a flute of champagne from a passing tray before catching a glimpse of your face in a large silver serving dish. You looked tired, still not yourself a year later.

You headed into the closest bathroom in a service hallway, gently pining up fallen strands of hair. You sighed into the mirror of the small room, feeling the mask slip for a moment before you righted it again, forcing the fake smile so as not to make others uncomfortable.

Your hand moved to the door handle, shaking it gently when you found it did not give under your touch. You pushed the door, it solidly pushing back. You tried to squash the rising panic in your throat, this is fine this is fine this is fine you repeated over and over like a mantra in your mind.

You lowered yourself to look out the keyhole to find solid wood staring back at you. They had blocked you in with a large, solid, service trolley, wider than the door you tried to push through. You banged on the door with your palms, calling out for anyone, the shouts getting lost in the bedlam of the service hallway before it emptied entirely, the staff going to watch the show. 

You backed away from the oak, trying to catch your fleeting breath. Trapped. Trapped. Trapped. The word roaring in your head, dizzying dread coming to a boiling point in you. Trapped. Trapped. Trapped. 

Suddenly a loud bang was set off, and another and another. You found yourself collapsing to the freezing floor of the forgotten bathroom, screaming to match the pitch of the fireworks outside. You clung your knees into your chest before beginning to frantically paw your ears trying to stop the drumming. Your fingers matting into your hair, making it a knot in the chaos of trying to block the sound. You were hyperventilating as the fireworks came on with more fierceness. You were drowning. You were back Under The Mountain. You were back to being out of control. Back to being being kept deep within the earth, the sound of Fae being tortured mimicked in the booming fireworks.

“YN!” through the thick choking energy of your fear, a familiar voice came like a lifeboat in a storm but you were gone to the sea. Gone to the panic. Drowning. Drowning. Drowning. Steady, scared hands reached for your tangled hands pulling them from clawing your ears, out of blurry vision you saw the opened door, the towering service trolley smashed to the ground as Azriel clung to your hands. You tried to dive for the gap, off balance from the panic, unable to lift yourself from your seat, you fell onto your side on the tile, the thud of your chin echoing in Azriels ears. 

“YN! You’re okay you’re okay!” he pulled you upright and rubbed the back of your hands as your tormented eyes found him through the floods of tears. He counted quietly in rhythm, helping you to steady your breathing but the flashbacks of that horrid place and great loss ran through your mind like a runaway train. This was Azriel. Azriel. Azriel. This was home. Home. You were home. Another booming firework was set off, plunging you back to being drowned. Azriel stood, plucking you from the ground like a discarded rag doll before he dissolved you both in shadows. 

The two of you landed with control on the bridge that crossed the Sidra. The sound of the fireworks merely bursts in the distance. Your hands lay flat on the cold stone of the bridge and then you were violently ill, vomiting into the rushing river below as Azriel rubbed your back with one hand and held your hair gently in the other. You then sailed to the ground, your back resting against the freezing stone, waves of panic replaced with equal volumes of exhaustion. Silence swaddled you like comfort, shadows softly sweeping away stray tears as they fell. You found a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth at them, Azriel’s muscles relaxing at the sight.

“Thank you Az” you managed to breathe out.

“Please don’t thank me, it's my job to-to protect you” You rolled your head along the stone to look towards the shadowsingers soft gaze. You leaned into his side, gazing up to your beloved Velarian sky, your heart rate returning to softening levels. 

“YN ho-how often does that happen you?”

“More than I want to admit Az, I feel like I haven’t slept in 50 years” you admitted, his hand wrapping into yours.

“Go back to the party Az, Elain will be wondering where you ran to”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you, c’mon let's walk home” he smiled, standing and pulling you up to meet him, his hand slotting in around your waist to support your weakened legs. You both began to stroll in the direction of Azriel’s disused apartment, more often than not he opted to stay in The House of Wind or the Town House rather than sleep alone in his house. But tonight, those places were in the thick of the loud celebration, his secluded apartment on the other side of the Sidra a haven from the revelry. You didn’t object to this knowing you hadn’t it in you to go back into the bustling city. 

You followed Azriel into his small studio apartment, and he immediately set about cleaning the space you hadn’t been in in 51 years. 

“Sorry for the mess” He threw stray clothes into a basket as you looked around the place you didn’t think you’d ever see again, the mess of forgotten projects and clothes a new feature for the normally regimented Illyrian. 

“I umm didn’t come here much when you were-when you were gone” he admitted before flicking his wrist and the sheets of the bed changed. 

“Why not? You used to love to brood up here” you grinned, sitting on the edge of the soft cotton sheets. Azriel threw his suit jacket over a chair and began rolling his shirt sleeves up, without taking his eyes from you, his own smile matching yours. You suddenly felt conscious of the mess of now matted hair and make-up down your face, your hand wiping the smudges of kohl away from under your eye. 

“To be honest YNN, it felt wrong here without you, the whole of Velaris did” he crossed the room to the dresser, reaching into the top drawer to pull out one of your night sets.

“I can’t believe you still have some of my things here”

“I kept them for when you would come back…I never let myself think that you weren’t coming back to me” You took the set from him, smiling softly before moving to change in the bathroom, leaving the door open as Azriel threw a pillow for himself on the couch, snapping his fingers and changing into his own night attire. He tried not to let his eyes linger on you as you moved towards his bed for the first time in forever before you layed down in the buttery sheets.

“Az-Can you-Can you sleep here next to me, I know it might be weir-” You didn’t get to finish as Azriel needed no further invitation, sinking into the bed alongside you. He merely snapped his fingers and the lights dropped only to have one in the corner of the room stayed lit for your comfort. 

“Are you feeling okay YNN?”

“Mmm, thanks for leaving the light on” you hummed in response.

"It's for me as much as you, I share you're sentiment about being kept in the dark" you nuzzled gently into his side at his heartbreaking words and for the first time in so long you knew you’d sleep with nothing but ease.

“I missed you so much my love” He whispered into your hair, sleep taking full hold of you as he kissed your forehead and found yourselves sleeping the best he had in 51 years. 

-

For the rest of the night you both stayed in cuddled bliss, the world going on around you but the only place that mattered was the world you had both made in his apartment. 

The light came through the slots of the blinds hitting his eyes as he woke and rested his chin on the top of your head as you were deeply cuddled into him, the clock showing 8:30am. He gently pulled from you as you groaned but still unable to open you’re world-weary eyes. 

-

You shot up in the bed to the sound of a crash, for a moment forgetting where you were only to laugh at the recoiling Illyrian holding a frying pan while wincing in the kitchen across from you, his wings coated in a thin layer of flour. 

“What the fuck Az?” you found yourself laughing before rubbing your hands down your face and glancing at the clock as it showed 10am.

“Don’t laugh at me, I’m trying to be be cute!” You raised an eyebrow, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and standing. Your mouth fell open at the full sight of the destroyed kitchen. Every single surface covered in various baking ingredients. You walked cautiously towards the floury disarray before looking into a bowl of what you presumed started as pancakes. You attempted to move the whisk in the batter, it stuck to the bowl like a stick in cement. 

“Az, what possessed you to try to poison me?” you laughed so heartily it made Azriels heart leap. 

“I was trying to comfort you” he genuinely seemed embarrassed, your hand going to his cheek, wiping away flour freckles. 

“I love that you’re such an adorable dork” You shook your head gently grinning. 

“I love you” Your hand slowly dropped from his face in almost shock at his words. 

“I love you so fucking much YN, I hated myself every day you were gone for not saying it and for the past year I wanted to but I didn’t want to add to any stress you might be holding on to-”

“-You could never make me stress Az…unless you make me eat this” you laughed and his eyes beamed at the sound he wished to only hear for the rest of his life. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he happily leaned into the kiss. Home. This was home and this was Azriel. 

“I love you too” you breathed against his lips, his hands meeting your hips before dropping to the backs of your legs and lifting you from the ground. Your legs wrapped around him as you caught hold of his t-shirt, deepening the kiss further, for the first time in a year you felt the deep crack in your soul begin to stitch together again. The kiss grew hungrier as Azriel angled you to hover you above the counter before gently putting you down. 

“ARGH!” you shrieked as the freezing cold pancake batter he put you down on soaked immediately through your shorts. You leapt from the counter with lightning speed, trying to pull the fabric from your skin as Azriel roared with laughter. 

“Something funny flour face?” you said through rising laughter as Azriel tried to collect himself. 

“If you get a chance do you think you could take some of the batter off your shorts and make breakfast” you lightly scoffed at his words before taking a fist of batter and clapping it right into his chest. 

“Oh you’re so dead YN!” he howled at the cold through tears of laughter, grabbing the bowl and proceeding to chase you around his house, your home. 

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Hehe, whatcha think!

[ravensmadreads]

I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS-

37 Minutes [pre-outbreak!Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, (kind of) forced orgasm, squirting, PiV sex.

Summary: You wake up one morning needing Joel, and he comes as soon as you let him know that. And while his life may be busy, he takes the time to thoroughly satisfy you.

Words: 2,092

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @swiftispunk. It came across my dash around Easter and it's been living rent-free in my head since then. Finally had time to write it. Enjoy!

It’s just one of those mornings when you wake up with that itch that your own hand or your box of toys can’t do anything about.

Getting out of bed and pulling on a t-shirt, you grab your phone and go out to the kitchen to put the coffee on. You send Joel a text, short and to the point: Got time?

He calls you immediately. You smile as you press the green receiver.

”That was fast.”

”You read my mind,” he tells you in a muffled voice. ”I woke up thinking about you.”

”Then come over. And you could’ve texted me that.”

”Texting takes twice as long, I ain’t got time. See you in fifteen.”

You barely get to finish your coffee before you hear Joel’s truck on your driveway, and you’re not even by the front door when he knocks on it. As soon as you open the door, he’s through it, arms around your waist, lips on yours. He’s in a hurry, you can tell, but you love these hurried meetings, if only because he wants you so much. You love being wanted this much, this hard, this desperately.

He tastes of coffee, same as you, and a little sweat on his upper lip. It’s early, but the temperature is already in the mid-eighties. Your AC is keeping your home nice and cool, though.

You shove the door close and wrap your arms around Joel's neck, kissing him back and groaning when his hands slide down to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushes you up against him. He is already stiff, and you wonder if he’s been so during his entire drive here.

"Don't have long," he lets you know between the kisses. "Gotta get to a building site across town in an hour, and - "

"Then make it count," you cut him off, and Joel reacts immediately, grabbing the hem of your t-shirt, and pulling the garment off of you. He presses his lips on yours again, hands on your tits as he walks you backwards to the bedroom. The kiss breaks only for as long as it takes him to get rid of his own clothes before he pushes you down on the bed. He immediately kneels before you and pulls down your panties before leaning in to kiss your cunt. You sigh out the first little hint of pleasure, but that sigh turns into a moan as Joel wastes no time teasing you. His tongue, quick and agile, starts to work your clit.

“Joel…!” you keen, legs opening wide to give him better access between your thick thighs. He’s sloppy and loud, but not aimless in his endeavor. His hands travel up your thighs to your belly, then to your breasts, where he rolls your nipples between forefingers and thumbs. You buck against him, keening to encourage him to go on, take hold of his hands and push them against your tits to make him grab them. He hums against your clit, looking up and grinning at your enthusiasm. How he can smile and have his tongue do that to you at the same time is beyond you, but you do not dwell on it as Joel puts it into a higher gear. Tongue on your clit, he pushes you quickly towards your peak, and when the pleasure turns more intense, you start to grind against him, your fingers plaiting with his and holding on, head thrown back to your Yes, yes, yesyesyes! until his tongue takes you over the edge. Your legs twitch as you try to catch your breath, but Joel doesn’t give you much of a respite.

“’nother one, beautiful,” he murmurs, licking his lips and letting go of your hands. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

He attacks your clit again, licking, pushing, and prodding. Your hips buck up but are immediately locked down to the mattress by one of his strong arms placed across your lower abdomen. Your pussy clenches when you feel his fingertips at your opening. The second after, he slides two fingers inside you, his tongue and lips still on your clit as he finds that magical spot on your front wall. You shout out, back arching off the mattress, hands digging into the sheets as he massages that spot.

“God, Joel, oh God, don’t stop, fuckfuckfuck!”

He’s breathing heavily against your folds, but his tongue doesn’t stop, and his fingers are insisting on drawing a second orgasm from you. It’s almost too much, but you woke up wanting him, needing him, so you let your mind go blank and surrender, your moans turning more and more breathless the further you go. When you come, there is no sound, only a momentary stiffness in your entire body before you fall apart. You’re trembling all over, but Joel still goes on licking you. Your clit is on fire, your pussy is clenching, but goddamn him, he doesn’t stop.

“Joel,” you cry out, “stop, I can’t, I need a rest!”

“One more,” he tells you gasps, letting your clit be for just a moment. “I know you can, baby, be good for me now, gimme one more.”

You shake your head and press your thighs together, trying to crawl away, but Joel exhales sharply and grabs your waist.

“Just stay where you are, sweetheart, it’ll be over soon.”

He pries open your legs again, and this time he plants his mouth on your clit, and sucks. Your upper back shoots up from the bed but Joel already has his arms around your thighs, holding them open, locking his head firmly between them. The pleasure is almost painful in its intensity, shooting through your entire body, and you’re desperately trying to hold onto his head, the sheets, yourself, anything to relieve the force with which he’s sucking your overstimulated clit. But Joel doesn’t budge, and when you start to kick, he gets up onto the bed and lifts your lower body up into the air. Never once does his lips leave your clit, and you feel his scorching, labored breath on you, but nothing else suggests that he’s having any trouble lifting half of your heavy body off the bed. You kick, and he growls, finally letting go, but only to grab he backs of your thighs and bend you double. Your swollen pussy is obscenely on display, and you don’t get to ask him to wait before he slots his lips over your clit again.

You’re helplessly trapped, bent double and held in place by Joel’s strong builder’s hands, moaning and cursing until the pressure becomes too much. You hear a splash, Joel who hums and slurps, and you laugh without knowing why. Warm liquid is running down between your ass cheeks, and Joel latches back onto your clit, this time gulping the wet before getting a hold.

The third orgasm finally tears through you, and Joel releases you to tremble before him. You want to close your legs, but your hamstrings are so intensely stretched that you have to roll over onto your side to press your thighs together. Your clit is throbbing painfully, the skin around your pussy is grated raw by Joel’s facial hair, but he’s already nudging you to return onto your back.

“You did great, darlin’,” he praises you thickly, his tongue stiff after its service. “Just lemme grab a rubber, and I’ll fuck you good, okay?”

You whimper in return and blink your eyes open. Joel’s face, blurry at the edges, is somewhere above you, smiling at you before disappearing out of sight. You can dimly see the ceiling fan rotations, but truth is you can barely see at all, so you rub at your eyes before drawing your fingers through your hair.

