#maybe someday before I’m dead

[cryptid-on-a-string]

one of my main motivations to stay alive long enough to be an adult, is the notion that I’ll be able to decorate my future home however strange, weird, and unusual as I want. I could paint a coffee table with funky colors and patterns. I could buy one of those neon Pepsi clocks that restaurants have. I could have LED lights in lots of rooms. I could make fake human organs and have them strewn around the place like someone was mauled to death. I could sew stuffed animals onto the furniture. I could hang model fish from the ceiling. maybe the thought of growing up doesnt have to be a daunting and horrible task, if someday I’ll live on my own get to decorate stuff however I want,.

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think,��at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny. 

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker. Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watch him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin’. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

[hay-389]

I was just going through my Madney edit folder because I’m dedicated to finishing this video edit I’ve been working on for like 2 years, and I love how I took labeling the clips very seriously…

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

It’s My Job

Summary: The reader’s having a rough night but the stranger at the bar decides to offer some assistance when she has nowhere to go...

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: language, tiny bit of violence

A/N: Enjoy!

______________

Someday you’d have to thank that boy in seventh grade that taught you how to throw a punch. 

Don’t put your thumb inside your fist unless you want to break it. Do a small twist of your wrist right before impact to deliver more momentum. Throw your body weight behind it to make it hurt more. That’s what you got for being lab partners with the class bad boy but at least you had a chance because of him. 

He neglected to tell you your knuckles would ache, your skin would scrape open and bleed, or even that the adrenaline would make you so jumpy you’d nearly trip on your own feet when you sprinted the hell out of there.

It was eleven at night, your feet taking you to the nearest open door, a bar from the looks of it. You took a deep breath when you got inside, nearly groaning when you saw how dead it was.

“We’re closing up. Tuesday is an early night,” said the bartender, the lone man at the bar swigging down the last of his drink, slapping a few bills down and spinning in his seat to stand.

“No, you don’t under-”

“Out,” said the bartender, your head shaking. “Or I call the cops. I’ve had enough shit for one night.”

“No, I need the cops, I-”

“Out,” said the bartender, shooing you out after the man, the door closing up tight behind.

“No, I...” you said, turning your head to catch sight of the man from the alley hanging out by a wall about three stores down.

“Hey,” said the man nearby, scratching his head, the expression not matching his sour face. “Can you pretend to give me directions while you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“What?” you said, glancing behind him, the guy’s face in a snarl.

“Don’t look at him,” said the man, making shoulder shrugs like he was confused. “You said you need cops and your hand is messed up so I’m guessing douchebag down there did something?”

“W-Was walking and he grabbed me but I hit him and ran...” you said, remembering what he said, fake pointing to an area behind him, wearing a forced smile.

“I see. There’s a black muscle car just up the street behind you. You walk that way and I’ll deal with the asshole back there,” said the man, a dark smile on his face. 

“But-”

“Trust me, kind of my job, sweetheart,” he said, pretending to make a thank you expression, spinning around and walking down the street. You tried to do what he said, not taking too many steps before you heard a thump on the ground, your head turning to find the man shaking out his hand over the out cold alley guy. “He went down like a lightweight. A little proper training and you probably would have gotten him out yourself.”

“Y-Yeah,” you said, the guy pulling his belt from the loops, tying it around the alley guy’s wrists.

“That’ll keep him until the cops show,” said the man, pulling out his phone, giving it a few presses. “Hey Derek...Yeah, it’s Dean. You on duty tonight? Got a pervy assclown down near Chuck’s that could use with an ambulance and an assault charge...he went after some chick in the alley nearby. She got away, bumped into me...yeah, I’ll be sure to tell her what a lucky night she’s having...see you in a few buddy,” he said hanging up the phone. “Cops will be here soon.”

“Thanks...Dean,” you said, the man chuckling.

“You’re very welcome whoever you are,” he said with a smile, squinting his eyes. “You seem super familiar, like extremely familiar. We didn’t go to the same school or something, did we?”

“I’m...I’m in a movie that just came out,” you said, glancing down. “I didn’t realize...”

“Ah, I’ve seen that trailer a thousand times. They won’t stop playing it,” he said, glancing back at the alley guy. “Scumbag like him probably doesn’t give a shit if you’re famous or not. You might want to think about some protection though...maybe a self-defense class at the very least.”

“Maybe...maybe I’ll do that,” you said, nodding your head. “Thank you.”

“I don’t wanna,” you groaned a few weeks later, sitting in a conference room at a protection agency, your manager rolling her eyes at you.

“Okay, your knight in shining armor had a point, Y/N. We were headed down this road anyways,” she said.

“But I took the class. I can kick someone’s ass now,” you said, earning a small laugh from her. “You did too! Anybody messes with us, we got this.”

“Alright Rambo,” she said with a giggle. “Maybe you don’t need one all the time but for events and stuff. Besides, maybe you’ll find a cute bodyguard? Find the Costner to your Houston.”

“I ain’t no damsel,” you said, crossing your arms as the door opened.

“Oh, well that’ll make my job...” said the man in a suit, blinking his eyes at you. 

“Dean?” you said, standing up. “What are...”

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “When I said to get some protection, I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on that let alone pick my agency.”

“He’s cuter than you said he was,” said your manager, giving Dean a little wave.

“Sara,” you growled, Dean smirking down at you.

“Would you like to start the interview, Ms. Y/L/N?” asked Dean, nodding to the chairs.

“This may seem entirely unprofessional but why were you drinking at a bar by yourself late at night?” you asked, Dean raising an eyebrow.

“I was supposed to go on a blind date that night but got stood up. I was somewhat pissed off so I had a drink or two,” he said. “You should give her a call and thank her.”

“You think I didn’t have the situation handled myself?” you asked, Dean shrugging his shoulders.

“Maybe, maybe not. I took the guess work out of it for you though. That’s my job. You don’t have to wonder if I’ll kick the guy’s ass. You know I will,” he said.

“You’re kinda cocky,” you said.

“You’re kinda stubborn,” he said.

“You’re hired,” you said.

“Already knew I was,” he said, looking you up and down. “My manager will provide you both with a full work history on myself as well as work with Ms. Saxley over there to determine your needs more specifically.”

“That’s it?” you asked, Dean smiling but all business.

“No, you and I are just getting started. Let’s get a coffee down the street and see how well you can follow a few rules to start with.”

_____________

[istoleyoursphenoidbone]

In Search of Kindred Spirits - Chapter 1

DPxDC, Dead on Main

Summary: What happens when two young kids have a fate meeting on the streets of Gotham? Kindred Spirits get formed of course, ones who despite their fates will search to find each other once more.

The streets of Gotham were an endless labyrinth of shadows, filth, and danger. Even at midday, when the sun struggled to cut through the thick layers of smog and skyscrapers, Gotham felt like it existed in a perpetual twilight. For 8-year-old Danny Fenton, it was like stepping into another world—darker, grittier, and far less friendly than Amity Park’s suburban quiet.

Danny trailed behind his parents as they animatedly argued about the schedule for the Paranormal Science Conference. Jack and Maddie Fenton were brilliant, but their hyperfixation on ghost hunting often left Danny feeling like an afterthought. He sighed as they turned another corner, too distracted by their plans to notice him lagging behind.

Something shiny caught his eye—a penny glinting on the grimy sidewalk. Danny stooped to pick it up, grinning at his small treasure. His parents were already several steps ahead, their voices blending into the city’s cacophony.

“Lucky penny,” Danny whispered, pocketing it. When he looked up, his parents were gone.

Panic crept into his chest. He spun around, scanning the street for the telltale flash of Jack’s bright orange jumpsuit or Maddie’s blue lab coat. Nothing. The crowd pressed around him, and for the first time, Gotham felt suffocating.

“Mom? Dad?” Danny called, but his voice barely carried over the noise of honking cars and shouting vendors. He took a few hesitant steps forward, unsure which way his parents had gone.

“Hey, kid,” a gruff voice interrupted. Danny turned to see three older boys, maybe in their late teens, grinning at him in a way that made his stomach twist.

“Lost, are we?” one of them said, stepping closer. He reeked of cigarettes, and his hand casually rested on a switchblade at his belt.

Danny swallowed hard, taking a step back. “N-no, I’m fine. Just looking for my parents.”

The tallest of the group laughed, his yellowed teeth on full display. “Oh, we’ll help you find ‘em, alright. But it’s gonna cost you. Hand over whatever you’ve got, and we might just point you in the right direction.”

Danny’s heart pounded. His mind raced through every ghost-hunting gadget his parents had ever built, none of which were currently on him. All he had was his "lucky penny," and he doubted it would do much good against a knife.

Before he could respond, a voice cut through the tension like a whip.

“Hey! Leave him alone!”

All eyes turned to the boy standing at the mouth of the alley. He looked to be about Danny’s age, though he carried himself with the confidence of someone far older. His dark hair stuck out in messy tufts beneath a red hoodie, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides.

The tallest thug sneered. “Scram, kid. This ain’t your business.”

The boy didn’t move. If anything, he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah? Well, now it is. So unless you wanna explain to the cops why you’re picking on a little kid, I’d suggest you back off.”

Danny couldn’t help but admire the way the boy stood his ground, even as the thugs towered over him.

The one with the knife scoffed. “You’ve got guts, kid. Too bad they’re gonna get you in trouble someday.” With a final glare, the group turned and slunk away, disappearing into the crowd.

Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “T-thanks,” he stammered.

The boy shrugged, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. “No problem. Name’s Jason. You shouldn’t wander around Gotham on your own, y’know.”

Danny gave a sheepish smile. “I wasn’t trying to. I got separated from my parents. I’m Danny, by the way.”

Jason’s grin widened. “Nice to meet ya, Danny. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Danny shook his head. “We’re just visiting for a few months. My parents are scientists—they’re at some big conference thingy.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Scientists, huh? That explains the whole… mad scientist vibe you’ve got going on.”

Danny laughed. “You should see my dad. He’s like, twice as loud and ten times weirder.”

Jason snickered, and for a moment, the tension melted away. “C’mon,” he said, motioning for Danny to follow. “I’ll help you find your parents. Gotham’s confusing if you don’t know your way around.”

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

Over the next few weeks, Danny and Jason became inseparable. Jason, who’d always been wary of strangers, found himself drawn to Danny’s unfiltered curiosity and easy laughter. In return, Danny admired Jason’s bravery and quick wit, marveling at how someone his age could navigate Gotham’s streets like they were his personal playground.