Joel returns next to you, and you dimly hear the rustle of the condom wrapper. He takes his place between your legs, opening them gently.

“Be a good girl for me, or I’ll eat you out again,” he asks you sweetly, and you know you won’t survive that, so you let your knees fall to the sides, even if your hips are getting tense.

He slides into you slowly but surely, one inch after the other until he’s fully sheathed. Bending over to kiss you, his tongue slow now, he gives you a moment to adjust before he straightens his back, takes you by the waist, and starts to pump into you. It’s fast and shallow, and he gets breathless quickly, huffing out each quick breath before sucking in new air in time with his thrusts. You don’t even know if you’re breathing at all anymore, but you’re catching up with him now, and raise your hips slightly to meet his thrusts. He growls and comes down onto his forearms, getting in deeper. You embrace him, pull him down and into you, guide his head right next to yours where he hides his face in your neck as you pant your encouragement into his ear. You kiss, bite, and suck his neck, scratch your nails down his back, and slap his ass.

“Harder, Joel, harder, I need it harder!”

He snarls, his head snaps up from your neck as he gulps air into his lungs. His arms curl around your head as he picks up the pace. His cock is so deep, so hard, filling your pussy to the brink of annihilation it seems, and he doesn’t stop, he just goes on and on fucking you, his body slick with sweat that rubs off on you, his breaths growing increasingly audible for each thrust.

“Fuck!” he finally grunts before pulling out. “Roll over, baby.”

You obey, getting on all fours, and are immediately shoved down onto your chest as he slams into you. Hands on your hips, he goes hard and fast, groaning now as he breaths, one hand scrambling for a grip on your lower back without finding. His cock keeps assaulting your pussy, you are in heaven, and you still keep asking him to go harder. He pushes you down, hands pressing into your lower back as he goes on fucking you, reaching impossibly deeper each time, until you’re screaming and have to muffle yourself by pushing your face down into the sheets. Joel swears, his hips start to move erratically, and then he drives himself deep inside and stays there as he roars, pushing even deeper.

He slumps down next to you, panting like after a marathon. You turn your head to better breathe, but you can’t turn move your legs. Joel lies next to you, eyes closed, mouth open as he draws shallow breath after shallow breath, skin glistening with sweat. You want to say something but have to lick your lips several times before you can form words.

“Fuck, but you’re good.”

He blinks, and slowly turns his head towards you.

“What?”

“You’re so fucking good at this.”

“Am I?”

His cluelessness is adorable.

“Yes, you are, Joel!”

“I don’t know…” He makes a move that resembles a shrug. “I just enjoy you.”

Like this is just any ordinary fuck. You smile widely, a new kind of warmth spreading inside you. Joel just is that kind of humble person.

He now draws a deep breath, sighs it out, and then sits up. He leans over you to kiss your back, shoulder, neck, and finally mouth.

“I gotta go.”

“Sure.”

He leaves the bed, throwing a glance at the bedside clock radio.

“37 minutes. That’s a new record.”

“Jesus Christ.”

You hear the rustle of clothes and manage to roll over onto your back. Everything hurts so good, and you’re grateful you don’t have work today.

Joel sighs. “You look so fucking pretty, baby.”

You hum, smiling at him. As he picks up his t-shirt, you remember something. 

”Put it on the right way.”

“Huh?”

“You had your t-shirt on backwards and inside out when you got here,” you giggle. “Make sure it’s the right way now.”

“But then Tommy will notice, and he’ll know where I’ve been,” Joel points out pragmatically, still putting the t-shirt on the right way. It immediately gets dark spots in the front.

“I think he’ll know either way,” you yawn. Joel returns to bed for one last kiss.

“Fuck, I wanna stay.”

“I want that too.” You cup his cheek to keep his lips on yours for a moment longer.

“Mmm…” he hums into your mouth. “See you this weekend?”

“Absolutely.”

He presses one last kiss on your mouth before leaving you to your boneless rest.

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Healing Hands

This is just a short little fic, based on this post here. The tall, broad High-King demanded a drabble aside from the ones I'd already started about him, so what else could I do? He is the High King, after all. 🥰👑

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Gil-Galad (RoP) x Half-Elven!Reader

[A/N: This is just fluff.]

Warnings: Spoilers for RoP s2e8, non-graphic descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, soft!Gil-Galad, affectionate teasing, romantic tension, healing injuries, Gil speaking Quenya, battle aftermath, minor angst with a happy ending.

~*~

Did she truly think she was being subtle with such a limp in her step? The High King and his Herald had led their soldiers and the survivors of Eregion into a valley, establishing around it a protective, magical barrier using the rings of power.

Together, the pair had healed Lady Galadriel, but as they settled her in a soft, flat spot to recover, Gil-Galad saw his lady, clad in her own black-splattered armor, attempting to limp away unnoticed.

"Go. I'll stay with Galadriel," Elrond volunteered quietly, and with a grateful nod of acknowledgement, the King hurried through the trees after her. He hadn't even remembered seeing her struck, but obviously she had been if she was limping.

She didn't get very far. At the edge of a small clearing, he found her sitting with her back against a tree, struggling to remain conscious. His breath caught when he saw how pale she'd become. She'd clearly been hiding this for quite some time.

Without a thought beyond healing his lady, Gil-Galad dropped to his knees beside her and began slicing a window into the leg of her trousers. The cloth parted easily at the behest of his dagger, and at the waft of cool air over her skin, her eyes fluttered open.

"Ereinion?" Her voice was so shaky and quiet. "I'm sorry. Didn't...want to bother you..."

"Hush, I am here, now," he murmured as he beheld the broken-off shaft of an arrow embedded in her leg. She'd lost quite a bit of blood if the dark, drenched fabric of her trousers was any indication. Thankfully, the arrow was not lodged too deeply, and she'd left enough of it exposed for a healer to grip in order to remove it. "Fool of a girl, you should have come straight to me."

She let out a weak laugh at his affectionate scolding.

"Calling your favorite patient a fool? Ondórëa ingaranya," she murmured cupping his cheek and drawing his eyes to her own. There was no real acidity in her tone. Gil-Galad took courage in the fact that she still had enough clarity of mind to tease him. He had, in fact, healed her before, but the injuries were always insignificant and superficial. And, she'd never actively hidden them from him before.

What cause had he given her to do so? Had she been embarrassed?

Without hesitation, he turned his head just far enough to kiss her palm.

"I humbly beg your forgiveness, meldanya." He hoped that she knew he referred to more than his playful jab. He also knew that to call her such, to allow such a slip, would be tantamount to a confession for which he was not certain that he was prepared. But, to call her anything less than his beloved would be a lie. Furthermore, to do so in the aftermath of such rampant death and destruction would summon within his heart guilt in such quantities that he could not abide.

Turning his attention back to her leg, he laid his palm as lightly as he could over her thigh. He whispered in Quenya, allowing the magic from his ring and from his own healing abilities to seep into her skin and numb her pain. Working quickly, he removed the arrowhead and pressed his hand over the wound, murmuring some of the same healing spells he and Elrond had used on Galadriel.

Fortunately, though, this was not a cursed wound as the former had sustained from Morgoth's crown, nor was it as severe. Her skin glowed readily beneath his touch. Within moments, the skin bound itself shut and his lady shuddered in relief as a trickle of light penetrated the canopy of trees overhead to mingle with their own.

Her hand had fallen limply away after mere moments, but Gil-Galad retrieved it once his work was complete, grasping it gently between his own blood-stained fingers. Her pulse beat steady and strong in his grasp, and his eyelids fluttered shut as he breathed a sigh of relief. She would be alright. She had survived.

"Did you mean it?" She breathed, and he was so surprised that she was conscious that his eyes snapped immediately to hers. Despite the dirt and grime coating them both, he felt entirely exposed beneath her gaze - vulnerable and transparent before her.

He relished the sensation of being known so completely. To everyone else, he was Gil-Galad, the High King of Lindon, the bastion of strength from which his people drew their courage when darkness threatened.

To her, he was simply Ereinion. The feeling was more pleasant and intoxicating than he could possibly express.

"You called me your beloved," she continued. "Did you mean it?"

How could he deny it? He loved her. He had for centuries. Since the moment she set foot in Lindon nearly three hundred years before, Gil-Galad had surrendered to the realization that his heart would settle for no other. Her light was beyond compare, shining into even the most uncertain parts of his heart which he hid from all others. She drew him out so easily, comforted him simply by smiling in his direction. She was his strength, his courage, his most luxuriant pleasure and joy.

But, he was a king. Because she knew him, she also knew better than any other how taxing his position was. Over time, he'd convinced himself that she would not wish to bear the burden of ruling by his side, so he'd remained silent - reluctant to steal her own contentment and joy by forcing the responsibilities of a ruler upon her. She deserved to have a life unburdened by the weight of a crown.

In his secrecy, however, his heart had grown accustomed to a more profound loneliness than he'd ever previously known. On too-silent nights in his chambers, he longed to hold her close and whisper poetry in her ear - he'd composed more verses in her honor than he'd expected his heart to harbor. On tranquil mornings before the rush of the day's duties began, he ached with the need to see her curled peacefully in his arms as the light of the sunrise spilled in through the windows.

No longer. After today's battle, Ereinion could no more hold his tongue than the pair of robins who sang so freely in his gardens each morning.

"Yes. With all of my foolish heart, I meant it," he admitted, his heart singing with every word, and she lifted her free hand, threading it lightly into his hair. The King savored the feeling. Never before had she touched him so brazenly - he'd made it clear that she was more than welcome to, of course, but she never availed herself of such liberties.

He bent lower, hoping to encourage her by making his person easier to reach. He felt her bare wrist brush against the tip of his ear - sharper than her own, thanks to her half-mortal parentage - but he could not hide his blush nor the light groan she tugged from his chest.

"You have tempted me...enchanted me since our first meeting. I have eyes only for you, but if you do not feel the same, I swear on my honor that I will not torment you further." The King's oath came from the most sincere depths of his heart. For her, he would. Much as it would pain him, if she wanted nothing to do with his feelings, he would bury them deep so that only he would feel the ache. She would suffer no discomfort at his hands.

Her lips met his, stopping his spiraling thoughts in their tracks, and all his worries fell away beneath the most delicious relief. They were as soft and sumptuous as they looked - as he'd imagined them to be - and Ereinion didn't hesitate to return her affection. He may have healed her leg, but with that once simple act, she had healed the King's heart.

~*~*~

Elvish Words (Quenya):

ondórëa ingaranya = my hard-hearted/pitiless high-king

meldanya = my beloved

~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @gandalfthepimp @horta-in-charge

[harleehazbinfics]

Cannibal Overlord!Reader [Cannibal Chef!Reader Spin-off!]

Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile

a/n: I've seen a few fics about reader owning Alastor's soul, so I'm gonna put my own spin on it in Cannibal Chef. >:]

"Madam, the table is ready."

"Oh, thank you Alastor!" You groan, leaning against your chair clutching your aching head.

"These demons can't do anything right!" you roared slamming your fist down on the table sending papers flying, which Alastor calmly collected and places back on the table.

He smiles and waits for you to stand. On your own two feet, you latch onto him and whined, "You won't leave me won't you, Alastor? I'd hate for my most important and capable person to leave!"

"I wouldn't dare think of it, Madam," he replies as he covers your hand with his as he guides you to the dinner table, where several plates of food you loved was presented so fancily. You gushed at the food, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before sitting down and tasting a few pieces of everything.

Alastor recovers from your affectionate gesture and pushes your chair in and drapes a napkin over you to not soil your clothes that he meticulously picked.

This was (Y/n), one of the most powerful overlords who reigned over Pentagram City. She controls quite a number of souls from decades of ruling. They say she manifested in hell, seemingly overnight, toppling overlords who were once held an iron grip over the denizens of hell. Tall tales were spread about your fearsome power and your signature cleaver. After establishing your position, you opened a meat shop and restaurant. Cannibal and non-cannibal options of course. You were crazy, but you had class, okay?

Many are frightened at just the thought of you alone, some sinners say that all demons that crossed you would end up on their plate. To set a clear stance what would happen if they dared question her power.

"Oh, Calastor! Good morning, my love! Did you have a good nap?" you ask picking up the red cat who gave you kitten licks on your face.

However, all Alastor could see was a very cheerful and clumsy woman. He recalls the first time he met you. He was roaming and analyzing where he was and how the power was at play arriving here shortly in hell. Unexpectedly, he got caught in a crossfire between you and large dinosaur like demon. When he saw you transform into your larger demon form, he was mesmerized at such power. You didn't hesitate for a second to go for the kill.

After capturing the dinosaur demon and keeping him in your inventory to make a meal out of later. He failed to dodge the hand that grabbed him and pulled him closer to your face.

"And who might you be?" you asked sultrily with a dissonant voice that overlapped with each other making him gulp at the wonders it was doing for his body to react a certain way towards the sound.

"Alastor, Madam. Pleasure to be meeting you!" he replies with his usual transatlantic tone, keeping composure despite seconds away from being crushed in your hand.

You smile and replied, "You're polite, how cute. You wouldn't mind if I keep you right?"

Without even a chance to reply, you return to your castle where you changed him into a butler uniform and bombarded him with your troubles and how you were so lonely that no one wanted to be friends with you. So, when you saw him ogling you, you couldn't help but keep him to yourself. You couldn't bear the thought of someone else picking him up other than you.

Alastor, in all his years, didn't once try to escape despite his situation. Sure, it was peculiar and sudden, but he never once felt uncomfortable in his setting. On the contrary, he felt very much at home with you, and even accepting your affectionate gestures.

A few pecks on the lips, cheek and neck wasn't disgusting when it was from you. He enjoyed your warm hugs where you'd eventually fall asleep on him and have him take you to your room. Only for you to pout and pull him on the bed with you and sleep with him.

He just couldn't say no to you. After all. He did love you. He was yours, as you were his.

IM TAKING ASKS FOR THIS ONE TOO

🔗Cannibal Chef! Reader TAGLIST:

@bonnie-02, @marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich, @rybunnie, @midorichoco, @lucifers-silhouette, @kimmis-stuff, @bontensbabygirl, @janey, @akiqvq, @wonderlandangelsposts, @spoiled-slutt, @roboticsuccubus83, @atlas-rin, @yuriohoe04, @azullynxx, @milk-bulb, @rainynyy, @s2tng, @aria-tempest, @speedycoffeedelight, @0strawberrysorbet0, @amitiel-truth, @corvid007, @kaminarithebest, @enby-goblin

[elfarons]

Flipping the Tables

[redacted] knows you like the back of their hand, which also means he knows just what to say to reduce you to a blushing mess. but he makes you flustered way too often! so naturally you make it your mission to get them back...

cw: gender neutral reader, fluff, reader sits on [redacted]'s lap, both of you are called 'pretty'

it's a lazy sunday evening with your wonderful boyfriend. you're rewatching your favorite movies while u both cuddle on the couch. him leaning back on the cushions with one arm around you, practically melting into his side.

when you feel [redacted] slightly shift to get more comfy, you look up at him while he's absorbed in whatever is happening on screen. he's so beautiful you think to yourself. his silky hair, his soft pink lips, his straight nose, his powdery blue eyes, his everything... so pretty so perfect.

he chuckles and looks down at you, slightest hue of red covering his cheeks. "hmm? you think im pretty?" oops, said it outloud. he finds your hand closest to his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles so softly while looking into your eyes. "i don't really see how i'm pretty,,,i'd have to argue you're the prettiest one here, angel."

you blush and bury your head into his chest to hide from his teasing. but you do take notice that he doesnt exactly take the compliment... and how he was so adorable when he blushed. you realize you rarely get to see them blush compared to how much you do.

what if we flipped the tables?

recovering with a newfound determination, you lock your gaze onto his, "well, i think you're so cute that it hurts." they smile, accepting your challenge "i think you're so cute i want to eat you."

"your beauty could start wars."

"i could try for an eternity but i'd never find someone as angelic as you."

you're about to give in, getting more embarassed, but you stay determined! you grab his face with your hands and move around to straddle their lap. "i think you're so perfect that i want to kiss you right now!"

leaving no time for him to respond (and possibly fluster you further), you start kissing his face between words, purposefully avoiding his lips. "YOU muah ARE muah SO muah GORGEOUS muah TO ME muah" forehead, cheek, nose, other cheek, chin. staying an inch from his lips, you quietly say "do you believe you're the most beautiful, perfect boyfriend yet?"

dumbfounded from your sudden praise and kisses, they just stare up at you completely flushed from the neck up, their hands resting on your sides. it worked. he chases your lips to get a kiss, but you pull away and he pouts. chuckling, you move one hand down from his warm face to feel his heartbeat wildly thumping against your hand.

you leaned down to whisper in their ear. "c'mon answer me, or you're never gonna get that kiss." he hides his flushed face in the crevice between your shoulder and neck then takes a deep breath to compose himself. "..i-i'm your beautiful and perfect boyfriend."

"see? it wasn't that hard was it?" you finally lean down and he sighs into the kiss. his lips are always just as soft as they look. after you pull away, they gaze adoringly into your eyes. you giggle, "you're so cute when you blush."

[redacted] will hatch a plan to get back at you later when his brain isn't overheating, but he decides to let you relish in your victory for a while longer. besides, he likes seeing you confident enough to be bold with him. he can't deny he's in love with every side of you, much like how you feel about him.

they gently nudge you to lay down on the couch with his head on your chest. "love you so much, angel." your heartbeats speed up, matching in rhythm.

you decide to grant him his own small victory too by not bringing up how the flush returns to his face. that was enough teasing. "i love you too."

author's note: hiee :3 this is my first tumblr fic ever ! i got inspired from the 14DWY discord server when we were discussing different ways of making redacted speechless, so this is for them teehee <3 i hope i didn't make them too ooc !!

dividers by @/enchanthings

[joelscruff]

one thing i'm missing (joel miller/reader) PART TWO

thank you so much for the love on the first part!! ♥ PART ONE | ao3 summary: you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming. rating: 18+ explicit (this part is not explicit but this fic will be) warnings: (for future parts) smut, age difference (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 50s), praise kink - will add more as fic progresses word count: about 3.9k

That whole day you'd kept waiting for Joel to mention it, say absolutely anything in allusion to what the two of you had shared that morning, but he didn't. And in turn, neither did you. It was like it had never happened; he didn't look at you differently or talk to you differently, which you guess in most ways you were grateful for. The last thing you wanted was for him to suddenly start acting like there was something weird going on, but there was something going on. The way he'd looked at you, the way his fingers had stroked the skin of your back, you knew it wasn't just nothing.

The only thing that had changed was Joel's stamina; after such a good sleep, he'd recovered greatly in just one night and now seemed to be able to travel further without as many stops. In just one day you'd all managed to double your travel time, which even managed to put a smile on Ellie's face.

“I'm glad you're feeling better,” she'd said to Joel that afternoon, beaming proudly at the miracle she'd helped him achieve, “It was weird not having you around for so long.”

He'd smiled back at her and your heart had stuttered at the familiarity of it, recalling the look he'd given you that morning, “I knew I'd be back,”he'd said it stiltedly, like he was talking in a foreign accent. You'd both stared at him in confusion and he'd sighed exasperatedly, “Terminator. Movie from the 80s.”

“Ohhh,” you and Ellie had both chorused, and he'd rolled his eyes.

You'd set up camp again that night and had hoped that Ellie's change in demeanour might warrant her sleeping closer to the fire, closer to you and Joel, but it didn't. In fact, she'd ended up setting down her sleeping bag even further away than the night before. You and Joel both acknowledged it but didn't say anything to her, not wanting to push her boundaries.

“I'm worried about her,” you'd said quietly when it was just the two of you.

“I know, me too,” he'd sighed, “Kept thinkin' that maybe tonight would be different – she was so normal today, wasn't she?”

“She was,” you agreed, “I thought the same thing.”

“Guess it's gonna take time,” he muttered, poking at the fire absentmindedly, “luckily we got no shortage of that, huh?” his eyes met yours and you felt that familiar flutter in the base of your stomach before he turned his attention back to the fire.

Joel took first watch. Neither of you had acknowledged the period of time in which you both slept last night, so by proxy Joel hadn't given you any shit for not waking him up for his turn. You set your sleeping bag up a few feet from the fire where he sat, painfully aware of the fact that he could see every move you made. You realized quickly that in your nervousness, or maybe because all you could think of was last night, you'd laid it wide and flat against the ground like it was a duvet. Like it wasn't just you sleeping under it tonight.

“You'll freeze like that,” he'd said quietly behind you, and you'd tried not to show the disappointment you felt was written all over your body language.

“Right,” you'd muttered, and zipped the bag back up, slipping inside of it and shutting your eyes tight once you were situated.

Of course he's not gonna get in with you, you idiot. It was a one-time thing. He's probably already forgotten it even happened.

You tried to sleep but failed miserably. Your thoughts wouldn't shut up, reminding you over and over again that Joel was right there, only a few feet away, and yet you couldn't have felt further away from him. You longed for the feeling of his arms around you again, that warmth you'd shared together, the feeling of his hot skin against the palm of your hand. You couldn't stop replaying that moment over and over, when he'd looked down at you and smiled so softly and tenderly, looked at you like you were the only person that existed to him.

You felt a gentle nudge to your shoulder and you opened your eyes to see Joel kneeling over you, extending the rifle toward your still form, “Sorry,” he'd said quietly, “it's your turn.”

“It's okay, I wasn't asleep,” you whispered, taking the rifle from him and sitting up.

His brow furrowed at your words but he didn't say anything else, just got up from his crouch and walked over to where he'd set up his blanket. You felt the urge to tell him he'd freeze, use his own words against him, but you knew it wouldn't achieve anything.

Your watch was uneventful, spent mostly throwing grass into the fire and watching the embers dance in the darkness. You couldn't get your mind to focus on anything else but Joel, who you periodically peered over at to make sure wasn't freezing to death. He was still, but the expression on his face was anything but peaceful and you very much doubted he was even asleep.

Around the time you knew you were supposed to alert him for his watch, you hesitated. A new thought had crossed your mind and you began to twist it around in your head, weighing the pros and cons. After a few moments of deep thought, you got up and walked over to Joel. He was shivering a little bit now, not much but it was obvious he wasn't comfortable.

Fuck it, you'd thought to yourself, then grabbed your sleeping bag and started to unzip it. Hearing the noise, Joel – who (you were right) was wide awake – opened his eyes and saw you standing there. You met his gaze but neither of you said anything. He'd watched as you carefully laid down beside him, not close enough that you were touching because you still weren't sure how he'd react, but so both of you were underneath the new layer of warmth together. You waited for him to tell you to move or for him to scramble out from under the material and start his watch, but he didn't. He just kept looking at you, expression unreadable. It was like an unspoken challenge, who would speak first, and you were both winning.

With one last look at him, you'd closed your eyes, willing yourself to believe that he would stay.

-

The sound of Joel snoring woke you up in the early hours of the morning, not because it was obnoxious but because it was directly in your ear. Your eyes snapped open and you realized you were now lying on your side facing the trees. You could feel him at your back, pressed into you solidly with his arms wrapped around your middle; he was spooning you.

Swallowing out of nervousness you looked down at his hands, curled around your midsection, and felt a hot pang of recognition as reality began to sink in; he hadn't gotten up for his watch, he'd stayed with you and fallen asleep. He'd wanted you there. You closed your eyes and found yourself choking back the sudden emotions you felt bubbling to the surface. Joel wanted you. He wanted you.

He snored again and you couldn't help but smile, feeling his warm breath at the nape of your neck, the tip of his nose bumping gently against the skin there. You could feel his beard against the top of your shoulder blade and you shivered unconsciously, leaning further back into his touch, feeling the hint of his lips brush against your skin. You closed your eyes and sighed contentedly, and seconds later you'd fallen back to sleep.

When you woke again, he was gone. You rolled over with a frown, searching for him, only to see both he and Ellie sitting at the fire eating breakfast. You looked down and realized that Joel had put his blanket back in his pack and wrapped your sleeping bag around you, making it seem like you'd slept by yourself all night. If he'd been alone at the fire you would have been confused, hurt, but seeing Ellie sitting there made it make sense; he didn't want her to know, and honestly neither did you.

You'd sat up and stretched, then extricated yourself from the sleeping bag and shuffled over to the two of them. Ellie hadn't said anything, bleary eyed and clearly still half asleep as she munched on whatever canned perishable they'd cooked up, but Joel had looked at you and graced you with a gorgeous half smile, eyes meeting yours.

“Mornin',” he'd said softly, “Sleep good?”

You'd smiled back and sat beside Ellie, reaching for a fork, “Really good, you?”

His eyes, dark and deep but shining in the morning sun, held your gaze as he replied, “Can't complain.”

After that, neither of you slept alone.

The following night, Joel had spread his blanket out on the ground and you'd wordlessly placed your sleeping bag on top of it; he didn't object. You both abandoned the idea of a second watch, confident that you were far enough away from any civilization that no one was going to sneak up on you in the night. After checking the perimeter and making sure Ellie was fast asleep, you'd crawled under the sleeping bag where Joel lay still and inched in beside him. You didn't make eye contact, nerves twisting inside your belly as you shuffled even closer to him and wound your arm around his torso, placing your head on his chest. In response, he'd tilted his head toward yours, nosing the crown of it and sighing contentedly, his hands coming up to trail gently along your back.

“Night,” you'd breathed, nuzzling into the warmth of his coat, focusing on the feeling of being held by him.

“G'night,” he'd murmured in response, and you'd both fallen asleep within minutes.

Every morning was the same in some ways but different in others. Sometimes he'd be spooning you from behind again, and you could always tell when he was awake versus when he was asleep by the way he nuzzled against you. When he was asleep he was uninhibited, mouth open against your skin and arms a dead weight around your body, solid and comfortable. When he was awake he was more reserved, keeping his face shrouded in your jacket instead of your neck, fingers consciously fluttering around your middle like he wasn't sure exactly what to do with them.

Admittedly you'd pretend to be asleep for longer periods so you could bask in the feeling of him holding you so close; whenever he realized you were awake he would always pull away, not out of embarrassment or regret but because he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. This much was clear by the way he touched you when he thought you were asleep, so careful and gentle, soft and sweet. Like you were some precious thing he had to be extremely careful with or you'd break apart. He was never trying to get away from you, only trying to get you closer.

But neither of you said anything, never spoke a word about it to each other. It simply became a part of the routine. You weren't sure if there was some unspoken rule that talking about it would make it weird or make it go away, but you weren't going to risk it and neither was Joel. What happened at night and in the early mornings was just between the two of you, quiet and secret. Ellie was none the wiser; she was still keeping her distance at night and though you were still concerned about it, you had to admit that you were slightly thankful for her sudden desire for independence. Without it, you doubted you'd be waking up in Joel's embrace every morning.

Your favorite part of those mornings, of those moments, was when Joel would look at you. Somehow, though neither of you had spoken a word about what was going on, that one look he'd give you in the early hours when the sun was just barely cresting the trees was everything. His eyes would meet yours in a silent whisper, a cosmic spark that you could feel in your bones. They were so brown and so soft – you could remember first meeting him and being frightened by the coldness of his stare, laughable now. The man who looked at you now was kind and gentle, the aged lines that painted his face no longer seeming intimidating or such a big deal – he was a lot older than you, but so what? He'd blink slowly, no longer because he was tired but because he was so relaxed, and oftentimes his eyes would involuntarily close again and he'd fall back into a quiet and easy sleep.

You'd live in that brief moment for the rest of the day, holding the image at the front of your mind until you were back in his arms again. Rinse. Repeat. You still weren't sure what any of it meant to him, but you'd begun to realize what it meant to you; the mere thought of not having those moments anymore or losing whatever it was the two of you shared frightened you. You'd begun to need him so much more than you had before and you couldn't help but wonder if he was starting to feel that same need.

-

It had been about two weeks since the events with David. Joel was doing much better but still hadn't returned to his regular travel pace, leaving you all still hiking through the Colorado wilderness. You'd both had to make a pretty tough decision in regard to whether you'd travel by roads and through small abandoned communities or stick to the secluded safety of the forest. Arguably you'd get to your destination faster by road, but safety had become a much higher priority ever since Joel's close call, not to mention Ellie had obviously become extremely wary of other people. The last thing you needed was to run into another group – or worse, a cult like David's. Besides, sleeping deep in the forest meant less need for frequent watches, which meant more good sleeps for both you and Joel that kept you well rested and alert... among other things.

The sun had started setting when Ellie first saw the sign, running ahead with a wide eyed expression and extending her arm out to point to the faded wooden letters.

“'Evergreen Haven Hideaway'”, she read aloud “Come for a relaxing soak in our hot springs'” she turned around to look at you and Joel, a confused expression on her face, “What are hot springs?”

“Holy shit,” you'd muttered breathlessly, jogging forward a bit to catch up to Ellie and peer at the sign, “They're like natural outdoor baths, the water stays really warm even when it's cold outside.”

“Baths?” she'd looked at you incredulously, “Like we could actually get clean here?”

“Well, without soap we can't do much, but being submerged in water that's not gonna make us freeze to death sounds good to me.”

“Hold on,” Joel had caught up to you, expression serious, “Look at the other sign.”

Your eyes scanned ahead of you and you noticed another wooden sign that had fallen down into the dirt, half covered by plant growth: Cabins and Campground for All Ages.

“This ain't just a hot spring, it's a resort.”

Your face visibly fell and Ellie raised an eyebrow, “So?”