Jason introduced Danny to the hidden gems of Gotham: the best place to get day-old bagels for free, the rooftops with the best views, and even an abandoned theater where they could sneak in and watch old movies.

One afternoon, as they sat on a rooftop overlooking the city, Danny turned to Jason with a wide grin. “Y’know, you’re kinda like a superhero.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“You saved me that day in the alley, didn’t you? And you’re always looking out for people, even if they don’t deserve it. That’s what heroes do.”

Jason shrugged, but his cheeks flushed faintly. “I’m no hero, Danny. I just… do what I can.”

“Well, if you ever decide to put on a cape, I’d totally be your sidekick,” Danny said, grinning.

Jason smirked. “Yeah? You’d probably trip over it.”

Danny stuck out his tongue. “I’d be the brains of the operation. You’d just punch stuff.”

They both laughed, the sound echoing into the twilight.

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

The day Danny’s family had to leave Gotham came too soon. Standing outside the train station, Danny clutched a small photo of himself and Jason that they’d taken in a cheap photo booth.

“I’ll write to you,” Danny promised, his voice thick with emotion.

Jason gave him a crooked smile. “You better. Don’t ghost me, alright?”

Danny rolled his eyes but smiled through his tears. “Deal. And you better stay out of trouble.”

Jason’s expression turned serious for a moment. “I’ll try. But Gotham’s not exactly easy on people like me.”

“You’re tougher than this whole city,” Danny said firmly.

Jason looked down, his hand brushing the small charm Danny had pressed into his palm earlier. It was a simple necklace with a crudely drawn ghost emblem on it. “For good luck,” Danny had said.

“Thanks,” Jason murmured. “For everything.”

The train whistle blew, cutting through the air. Danny hugged Jason tightly before running to join his parents. As the train pulled away, he pressed his face to the window, watching Jason grow smaller and smaller until he disappeared entirely.

Though Gotham faded into the distance, Danny’s resolve didn’t. He’d made a friend for life.

And no matter what, he wouldn’t let Jason Todd down.

[puppy-steve]

promise you forever

steddie ☆ 971 ☆ cw: none ☆ appalachian eddie ☆ao3

“phone for ya, eds,” wayne chuckles as he comes out of the house to the front porch where everyone’s sitting. “think your boy’s had one too many.”

eddie frowns and stamps down the worry bubbling inside him. steve rarely ever drinks anymore. doesn’t smoke anymore, either. not since starcourt. eddie slides off the porch swing where he’d been sitting with his aunt pep and goes inside to the wall phone in the kitchen, the receiver laying on the counter.

“steve?” he says, lifting the phone to his ear.

“country boy, i love youuuuuuuu!”

steve’s words are slurred, which doesn’t make eddie any less panicked. what happened? was he okay? eddie leaves to visit his family for one week and he can’t seem to escape the horrors that hawkins, indiana seems to breed every day.

“stevie? baby, you okay?” eddie tries to keep his voice from shaking.

there’s a laugh on the other line and steve flat out yells into the phone, “eddie! hi!” yep. he’s definitely drunk. eddie strains to hear any background noise that would give any hints as to where steve is at, but it’s silent.

eddie’s knuckles grip the phone. “where are you, sweetheart? are you safe?”

steve makes a grumbling noise, like he’s talking to someone else and eddie doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse.

“i’m fiiiiiine, eds,” steve says after another second of grumbling. “teds. teddy. teddy bear.” he starts listing ever iteration of eddie’s name, and eddie doesn’t want him to stop. if he keeps going, then eddie knows he’s not in immediate danger.

“dingus! stop hogging the phone!”

wait.

“robbie, i’m trying to talk to me boyfriend,” steve whines and there’s sounds of a scuffle and “no—hey—robin, it’s still my turn—!”

“hi, eddie!” robin’s voice is suddenly in his ear and sounding just as drunk as steve. jesus christ, eddie’s never leaving them unsupervised again.

eddie sighs and runs a hand down his face. “robin, where the hell are you? and why are you drunk?” these two are gonna finish what the bats started and put him in an early grave, he swears it.

on her end, robin groans. “dingus!” she scolds steve. “you didn’t remind him?”

“remind me of what, bobbie?” eddie asks. now that he’s sure the two of them are somewhat coherent and probably not in danger, he feels so fucking tired all of a sudden.

“it’s my birthday, doofus!”

well now eddie feels awful. steve reminded him before he and wayne left, but in all the excitement of seeing the rest of his family again, it slipped eddie’s mind.

robin continues, “and you, theodore munson!”

if eddie thought he was off the hook, he’s dead wrong. he’s never hearing the end of this now. it’s not likely, but maybe luck will be on his side for once and she’ll forget this conversation ever happened.

“you owe me a birthday breakfast, lunch, and dinner when you get back. and you have to buy me a present.”

eddie rests his forehead on the wall as a laugh bubbles up out of his chest at the ridiculousness of the situation. “alright, birdie,” he promises. “as soon as i get back, i’ll start right on it and get you the most expensive present i can afford.”

“it better break your bank account, munson!” she threatens, but eddie knows she’s bluffing.

“alright, birthday girl, can you put steve back on?”

robin yells out for steve. “you better not be doing any hanky panky on my birthday, dingus,” she warns before steve comes on the line.

“hi, baby.” he’s definitely still drunk, but he’s quieter, not yelling into the phone like he was a few minutes ago.

warmth fills eddie’s chest and he leans his shoulder on the wall, angling himself away from the door to give himself a sense of privacy in case anyone comes inside. “hey sweetheart,” he says just as softly. “you two having fun?”

he can practically see steve’s nod. “mhm,” he confirms. “miss you, though. wish you were here.”

eddie’s gonna marry this boy someday, just you wait.

“i miss you, too, sugar,” eddie tells him. “wayne said he thinks you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“no i haven’t!” steve’s voice raises for a second before dropping back down again. “just had one… three… four beers, i promise.”

eddie hums, not bothering to hide the amused grin on his face. “uh-huh. s'at why you sound drunker than a skunk, right now, sweet thing?”

steve huffs and eddie wants so badly to kiss the pout off his boyfriends lips. “m'not drunk,” he says without any real argument.

“alright, i believe you,” eddie concedes. he can’t help but to let a little worry back in. he bites his lip. “can you promise me something, stevie?”

steve’s answer is immediate and almost shatters eddie’s heart. “i’ll promise you forever, teddy.”

eddie takes a breather to calm himself down so he doesn’t jump in wayne’s truck and make the five hour drive back to hawkins. “promise me you’ll call nancy if either of you start to feel weird?”

steve hums in his ear, like a purring cat. “i promise, baby. cross my heart ‘n everything.”

eddie grins and wishes he was there in front of him so he could touch him. “thank you. i won’t keep you any longer, then. i’m sure birdie’s getting impatient.”

“she’s always impatient,” steve huffs. “it’s her best quality.”

there’s no argument there.

“i love you, stevie. call me tomorrow when you wake up?”

steve sighs softly. “i love you, eddie.” he makes exaggerated kissing noises over the phone until he hangs up.

eddie hangs the receiver up. he’s here in his grandmother’s kitchen, surrounded by his family, but his heart has never felt as full as it does in this moment.

buy me a ☕?

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the dead ringer

buttercup, chapter three

a/n: yeah, this did happen to me in real life, although it happened on a bus so i couldn't immediately get away... ANYWAYS! enjoy this hurt/comfort heavy chapter!

summary: “I think I know something that might help a bit.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, crying, panic attacks, matt using his superpowers for the sake of hurt/comfort, boxing

word count: 2057

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Drizzling the flour into the wide bowl, like a dusty snowfall, you watched the number on the scale carefully as you neared the desired number. Though just before you hit it, Walter’s head suddenly poked in through the doorway leading behind the counter and interrupted you and Howard’s all-too-important discussion on what the day’s music choice should be. 

“Hey, Y/n? There’s someone here to see you.”

Laying down the scoop still holding a bit of flour, you dragged your palms down the brown apron tied around your frame and exited the kitchen. A bright smile spread across your face and crinkled up your gaze as you spotted who was standing on the other side of the counter. 

“Matt, hey–, oh my god,” you then suddenly noticed the bruising that blossomed out from under his tinted glasses and stretched up over the patched-up scrape that split his left brow, “what happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just wasn’t paying attention last night, tripped and fell, that’s all,” he waved a hand, “I just wanted to stop by on my way to work, get a round of coffees to-go for everyone and perhaps some breakfast for myself, just whatever you think I’d like.”

“You’ll let me pick?” your eyebrows rose slightly. 

But Matt simply smiled and said, “I trust your judgment,” his grip shifted gently on the cane standing tall before his chest. 

As you moved to make the coffees, “alright,” you drew out a pondering breath, “are you in the mood for something sweet or savoury?”

Thinking about it a second, he uttered, “savoury.”

“Do you like sandwiches?” you popped the lids on the to-go cups. When he nodded, you placed the coffees in a little cardboard tray, “okay, I think you’ll like this one,” grabbed a brown paper bag and moved further down the counter, “it’s made with focaccia and has pesto in it as well as some tomatoes and cheese and stuff.” 

“That sounds amazing.”

“I also–, you know what? I’ll be right back,” you then abruptly turned and momentarily disappeared into the kitchen, grabbing a few of the pillowy buns still on the cooling rack into a bag. As you returned, you also snuck a hand into the display case and stuffed a few other goodies into the sack, “just for the others, if they want,” you placed the bundle onto the counter beside the coffees, “I just pulled them out of the oven a bit ago and they’re still warm.”

“What is it?” Matt tilted his chin. 

“Uh, some raisin buns, but I also threw two croissants in there in case they didn’t like raisins...” 

A soft smile warmed his bruised features as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, “what do I owe you?”

“Oh no,” your hands waved lightly before you, “it’s on the house.”

“Y/n, come on,” he cocked his head. 

“Fine,” you light-heartedly sighed, “if you really wanna sing for your supper, then I’ll cash it in at a later date. I don’t know, maybe if I get arrested someday or something you could help me out.”

“You don’t have to bribe me with free baked goods for that.”

“No, but it sure doesn’t hurt, does it?” you chuckled. 