“So,” Joel sighed, looking around suspiciously as if he half expected to see someone emerge from the treeline, “That last place where everything went down, that was a resort too. Albeit much larger and not secluded, but still a resort.”

At the mention of David's compound, Ellie's expression changed, her eyes suddenly cold and hard. You watched as she clenched her left hand into a fist, then swiftly turned around to face away from you and Joel so you couldn't see her face.

“Nothing could be worse than that place,” she said stoically, evenly.

You and Joel looked at each other, sharing a glance that echoed the exact same sentiment: she wasn't going to take no for an answer, not anymore.

Sighing, Joel shook the rifle off his shoulder and checked the rounds. You pulled out your handgun and did the same thing, biting your lip. You were both running out of bullets, not to mention food, and you both knew that an opportunity like this to find some supplies wasn't going to come along again any time soon. Hearing the rattle of artillery, Ellie spun back around. Her cold expression was suddenly replaced with a wide smile when she saw what you were doing.

“Fuck yeah!” she said excitedly, slipping her backpack off and digging through it to find her gun, “Hot springs!”

“Hot springs,” you repeated with a smile, eyeing Joel.

He nodded but his expression was still serious, “Hot springs.”

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ♡

navigator!zoro and swordswoman!nami headcannons

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 ♡

➥ all gender neutral

[zoro, romantic] "do not kiss me again"

[usopp, romantic] "i once told you i'd kissed a thousand women..."

[zoro, nami, platonic] "they're cheating, you know"

[nami, romantic] “kiss her you fool”

[zoro, romantic] “brazen”

[nami, platonic/romantic] “she’s my friend”

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐄 ♡

moodswings

how zoro, sanji, and luffy deal with a pms-ing reader... f!reader

too sweet

nami, zoro x gn!reader

their mermaid lovers

mermaids and pirates should be sworn enemies by default... but you decide to spin that precedent on its head. various x mermaid!reader

big brothers, little sisters

aka an older sister fulfills her childhood wish for a big brother various x sister!reader

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ♡

nothing yet...

𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘 ♡

are you still sad?

luffy had always been more observant than you gave him credit for. f!reader, opla!luffy

i remember thinking i had you

you'd always had a feeling luffy's dreams would outgrow you, but when that day finally arrives, you're not as prepared as you'd thought you'd be. now he's willing to take a chance to make his dream come true, fully believing you're right behind him. you have a decision to make: risk everything for the boy who means everything, or set him free of your doubts. gn!reader, multi part fic, opla!luffy

you can talk to me, but you already know

a mission to recover your prized research from your greedy ex-employer goes awry when you, the crew's pacifist, decide to join the fight in the name of saving your beloved captain. when you awake from your near-mortal injuries, luffy demands to know why you put yourself in danger, and you're not sure you can answer him. gn!reader

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈 ♡

flavors of home

in which even though you've been rescued, you're homesick. a certain pirate chef is more than willing to help cure the ailment. f!reader

we are never getting back together (?)

in which you, now a successful singer, and sanji, now a pirate, reunite unexpectedly when you return to baratie for a one night only performance.f!reader

the one where you say no to the cat

your daughter really wants a cat, and you're adamant that the answer is no... until it starts to look like a yes.wife!reader

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎 ♡

get some sleep

you just can't get to sleep thanks to a terrible rainstorm terrorizing the ship. luckily, your tossing and turning inspired nami with an idea: just go sleep with the swordsman. f!reader

got me spinning like a ballerina

in which zoro doesn't dance, but he has no issue in watching you twirl yourself off your feet. so long as you twirl back to him when your feet get tired. f!reader

sail again

once upon a time, you'd weaseled your way into the demon pirate hunter's confidance, and maybe even his heart too. but one bounty gone wrong leads to you being left behind, and you just can't understand why. f!reader, apothecary!reader, multi part fic, opla!zoro

is she divine, is it the wine?

the grace of the sword and the stage come together as the strawhats' swordsman and dancer fall in love. zoro x fem!dancer!reader

quality time

you and zoro train together every morning, so it was only a matter of time till one of you got hurt (spoiler: it's not zoro) gn!artist!reader

once upon a dream

Long ago, you were cursed to one day sleep for an eternity—unless you’re presented with true love. You thought destiny couldn’t find you on the high seas, but when you're sorely mistaken, it's up to a certain swordsman to get his act together and rescue you from eternal sleep. sleeping beauty au, princess!reader

𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐏 ♡

coming soon...

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 ♡

im a quilt of all the ones I've loved

nami thinks theres so much of you wrapped up in all of her, that not even distance or time could change the way she feels. or in which three little bits of you now make up the patches of nami's person. f!reader

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Spencer Reid Masterlist: Fics

In order from Newest to Oldest. Last Updated: 02/26/24

Spencer Reid Series

Key: Personal Favs:✨ Requested:🔹 Angst:🔴 Fluff:🟡 Smut:🟣

Last Last Time ✨🔴 What if 'First Date' was just severely more complicated, and hurt a thousand times more? What if you had never walked out the door? What if Spencer had never met Cat Adams? Alternate Ending ✨🔹🔴🟡

You 🔴✨ a small fic inspired by the loss of someone, and how Spencer feels about it.

Truth or Dare 🔹🔴 Request!: "okay so i'm thinking post!prison reid and reader break up bc he's not ready to be in a relationship after everything that happened in prison. they just don't get back together bc when spence is finally ready it's been a while and they both think it's too late and no one makes a move and they remain as friends UNTIL jj's love confession brings some feelings back onto the surface - reader finds out about it and (cue jeid and their weird, longing glances🥲) has a whole it's all really over moment and then there's distance between her and spencer until there's a confrontation about it and BAM a love confession and second chances😁😁"

Lucky Me 🟡 Just a cozy scenario where the reader is a wee bit drunk, and has a phenomenal idea, maybe inspired by a true story or two.

Symphonic Kisses 🟡 You give Spence a pretty damn good anniversary present.

Cold Feet 🔹🟡 Request!: "could u do Spencer Reid and childhood friends fem!reader with heavy pining and " it's always been u" at the end hurt/comfort ?"

Loving You 🔹🟡 Request!: "hiii!! congrats on the 500 followers 🤍 for your celebration, could i request 7 and 13 from the fluff prompts for spencer reid? thanks :]"

Never Let Me Go 🔹🔴 Request!: "hello !! rn i'm in the mood for some angst with a happy ending so can i request something where reader's got really bad abandonment issues? 🥹 maybe they fight over something which makes r leave ++ spence is confused bc it's so sudden n unlike them but it's all bc theyre scared he'll leave first n then it's just lots n lots of reassurance🥹🥹 thank you!!"

Unexpected Visitor 🟡 There are some things that the team does not know about, like you, for example. Some good, quick, Christmas fluff for your holiday enjoyment.

Pope and Circumstance 🔹 🟡 Request!: "Heyyyy!!!! I read that you were taking requests so I was wondering if you could write something for non BAU nerd reader and Spencer. Something sweet and comforting with a reader that’s a nerd but more on the language and literature side."

Birthday Present 🟡 You and Spencer enjoy a night in together.

New Shade of Green 🔹🔴 🟡 Request! "Hey idk if you're taking requests but I'd love to read a fic where Spencer Reid and reader are in established relationship and on a case it happens that reader's best friend since childhood assists. And Spencer gets really jealous of their close friendship but is in denial. A lot of angst but a fluffy ending."

Black Dog 🟡 Mornings with Spencer feel so good. Based on Led Zeppelin's Black Dog.

Cramps n Comfort 🔹🔴 🟡 Request! "Okay, Spencer comforting reader who has really bad period cramps and is just crying"

To Make Sure I Stay Sane 🔴 Based off of Six Below by Flipturn. What happeneds when your cover is blown? What do you do when you can never really recover from the shit you endure? pure angst.

Barbenheimer! 🔹 🟡 Request! "Reader takes Spencer to see Barbie, and he might just enjoy it more than he thinks he will."

Wired Frames 🔹 🟡 Request! "Spencer request: The team meets at a bar after they returning from a case and Spencer comes in looking dramatically different (like a nice new haircut and casual outfit and glasses) and the team / OC lose their minds"

Bad Day 🔹 🟡 Request: "spencer just comforting reader after a bad mental health day and helping them to take a break and shower/or bathe🌼🫶🏻"

Something Old, Something New 🔴 🟡 takes place during S7 Ep1, The Gang goes to court! Lawyer!Reader! Spencer is really over the senate committee, but something cools his head when he bumps into an old friend.

[vechter]

top 5 dick & bruce fic recs + comic recs?? (you don’t have to do both though!)

batman/nightwing: bloodborne (2002) comic of all time, truly. one of my fav characterizations for dick. he's a complex, hyper-competent and intense character. he's never gonna recover from his devotion to bruce. whacky comic shenanigans, some absolutely heartbreaking narration from dick, really insanely well done details about dick and bruce's dynamic- all the things that go unsaid between them, all the things that can remain unsaid because they know each other so, so well.

batman: dark victory (1999) dick doesn't appear till issue #8, i think but it's one of my fav origin stories for robin. dick is a grieving, angry kid trying to make sense of this new world around him as an orphan and you can see why bruce thought he could help him. and he does! some amazing parallelism, great art, stellar dialogue. also, just the whole comic itself (even the issues without dick) are a great introduction to gotham and its rogues and how exactly batman serves as the city's protector. selina is fantastic in it, too.

let them live!: unpublished tales from the DC vault (2021) #2 this is a one-shot story that is mostly nightwing-centric but his competence and confidence are really well-written here. i'm putting it here because the moments between bruce and dick (even tho they're on comms) are great. bruce is both batman and father, torn between coordinating/ strategizing with nightwing and being torn by his worry for dick. you can see why people think dick and bruce are cut from the same cloth but you can also see exactly why dick is the only thing that bruce thinks he did right.

year one: batman/scarecrow (2005) this is a mini-series with dick in his early robin years. the dynamic between them is absolutely great. dick offers exceptional support and empathy to bruce, but there's also elements of playfulness and light-heartedness. there's some great detective work going on, the plot keeps you pulled in and you're able to understand why dick and bruce are so insane about each other. dick understands bruce so, so well even this early on. also has one of my favourite quotes from dick about batman. "you...really that scared of me?" "yeah. in a god-fearing kind of way." father figures as gods you will always be famous to me. although this is a very subpar origin story for scarecrow but also, he's a sub-par rogue to me anyway lol

batman (1940) #615 this is unfortunately in the middle of the loeb's hush arc so it's a bit of a slog to get through but this particular issue has a great dynamic for dick and bruce. mostly dialogue and narration centric tho, dick and bruce are in a good place in terms of their relationship and it shows! also just how much dick means to bruce even if he can never say it.

honourable mentions to teen titans spotlight (1986) #14, robin (1993) #13, batman (1940) #590, detective comics (1937) #725, the entire batman: bruce wayne- murderer/fugitive arc (2002) and robin: year one (2000) for some of their best moments as well

also, fic recs- there's toooo many but anything by @dustorange, @nighhtwing and @bluegarners is a delight to read, you should check out all their works on ao3!!!

and if you're looking for the most compelling, devastating dick grayson characterization ever,,,, that makes you feel unhinged, then i'd recommend persephone's in hell.

[wheels-of-despair]

Heaven and Hell (Or: Eddie and Evil Woman Do… Prom?!) Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie and Evil Woman are *checks notes* going to prom? Like normies?! Contains: A high school prom, two nervous freaks, an ill-fitting wardrobe, an unfortunate zit, dancing, references to other E/EW fics nobody will remember, relentless teasing, a happy ending. Words: 4.5k

"Prom's next month."

You stop playing with Eddie's hair and look down at the head lying in your lap in surprise.

He keeps his eyes on the TV. A blush creeps into his cheeks. Is Eddie Munson seriously thinking about going to prom? You fight a smile and start working your fingers through his hair again.

"Yup… that's what they said on the morning announcements."

Silence. No way he's that interested in the orange juice commercial you've seen ten times today. Eddie Munson is thinking about prom, and he's in the process of chickening out.

"You ever been?" you ask.

"Nah," he says, eyes still on the TV. "You?"

"Nah."

He bites his lip. You can't take it anymore.

"You thinkin' about going?"

He shrugs.

If you were a more patient person, you could poke and prod at him until he finally asked you. However…

"Well, if you were planning on asking me, you're too late."

He finally looks up at you, confusion on his face.

"I've rekindled my romance with Chief Hopper."

A smile spreads across Eddie's face.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," you sigh. "What we had was fun, but you just don't have the stamina. Sometimes a girl just NEEDS full night of porking."

You both snort at the same time, which leads to a fit of giggles.

When you recover, you brush his bangs out of his face. He sighs.

"So, uh…" He licks his lips while he tries to find his words. "If the bacon falls through, would you maybe think about going with me?"

You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off. "Because it's kinda my last chance, and I know it's stupid, and it goes against everything I stand for, and it'll probably be miserable, and the music's gonna suck, and you probably have a way better idea of what we could do that night, but… ugh, never mind."

Eddie turns back toward the TV, shaking his head so some of his hair hides his burning face. You gently brush it back behind his ear, looking down at him with all the love in your heart.

"Eddie?"

"Hm."

"You're the only person I'd think about going to prom with."

"Really?" He looks up at you with an uneasy smile.

"Yeah," you answer, tracing the shell of his ear.

"We don't have to."

"I know," you smile. "I want to go with you." He smiles back sleepily. "But if I get Carrie'd, I can't promise I'll spare you."

"Kay," he chuckles.

"Mother?" you ask, hovering in the living room doorway.

"Daughter?" she responds from the couch, without looking up from her book.

You take a deep breath and stare at the floor.

"Ineedapromdress."

"What?"

You sigh and raise your head. "I need a prom dress."

Her book drops to her lap, revealing wide eyes behind her glasses.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I need a prom dress," you repeat with a roll of your eyes.

"Oh my god! I have a child who's voluntarily attending a school function!"

"What's up?" Gareth asks from behind you.

"They're going to the prom!"

You slowly turn and see him looking at you in amusement.

"Shut up," you order before he can even say anything.

"She's even gonna wear a dress!" your mother shrieks.

"Shut up," you repeat, glaring at Gareth's stupid smirky face. "Kay, I'm going to bed, open to shopping suggestions and financial contributions, good night."

You squeeze past him and make a mad dash for your room.

"They're all gonna laugh at you!" Gareth warbles in his best Piper Laurie impression.

"Shut up!" you repeat one last time, then slam your bedroom door.

"He's heeeere," Gareth announces as he passes by your bedroom door.

"You look perfect," your mom assures you.

She's been working on your makeup for fifteen minutes, and it's finally the way she wants it. And you have to admit… you look pretty damn good.

She'd taken you to the city for a day of shopping, and after several hours of hunting, you'd actually found a dress without puffed sleeves, ruffles, or tulle.

"Give me a minute, I want the camera on his face when he sees you," your mom says excitedly.

"Mother, it's a high school prom, it's not our wedding."