“No,” he joined in as he reached for the bags, “I guess it doesn’t.”

“You want some help carrying it?” you asked, hope seeping through your tone, “I could take my break and walk with you the rest of the way.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we just got through the morning rush, they’ll be fine without me for–, I don’t know, 15 minutes or however long it’ll take to walk to your office and back.”

“Alright, thanks,” he smiled, one paper bag hooked in the fingers that also clutched the cane.  

“I’m just gonna go grab my jacket, one second,” you said before ducking into the back to do so, letting your uncles know as you slipped out of your comfortable work clogs and into your sneakers. 

You ended up dividing the load, with you carrying the coffees and the last bag in one arm, though a few protests left you at first, begging him to let you carry all of it, they melted away as his free hand enveloped yours. 

When you reached his office, your arms wrapped around his frame as you hugged him long enough for your heartbeats to sync up, and just as you pulled away, his wide palms still warm on your back, you leaned in and planted a brief peck on his scruffy cheek. 

One of his hands swept up to meet the side of your face as your lips retracted. You pulled back so slowly that you weren’t sure you were moving at all, being drawn in by his warmth like a moth to a flame. 

His nose gently grazed against yours as he let himself linger, but just as your eyes fluttered shut in expectance that he’d kiss you, his warmth withdrew and he slowly breathed, “have a good day.” 

In a matter of seconds, you had gone from giggling, glancing down at some silly joke on your phone as you walked home, to panic instantly kicking in as a passerby’s voice pierced your soul and made your blood run cold.

Glancing around, you saw a stranger standing off to the side and yapping into his phone. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Michael, but it sounded exactly like him, so much so that the tone sent your body right back to that very night as if no time had passed at all.

Willing your body to move, forcing it to conquer the short rest of the way home, once your front door shut behind you and your quiet apartment consumed you, painful sobs began to burst out of your trembling frame. Hyperventilating, you crashed into the nearby wall of the entryway directly across from the door, incapable of getting deeper into your home. 

Soon, a quiet and surprising knock found your door. 

“Y/n?” the worried tone of your neighbour sounded from the other side. 

Your shaky voice came out no louder than a whisper, “M-Matt?” 

There might not have been any other instances you could recall where accidentally forgetting to lock your door turned out for the better, because when Matt then tried the handle, it gently complied. 

Shutting it behind him, he rushed to you, “hey, hey,” he uttered softly, a hand soothingly finding your arm, “what’s going on?”

Attempting an answer, “I–, I–,” only incoherent sobs managed to seep from you. 

“Okay, alright,” he sucked in a controlled breath, one of his hands sliding up to the strap of your backpack, “how about we start by getting all the way inside, huh?” gently gliding it off you and resting the bag on the floor. 

You let yourself lean into him fully as he supported you on the short journey towards the couch. Wobbly taking a seat, his touch left you as he settled beside you.

Spine curving, you buried your puffy face in your trembling hands, letting the whole world drift away as small lakes were birthed within your palms from your pain. 

When the sobs eventually began to subsite, growing further and farther apart, your frame slowly unfurled. Instinctively flicking your hands before your form, you tried to physically shake even a fraction of the excruciating sensation off of you, but without success. 

Matt hadn’t moved an inch, simply stayed there right beside you. 

When your quiet voice eventually filled space, it came out broken and overflowing with emotion, “I thought it was him… it wasn’t, b-but it sounded exactly like him… I’ve done double takes every time I saw a stranger with the same haircut or felt nauseous every time I encountered the same name, but this really did sound like him. Same voice, same accent, same everything… but it wasn’t him… it wasn’t… it just sent me right back, you know?”

Hesitantly, you grasped his hand in yours, expecting the contact to only make it worse, to somehow taint and ruin his wonderful and soothing touch, but it didn’t, he didn’t. It was Matt. 

Trying to regain control of your breathing, you shakily sucked in deep breaths, feeling your gulps of air slowly become calmer and migrate from the very top of your chest, down to expand your sore stomach. Eyes only half open and utterly exhausted, you noticed that your head was now leaning against Matt’s shoulder. 

Glancing hazily down at yourself, you muttered, “fuck… I still have my shoes and jacket on…”

Reaching down, he offered, “here,” before sliding your coat off, resting it on the back of the couch, and leaning down to pull your shoes off. 

Curling your legs up onto the couch, the shift in your position offered you more relief than you’d expected. As you attempted to get as comfortable as you possibly could in the state you were in, you snatched up Matt’s hand once more. 

Offering your palm a soothing squeeze, he asked quietly, “what do you need, huh? What can I do?”

“I–…” you thought, your brain just as drained as your body was, “I don’t know… maybe–… maybe just be here a bit?”

Exhaling lowly, he flashed you a faint smile, “of course.”

Glancing down at his fingers, sweeping across your own, you said, “hey, Matt? Could you maybe–, uh… could you give me a hug?”

Not hesitating, his strong arms engulfed your quivering frame and a fresh wave of sobs swiftly bubbled out of you as he held you tight, though your cries didn’t push him away, he stayed steadfast, embracing you close till the eruption ultimately simmered down, leaving you nearly asleep against his tear-stained shoulder. 

As he gently lowered you down to lay on the couch, you tightened your grip on his shirt as he began to pull back, ushering him to sink down as well, allowing you to curl into his safe embrace and let slumber drift you away. 

When you finally stirred, the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey,” you blinked up at Matt still in the exact same spot as before. 

“Hey,” you replied groggily, “what time is it?” swiftly fishing your phone out of your pant pocket before Matt could conjure an answer, “oh, fuck… it’s nearly midnight… did you sleep as well?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “maybe for a little bit, but no.”

“Oh…” you breathed, averting your gaze. 

“How are you feeling?” his thumb swiped your waist where his broad palm was planted. 

“…I don’t know…” you exhaled, “…exhausted… sad… angry… really fucking angry… so angry that it kinda scares me…” 

After a beat of silence, with only your woeful breaths filling the space, Matt then uttered, “I think I know something that might help a bit.”

Your gaze drifted from the faded paint on the walls to the worn punching bags as you and Matt sat on the edge of the central ring and his fingers worked at wrapping up your hands. 

“Do you come here a lot?” you asked, your vision gliding back to him. 

“From time to time,” he tilted his head slightly, “reminds me of my dad,” tucking the last end of the strip under the weave, securing it into place, he closed your hand into a fist and exhaled, “alright, you’re ready,” he adjusted your grip, briefly offering your wrist a squeeze as he said, “just remember to keep your wrist strong and your thumb right here,” he slid your finger down below your knuckles. 

You hadn’t gone into it with much hope, in fact, it was only out of your desperation just feel better that you even humoured the experiment. In the beginning, it did feel as silly as you’d imagined, nearly stopped completely, but at some point in the mess of it all, your punches grew more ferocious, they grew more brutal, and suddenly something inside of you snapped and unravelled. It wasn’t some magic pill, but the physical act did loosen something within you and gave away to a fresh release of sobs, though not the painful and unbearable kind you’d had to endure earlier. It was the kind that felt like relief. Even if it wasn’t permanent, in that very moment, you didn’t feel like you were drowning anymore. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[limitedseries]

Called me "cute," huh? — Does he know? Know what? That you've been corrupted. — You know I like you, and normally I would do everything in my power to make you feel better. — Want me to come stand outside your playdate? You are lovely. — Dear Upper West Side, thank you for bringing your umbrella. — You're staring. Am I? Do I have a hair out of place? I didn't know how to tell you... You're still staring. So are you. — So, what did you think of my act? I thought it was sensational. — Maybe someday. Before I'm dead. It's a date. — You want me to go away? Yes. Because I would make you nervous? You would make me nervous. — What, I’m not important enough to go through all of that trouble for? You are more important than God. You paid attention? To you? Always. — I think my show corset turned your head. My head turned a long time ago. — They will know your wit, your intellect, your smile. Your great, expressive eyes. They will be helpless to your charms. They will fall at your feet and worship at the altar of you and your show corset. — You will break my fucking heart. — Lenny, I'm not gonna blow it. I'm gonna hold you to that.

[moonlit-imagines]

No One’s Sidekick

Jason Todd x teen!reader

warnings: needles and guns and death mentions ya know

a/n: ok i was gonna do headcanons for this but honestly it sparked a lot of inspiration so im actually writing a oneshot for it this is a ONE IN A MILLION CHANCE bc im very picky about when to write oneshots ily. might do hcs also just cuz arkham knight is my passion. (honestly i should have just done hcs idk if i like where i went with this LMAO)

prompt: anonymous: “hi idk if you write Arkham Jason Todd but if if you do is it possible if you can do a Arkham Jason Todd x fem teen reader and reader is his sidekick”

Imagine a life where you had nothing, you were the lowest anyone could go, and you were just a kid. Now imagine that there was someone standing in front of you, telling that same story, and offering you a chance to turn it all around because they knew how it felt to be you.

That someone was Jason Todd. You found each other by chance, somewhere in the Gotham slums. He walked past you down a dimly lit alley full of used needles and rotting trash, noticing a kid just a few years younger hiding from the world. You noticed a guy in a hoodie hiding a nasty scar on his cheek.

He reached out a hand, hoping you’d take it. He saw a look in your eyes that you’d been like this a while. And you might have noticed the same in his. Which is why after trusting nobody for years, you took this stranger’s hand. “I remember when I was a kid waiting in shitty places woth the hope someday it’d change. And it did one day. Someone found me and changed my life.” He explained after buying you a burger and fries.

“Was it for the better?” You asked him with a mouthful of food.

“I don’t know anymore.” He looked shaken himself, and you could tell by the bags under his eyes this may have been a subject that kept him up at night, maybe took up his waking moments, too. “How long have you been alone?”

“Practically forever. Every once in a while I felt like I was on steady ground and then…something always happens.” You sighed, taking a sip of your soda. “But I learned how to get by on my own. I had to. And I have to protect myself.” Jason raised a brow.

“You protect yourself yet you’re willing to go off with a stranger?” He asked, giving you a warm smile.

“Jason, right?” He nodded at the question. “Jason Todd?” His expression dropped. Before he could stammer out a response, you leaned back on your side of the booth and said, “everyone around here knows you one way or another, but everyone thought you were dead after you disappeared.”

“Did you know who I was when you came here with me?” Jason spoke lowly.