"Let me have this!" she whisper-yells. She grabs her camera and leaves the room.

You take one last look at yourself, stand, and slip on your shoes. Heels. You're even wearing fucking heels.

You walk down the hall and turn into the kitchen…

Eddie Munson is wearing a suit.

You'd offered to help him look for one, or find him something in the city, but he said he had it covered. And he did. He's even wearing a tie, and he's tamed his hair somehow. He looks freakishly presentable (for Eddie) and is holding what you imagine is a corsage in a box.

"Hi."

"Hey."

You stand there and stare at each other. Awkward. It's awkward.

"Eddie! Give her the corsage!" Your mom stage-whispers.

He tries to hold it out to you, but fumbles it and drops it on the floor. You both reach down to get it, and you hear a RIIIP tear through the kitchen. You both stand immediately, looking and feeling your outfits.

"Was that you or me?" you ask, trying to feel the back of your dress. You knew this fucker was too tight. But your question is answered when all the blood drains out of Eddie's panicked face.

"Let me see, honey," your mom says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder to turn him. The seam in the back of his jacket has ripped.

"Dude! You Hulked out on prom night," Gareth laughs from his seat at the kitchen table.

You give him a warning shush, and for once, he obeys.

"Slip that off, I'll have it as good as new in no time." Your mom helps Eddie out of his jacket and takes it in the direction of her sewing machine. You carefully retrieve the corsage from the floor and put it on the table.

"Uh… that's for you," he mumbles, the color returning to his face.

"Thank you," you smile, leaving the box closed until your mother can return and witness this sacred and not-at-all stupid prom ritual.

You turn to Eddie and lift a hand to run through his suspiciously tame hair.

"Don't look at it," Eddie mumbles.

"Don't look at what?" you ask.

"His third eye," Gareth supplies helpfully. That's when you notice the zit between his eyes. Eddie's face reddens so much that it almost blends in. Gareth snickers. You pick up a damp kitchen towel, ball it up, and throw it at him. It hits him in the ear.

"Don't you have some place to be?" you ask pointedly.

"Nope," he grins, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Mom's taking me to Jeff's after you leave."

You roll your eyes, reach for Eddie's hand, and pull him to your bedroom.

"Sit," you instruct, pointing at your desk. He drops into the chair with a defeated sigh. You start digging through your extremely elegant shoebox full of makeup, then realize what you need. "I'll be right back," you whisper with a kiss to the top of his head.

You return with a cotton ball.

"What's that?"

"Wite-Out. My make-up's too dark for you," you joke.

Eddie's brow furrows, and you apply a dab of peroxide to his unfortunate growth. When it dries, you reach for the concealer.

"What are you doing?" he asks nervously.

"Covering that up."

He sits silently and watches you reach for this and that to cover his bump, and when you stand back and smile, he frowns.

"What's wrong?" you ask. "I can wipe it off if you want, I thought you wanted it gone."

"I feel like a clown," he grumbles.

"You are a clown."

He pouts. You point at the mirror, and he leans over to see his camouflage… and his jaw drops. You lean down until your head is next to his, so you can see what he sees.

"Witchcraft," he whispers.

"You know it, babe," you wink.

"One freshly tailored suit jacket for the young lad," your mom announces as she steps into the room. Eddie stands, and she helps him into it. She brushes her hand along the seam. "Good as new!" she declares. "But no break-dancing tonight." Eddie laughs.

After the official corsage and boutonniere exchange in the kitchen, you're marched into the living room for pictures. Each pose is goofier than the last, but you aren't allowed to leave until your mom finishes off a roll of film.

You both breathe a sigh of relief when the van doors slam shut.

"You still wanna do this, or do you wanna go get blazed and hide out at my place?" Eddie asks, probably about 40% joking.

"What time is it?" you ask. Eddie consults his watch and reads the time back to you. You pretend to consider it for a second, then shake your head. "Chief Hopper is expecting me in 15 minutes, and my little piggy does not like to be kept waiting."

Eddie snorts and starts the engine. Hawkins High Prom 1986 it is.

"Where'd you get your suit?" you ask a few minutes into the surprisingly awkward drive.

"George. The thrift shop guy. Told him I needed something prom-worthy. This was his grandson's. 'He's a lanky thing, just like you,' he said."

"It's nice," you admire.

"It's a little small, but… y'know." Eddie shrugs. "Price was right."

"Is it uncomfortable?"

"It's… a little tight," he admits.

"Baby, you don't have to wear stuff if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It's fine… as long as I don't have to move my arms much."

"Is it the shirt too, or just the jacket?"

"Mostly the jacket, the shirt's got some stretch to it."

"Ditch it."

"Ticket says jacket and tie required."

"Ditch it as soon as they let us in."

"This is why you're the brains of this operation," he mumbles as he pulls into a parking spot.

"Correct," you grin.

"Stay," Eddie orders, hopping down and scrambling around the front of the van to open your door. You're suddenly reminded of your first official date; he'd tried so hard to be someone else, but you didn't want someone else. You wanted Eddie Munson, and you wanted him just the way he was. You take his hand and slide to the ground, wincing as your heels hit the pavement.

"Is your battle armor in here?" you ask, nodding toward the back.

"Of course."

"Fetch."

Eddie smirks and walks toward the back, and you shut your door and follow him. He grabs his leather jacket and patch-filled vest, and hugs the pair to his chest.

You reach for them, and he hands them over. You separate the pair while he watches nervously, like you're separating conjoined twins that he personally gave birth to.

"Lose the child-sized suit jacket," you instruct. He tries, but gets stuck almost immediately. You muffle a laugh and step behind him to help him out of it, then slide his plain leather jacket on.

He looks more comfortable already. And considerably more Eddie-like. You go to transfer his boutonniere to his jacket pocket… but he doesn't have one. A bit of quick thinking and one rip later, his dumb little flower is attached with a strip of duct tape. You step back to admire him.

"There he is," you smile.

"Now he's gotta find his girl," Eddie says, "and then they can go do this damn prom thing."

You look down at your outfit and back at him, but he's already digging… through your overnight bag?

"Eddie, what--"

He cuts you off by slapping the soles of your favorite sneakers on the floor of his van.

"You've been wincing with every damn step since you walked into the kitchen. Lose the shoes."

You grin and sit down to swap your heels for sneakers. Sneakers that Eddie vandalized during a particularly boring assembly. It was one of the reasons why they were your favorites; the boy's a ballpoint artist. The other was--oh, that's nice. You stand comfortably and breathe a sigh of relief.

"You want a little liquid courage?" Eddie asks, shaking a bottle of liquor at you.

"Sure," you answer. You each take a swig in hopes of making your night a little more bearable. Eddie stashes the bottle in the van and slams the back doors shut.

"M'lady," he says, offering an arm. You take it, and walk toward the Hawkins High gym doors. Any time now, alcohol.

A cheerleader-in-training eyes you warily, but takes your tickets and lets you pass by her table into the gym… decked out in streamers and balloons. Wicked classy, Hawkins High.

"And you say I never take you anywhere nice," Eddie grins.

"I have literally, not once, ever said that."

Eddie laughs and takes your hand.

"Munson?!" a voice shrieks.

"Yeah?" he asks uneasily, turning to see Mrs. O'Donnell.

"What are you doing here?"

You look at each other, and back at her.

"Whatever people usually do at prom, I guess?"

"I'll have no shenanigans from you tonight, Munson."

"Wouldn't dream of it, O'Donnell."

"Don't even think about going near that punch bowl," she warns.

"Why, what's in the punch bowl?" he asks. You try to keep a straight face.

"Just punch, and that's the way it's going to stay. Isn't that right, Mr. Munson?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says innocently.

Mrs. O'Donnell looks you both up and down, sucks her teeth in disapproval, and walks away without another word.

"Like I'd waste good liquor on these ungrateful assholes," he mumbles. "Do have an emergency flask in my pocket, by the way."

"Aww, and I thought you were just happy to see me."

"That's in the other pocket," he winks.

"C'mon," you laugh, pulling him to the other side of the gym. Once you're in a quiet spot, you scan the room for familiar faces. You knew you were pretty much on your own - all of the other Hellfire boys were having a movie marathon and sleepover at Jeff's - but you thought you'd look for potential allies anyway.

"There's Nancy Wheeler," you notice.

"And the Elder Byers," Eddie points out.

"I think we're on our own, babe."

"Just how I like it," he grins.

"You gonna dance with me, or just stand here lookin' pretty all night?" you ask.

Eddie responds by flipping his hair over his shoulder dramatically.

"C'mon," you smile, nodding toward the dance floor. He balks.

"This song sucks."

"Every song's gonna suck," you remind him.

"This one sucks more than average."

"Then how 'bout we visit the snack table and lay a curse on the punch while we wait for something that sucks slightly less?"

"This way, m'lady," he says nerdily, holding out his arm. You roll your eyes and take it anyway, working together to assemble a plate full of cheap snacks and two cups of unspiked punch. You retreat to the bleachers and pick at your bounty.

"So… this is a high school dance," he remarks.

"Yup… imagine, some people's entire high school careers revolve around this thing."

"I'd kinda rather be at home," he confesses.

"In our pajamas," you add.

"Watching shitty movies," he continues.

"Eating shittier pizza."

"Maybe fooling around a little?" He waggles his eyebrows and tilts his head toward the door.

"We went through a lot of trouble to get here, Edward. I went shopping. With my mother. You put on a suit. And a tie. And grew a stress zit."

"Shut up," he grumbles, hand instinctively touching the bump between his eyes. You lean in to kiss his cheek.

"Let's give it an hour. You've gotta dance with me at least once."

"Fine," he pouts. You feed him crackers, and he starts to relax a little.

When the opening chords of "Footloose" blare through the speakers, Eddie cringes. The people on the dance floor go wild.

"C'mon," you order, standing up and reaching for his hand.

"No."

"Yes."

"Absolutely not."

"Eddie Munson, you get your spastic ass on this dance floor with your dumb-ass classmates right now."

He whines, and looks… nervous? You sit back down, face full of concern. He scans the crowd, and you look too. Eyes keep darting to you. Not outright staring. Just keeping an eye on you. Like your whereabouts are a matter of public safety. You've been so focused on Eddie, you haven't bothered to pay attention to everyone else.

"It's just…" he starts, and then stops.

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, turning your head back to him. "This is our prom, too." You slide a little closer to him and hold his hand. "And I'm glad I'm here with you."

Eddie leans his forehead against yours and squeezes your hand.

"You think they're upset that we had the nerve to show up?" you smirk.

"Probably ruined their whole night," he grins. "Dear Diary, the freaks crashed prom."

"And ate all the fucking snacks," you laugh.

A flash makes you both jump.

"Sorry," Jonathan Byers smiles apologetically from behind his camera. "You guys were being cute, and Nancy demanded a photo for the yearbook."

"It's cool, man," Eddie grins. "Can we get a copy of that?"

"Sure," Jonathan nods. "They hired a professional photographer for portraits, by the way. Over in the corner. It's included in the ticket price."

"Cool," Eddie says.

"Anddd Nancy's waving me back," Jonathan groans. "You guys have fun tonight. At least some of the freaks should."

You and Eddie both chuckle as Jonathan goes back to Nancy for his next assignment, hearts in his eyes completely undermining his complaints.

"Well…" Eddie puffs his cheeks and blows out a breath of air. He's experienced all that prom has to offer, and is clearly not impressed.

"One picture, one dance, and we're the fuck outta here," you propose.

"Deal," he agrees.

You walk, hand-in-hand, over to the photographer's corner and get in line behind three other couples. Well, two. Kimmy Little sees you standing in line behind her, and drags her date off in the other direction. You and Eddie share a knowing look, but say nothing.

When the time comes, the photographer instructs you to assume the traditional prom photo position, and you do. You let Eddie hold you around the waist and smile like a total fucking jackass for several seconds while you wait for the flash. You and Eddie stumble away with spotty vision and hands tightly clasped. He's your lifeline, and you're not letting him go.

When your vision returns, you look from the bleachers to the exit. Is it really worth walking all the way back over there to sit and be bored, when you could just leave and have this lame night be over with?

Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time" starts playing through the gym's shitty speakers, and you smile. You're a sucker for this one. Eddie looks at you with dread. He knows what's coming.

Silently, you slip backward into the crowd and pull him with you. He doesn't protest this time. He follows, eyes not leaving yours. The crowd must have parted for you. Perhaps there are advantages to loving the resident freak. You stand close and put his hands where they belong, and then yours. You stare into Eddie Munson's eyes and sway slowly to a song he tolerates, only for you.

You're glad you came. You're glad you're with him. You're glad this is the song you got to dance to. You're glad he made you swap your heels for sneakers.

But mostly, you're glad when the song is over, because you come together for a quick kiss and make a mad dash toward the exit.

"You son of a bitch," Eddie growls, trying to force his suit onto a hanger.

"Leave it, gremlin, I'll do it."

"Thank you," Eddie grins, throwing his suit on the bed and kissing your freshly scrubbed cheek. You'd washed off all your makeup and hair products together, had a little fun in the shower, put on pajamas, and smoked a joint to wind down. You were thrilled to look and feel like yourselves again. "I'm gonna go pop a pizza in the oven. Put something good on, I need to cleanse my poor ears of the top 40 garbage they were subjected to tonight."

"Yes, dear," you deadpan, hanging up your dress as he exits the room.

"Music!" he whines from the hallway.

"FINE!" you yell back. You pop in the first mix tape you find and turn up the volume. You force Eddie's suit on a hanger, put the formal-wear in the hall closet, and join him in the kitchen.

He's sitting on the counter, watching the clock and drinking directly out of a nearly empty two-liter pop bottle.

"You really know how to treat a girl," you smirk.

He burps in response.

You feel like you should roll your eyes or pretend to be annoyed, but you're so in love with this fucker, you find every dumb thing he does to be charming. You lean on the counter next to him, and he hands you the bottle. You take a swig, then pretend it's a microphone.

"I'm here with Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin, who has just been to his first and last school dance! Tell us, Eddie, how was the Hawkins High prom?" you ask, placing the open bottle by his mouth.

"Sucked dick, thanks for asking!"

"It did not suck dick!" you protest, slamming the bottle on the counter with a slosh.

"It sucked some pretty major dick," he argues.

"You got to spend time with the woman you love! In a formal setting! She wore a damn dress for you!"

"I like her better in pajamas."

"Only because I'm not wearing a bra," you scoff.

"Well… I mean, yeah," he says, hopping off the counter and taking your hands in his. "Don't get me wrong, the dress was great. Have deposited the cleavage situation in the spank bank, so thanks for that. But this is just… better. 'Cause this is us."

When you're right, you're right.

The opening chords of Black Sabbath's "Heaven and Hell" play through Eddie's bedroom speakers, and a wave of appreciation for where you are and who you're with washes over you.

"No bowtie-wearing jocks or frilly little bitches staring at us," you smile, sliding your hands to his shoulders and pulling him close.