“Nope.” You flatly responded. “But I figured it out along the way. You used to live in my building when I was a kid, I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

“3B?” He asked.

“That’s the one. You remember?” You smiled.

“I remember a scared little kid with dirt all over their face no matter what time of day.” You both chuckled. “Wow, it’s been a long time. I guess I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“It’s nice. I just don’t know where to go from here.” You took the last few bites from your meal, averting your eyes from his gaze, nervous for what was to come, but also hopeful. At this point, you didn’t care what you did or where you went, as long as you had some kind of purpose. Spending your youth in sleeping in wet boxes or crashing on a sunken-in, stained couch was no longer something you could stand doing.

“I had an idea. A while ago. But I just didn’t know how to go about it.” He revealed with a long pause, mustering up better details to share. “I dont know. It sounds crazy, but maybe not anymore.”

“Can you get to the point?” You tilted your head, eager for a bit more.

“Yeah, yeah…” He gulped. “I talked to this guy, it was after some really bad shit went down,” he brushed his scarred cheek, “this high-profile assassin wanted to train me—work with me. There are some demons I have to face, but I need some help to get ready.” You stared blankly for a minute, fingernail scratching the tabletop as you thought about his words. “It’s out of the country, somewhere in South America.”

“You’re crazy.” You stated. “I’m in.” Jason’s eyes widened. “Anything to get me out of Gotham. And you’re Jason Todd, I’d trust you with my life, even after all this time.” His expression softened and he kind of chuckled, in disbelief of you and himself.

“I—I guess I gotta go make a call.” Jason knocked his hand on the table. “Go ahead and order dessert, I’ll be back in a few.” He stepped out the front door and opened his phone, scrolling down to a contact labeled “S. Wilson.” It rang twice. “I’m in, and one more will be joining us.”

“I’ll make the arrangements for your travels, stay on the line.” Said Slade, there were faint keyboard clicks. “I have a private jet that awaits you at eight a.m. tomorrow. I will send you the address, don’t be late.” The phonecall ended abruptly and Jason went back to your table, finding you eating a slice of pie.

“Tomorrow morning we get to fly in a private jet.” Jason saw your face light up. “Never been?”

—————

Venezuela was incredible to you, even if it was a bit more humid than you were used to. On the plane ride, Jason told you everything. He didn’t spare one detail, he didn’t care. You were another Gotham City orphan with a dark past and a bright future. You two were ready for anything.

It was grueling. It was incredible. It was nothing you’d experienced before. Which was terrifying. But invigorating. You could tell Jason felt right back in his element, but you were desperately trying to catch up. He’d had much training before this, relevant to the current situation. You’re training went as far as standard Gotham Slums scuffling. Your skills included switchblade maneuvers, aiming for the crotch, running from trouble and climbing from trouble. Nothing like this ever seemed possible for you. But Jason knew what it felt like to be brought from your level to his. And as Deathstroke brought Jason to his level, he’d make sure you’d catch up.

—————

“I think you two are ready.” Slade announced as both of you stood before him. Straight backs, eyes forward, and arms behind your backs. “The plan is to be enacted soon, and you,” he turned his attention to Jason, “it’s up to you what we do from here. Gotham City finally meets its match?” He suggested. Jason nodded his head once and you followed. And so it began, the planning phase.

—————

You looked at Gotham from down below. Smaller than you remembered. The whirring of the helicopter blades lulled you away from reality for a few moments before Jason tapped you, motioning for you to come up front with him. You slid your headset on and heard him begin barking orders at the militia before setting your comms to private. “How’s it feel?” Jason asked you.

“I don’t know, actually.” You replied, doing a final check to make sure your guns were loaded and secured. “What about you?”

“It feels like I’m finally getting my revenge.” His voice modulator sent a chill down your spine and you soon landed in Gotham. The plan went off without a hitch. Gotham evacuated, scum running loose, Batman distracted, and his allies scattered. It was exciting, but something was off. Scarecrow’s plan didn’t sit well with you. It was gruesome, even to you. You never really cared about anyone but yourself, but as Jason lost his humanity, you gained it. “I’ve got your back, y/n. You got mine?”

“Always, Knight.” He chuckled as the chopper began to descend. “Let’s kill the Batman.”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @deanzboyfriend //

[werepuppy-steve]

promise you forever

steddie ☆ 971 ☆ cw: none ☆ appalachian eddie ☆ ao3

“phone for ya, eds,” wayne chuckles as he comes out of the house to the front porch where everyone’s sitting. “think your boy’s had one too many.”

eddie frowns and stamps down the worry bubbling inside him. steve rarely ever drinks anymore. doesn’t smoke anymore, either. not since starcourt. eddie slides off the porch swing where he’d been sitting with his aunt pep and goes inside to the wall phone in the kitchen, the receiver laying on the counter.

“steve?” he says, lifting the phone to his ear.

“country boy, i love youuuuuuuu!”

steve’s words are slurred, which doesn’t make eddie any less panicked. what happened? was he okay? eddie leaves to visit his family for one week and he can’t seem to escape the horrors that hawkins, indiana seems to breed every day.

“stevie? baby, you okay?” eddie tries to keep his voice from shaking.

there’s a laugh on the other line and steve flat out yells into the phone, “eddie! hi!” yep. he’s definitely drunk. eddie strains to hear any background noise that would give any hints as to where steve is at, but it’s silent.

eddie’s knuckles grip the phone. “where are you, sweetheart? are you safe?”

steve makes a grumbling noise, like he’s talking to someone else and eddie doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse.

“i’m fiiiiiine, eds,” steve says after another second of grumbling. “teds. teddy. teddy bear.” he starts listing ever iteration of eddie’s name, and eddie doesn’t want him to stop. if he keeps going, then eddie knows he’s not in immediate danger.

“dingus! stop hogging the phone!”

wait.

“robbie, i’m trying to talk to me boyfriend,” steve whines and there’s sounds of a scuffle and “no—hey—robin, it’s still my turn—!”

“hi, eddie!” robin’s voice is suddenly in his ear and sounding just as drunk as steve. jesus christ, eddie’s never leaving them unsupervised again.

eddie sighs and runs a hand down his face. “robin, where the hell are you? and why are you drunk?” these two are gonna finish what the bats started and put him in an early grave, he swears it.

on her end, robin groans. “dingus!” she scolds steve. “you didn’t remind him?”

“remind me of what, bobbie?” eddie asks. now that he’s sure the two of them are somewhat coherent and probably not in danger, he feels so fucking tired all of a sudden.

“it’s my birthday, doofus!”

well now eddie feels awful. steve reminded him before he and wayne left, but in all the excitement of seeing the rest of his family again, it slipped eddie’s mind.

robin continues, “and you, theodore munson!”

if eddie thought he was off the hook, he’s dead wrong. he’s never hearing the end of this now. it’s not likely, but maybe luck will be on his side for once and she’ll forget this conversation ever happened.

“you owe me a birthday breakfast, lunch, and dinner when you get back. and you have to buy me a present.”

eddie rests his forehead on the wall as a laugh bubbles up out of his chest at the ridiculousness of the situation. “alright, birdie,” he promises. “as soon as i get back, i’ll start right on it and get you the most expensive present i can afford.”

“it better break your bank account, munson!” she threatens, but eddie knows she’s bluffing.

“alright, birthday girl, can you put steve back on?”

robin yells out for steve. “you better not be doing any hanky panky on my birthday, dingus,” she warns before steve comes on the line.

“hi, baby.” he’s definitely still drunk, but he’s quieter, not yelling into the phone like he was a few minutes ago.

warmth fills eddie’s chest and he leans his shoulder on the wall, angling himself away from the door to give himself a sense of privacy in case anyone comes inside. “hey sweetheart,” he says just as softly. “you two having fun?”

he can practically see steve’s nod. “mhm,” he confirms. “miss you, though. wish you were here.”

eddie’s gonna marry this boy someday, just you wait.

“i miss you, too, sugar,” eddie tells him. “wayne said he thinks you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“no i haven’t!” steve’s voice raises for a second before dropping back down again. “just had one… three… four beers, i promise.”

eddie hums, not bothering to hide the amused grin on his face. “uh-huh. s'at why you sound drunker than a skunk, right now, sweet thing?”

steve huffs and eddie wants so badly to kiss the pout off his boyfriends lips. “m'not drunk,” he says without any real argument.

“alright, i believe you,” eddie concedes. he can’t help but to let a little worry back in. he bites his lip. “can you promise me something, stevie?”

steve’s answer is immediate and almost shatters eddie’s heart. “i’ll promise you forever, teddy.”

eddie takes a breather to calm himself down so he doesn’t jump in wayne’s truck and make the five hour drive back to hawkins. “promise me you’ll call nancy if either of you start to feel weird?”

steve hums in his ear, like a purring cat. “i promise, baby. cross my heart ‘n everything.”

eddie grins and wishes he was there in front of him so he could touch him. “thank you. i won’t keep you any longer, then. i’m sure birdie’s getting impatient.”

“she’s always impatient,” steve huffs. “it’s her best quality.”

there’s no argument there.

“i love you, stevie. call me tomorrow when you wake up?”

steve sighs softly. “i love you, eddie.” he makes exaggerated kissing noises over the phone until he hangs up.

eddie hangs the receiver up. he’s here in his grandmother’s kitchen, surrounded by his family, but his heart has never felt as full as it does in this moment.

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee? taglist: @yournowheregirl @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @tboygareth @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @sidekick-hero @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd

[parkitrighthere]

Request -

Werewolf Taehyung × Human Reader

Reader who was on a forest trek with her friends , Taehyung attacks their camp only to find out reader as his mate and then he abducts her . Everybody thinks that she is dead but noone has the idea that she is actually in a cabin with her big wolf mate and call it Stockholm syndrome or maybe that mate string pull even reader falls for him after sometime . Please add a nswf part in this too maybe their marking , consummation of mate bond.

● Or alternate request-

Lycan Taehyung × omega reader

Taehyung was abandoned by his pack for being a Lycan ( they feared that he might overtake their alpha someday ) .

Taehyung who finds his mate oneday as they both fall in love but the pack of her mate doesn't agrees with their relationship as he is an abandoned wolf infact they even imprison his mate to prevent their mating and prevent further production of undesirable Lycan offsprings and hence they all face the wrath of a ferocious Lycan who finally puts and end to his and his mate's sufferings . They produce a happily ever lived after little Lycan family 🥺

You can choose any of them and sprinkle your own creativity to produce a masterpiece for us .

Title: dear mate!

pairing: werewolf taehyung x human!female reader

Genre: fantasy!AU, dark romance, paranormal romance, forced proximity, mate bond

Word count: 3.2k

Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of non-consensual situations, manipulation, intense power dynamics, physical dominance, and possessive behavior, which may be distressing or triggering for some readers. It also includes explicit sexual content, references to forced bonding, and emotional/psychological manipulation. Reader discretion is advised.

a/n: Hey, Lovely anon! First of all thanks for the ask and I’m really sorry for taking so long to get back to you. I just saw your ask, and your ideas are seriously amazing! I ended up wanting to work on both of them, but I know it took me a while and you might be upset with me. I tried to keep it under 1k words, but I ended up around 3k because the plot you gave me was so thick! I've been super busy with my studies, which is why it took longer than I thought. I apologize in advance if you don’t like what I wrote. I’d love to work on the other idea too if you’re still interested, but I totally understand if you’re not after reading this. I hope you can forgive me if I made your reading experience worse.Thanks for your patience! I really appreciate it! :)

You ran.

As fast as you could.

As fast as your feet would carry you.

But no matter how fast you ran, he was faster. The massive figure of the wolf, who had just killed your friends before your eyes, pounced on you from behind, knocking the breath from your lungs as you both hit the forest floor. You screamed and thrashed, swinging your fists, scrambling to get up, get away, trying to free yourself, but a heavy weight pressed down on you, pinning you to the ground.

You felt warm breath, along with thick, slick saliva coating your neck. A guttural growl followed, low and menacing. You froze, heart pounding in your chest, waiting for the death blow that never came.

Then you felt it—the faint shift of something, followed by the low whisper of mine. The words were a low growl, more human than animal. The presence behind you was as human as it was inhuman, but the hint of humanity did nothing to soothe you. Instead, it only heightened the bubbling anxiety in your stomach. You twisted beneath him, trying to see your attacker, but all you caught in the darkness was the glimpse of piercing yellow eyes—so ethereal, so beautiful, so intense. They set your soul ablaze.

"Dear mate," he whispered with a chuckle, and just like that, everything went black.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You woke up. The world felt distant, like you were living in a dream, as if this wasn’t real, like you would blink and it would all fade away. Somewhere deep down, you wanted that, but you were smarter than to believe the tricks your mind was playing.

The soft glow of sunlight filtering through the window was as comforting as the oppressive air surrounding you. You were in a small, modest, rustic cabin—a single room with a fireplace, a rough-hewn table, and a door that seemed far too thick for a place this remote. Your eyes caught sight of the chains near the bed, discarded as if they had been used not long ago. The scent of pine and earth filled your senses, making it all feel more real.

You shot up straight, wincing at the stiffness in your limbs. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, but you held yourself together before you could hit the ground. You turned around.

And then you saw him. Standing there, ready to pounce.

Your body ached, but the panic was slow, slithering to the surface. He stood at the far end of the cabin, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze pinning you to the spot. No words, no explanations—just the raw connection crackling between you both. His presence filled the space, dominating it, leaving no room for doubt about who—or what—he was.

You would have recognized those eyes anywhere—those same eyes that attacked you, killed all your friends right before your eyes, and almost killed you too. You always thought the villagers’ tales of werewolves were nothing but lies, but now, with one standing before you, you didn’t know what to do. The biggest question was why you were still alive and why his presence seemed to soothe your senses. Why didn’t his gaze make you want to run? Why did it set your soul ablaze instead?

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. “What... what do you want from me?”

Taehyung’s lips curled into a smile, a predator’s smile. “You already know.”

You did. Deep down, a part of you had known from the moment his eyes met yours in the forest. It wasn’t just an attack. It was something else—something primal, something you couldn’t fully understand yet.

“Where... where am I?” your voice trembled, fear and anger bubbling beneath the surface.

“You’re safe,” Taehyung’s voice was deep and commanding, yet there was something soothing about it. “In my pack. My home.”

Pack? You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “What are you talking about? Will you kill me too?”

“No.” He seemed hurt by your accusation. “I would never. Not even in my wildest dreams could I think of hurting you.”

As soft and sweet as his words were, they did nothing to soothe your mind; instead, they left you more puzzled. “Why am I here? Let me go.”

Taehyung took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I can’t do that.”

Your fists clenched the blanket tighter. “Why not?”

“Because,” he growled softly, his tone more serious now, “you’re mine.”

“I don’t belong to anyone, not to you. You’re insane.”

His gaze softened, though the intensity in his eyes never wavered. “I... I know this is confusing. But you’re my mate, and it’s not something I can control.”

You stared at him, the word echoing in your mind. Mate. It sounded absurd, like some kind of fantasy, but there was something inside you, something primal, that tugged at you, pulling you toward him. Like your body knew something your mind couldn’t accept.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your breath coming in shallow gasps. There was a heat in your chest, a pull that felt like it was coming from your very soul. “You’re insane.”

He stepped closer, cautiously, as if sensing your fear. “I didn’t want to do this to you. But the bond… it’s stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. I can’t let you go.”

Your pulse raced. It should have been fear, and yet… there was an unfamiliar warmth blooming within you, a need that terrified you because it wasn’t your own. Or maybe it was, but you just couldn’t understand it.

He was closer now, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. You knew you should scream, run, fight—anything to escape. But you didn’t. There was an inexplicable connection, like your souls were intertwined, something deeper than logic or reason.

“You’ll feel it too,” he said, his voice gentler now, as if he understood the chaos inside you. “It’s only a matter of time.”

You wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong. But a part of you knew he was right. A part of you knew you couldn’t run away; he wouldn’t let you.

You didn’t move as he drew closer. You wanted to, but your body was denying all the commands your mind was screaming at you. You should have been terrified, and a part of you was, but it was so small it almost felt insignificant. Almost. The fear was tangled with something more—a warmth, a pull. Your breath hitched in your throat as his hand brushed against your wrist, the contact sending a jolt through your body.

“What are you doing to me?” you whispered, your voice shaking, though it wasn’t only fear you felt.

“I’m not doing anything,” he replied softly, his thumb grazing over your pulse, which raced beneath his touch. “This is the bond, the connection between us. I can feel it too. It’s like… gravity. Stronger than anything we could ever resist.”

You yanked your hand away, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You’re talking about me like I’m some... possession. I’m a person, not something you can just claim.”

His jaw tightened, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of pain in his eyes. “I know that. I’m not trying to control you. But this bond—it’s beyond either of us. I’ve waited my whole life for this, for you. I didn’t choose this any more than you did.”

“Waited for me? You don’t even know me!” you screamed at him. He moved closer, but you backed away quickly, this time listening to the voice in your head.

“Please, don’t. I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured, his voice smooth but laced with hurt. The words should have been comforting, but they only tightened the knot of dread in your chest.

You stared at him, searching his face for some trace of the monster you'd seen in the woods. The one who had torn through everything you knew, shattered your life in moments. His features softened, but the intensity remained, that raw connection tethering you to him, holding you in place even when every instinct screamed at you to run.

“Don’t be scared,” he repeated, this time softer, as if he were trying to soothe a frightened animal. And maybe, in some twisted way, that’s exactly how he saw you. His prey. His prize.

You shook your head, the conflict inside you threatening to tear you apart. “How can I not be? You... you killed them. You killed my friends!” The memory surged forward, vivid and cold, the blood, the screams, the unbearable helplessness. “Why should I trust you? Why should I believe anything you say?”

His eyes darkened, a shadow crossing over his face. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.”

“Then what was supposed to happen?!” you snapped, your voice breaking. “Am I supposed to believe that this—this bond—justifies everything? That it makes it okay?”

Taehyung inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep control. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted any of this, but fate—” His voice faltered, and something shifted in his expression. “It’s cruel. It bound us together, and I can’t fight it. I can’t let you go.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating. But there was something else too, something darker—his frustration, his struggle to contain the primal urge inside him.

Then, his demeanor changed, his control slipping as the storm within him broke through. “Yes, you should be scared,” he snarled, more to himself than to you, as though he was warning you of what he truly was, what he could become. His voice grew rougher, harder, a sharp contrast to the tenderness he had tried to show.

The words came out harsher than he intended, tearing through the fragile calm he’d tried to maintain. He pushed himself away from the bed, storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the walls.

He didn’t lock the door behind him, but you were too scared to try and run—or maybe you didn’t want to. There was a need within you tugging at you to run after him, but you stayed put.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Days turned into nights, though you lost track of time easily. The cabin felt like a prison, yet it was the pull toward him—your mate—that you couldn't escape. You told yourself it was the isolation, the lack of freedom that was twisting your thoughts, but deep down, you knew better. He watched you constantly, his sharp gaze never leaving your form, his presence like a shadow that never relented. It should have terrified you. It should have kept you on edge, waiting for the moment he'd finally snap.

But it didn’t. And that terrified you more.

You found yourself drawn to him. The way he moved, the way his eyes followed your every step—it stirred something deep inside, something primal that you couldn’t shake. Every time he came close, your heart pounded in your chest, but it wasn’t fear that caused the rapid thrum. It was something else, something far more unsettling. The way your body responded to him betrayed everything your mind fought against. How can this be happening?

You told yourself you hated him. You repeated it over and over, like a mantra: He killed them. He’s dangerous. He’s a monster. But the words began to lose their power, weakening with each passing day. There was no escaping the truth that settled into your bones: He is your mate.

The bond between you both was undeniable, a constant, low hum beneath your skin that never stopped. It pulsed with each glance, each accidental brush of his hand against yours. Your breath would hitch, your muscles would tighten, but not in fear. This isn’t real. It can’t be. But it was.

The bond tugged at you with every breath, every moment. His proximity was suffocating and yet, it was the only thing that felt real. The scent of him—earth, pine, something wild—would wrap itself around you, clinging to your senses long after he’d left the room. You could feel the tension between you both, the way his eyes lingered on you as if he was waiting for something, for you to break or give in.

But the worst part? You didn’t want to fight it anymore. Not really. What’s happening to me? you wondered, night after night, as your thoughts spiraled into the same dangerous loop. You were losing yourself. You were losing the version of you who had fought, the one who had screamed for her life as her friends were slaughtered. That girl was fading away, replaced by someone who couldn’t stop thinking about him. About what it would feel like if you stopped resisting.