"No restrictive clothing," he smirks, letting his eyes linger on your chest as he settles his hands on your waist.

"Eyes are up here, Munson," you remind him as you begin to sway subtly.

He looks up and grins. "Those are pretty okay, too, I guess."

You smack him in the chest, and he laughs.. and then his face falls.

"You tricked me," he accuses.

"How did I trick you?"

"This is our second dance!"

"Yes, but its to our music, so it's counteracting the pop-adjacent one at the actual dance."

"Ugh, fine," he pretends to cave with a roll of his eyes.

You keep dancing until the song starts to pick up, and Eddie looks at you with his eyes full of mischief. He starts moving just a little faster from side to side, swaying with the music as it builds. Before you know it, those spastic moves you tried to coax out of him at prom were coming out in his kitchen. You would have been perfectly satisfied to just watch him dance like a dweeb, but he grabs both of your hands and forces you to join him. You do so happily.

You dance, you spin, and you laugh together in the Munson's kitchen to a mixtape of Eddie's own making. It's the most fun you've had in weeks. Why did you spend so long stressing over prom? Prom was nothing. Prom was a bunch of rich kids in tacky, overpriced clothes that you'd be laughing at in twenty years. This is real. This is what you should be living for.

When the song begins to wind down, you and Eddie are nearly out of breath from all the head-banging and jumping around. The slow dancing resumes without complaint.

"I think this is the Heaven part," you observe.

"Huh?"

"Heaven and Hell," you say, looking up into his beautiful red face. His bangs are stuck to his sweaty forehead. His zit has lessened in intensity after a post-shower application of peroxide. His eyes are big and round and curious. This boy is perfect, and he's all yours. "Prom was Hell. Other people are Hell. This, right here? Me and you? This is the Heaven part."

Eddie's eyes crinkle as he smiles. He pulls you in close and crushes you in a hug. You squeeze him back and breathe in the calming, familiar scent of him. You love this boy more than anything.

"I love you," you mumble into his shoulder.

"I love you too," he responds. "Even if you did make me go to prom."

"This was your idea, fool," you laugh, giving him a backwards shove.

"Not how I remember it," he grins. He laces his fingers and holds them under his chin, bats his eyelashes, and continues in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like you: "'Oh Eddie my love, please, won't you take me to prom? It would be the highlight of my life!' Pretty sure you begged. Groveled, even."

"You are insufferable," you laugh, pushing him away from you.

"You're the one who made me go to prom!"

"You know, Munson, according to the pamphlets that everyone's been throwing at me all week, most teenagers have sex on prom night. But I think you're gonna have to get your ass kicked instead. C'mere."

"No!" he yelps, backing into a corner. "Please! I have children!"

"We don't have to share our pizza with them, do we?" you laugh, too lazy to engage in a play-fight with him.

"Pfft. No." He relaxes. "I wouldn't even share with you if I didn't have to."

Your jaw drops.

"I'm kidding!" he insists, coming forward to envelop you in a hug. You go rigid and refuse to hug him back. "I'm kidding. You know I'd save my last Fudge Round for you."

"Oh, really?" you smile, looking up at him.

"Eh… Nutty Buddy, maybe?" He screws up his face in concentration. "Nah. Oatmeal Creme Pie?"

"You are unbelievable," you scoff with a shake of your head.

"You love me anyway."

"Yeah, I guess," you sigh in defeat. "But please don't tell Chief Hopper. It would break his heart."

"Oh my God," Eddie groans, pushing you away and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

You cackle, and the oven timer dings.

This is definitely Heaven, but you've still gotta give him a little Hell.

[yandere--stuck]

if you have any more thoughts on the Joker Junior extending the family take I'd love to hear them!! Would J be interested in having Nightwing with them? Or Alfred? I'm not sure how well either of them would take to the venom, but if they have Batman anything's possible

Less ideas and more of an actual fic, oopsie!

---

Three weeks. Three long, agonizing weeks without Tim. Three weeks of hoping beyond all hope that he was somehow fine. That they'd all look back on this and laugh.

But, no. Eventually, Bruce was able to get word that The Joker and Harley had holed themselves up in the abandoned Arkham Asylum, and something in his gut that made him sick knew there was some correlation.

Part of him hadn't wanted Barbara to come along, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to stop her even if he tried. So, the two of them traversed through the crumbling asylum together and followed the echoing sound of Harley's voice singing a lullaby.

“Hush, little baby, don't say a word,

Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird,

And if that mockingbird don't sing,

Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring….”

Closer, closer. It took both of them every bit of will they had not to sprint through the halls as fast as their legs could carry them. As Harley’s voice grew even louder, Barbara split up to find another way in while Bruce took the lead. His heart nearly leapt from his chest with anticipation as he closed in on her location.

“And if that diamond ring is brass,

Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass,

And if that looking glass gets broke-”

The moment Harley saw him burst through the double doors, she perked up, greeting Bruce with a smile. She was cradling a flower vase in her arms, which she set down onto a covered table. Craning her neck, she shouted over her shoulder. “Puddin’, Hubby's home!”

Bruce’s eyes followed Harley’s gaze, spotting Joker on the second floor where he rested on a recliner. With a flourish, The Clown rose to his feet, turning away from his rabbit-eared television set and popping a pipe from his mouth, tossing it aside. 

“Well, hello, dear!” Joker strolled down the stairs, stopping just shy of Batman. He wrapped an arm around Harley, the two of them smiling sweetly at their bat. “Welcome home.”

Bruce all but snarled in their faces, leaning close and baring his teeth. “Where's Robin?”

Both clowns shared a quizzical look.

“Robin?” Joker repeated with a quirk of his head. “There's no Robin here!”

“Maybe he means our little J,” Harley offered.

The Clown Prince of Crime snapped his fingers. “Of course! That's it.”

Meeting the Bat's eyes, smiling back at his scowl, Joker gestured to the other side of the room. To whatever was being concealed behind the large blue curtain. And Bruce couldn't help his rage, shoving the couple aside roughly as he moved to cross the room. 

The Joker stumbled back, recovering with the shake of his head and click of his tongue.  “He must be so stressed out from work.”

“I hate it when he gets like this. He never knows when ta relax,” Harley shook her head and reached underneath the table, pulling out a bazooka from beneath the tablecloth. She fired, and a band of ribbons erupted from the muzzle, knocking Batman to the floor with a hard thud and wrapping him up like a gift - bow and all.

“Good thing he has us. Hmm, now what say we bring this little gift of ours back to the bedroom to unwrap?”

Joker's grin stretched just a little wider as he noticed the movement of Batman's hand - holding it up just so as if to signal someone, just out of eyesight, to stand down. Joker's eyes crinkled. Perfect. He wondered, was it the eldest birdboy? Or maybe they'd be getting two bats with one stone?

“Y'know, Bat's, we've been doing this little run around for years,” Joker spoke again, approaching his prone enemy. “It's been loads of laughs! But the sad fact is - none of us are getting any younger.”

Harley joined his side, patting her stomach. “That ol’ clock's a tickin’!”

“Quite right, Pooh! So, Harley and I were thinking it's about time the three of us finally settled down together.”

“But rather than experiencing the joys of pregnancy, we decided the best way would be to just marry into the family.”

Hand-in-hand, the clowns walked over their Bat's prone form to each rest a hand on the curtain in front of them. 

“But no matter how happy we are to join you, we were a bit disappointed that we didn't really have the chance to nurture them, too,” Joker lamented. “And after all, what better way to officially join the family than to impart a little bit of our personalities to the kiddos? He needed a bit of molding, of course, but-”

The couple yanked on each side of the curtain, the blue cloth sliding and billowing out as it parted - revealing a child strapped to a medical examination table.

“... What kid doesn't?” Joker finished with a grin, drinking in the Dark Knight's reaction. 

Bruce couldn't help the exhale of ‘no’ that left him. Couldn't even blink, too horrified to look away from what had been done to Tim. The horror set in all at once, like freezing water flooding through every nerve in his system.

Joker brought Tim forward with the click of a button, the table rolling forward and bringing the boy into the light. 

Tim...

His face an acid-washed white. His hair an unearthly green. His Robin costume now replaced with an exact recreation of Joker's own suit. And his face… Contorted in a pained smile and his eyes wide and afraid, unblinking.

“Say hello to Dada, JJ,” Joker cooed.

Tim's eyes, seeming to glow red in the light, shifted from Joker to Batman. He leaned further into the light, locking eyes with Bruce, and laughed. He laughed in a way Bruce had never, ever heard before. He unbound himself from the table, leaping to the floor on scrawny legs - God, how much weight had he lost in such a short amount of time. What had they done to his boy?

All at once, the cold shock and dawning horror inside Bruce shifted - and his whole body was alight with rage, like a fire inside threatening to escape through every orifice as he ripped through his bonds. The shout he made was near inhuman, launching a batarang he had cut the ribbons with directly at Joker's head, only for the Clown to dodge it with ease.

Harsh giggles flooded from Joker's throat, wiggling a finger in a ‘come hither’ motion before jumping onto the now vacant medical table, rocketing off with the click of a button, causing Bruce to almost stumble and reorient himself to take off after him - and leaving Barbara to deal with Harley.

—

Giggles bubbled from Tim JJ's throat as he stared unblinkingly down at his father, body crumpled on the floor, cape draped almost protectively over his prone body. And with giddy glee, The Joker Papa J hopped down from the giant building blocks he was perched upon, where he had sliced at Batman and sent him tumbling down only seconds ago.

It was all a blur for Bruce. The chase. The horrific videos of Tim… Tim's torture. Three weeks. Three weeks of that Hell. Electrocution. Beatings. Torment. Starvation. And it was all his fault. He'd failed him. The rage that had filled him nearly completely, made him seen red, had all been snuffed out. 

First Jason. Now Tim. And Bruce still couldn't bring him to end this. His vision swam, and he could barely even focus. Not on Tim. Not on the man who tortured him. But… Wait. Where was-?

With a final hop, Joker landed in front of Batman in a crouch, hovering over him with a sly grin.

“You've lost, Bruce,” He rasped, and just hearing the name on the clown's lips made JJ seize up, his forever-smile momentarily twitching and a flood of nervous giggles escaping him. The clown continued, voice low. “Robin is mine… And now, so are you.” 

And with a hearty heft, Joker lifted Bruce up by the scruff of his cowl and cape, as if presenting him. The grin of his face, the look in his eyes, as he looked down on his enemy. So proud of himself, so smug.

And Bruce. He looked in a daze, lost and beaten. Blood dripped from his lips.

This isn't what Papa promised. He said everything would be okay now. That he'd see Dad and Dick and Babs and Alfred again and he wouldn't be mean or hurt him again, because Papa knew he would be good now…

But when Joker met his eyes, something in them changed - his smile warping to somehow become comforting, happier. The darkness in his eyes dissipated, replaced with an excited shine. And with a free hand, The Clown grabbed for a large gun that looked more like a toy than anything.

“Here ya go, sonny-boy!” He said, tossing the weapon.

JJ scrambled forward to catch it. He couldn't help but notice how light the gun felt as he cradled it in his shaking, gloved hands. For a moment, he couldn't look away.

“Make him one of us,” The Joker urged, voice like a hiss. 

It wasn't a conscious decision to aim the gun. It just happened. Like one minute, JJ was there and gone and back again. His hands shook so hard that he could hardly keep the weapon straight. Could barely even look at him. At the mask. At the man behind it.

“Tim…” Batman breathed. JJ had never heard his voice sound so small.

JJ would swear he couldn't breathe if it weren't for the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the wheezing, giggling exhales that escaped him as he struggled to calm down. Tears threatened to pool from his eyes.

This wasn't right. But, Papa knows best. He said everything would be okay afterward. He said he wouldn't be punished again. But, he couldn't. But, he couldn't run, either - too scared. Too weak. He wanted to be home. He wanted his family. He wanted to stop crying, to be able to breathe, to run into his fathers’ arms-

“It's alright now, JJ,” The Joker soothed, recapturing the boy's attention. “Just pull the trigger, and everything will be okay.”

JJ wanted his Papa to be telling the truth. He just wanted everything to be okay. He just wanted it all to stop. Bruce, please forgive him.

His finger squeezed around the trigger-

Joker's laugh filled the room, just as a green mist began flooding from the gun’s opening. It spread through the air and quickly covered both men. Joker laughed long and loud as he clung to Batman. He pulled his Bat into an embrace, a smile so bright and wide it made the corners of his mouth rip, as Bruce began to choke and hack.

The man seized up and shook in Joker's arms. Slow at first, but soon trembling and writhing in agony, barely restrained and pained chuckles escaping him. So much hurt flooding through every nerve and system that almost faculties left him. His lungs burned, his face ached, he couldn't feel his extremities and wouldn't have been able to hold himself up without Joker's hold on him. Bruce wasn't sure if he could speak or even breathe anymore, but somehow his body found it in itself to betray him, forcing laughter from gritted teeth.

Joker took a knee, gently laying Batman to the ground. The bat spasmed and jerked. Tears began to fall from behind his mask, shining on his cheeks in the light. Gloved hands caressed the sides of Bruce's face. Green eyes glinted in the light as they watched each movement of the other man - every sputter, every gasp, every choked out laugh, every pained, slowly blooming smile that wobbled onto his face.

“You must be so scared, aren't you, sweetheart?” Joker cooed. “You've been scared this whole time, haven't you? Ever since that night in the alleyway...”

Batman didn't reply - couldn't. His eyes crinkled as his smile grew involuntarily. All he could do was return the man's gaze with a manic smile that wasn't his own.

Joker stroked the top of his cowl lovingly. “But it's okay now, Bruce. You don't have to be scared anymore. You don't have to be strong. Don't have to hold yourself back. Me and Harl will build you back up to what you were meant to be. We'll be brave for you now. And do you know why?” 

Bruce couldn't respond. For one, the agony of whatever this was, whatever Joker had planned for him, blotted out almost all thoughts in his mind completely. Could only tremble and writhe and cry and laugh. Laugh. Laugh. The laughing made it hurt just a little less. But he could still barely even register what the other man was saying. What he could register, though, was the image of Joker slowly leaning down to press his lips to Bruce's cloaked forehead.

“Because we love you.” Joker finished.

—

“Ohhhh, Harley!” Joker's voice rang through the cavernous halls of the abandoned asylum. “Barbie's turn!”

Barbara's stomach sunk to her feet and her heart skipped a beat. Barbie? No. No, there was no way, he could have known her name. Oh God, what happened to Bruce-?

In the middle of her ruminations, Harley caught her by surprise. A jab to the face, the pull of her leg to trip her up leaving her scrambling to correct her fall- only for her to feel hand grasp tightly at the nape of her neck, coiling painfully at the root of her hair. She was shoved onto her stomach, face-to-face with the dirty, cracked tiles of the former asylum’s floor.