And that terrified you. But it also made your pulse quicken with anticipation.

The truth settled like a weight in your chest: He is your mate. It wasn’t a choice. It wasn’t something you could deny. The bond tethered you both, winding tighter with each glance, each step he took closer to you. You hated it. You hated him. But you couldn’t stop the feeling that swelled inside you, the feeling that scared you more than anything else—maybe you didn’t want to stop it anymore.

Is this who you are now? Is this what you have become?

It consumed you, filled every moment, until it became harder and harder to remember who you were before him. Before the bond. Your fear began to melt into something far more dangerous, something darker, something you couldn’t ignore any longer. The part of you that wanted to run was growing quieter, drowned out by the part of you that wanted to stay.

What have you become?

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Tonight, something between you changed, the air was filled with tension you were unable to ignore. He stood by the fire, his back to you, his shirt discarded and his bare skin illuminated by the flickering light. You watched him, your eyes tracing the defined muscles of his back, the way his breath rose and fell in even, controlled measures. Something inside you stirred.

You didn’t even realize you had moved closer until you were standing just a few feet behind him. He turned, catching you in his gaze, and you froze.

"I see it now," Taehyung said softly, his voice a rumble that resonated deep in your chest. "You're starting to understand."

You shook your head, your throat tight. "Understand what?"

His eyes darkened, and he stepped forward, closing the distance between you. His hand lifted, fingers brushing your cheek with surprising gentleness, but there was a raw, dangerous energy behind it. "That you belong to me. That you've always belonged to me."

Your breath hitched as his fingers slid down to your throat, resting there with a possessive weight that sent your pulse skittering beneath his touch. You should have pushed him away. You should have fought.

But instead, you tilted your head, baring your neck in silent submission.

He smirked, but there was something deeper in his eyes, something that mirrored the fire burning within you. "Good girl."

"You're mine?" he asked. It felt more like a question than a statement, though he'd said it before, many times—more than you could count on your fingers.

Yet your heart still raced at his words, and instinctively, you found yourself saying, "I am." Every fiber of your being responded to him—his touch, his presence. Your very essence was a captive to him now.

He picked you up, cradling you lovingly in his arms as he moved toward the bedroom, his steps slow but purposeful. In no time, he was standing near the edge of the bed. He eased you back onto it, his touch gentle but firm. The mattress shifted beneath you as he moved on top, his weight settling carefully. His breath, warm and shallow, ghosted over your face, drawing a soft giggle from your lips. Your laughter softened his gaze.

"This will be different. I'm not human, and you realize this won't be anything you're used to. I intend to claim you," he said, his eyes searching your face as his hands rested on your hips. "I don't want to force it on you. Do you want this?"

His question felt ironic to you, as the wise voice in your head reminded you that the mate bond was forced on you, and now, with both of you playing a part in it, his asking if you wanted it seemed paradoxically comical. But there was another voice in your head, one whose origin you didn’t know, that only whispered his name over and over. You had ignored it for so long, but you no longer had the will or intention to do so. For once, your intention was clear. You nodded, your voice steady as you said the words aloud. "Yes, I want this. I want you, Taehyung."

With a fierce growl, he leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss, as if marking your soul. You melted against him, heat radiating off his body. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling hard and drawing a low growl from him between the kiss. You pulled him closer, and he froze, momentarily shocked by your boldness.

His gaze met yours, and you swore you were breathless, but this time, it wasn’t because of fear or the intensity of the bond you'd always tried to fight. It was because of the sight before you. He looked heavenly. His swollen lips, those glossy eyes that seemed to flicker between black and yellow, his messy hair—he looked ethereal. You weren't sure if it was the mate bond's effect, or if you'd just been too blinded by fear to ever notice it before.

He leaned in again, kissing the corner of your lips before whispering slowly, "Do you even understand what it means for us to mate?"

You didn’t respond, just stared at him.

"It means you’ll be mine in every way possible, and so will I," he said, his nose brushing against your cheek. "I won’t let anyone else touch you."

"I understand," you said, your heart pounding inside your chest. "I want you."

Satisfied, he smiled, his gaze trailing to your neck as a primal instinct ignited within him. His eyes turned yellow once again, the color you'd once loved. "I’m going to mark you," he said, his voice filled with authority. "Everyone will know who you belong to."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. "Do it," you found yourself saying. You didn't even know where this boldness was coming from.

His eyes darkened at your words, filled with lust and determination. You felt a shift in the air around you—it grew oppressive, as if something intangible was pressing down on you. He kissed a trail down your neck, his lips warm against your skin, sending shivers of anticipation through your core.

When he finally reached the spot, he sank his teeth gently into your skin. The initial pain was soon replaced by a wave of arousal that washed over you. The bond surged to life. He licked the wound to help it heal, a moan slipping from your lips, met with a soft chuckle from his.

You felt warmth pool between your legs as your body reacted to his touch. You had never been able to resist his touch before, but now it felt like you'd become even more sensitive to it.

Taehyung's hands roamed your body, tracing every curve, every inch of your skin with possessive hunger. "You're beautiful," he murmured against your skin. "And I'm going to take you—right here, right now."

"Please." It was all you could manage to say. His hands moved with perfect precision, and in no time, your clothes were discarded, lying on the floor.

He positioned himself between your legs. "I won't hold back," he said as he entered you, filling you completely. You gasped at the sensation. The anticipation was electric, a moment that felt like it could stretch into eternity, and then he was there, claiming you.

A gasp escaped your lips, a mix of pain and pleasure, but it quickly transformed into a wave of bliss. Taehyung's eyes searched yours for any sign of discomfort, and when he found none, he pressed deeper.

"More. Please," you begged, feeling the heat build within you. His pace started slow but soon quickened, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure surging through you.

With each thrust, he took you higher, and you felt yourself unraveling. "You're mine, and I will never let you go," he whispered fiercely, pulling you closer to the edge.

With a final thrust, you shattered, waves of pleasure crashing over you. "Ta-Taehyung," you cried out his name, the sound echoing in the small wooden cabin. He followed soon after, his body tensing as he reached his peak. He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing hard, exhausted.

As the night fell silent, the air heavy with the scent of the bond between you, everything felt different. You were no longer the person who had been dragged into this cabin by force, but you were no longer afraid. The way he held you—possessive, yet protective—spoke of a bond that ran deeper than you could have imagined.

The bond wasn’t just physical. You could feel it in your soul, the invisible thread tying you to him, as inescapable as the moon is to the night sky.

Taehyung’s arms tightened around you, as if sensing your thoughts, and he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine, and no one else will ever have you.”

A chill ran down your spine, but this time it wasn’t from fear. It was acceptance. You belonged to him now. And perhaps, in a way you never thought possible, he belonged to you too.

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

[ door creaks ]

Kai: Taryn? You’re home early- Oh god, what happened? Are you alright? Did someone hurt you?

Taryn: N-No, I think I need a second. I’m sorry.

Kai: Okay. Let me run you a bath?

Taryn: Yeah, yeah that’s fine.

Taryn: [ mumbles ] Hey…

Kai: How are you feeling?

Taryn: Hungover and dead inside.

Kai: Ven. | Come.

Taryn: This is so stupid. I shouldn’t care this much, right?

Kai: Depends on who this is about. The stranger that left you in this state or Atlas? 

Taryn: Both.

Kai: Well, if spending the night with a guy leaves you like this, maybe they aren’t the right person.

Taryn: He was kind. Gentle, even. A perfect first. The issue is me. I thought I was supposed to feel some type of way but I felt empty afterwards. Maybe I’m not built for one off things right now and that’s embarrassing to admit.

Kai: Hey, that’s completely alright. Everyone’s got different ways of going about things and you’ve been through a lot. As for Atlas.

Taryn: I, uh, I don’t want to be bitter, Kai. 

Kai: Understandable.

Taryn: But it’s really fucking hard. I wish I hadn’t opened up, it backfires, it always does.

Kai: So you were vulnerable for a moment and it didn’t work out. Doesn’t mean you can’t try again. Taryn, you can’t let this be the reason why you shut people out.

Taryn: I know, I know, I just… Feel like every aspect of my life is an opening for rejection and he was the final blow. I shouldn’t blame him.

Kai: But it’s easy. Like you said, the final blow.

Taryn: Do you miss him?

Kai: Y-Yeah. I think I miss my friend most of all. Before everything got so messy. 

Taryn: Isn’t it strange how things change all of a sudden? 

Kai: Like I picked the wrong choice in a game and all the companions die.

Taryn: That’s so brutal!

Kai: A bit. There are a lot of things I need to make right with people. I don’t want my life to work like some sort of confessional. The constant need for repentance, you know? I guess I need to find the courage to actually reach out. 

Taryn: You could… Always restart.

Kai: I will if you do.

Taryn: Maybe I’ll nut up someday.

Kai: PFFT- What?!

Taryn: Some kid told me that the other day.

Kai: Holy shit! 

Taryn: I mean… There’s some truth in that. Hey, you think you can help me with something?

Kai: Sure! 

Taryn: You still good with scissors?

Kai: Yeah, why?

Taryn: I feel like it’s time for a change.

Kai: Oh? This should be fun.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: “This is the worst idea we’ve ever had.”

Vaggie: “Do we have a better one?”

Charlie: “Give up before I burn down half of Pentagram City??”

Vaggie: “That’s plan B, babe.”

Charlie: “It’s gonna be plan A for Already Happening at this rate!”

Vaggie: “Look, I don’t like it any more than you do-”

Charlie: “THEN SWITCH WITH ME!”

Angel Dust: “Said the bi lady to her lesbian lover.”

Charlie: “I’M NOT LOVING THIS! Why can’t I be the on who has to do the fake date thing!? At least I’ve dated guys before! Once!!!”

Vaggie: “Because-”

Alastor: “Ha ha HA… My dear, I’m afraid I DO prefer living, amusingly enough~”

Charlie: “Then keep the touching. To a MINIMUM.”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, the whole point is to trick people into thinking I’ve double crossed you so they’ll tell us about how they wanna double cross you. It’s not really going to work if the one selling you out is… you.”

Charlie: “But this is stupid- no one in their right mind is going to look at YOU and think ‘now THERE’S a woman who would date a MAN!’”