“You know what that means! C'mon, Barbie,” Harley grunted, fingers twisting in the roots of her hair. She lunged forward, slamming her face to the floor with a sick crunch. “Let's go party!”

And everything went dark.

… Barbara awoke with a groan. The smell of pennies flooded her nostrils. Her vision was bleary and swam as she struggled to open her eyes.

A dark figure entered her vision from her periphery, and it loomed over a figure clad in purple. And for a moment, just one moment, she allowed herself to hope.

But, that hope crumbled just as quickly as Joker's voice entered her ears. 

“You're okay, Bruce, you're okay, sweetie. You're gonna play nice now, right?”

Barbara couldn't help but shudder at the sound of Bruce's laugh in reply.

Hands found their way to Barbara's hair again, this time much softer. Not grabbing, just brushing and stroking almost soothingly.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs ‘n bakey,” Harley sang as she carded her hands through the younger woman's hair. “Y'know, I've always wanted a daughter. A little girl of my own. You think you'd ever want Mama to braid your hair for you? It's so pretty!”

“Ah, welcome back to the land of the living, Barbie,” Joker greeted. “Your Dad and I were just talking about you. A real chip off the ol’ block. Now all we need is to make it official.”

Barbara watched as Tim approached Bruce, pushing a gun of some kind into his hands. The Batman held it in his hands, smiling down at the weapon - but seemed almost hesitant. Unsure. Like he knew this was wrong. Like the weapon would somehow come alive and bite him.

“Batman, listen to me,” Batgirl pleaded. “Don't do this. Whatever they've done to you, this isn't you.”

“Oh, but it is! And soon it'll be you, too,” Harley corrected, walking back to give herself some distance.

“I know you're torn, Batsy, but I promise this is for the best,” Joker rubbed circles into the other man's back. “We'll all finally be together. Once we get Barbie here, then we'll get Dick and Al. And we'll be a family! They'll never be hurt again. You'll never be hurt again, sweetheart. I won't let anything bad happen anymore. You'll get your happily ever after. You won't be afraid ever again, I promise.”

Tears stung at Barbara's cheeks as she begged. “Batman, please!”

And for a moment, she thought she somehow got through to him. They locked eyes and Bruce smiled at her with a smile that isn't his own. But, she thought she could see understanding or recognition or something in his eyes, and was sure he'd toss the gun away and start kicking Joker's ass.

But, she was wrong.

With a hiss, green toxin flooded all around her. Even over her screams, the sounds of Joker, Tim, Harley, and Bruce's laughter smothered her completely. And soon after, so did her own.

[misfit-mccoward]

me my entire adult life writing fic: i support the ykinmk life but i don't really like writing sex, and i would definitely feel weird taking prompts

me in the later half of 2024: OH YOU VAGUELY MENTIONED A SMUT CONCEPT? HERE YOU GO--

anyway, itakarin concept fic from the itachi's picnic discord server ->

the concept was basically "karin as a prison warden and itachi as her prisoner." i play hard into the power dynamic so it's one of those fics that's technically dubcon from a real world logic standpoint, but it's not particularly dubcon from the porn trope "oh he WANTS it and my magic powers confirm it!!" standpoint. so there's your warning for that

also i had a whole plot concept but i couldn't figure out how to execute it in like 500 words or less. so rn there's just bullet points ion the middle, but i figured i'd post the porn in case i never finish the bullet points lol

****

Playing warden is all one big game, really. That’s what Sound is. Karin looks at the board, analyzes the pieces, and then she makes her move. 

The keys jingling at her waist are part of it, a part of the strategy. She rolls her hips as she walks down the hall intentionally, to make that noise. So people know she’s coming. So they know to straighten up, to be on their best behavior. So they go limp and placid without realizing that Karin has no high level jutsu to her name, that she’s just some bitch with a rude tongue. 

It’s not so hard. Karin can monitor every chakra signature in her care with ease. If she feels one snap, she can send her little underlings to take care of it, and then show up right as that prisoner breaks, every single time. From the outside, it will always look like Karin is the primary factor associated with subjugation, because that’s how she plays this game. It’s an illusion of power, but it’s still power. Inmates still dip their head to her when they hear her coming. 

It’s not hard, but that doesn’t mean she enjoys it. Karin has her own goals. None of them involve playing warden to a bunch of Orochimaru’s discarded experiments. She would leave if she could, but the game is part of the trap. Even if she’s winning, even if she’s ahead, she’s still stuck in the game. 

And then, finally, something changes. 

Karin gets no real explanation for why she’s handed over Uchiha Itachi. She doesn’t even get real security measures for him besides the standard chakra-dampening handcuffs. She preps a blindfold for him, because she has studied the sharingan in depth and knows how dangerous it can be. Because she’s been given no orders, she makes up a sealing jutsu on the spot just for the blindfold and has no idea if it will work. 

(It doesn’t have to work, she tells herself. Itachi just has to think it does.)

Karin half wonders if Orochimaru expects Itachi to burn down this hideout. Karin has been trapped here for years and years since Sasuke disappeared, ordering around abandoned specimens. Itachi killing them all would probably be high entertainment for Orochimaru. 

Itachi doesn’t make any moves to kill anyone, though. Karin is acutely aware that he could, if he control slipped for even a second. His chakra is subdued when she first marches into his holding cell, but it’s big and dangerous and deadly. 

So Karin marches in, keys jangling, and does her best boss bitch act that she can. She’s aware of Itachi watching her warily as she orders people around. She doesn’t meet his eyes. 

His chakra finally hitches when she goes to tie the blindfold on him. Karin doesn’t let her hands falter, doesn’t let her outward confidence slip for a second, but she does tense at that. He doesn’t make a move against her. 

****

*Establish Itachi also wants to find Sasuke for non-nefarious reasons

*Karin wants to join forces with Itachi but doesn’t know how without risking her personal safety because he’s obviously recovering from some horrible illness but he’s still Uchiha Itachi

*she has an epiphany while in his cell alone with him 

*Karin has accidentally pavlov trained Itachi to be sexually attracted to the sound of her warden’s keyring (in like 300 words somehow)

****

Karin straightens her back and holds up her key ring up so it rests in the crook of her index finger. Then she twitches her finger just once, just enough to make the keys jingle. 

Itachi’s hips jolt just slightly. A smirk slowly spreads over Karin’s face. 

“Can’t help yourself, can you?” she mocks, then jingles her keys again. “How pathetic.”

Her words elicit a full body shudder, only invisible to Karin in that she’s looking for it, and Itachi’s chakra tightens up right at his core in an absolutely delicious way. Then, to Karin’s utter glee, she watches something shift in his pants. Uchiha Itachi is definitely getting hard, his ugly prison pants tenting as his hips twitch, just for her. Just for her moving a single finger. 

Obviously, Karin does it again. 

“S—” Itachi bites out, squirming against his restraints. “Stop.”

He says that, but Karin can feel his chakra, dark and tight and aroused. She’s never felt anything like this before, someone both hungry for her and entirely under her power. The idea excites her. She could do anything she wants! 

“You want me to stop?” Karin repeats in her sweet voice, the one she used to use on Sasuke. She struts forward, swinging her hips even though Itachi can’t see them with the blindfold, and straddles his lap. “You don’t want me doing this?”

She rolls her hips forward, so she comes down over him, pressing down on his erection with her own pelvis as her breasts brush against his chest. Itachi twitches but his chakra doesn’t tighten the way she’d wanted it to. 

“You dare question your warden?” Karin tries. 

This time, Itachi’s chakra rolls with arousal. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. His hips presses upwards, increasing the pressure of her own groin over his. 

I see how it is, Karin decides. She likes this. She likes this a lot. An ache is forming between her legs, and it takes all her self control not to grind herself into him. 

She reaches forward carefully and wraps her fingers around the base of Itachi’s neck. Then she slowly runs her hand upwards, over his throat, until it’s under his chin. Then she forces his head backwards, getting up on her knees so she can hover over him. 

“Desperate, aren’t we?” she says in a mocking, sing-song voice. She runs a thumb over his bottom lip, and Itachi grunts. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to untie you, and you’re going to be a good little prisoner for me.”

She doesn’t wait for a response. She stands and snaps off his restraints, all business and in control. The moment he’s free, Itachi pounces on her, hands going for her neck. 

Karin had been expecting this. Her hand tangles in his loose hair, and she yanks. “No,” she commands, and Itachi goes limp before her, his chakra coiling up inside him. 

Holy shit, Karin thinks, dragging Itachi’s hair down enough to force him to kneel. Holy shit!

She covers his face with one hand, her nails digging into the skin of his cheeks, and he whimpers. She forces her index and middle finger into his mouth. “Suck,” she commands, and he does. 

Karin feels an insane rush of adrenaline as she does this, putting herself into someone else’s mouth on purpose, as an act of her control over them instead of the other person controlling her. Her stomach flips in a way that almost makes her moan herself. 

Karin has never been more turned on before in her life. She’s theoretically had this power over prisoners this whole time, but none have given it over like Itachi does, and so easily! None of them have wanted this like Itachi. 

What do I do next? Karin wonders, sticking her fingers back far enough into Itachi that he starts to gag. This makes his chakra go haywire with lust, and so she reaches forward with her other hand and buries it in his hair to prevent him from pulling back as she moves her fingers back and forth. 

He doesn’t even fight her. He willingly kneels in front of her, letting her facefuck him. Clearly Karin has not spent nearly enough time on fantasies of being a sex dungeon master, because this is the hottest thing she’s ever seen. 

Karin has never fucked someone like this before. She’s never had sex like this before. She’s had no real practice for the logistics of it. But she’s done all sorts of things to herself with toys and the power of her own imagination, and that seems close enough. 

She holds up the key ring again.��

“Does someone want to be warden’s dildo tonight?” she coos, and jangles the ring. 

Itachi moans around her fingers. There’s drool welling up at the corners of his mouth, spilling over her fingers. His lips are obediently tight around her, sucking at her as she presses down on his tongue. She’s sure someone like Uchiha Itachi would have no problem biting her fingers off if he wanted to. But she’s also confident he won’t. The thrill this gives her is downright addicting. 

Karin retracts her fingers and commands Itachi to strip. He does so quickly, pulling away the ugly prison uniform but leaving the blindfold in place. Karin keeps a close watch on him as she pulls off her own clothing. She re-buckles her belt around her naked waist, clasping the keyring to it. 

Karin shoves Itachi down onto his back and then sits on him. She doesn’t take him into her quite yet, instead sitting back for a moment to enjoy the view. Itachi looks good, with his hair tangled and spilled across the concrete floor of his cell. 

I want to take off the blindfold, Karin decides. I want to see his whole face. 

She’ll have to be careful to maintain power over him to do this. She’s confident, based on the way Itachi’s chakra is buzzing in anticipation below her, and given he made no move to remove the blindfold himself, that he wants this. That he’s as turned on by this as she is. He wants her calling all the shots, wants her to be the one that graciously frees him. 

Karin lifts her hips a little, and then guides his length inside of her. She’s turned on and wet enough that it slides into her easily, and it stretches her out in the best way. Underneath her, Itachi’s fingers tense and try to dig into the concrete floor. 

“You like this,” Karin says. It’s a statement, not a question. She sets his hand over his abdomen and watches as goose bumps spread up his skin. “You want me to fuck you.”

She keeps her hips firmly in place, unmoving as she traces her fingers up Itachi’s body, across the plain of his abs and pectorals. He’s not as built as she’d expect for a close-combat ninja, but she supposes being sick in prison will do that to you. He’s still pretty, though, gasping and sweaty beneath her. His chakra is tumultuous, lustful in torturous anticipation for her. 

Karin doesn’t give it to him, as much as she wants to just give in herself and ride him until she has her own screaming orgasm. 

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” Karin says, fingers ghosting up his throat. 

Itachi lets out a guttural groan but continues not to say anything. Karin leans forward slightly, achingly slowly, letting him shift just slightly inside her. The keys slip against her hip and let out a single jingle. The noise that comes out of Itachi next is a little higher, more throaty and definitely more desperate. Karin slowly slips a thumb under his blindfold and pulls it up. Underneath, his dark eyes are glassy and unfocused. 

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” Karin commands, looking him directly in in the eyes. “Or else I will sit here all day until you beg me.”

Karin kind of wants to hear Itachi beg. But also, she would like to hurry up and get on with riding him into oblivion. 

Karin clenches her walls as best she can, just to give him a taste. Itachi gasps, blinking hard, his mouth open and panting. 

“I…” he finally stammers out. “I want you to fuck me.”

Karin pats his cheek. “Good,” she tells him in her sweetest voice. 

Karin sits up, but still doesn’t make a move to actually fuck him. Instead she sits back, staring down at her conquest. Itachi lies there helplessly, even with all his physical restraints removed and his eyes given back to him. He stares back up at her, face flushed and eyes pleading. How long can she bear to just sit here like this, drinking in the view…? 

“Please,” Itachi says after a minute. His hands go over her thighs, although he makes no move to grip her or move her. His hips twitch but he makes no move to buck into her. “Please,” he begs.

Karin wants to make him wait longer, to make him beg her harder, but she’s too turned on to wait herself. She rolls her hips, slowly and deliberately, and his dick feels so fucking good inside her as she moves. The face Itachi makes is exquisite, his eyes squeezing shut as she finally gives him what he wants. 

Karin puts her hands over his and moves Itachi’s hands up further on her legs to her hips, so he can grip her better. 

“Fuck me back,” she commands. 

She rolls her hips again, and this time Itachi matches her, thrusting upwards. The keys jangle at her hips, and Karin lets out a throaty oh! at how fantastic it feels, Itachi moving against her and filling her perfectly, perfectly teasing the line between being painful and feeling like complete ecstasy. Her cunt aches as he thrusts into her, and she commands he go faster and harder, and so he does. 

Karin loves the way chakra feels mid sex. She loves feeling Itachi’s darken with lust and then roll with satisfaction when she finally gives it to him, and she loves knowing this is all under her control. She rides him, rides the wave of his chakra, and lets herself get as loud as she wants, her voice drowning out the sound of her keyring at her side. 

When she can feel Itachi coming close, his chakra rising and tightening with fervent excitement, Karin decides she wants control even over this. She wants him to associate his orgasm with her, with seeding everything about him to her. And so Karin shoves her forearm into his mouth. 

“Bite me,” she commands. Then without waiting for a response, she shoves his jaw upward with her other hand to make him. 

Usually, Karin requests no biting or teeth from her sexual partner. It’s something that, in her childhood, she associated with a complete loss of her own agency. But as an adult, Karin gives her powers to who she wants, and she wants a full-strength Uchiha Itachi under her, writhing with pleasure for her, his hands and eyes on her only for her own pleasure. 

Itachi moans pathetically as her chakra rushes into him, forcing his body to heal itself, convalescing itself in his lungs full of scar tissue. He shakes, gasping and whimpering as he finally cums inside her, mediated by Karin’s own chakra, and Karin grins down at him with all her teeth. She does her best to ride him through it, even as she comes undone herself. 

“What…” Itachi starts, blinking away confusion. Karin slides off of him, brushing her hair over her shoulders. 

Karin stands and then, just for a little treat, sets one foot on Itachi’s chest. The movement makes the keys jingle one more time, and Itachi gasps again and makes a face like he had in the middle of having his brain blown by Karin. She smirks down at him. Itachi is at full strength now, and he simply lies on the floor for her, messy and covered in both their fluids. 

“You’re going to be my pretty little prison lay from now on,” Karin tells him. 

Itachi glances down himself at her foot, and then turns his head slightly to look up at her. 

“I’m not going to agree to this indefinitely,” he says finally. He still, Karin notes, continues to simply just lie there. 

“No,” Karin tells him, “you are. Because if you sit pretty and put on a big show of following my every command, of being my loyal little sex toy, then I will help you break out and find Sasuke.”

After all, how much power can she flex over this place, if she has an unrestrained Uchiha Itachi at her beck and call, letting her put him on a leash? She’ll be able to burn this place down herself. She’ll be able to leave. 

And also, she is going to get dicked down and eaten out as much as she wants. 

Itachi blinks down at her foot again. 

“...alright,” he says at length. 

Karin presses her foot down over him. “Every command, Uchiha,” she insists. 

Itachi lies back, relaxing under her. 

“Yes, Warden,” he murmurs.

[maraschinomerry]

Hi! Could you please write a Lockwood x reader fic involving the prompt: You aren't well, but you don't want to skip training and make them worry, so you continue on as usual, thinking it's not that serious. But that's proven wrong when you faint right in front of them mid-fight. Mixed with the dialogue: "You hold it like this and- why are your hands trembling?" Thank you in advance! 💙

Pretty Boy

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x gn!reader

Content: mild swearing, whump (fainting as in the prompt), mentions of not eating or sleeping, cute flirty ending

A/N: thank you for such a great request!! I've actually also just got over being not well while I was writing this (I'm fine now and wasn't this bad!) so it was weirdly cathartic 😅

Word count: 2.3k

The blissful quiet of the kitchen at 35 Portland Row was shattered by an incredibly loud, almost violent sneeze. You threw your arm across your face just in time to catch it. That was weird. You never sneezed.

"Bless you," Lockwood frowned over the top of his magazine.

That was day 1.

On day 2, you were all out on a case, in a dilapidated Victorian house. In a divide-and-conquer strategy for such a big place, Lockwood and George had headed upstairs while you and Lucy stayed on the ground floor. Fumbling around in the dim light of the dining room, Lucy threw open the curtains to let in what was left of the evening sun, accidentally unleashing a cloud of dust which shimmered in the beam of your torch. You both coughed a little in surprise.

Your coughing didn't stop for the rest of the night.

Day 3 was spent relaxing, recovering from getting home in the early hours of the morning after a gruelling fight with a pair of Type Twos. Or rather, everyone else was relaxing. You were in your room, fluctuating between wrapping your shivering form in your duvet and throwing it off so you wouldn't melt into a puddle. The bowl of soup you'd made yourself for lunch grew cold where it sat untouched on your bedside table.

A sleepless night heralded the arrival of day 4. Your symptoms had mostly abated by the evening, and you desperately hoped to claw back a few hours of rest. By dinner time, bleary-eyed, you forced yourself downstairs to try and get at least one meal of the day. Fortunately, the kitchen was empty, so at least you didn't have to explain your recent lack of presence to anyone. Unfortunately, none of the contents of the fridge were even remotely appealing right now. You settled for a slice of toast which you took back upstairs. Two bites in, you felt your stomach flip. Great. The rest went straight in the bin.

A gentle knock sounded on your door the morning of day 5, after another night of tossing and turning without ever drifting off.

"Yeah?" you called wearily.

Lockwood poked his head in, dressed in a loose Henley T-shirt and sweatpants. "Morning. Just thought I'd check you were alright, you didn't come down for training." Oh shit. You and Lockwood had been doing weekly training together for months - it started not long after you joined the agency, when he'd come down to the basement for practice and found you already there, and you'd ended up sparring. It had happened a few more times, and eventually you fell into the habit of both going down on Friday mornings so much it became an unofficial appointment.

"Oh, sorry," you swallowed a yawn. "I lost track of what day it was. Give me five minutes."

"I sort of assumed you weren't coming down dressed Iike that." He nodded to your fuzzy pyjamas with a smirk, and you tugged shyly at the hem of the top. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Yeah." That was a lie. Lockwood studied you for a moment, and you wondered if he could see right through you, but then he nodded to himself.

"Alright, see you downstairs." He began to leave, but popped back at the last second. "I'm not saying the pyjamas are a bad look, by the way, they're cute, just maybe a bit warm for fighting in." He grinned again, and disappeared. What was that supposed to mean?

—

Five minutes later, as promised, you traipsed down the basement steps in runner shorts and a tank top. This was the last thing you wanted to be doing right now, but you loved getting one-on-one time with Lockwood and knew how much it would hurt him to break the tradition and how concerned he'd be about you if he found out you'd been ill.

Lockwood gave you another puzzled look. "Are you sure you're okay?" He'd seen you this low energy before, but normally only the day after a case.

You gave the most convincing smile you could muster. "Fine. What's the plan?"

He furrowed his brows once more, before apparently deciding against whatever he was thinking. "Okay, there was a new move I figured out on the last case. I thought I could teach you and see if you think it's any good?" That last part sounded so open and vulnerable. You could imagine what he was thinking - was it a fluke? Was it him overselling his talents? Did it look ridiculous? He got like that sometimes, needed snapping out of it. Reassuring. Your smile was more genuine this time.

"Sounds good, it certainly seemed effective."

You tried your best to concentrate while Lockwood demonstrated the move, really you did, but you were running on empty and the basement was so delightfully cool. Maybe if you just lay down on the floor for a bit, you'd sort yourself out.

"Did you get that?" Lockwood's voice cut through the fog of your thoughts, and you dragged your eyes up to meet his, which were nodding to your hands. You hadn't the slightest idea what it was he expected you to have got.

"Uhh…"

To your relief, he mistook your distraction for confusion and stepped closer to help, carefully off to one side to avoid the blade as his hands rested over yours.

"You hold it like this and- why are your hands trembling?"

You barely registered the alarm in his voice, or the uncontrollable tremor that was indeed present and spreading up your arms. Nothing in your body seemed to be responding properly any more. Did you still have hold of the rapier? Why was your chest so tight, not allowing any air in? An invisible wad had trapped in your throat, and you desperately sucked in a breath through your nose. Gosh, Lockwood smelled good. Lavender and bergamot. And he was pretty, too. So pretty. Those deep dark eyes, gazing at you with so much longing. No, not longing. He didn't do that, did he? Plus, he was frowning too much for longing. Concern? You didn't like it when he frowned. You tried to pout, but your lips didn't move. That was annoying. So were the lights. Had they always been this bright? It hurt. Everything hurt. You needed to leave. Now.

Panic took hold of the last working corner of your brain and sent a jolt of electricity down to your legs which finally reacted, carrying you shakily towards the stairs. You muttered something incoherent, mouth not quite as functional. The effort drained the last dregs of energy, and your legs stopped working again.

"Whoa, whoa-" a voice behind you gasped, hasty footsteps echoing. Who was that? There was someone else down here, wasn't there? You couldn't remember. Wait. There was a pretty boy, right? He seemed nice. You tried to tell him you were okay, you wanted to. As you pitched backwards, the silhouette of the pretty boy swam into view, blocking out the harsh lights above. That was better.

Everything went black.

—

You were laying somewhere warm and soft. That was odd. And it was less bright behind your eyelids. Where were you? Hadn't you been down in the basement? With the cold floor and the cold lights… and the pretty boy? Was he still here?

You tried to call out for him, succeeding only in a groan. The surface beneath you shifted by your feet in response, and your eyelids fluttered open a fraction. There he was. Framed by the golden rays filtering through the window behind him and dappling across his dark hair.

"Hey, pretty boy," you murmured. Proper words; that was more like it. Next step: opening your eyes fully.

Ah.

The pretty boy was Lockwood, brows knitted upwards as he shuffled further up what you gradually realised was your bed.

"Hey." His voice was thick, with the hint of a shake. "How are you feeling?"

You groaned again, moving to sit up. Lockwood instantly reached out, one hand on the small of your back and the other lifting the pillows to prop up behind you. "Been better."

Under any other circumstances, you think he'd probably have laughed. As it was, he huffed out a breath and you spotted a brief tic in his jaw. "That's a mild way of putting it. You collapsed in the middle of training. I had no idea what happened, I thought…" His gaze dropped to his lap as he trailed off. The silence clenched tightly around your heart. Eventually, he spoke again, still not looking at you, voice cracking and barely above a whisper. "I was so worried about you."

The tension in your chest pressed down further, and you thought you actually heard your heart shatter.

"Hey, Lockwood, look at me." You raised a hand, still trembling but for an entirely new reason, up to cup his cheek. At last, he looked. Those beautiful dark eyes were watery, and his nose ruffled as he tried to hold back the tears. "I'm okay, see? I'm here, I'm okay, and I'm so sorry for making you worry."

A warmth spread over the back of your hand as he brought his up to meet it. His fingers curled over yours, thumb rubbing calmingly across your knuckles. Whether the calming was for you or him, you couldn't say. "But are you sure you're okay? People don't just collapse like that, and you've been out all day." Your eyes widened a little as you glanced at your alarm clock. Almost 6. Wow.

"Honestly, it's nothing serious. Kind of stupid, actually; the irony is it all happened because I didn't want you to worry." That made him chuckle. That was promising. You continued. "I was ill - I don't know if it was a cold or flu or what - but that wasn't great to begin with, and then with it ruining my ability to eat and sleep I just… didn't have anything left to give."

You don't know what reaction you expected from Lockwood: frustration, confusion, disappointment perhaps. You certainly weren't expecting him to look quite so… guilty? "Why didn't you say something when I came to find you? We could have cancelled training." It came out sharper than you were expecting. Oh. There was where the guilt came in.

"I didn't want to break the tradition."

"To hell with the tradition if this is what it does to you!"

You faltered. Was it just your current condition, or had your mouth gone very dry? "Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" You took a steadying breath. "It's not just that. I don't mean it like it's some obligation. I love our sessions! Getting to have that time just for us, having it be our thing, it's the highlight of my week. And it's been a pretty shitty week so I wanted this one thing to be nice."

The fire in Lockwood's words died out, and he almost visibly deflated. His free hand reached up unexpectedly to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"Well, I'm glad it means that much to you, but next time will you please tell me when something's wrong? I can survive missing our date more than I can survive missing you."

Hold on.

You were definitely still ill. Your cheeks felt warm and your heart was pounding against your ribcage. That was the only possible explanation. Definitely nothing to do with the fact that the boy you'd been in love with for months had just called your training sessions a date. Oh god, you'd infected him too, his face was flushed. "Date?" you breathed.

"Only if you want it to be, of course, I don't want to jump to conclusions. Although you did call me 'pretty boy' barely five minutes ago, so I'm sure even George would agree with the legitimacy of my hypothesis." Oh, how you'd missed seeing that smirk he'd grown all of a sudden.

"I'm not entirely sure you can take the high ground on this one, love, when you said even more recently how you couldn't survive without me."

"I think so long as I'm right I can. Especially since, if we're going off who said something last, you couldn't even argue without calling me love."

"I wish we were still holding rapiers, I've got a chance of beating you at that."

Lockwood laughed, all earlier emotions replaced with nothing but tender affection. "Get some sleep, and then we can test that theory." He made to leave, but where your hands were still entwined you tightened your grip a little.

"Will you stay? Please? In case I didn't make it clear enough with fainting, I haven't been doing so great at the whole sleep thing."

When he nodded, you wriggled over to one side of the bed, allowing him to slip under the covers behind you. Everything about him felt cosy, and you snuggled towards that feeling. It took him aback for a moment until he draped an arm over your stomach, gently tugging you closer so the two of you slotted together like you'd been designed to fit one another from the start. His breath tickled your ear, but its constant rhythm slowed yours in turn. Your eyelids grew heavy.

"You know," you mumbled sleepily, "you could take me on a proper date. Only if you want to, of course, wouldn't want to jump to conclusions."

He squeezed you playfully. "I think I've got enough evidence to consider it. Lunch tomorrow if you feel up to it?" You hummed a contented agreement. As your eyes drifted shut, a feather-light kiss pressed against your temple. "Good night, love."

"Good night, pretty boy."

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Lily's views on action shows are very confusing. She wants to see female protagonists mow through their enemies with ease, and the second there's any kind of conflict, she'll either complain about characters moping like Luz from The Owl House, or claim that a character being hurt in an action show is being "tortured" like Korra.

Which you know, is a little eyebrow raising when you look at Lily's own writing, mainly her Star Wars fanfic. Didn't Aliana get injured more then once, even needing a prosphetic??? Does this not count as writing torture porn by Lily's logic. After all, if a character gets hurt in any way in her eyes, its either torture porn, a fetish or something along those lines. Or is it another Lily's allowed to do it because insert how she does it better then any other writers....I mean I ain't gonna lie, I'd watch Fullmetal Alchemist over reading Lily's writing if I wanted disabled characters at this point, given how I swear Aliana's prosphetic took its sweet time showing up in art drawn for the fic, let alone how she depicts other disabilities in other writing.... And I would point out how Lily TECHNICALLY reduced Rey to being depressed forever when with Aliana when she's out here acting like Luz being slowly depressed over everything is bad....but I'm pretty sure Rey being depressed in the fic is a fetish for Lily because...Aliana never does anything about it and seems to enjoy the smell of Rey when Rey's not showered at all, let alone thought it was good to say Rey would just end her life when Aliana died, acting like Rey has nothing left to live for and the couples kids and grandkids would be fine with it....so if anything, I wonder if Lily hates Owl House for Luz being depressed for a bit because its not depicted in a romantic light like Lily does in her writing, its depicted as a bad state for Luz that she eventually gets out off. The same going for Korra actually now that I think about it. It's never once depicted in a light that Lily herself can romantize or fetish. Korra is in constant pain in the torture moments and has PTSD from it, PTSD she has to slowly recover enough from so she can be the avatar again. Lily saying the writers/animators enjoyed doing the scene, acting like they into torture porn is major projection on Lily's part, but also clearly her being mad the show doesn't give into her fetishes.

But like beyond fetishes....Lily and action shows is just: *Lore? Bad. *Plot? Bad. *Male characters who are white? Bad. *If your character struggles and gets injured and shit? TORTURE PORN. Like it'd be one thing if she just said she didn't like the damn shit shes talking about, but no, she just makes up bullshit and acts like she's right and if you disagree, your insert whatever thing she can come up with.