Angel Dust: “Biphobia~”

Husk: “Still fucking true.”

Vaggie: “Charlie c’mon- If you were a dude I’d date you.”

Charlie: “You’d figure out how to still be lesbian about it, trust me.”

Alastor: “Now there’s a thought! I COULD do my best impression of a lesbian, if that would help with the immersion?”

Vaggie: “What, like. Wear a pin?”

Charlie: “I do NOT need this situation to be in any way believable! The structural integrity of our HOTEL does NOT need me feeling this is even slightly more real.”

Alastor: “But our foes do require enough to be fooled by, I am afraid.”

Angel Dust: “Well that’s this plan out the window…”

Vaggie: “I can’t picture you as a lesbian.”

Angel Dust: “He’s not giving guy fucker vibes either, toots, bein’ fair.”

Husk: “It’s just fucker. In a platonic, shitty way.”

Alastor: “And you would know, hmmm~?”

Charlie: “Can’t we just dress me up as someone else?? Put me in a glamor, or-”

Vaggie: “No one is gonna hear you talk and not know who you are."

Charlie: "RRRGH."

Vaggie: "Which I love, by the way. Along with everything else.”

Charlie: “Well what if I just don’t talk! You- you could be into the silent, brooding types!”

Vaggie: “If I’d met you during the emo phase then yeah sure. But Alastor's the one who knows these assholes-”

Angel Dust: “WAIT go back- her WHAT phase!?”

Charlie: (SQUEAKS)

Vaggie: “Em… emoticon. Her. Emoji era.”

Angel Dust: “She was emo??” (at charlie) “YOU WERE EMO!?!? With the hair dye an’ the dead roses and shit????”

Charlie: “I was a TEEN! Kinda!! I was, barely through my first four decades of life-!”

Vaggie: “And dealing with a lot.”

Charlie: “-the whole ‘oh all of creation hates your home and you and everyone you love’ thing was starting to sink in, as well as all the, the murder and stuff happening just outside our house-”

Vaggie: “The hair dye made her happy so shut up.”

Angel Dust: “Oh we GOTTA get you back in your emo duds someday, Charlie Chip! This is GOLDEN!”

Alastor: “What, my dears, is an emo phase?”

Husk: “Angry at the world and making it the world’s problem by staying in your fucking room with the lights dim as fuck, turning it into a 3D model of all your psychological hang-ups and listening to tortured screams and shit.”

Alastor: “Ah. A lovely Saturday afternoon. I DO enjoy those.”

Everyone Else: “…..”

Alastor: “?”

Angel Dust: “Alright. So he’s maybe got some teen girl vibes goin’ on. That’s a start ain’t it?”

Vaggie: “….maybe we could say I lost my soul to him in a bet or something.”

Charlie: “Don’t even JOKE about that!!!!!”

Husk: “Fucking copycat.”

Angel Dust: “Copy what, Mr. kittens?”

Husk: (hisses)

Alastor: “Now now, Husk. Play NICE.”

Husk: “…you got it, boss.”

Alastor: (pats his head) "Very good."

Angel Dust: (CRINGING)

Charlie: "Alastor- could you um, maybe not??"

Alastor: "Hmm? Not what, my dear?"

Vaggie: "Oh you fucking KNOW what, pendejo." (glares) “Fuck the fake soul selling. I’d probably kill him if he talked to me like that.”

Alastor: “That MIGHT put a damper on our budding relationship, ha ha!”

Vaggie: “Touch me and you WILL die.”

Alastor: “Oh ho! A long distance romance I see!”

Vaggie: “That’s not convincing anyone either. You hold still, I’ll, ugh.” (grimace) “Touch your arm or something.”

Husk: “Eugh.”

Angel Dust: “Basic house rules.” (shrug) “Maybe it’ll work?”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

Vaggie: “Charlie it’s just for one evening-”

Charlie: “No. Just, just let all of hell plot against me! It’s fine.”

Vaggie: “Babe that is so not fine.”

Charlie: “It’s fine!!!”

Husk: “Carpet’s on fucking fire.”

Charlie: “Shit. Alastor- I need you to step away from Vaggie before I burn the hotel to the ground, starting with you.”

Vaggie: “Hot.”

Angel Dust: “Siiiiimp...”

Husk: (smirk)

Alastor: “I suppose disguising me as a FLAMING lesbian would be a BIT much.” (steps away) "Better?"

Charlie: (hugging vaggie) “Further please, Alastor. Further. A, a little more? Mm- no, further than that…”

(many steps later)

Charlie: “Juuuust a few more steps…”

Charlie: “Okay! I think I can finally be comfortable with this!!!”

Vaggie: “He can’t hear you, sweetie. He's half way across the hotel.”

Charlie: “Oh.”

[macgyvermedical]

Preview of an idea I had. Might continue it, might not. It’s a story about a nurse living through a Second American Civil War around the year 2032. I want it to be episodic, told through nurse’s notes and the character’s private journal:

They killed Bradey on a rainy Wednesday in February.

That’s it. That’s how I’m starting this. It was raining and they shot him. Or. Well. It was drizzling. Not the point. The street was wet, and he was wearing a red cross made of duct tape on the back of his shirt. He’s fucking dead.

So I guess now that that happened. I guess. Um. I wanted to record some things. Just in case the same happens to me. Which it will- might. I don’t know yet.

The date is February 12, 2032. The Second American Civil War has been going on for 714 days. Officially. We all know it started before that. But like, if someone’s trying to line things up with a history book.

That’s where we’re at.

Most of the greater Seattle area gets electricity about 4 hours a day. Fuel ration is 2 gallons a week. The food situation is… well, I’ve lost 35 pounds. Which technically I had it to lose, but still fucking sucks when you’re not trying. Meds are a constant issue. So are sterile things. But at least with things that are supposed to be sterile you can make them clean enough if you have the things themselves. Meds… you either have or you don’t. There’s not a lot of them you can make yourself.

I wish I could tell you more about Bradey. Maybe I will someday. But to get things started he was a doctor. I ran his standalone urgent care out of the second floor of the Denny building for the last 5 years. Fee for service only. Sliding scale. Bradey hated insurance companies. And…. modernity in general. If he could have ridden a horse in the city and accepted chickens as payment he would have. Most people don’t have chickens here, though. Which, if I’m being honest, has turned out to be a real fucking shame.

I don’t have any of Bradey’s personal writings. Or, well, I do, technically. But they’re locked in his desk. Even if I could get them out I don’t read his cursive well enough to decipher them. Jackass. I’d be willing to trade a good few weeks’ fuel ration to an octogenarian locksmith with at least one good eye.

My handwriting’s not the best, but I realize all of my own notes are in a crappy old office laptop with like a quarter of a working battery. If the electricity situation gets any worse I want… Well, I want whoever wants it to have this. I don’t know. Maybe no one will. From now on everything goes on paper.

—-------------J. Shaw, RN—----------------------

[punkslovepoints]

✨2024 Steddie Fic Recommendations

template from Steddie Support Podcast on twitter

Summaries and links below the cut

Born Under a Bad Sign by @pinkie-quinns [27k E]

Eddie Munson lived. He lived. So why does he still feel very, very dead?

No Loose Ends by @thisapplepielife [7k E]

"Ocean air is healing, you know," Eddie says as if he's serious, and Steve smiles. "Is the gulf considered an ocean?" Steve asks. And Eddie just shrugs and grins back, shaking another pack of cigarettes out of the fresh carton Steve brought him. Steve feels like a pack mule, hauling food and smokes and beer, back and forth across several states. "Closest thing I've ever seen to one, at least," Eddie says, and Steve has the fleeting thought that someday, Steve will change that. Or: Waiting out the shitstorm back in Indiana.

Big Talk by @occasionaloverboy [29k E]

The first time Eddie flirts with him is a surprise. The second time is a fluke. After that, it gets a little hard to keep track.

Sports Performance by @entanglednow [18k E]

Steve discovers something unexpected while waiting alone in Eddie's room, and struggles to be a supportive friend.

i got your name stuck to my tongue (only call me when you're drunk) by GhostEnthusiast [22k E]

5 times Steve fools around with Eddie Munson at parties, and 1 time he invites him to one himself.

Exactly What It Looks Like by @bilbosmom-belladonna [31k E]

Steve makes a face at Eddie. “You've imagined doing stuff with a guy?” “Yeah, man,” Eddie replies, spreading his hands wide. “Doesn't everyone?” Steve tilts his head to the side as he thinks. Maybe not very often, but his freshman year when Davey Riggs had been swim team captain? Yeah, he had definitely imagined some stuff that had made trips to the locker room kinda awkward. “Yeah, that's true,” Steve answers, nodding. “I wonder why everybody acts like it's so gross, though.” In the summer of 1986, Steve and Eddie have some perfectly normal fun between a couple of perfectly normal dudes.

Path to the Rainbow's End by gayhandshake [17k M]

Eddie always believed he was getting out of Hawkins. He knew he was meant for something else, even when he thought he only had two options: a bus to the state penitentiary like his father and his father’s father before him or a plane to Los Angeles, paid for by a record executive with a fat bank account and a vision. Turns out, there was a third path, and when he left town, it was in the driver’s seat on I-90, trailing behind a brown BMW carrying the Wonder Twins, with most of their shared possessions shoved into the back of his van. The van survived the drive to Rochester, but just barely. He coaxed her along with soothing words and stroking hands until she rolled to a stop two houses down from their new place, like Flipper dying in her trainer’s arms. He didn’t cry then, because they’d done this song and dance before. He did throw a very mature, contained temper tantrum at the mechanic the next day. -- Eddie knows exactly who he is. Definitely. Probably. Maybe.

Somewhere it Hides a Well by @teddywesworl [8k E]

Eddie ducks his head briefly, a gesture that doesn’t quite fit with the guy’s overall image: buzz cut, obvious ink, scars on his jaw. A bunch of his shirt buttons are undone, and Steve can see a white tank and a gold chain underneath. “Yeah,” Eddie says. “I’m at a shop in Uptown.” It’s rote, sounds sort of disinterested. Steve might think he’s being dismissed if Eddie Munson’s eyes weren’t raking over him, lingering at his jawline, his throat, his hands when he adjusts his cuffs. Or: At Lumax’s wedding in 2003, slutty bisexual physical therapist Steve sets his eye on inked up tough guy mechanic Eddie and peels away his mask.

You Could Call Me Nancy by @pinkie-quinns [5k T]

Steve and Nancy get back together. And Eddie, well. He does what any respectable person would do in that situation. He drinks about it.

Restorative Violence by @anniebass [30k E]

Unlike his uncle, Eddie still dreamt of bigger things, the fame of a musician, good cars, big-ass mansions, talked about it in the hospital bed, as with the trailer’s ruin came hope of relocation, the first step toward betterment, maybe a house a touch less vehicular, one maybe not so weiner-shaped. Still, his new room failed to convey a fulfilled dream; the unpacked boxes stood in unstable towers, dust covered the guitar, only the dirty dishes seemed to be a movable component of a life sustained, not lived. It didn’t seem like Eddie was fine at all.

Late Bloomers by @arimakes and @mojowitchcraft [65l E]

Two men walk into a gay bar. One thinks he’s straight, one thinks he’s vanilla. Both of them are idiots.

Steve & Robin by @audacityofbird [120k M]

It's 1995. Two sets of best friends find themselves in Chicago and in each other's orbit as they try to figure out how to best navigate the world, work, relationships, family, and friendships in their mid-twenties. Chrissy is starting a new job in a new city with only an old friend to help tether her. Eddie tries to help his band find their big break. Steve tries to get his matchmaking family off his back and Robin hatches a plan to help him do that in an unconventional and seemingly logical way. They're all finding themselves and their way to each other. So, who cares if they stumble along the way? At least they have each other.

Don't Hate The Player by orphan_account [6k M]

Steve Harrington doesn't really play video games. Not his thing. Somehow, however, he's ended up in an utterly delusional, one-sided relationship with an NPC.

The Fire And The Flood by @entanglednow [6k E]

Steve's already spent half a day dealing with the kids misbehaving, he really doesn't need Eddie making his life harder.

would you be my friend? by @their-we-go [8k M]

"Honourable Justice Harrington, I have perjured myself on this stand today, and I would like to recant.”"Honourable Justice Harrington, I have perjured myself on this stand today, and I would like to recant.” “Dude, what are you—” “I lied, man. I fibbed. I told a story. I—” “Alright, okay. I get it.” “I don’t read, uh. Gay porn for the articles.” “Okay.” “I more read it for the, you know.” He scrubs a hand over his face. Wishes he could hide. “Gay porn.” (Or: scenes from Eddie's life after the world doesn't end.)

let's exchange the experience by @jamiethegardener55 [22k E]

"I propose a game," Eddie announced. Steve zipped his coat back up, wincing. "I'm not playing your dungeon game." "Not," Eddie said, "a tabletop game, thank you, Steven. A challenge. A bet." He felt his eyes gleam. Steve gave him a wary look. "What kind of challenge?" "I," Eddie said, clapping his palms together, "will be Steve Harrington. For a whoooole day. And you will be Eddie Munson." -- Eddie and Steve play a game. They have to do whatever the other says for the day. Neither of them has ever heard of BDSM. Things go really well.

Big wheel keep on turning by prufrocks [28k E]

A few months after Starcourt, Steve moves out of his parents' house and into a friend of a friend's empty RV. What follows is a long six months of unintentional minimalism, scraping by on two bucks an hour, and staring at the specter that haunts the other side of the trailer park. Meanwhile, Robin gets a song stuck in her head. A season four rewrite.

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

Then mine from this year:

Pebble [5.4k words, Rated: T]

“Right, well when the male finds a female penguin he likes, he brings her a pebble. It shows the female that he wants to build a nest with her, that he wants to have her as a mate. So I thought -” Steve raised an eyebrow, “You want me to be your mate?”

flood water (a series) [17k words, Rated: E]

“Nothing says last day on earth like trying to fuck your straight friend before disappearing the next day.” Eddie skips town a month after he gets out of the hospital.

how to wake a dead boy (with art work by @bleedingoptimism) [33.4k words, Rated: M]

Steve’s been able to bring dead people back to life since he was a child. It’s a secret he’s managed to keep from everyone, hiding his power under a layer of detachment from the world around him. Then Eddie dies and Steve has a decision to make. A Stranger Things canon-compliant story based on Pushing Daisies lore.

Queer Lodgings [WIP, Rated: E]

After almost dying in the Upside Down, Eddie wakes to a high school diploma, a place at community college, and - yet another surprise in this new sunshine and rainbows existence that is somehow his life - Steve Harrington as a roommate. It's a double bi awakening!

[calliesmemes]

POPULAR TROPES AND CLICHÉ QUOTES

Assorted ASKBOX PROMPTS reminiscent of beloved TROPES seen in literature, on screen, and on stage.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed

SPECIFY muse for multimuses

❛ So you’re the girl that I’ve heard so much about. ❜

❛ I’ve heard so much about you. ❜

❛ I could corrupt you. It would be easy. ❜

❛ Not every puzzle is yours to solve. ❜

❛ The truth is stranger than my worst dreams. ❜

❛ You will become everything you hate. ❜

❛ Wait. Did you hear something? ❜

❛ I have a feeling this has something to do with you. ❜

❛ This isn’t a dream, then. ❜

❛ All will be well. I am sure of it. ❜

❛ We’re in this together. ❜

❛ You were born to make history. ❜

❛ We make a really good team. ❜

❛ What I did, I did for us. ❜

❛ You’re not safe here. ❜

❛ I’m the happiest I’ve ever been because of you. ❜

❛ You’re my fate. Always my fate. ❜

❛ There’s a storm coming. ❜

❛ We’re not so different, you and I. ❜

❛ Hello? Is anybody here? ❜

❛ You don’t even know my real name. ❜

❛ To the ends of the earth, would you follow me? ❜

❛ Who are you, little girl? ❜

❛ I like you more than I planned. ❜

❛ I wish I could protect you from everything. ❜

❛ I shouldn’t be jealous; you aren’t even mine. ❜

❛ You won’t leave me, will you? ❜

❛ You know you should not have survived that, right? ❜

❛ Whatever you do, you’ll always be my brother. ❜

❛ The light … it’s calling to you. Just let it in. ❜

❛ If it means something to you, fight for it. ❜

❛ Can you remember who you were before? ❜

❛ The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated. ❜

❛ Never again will I let someone in. ❜

❛ I see something in you that I can’t explain. ❜

❛ There are traditions and expectations that you must uphold. ❜

❛ I won’t risk our enemies getting their hands on you. ❜

❛ A knife? Are you flirting with me? ❜

❛ Let me be your protector. ❜

❛ I am more than just a copy of you. ❜

❛ Everything’s about to change. ❜

❛ I don’t want to hurt you. ❜

❛ You have no idea who I am, do you? ❜

❛ You’ll never get away with this! ❜

❛ I’m not who I was before. ❜

❛ We’re gonna be legends someday. ❜

❛ Straighten up, little soldier. ❜

❛ You and I are going to change the world. ❜

❛ I did this all for you. ❜

❛ If you wish to see strange things, then I have the power to show them to you. ❜

❛ What’s it like to be a prophet? ❜

❛ You are not your father. ❜

❛ Are you flirting, or starting a fight? ❜

❛ I’m not the person that my parents wanted me to be. ❜

❛ I need to be touched. ❜

❛ This is where you belong. ❜

❛ I want a life full of incredible adventures. ❜

❛ Let’s cause a little trouble. ❜

❛ Relax; it’s just magic. ❜

❛ I want to go home. ❜

❛ My heart belongs to you. ❜

❛ We are connected in a way that I can’t explain. ❜

❛ I am just as strange as you. ❜

❛ Feel like making a deal with the devil? ❜

❛ You were dead. Yet here you are. ❜

❛ I have loved you since we were children. ❜

❛ I will always find you. I promise. ❜

❛ I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind. ❜

❛ It’s you. It’s always been you. ❜

❛ You should be terrified of me. ❜

❛ I always get what I want. ❜

❛ Why are you the way you are? ❜

❛ You and I are so alike. ❜

❛ I could tear you apart if I wanted. ❜

❛ We make a really good team. ❜

❛ I will always be proud of you, my love. ❜

❛ Aren’t you a deadly little thing? ❜

❛ You were born to lead. ❜

❛ I have existed a long, long time. ❜

❛ Give me one good reason why I should wear this dress. ❜

❛ None of your scars can make me love you less. ❜

❛ Your friendship means the world to me. ❜

❛ Without you, I don’t exist. ❜

❛ For you, I’d leave it all behind. ❜

❛ You say witch like it’s a bad thing. ❜

❛ Maybe we can fix each other. ❜

❛ I’m afraid of what I’ve become. ❜

❛ Get the hell out of my head. ❜

❛ Do not tell me what I can and cannot do. ❜

❛ I do not need to be saved. ❜

❛ I want answers, goddamnit! ❜

❛ I don’t need a name. ❜

❛ Your existence gives me a headache. ❜

❛ Is there anything I can do for you? ❜

❛ This isn’t going to be like last time. ❜

❛ You took everything from me. ❜

❛ I just want to live my own life. ❜

❛ I have nowhere else to go. ❜

❛ You’re my best friend. I can’t lose you. ❜

❛ The most dangerous thing is to love. ❜

❛ I’m doing this for my family. ❜

❛ You have information that we need. Valuable information. ❜

❛ I lost everyone; I can’t lose you too! ❜

❛ You cannot destroy me. ❜

❛ It is my duty to protect you. ❜

❛ It’s only illegal if we get caught. ❜

❛ I have a weakness for you. ❜

❛ I will follow you into the dark. ❜

❛ Maybe I’m not the person everyone thinks I am. ❜

❛ Pretty armour doesn’t make a warrior. ❜

❛ We could get arrested for this. ❜

❛ You’re too good for this world. ❜

❛ I’ve been waiting a long time for you. ❜

❛ You must be mad, coming here like this. ❜

❛ We’re two halves of a whole idiot. ❜

❛ We were never welcome here. ❜

❛ Where you go, I go. ❜

❛ My brother never came back. ❜

❛ Be on your guard. ❜

❛ The light will always win over darkness. ❜

❛ Blaming is often easier than understanding. ❜

❛ I think that you will change the world some day. ❜

❛ Look at what you’ve done. ❜

❛ Your mind is playing tricks on you. ❜

❛ How can someone so evil be so kind? ❜

❛ You were nothing before you met me. ❜