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unreadpoppy · 10 months ago
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Raphael BG3 Masterlist 1 (multi chapter fics only)
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multi chapter fics
FINISHED
song as old as rhyme - Beauty and the Beast!AU (Raphael x Elize) - chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 14 / chapter 15 / chapter 16 (SMUT) / chapter 17 / chapter 18 / chapter 19 / chapter 20 / chapter 21 / Epilogue / bonus chapter
Plus One - Modern AU! Raphael x Fem!Tav - chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5
down by the river - Raphael x Warlock!Tav - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 (THE END)
Betrayer AU (this is an AU were Gwen is not technically Tav)
Betrayer (Raphael x Gwen)
The Runaway Bride (part two of Betrayer) (Raphael x Gwen)
Cafuné (Raphael x Gwen)
Helldusk (Raphael x Gwen)
The making of heirs (Raphael x Gwen) (SMUT)
a small snippet of something (Raphael x Pregnant!Gwen) (somewhat of the sequel to the making of heirs)
An heir is born (Dad!Phael x Gwen)
workshop (Dad!Phael)
Family Portrait (Raphael x Gwen)
ABANDONED WORKS
Wash My Dreams Away (previously titled Brown Eyes) - Halsin x Tav (Gwen) (and a small Raphael x Gwen on the side) - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8
To Win the Princess's Heart - Bridgerton season 2 inspired (Raphael x Genevieve) - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2
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forevercaroline · 1 year ago
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Tagging @austennerdita2533, @crazychicke, @rachelemmaharper, @ack46, @storm-pirate, @i-believe-in-melinda-may, and @gh-0-stcup for helping me with Darla question. @paigemarie007 @karinanic @mydarlingklaus
Spike opens the door of his DeSoto and he puts his hand out for Drusilla to take. Once she is out of the car, she looks around and in her quiet voice says, “Angel.”
He looks over at her. He didn't feel Angel around but maybe her sense is stronger because he turned her. “He’s here too? I’m getting us something to eat.”
She leans into him and says dreamily,“I’m a princess.”
“That you are.”
Before he can say anything else,Drusilla leaves And he knows exactly where she is going. She thought she smelt her precious Angel. He just worries about her. She hasn’t been the same since Prague. Spike smells blood and fear and it’s Intoxicating. He follows the smell to Hemery High School. As he is walking up to the school he looks back and swears he faintly smells Angel. But the blood is more potent in the gym where Lothos is feeding from a blonde teenage girl in a white dress.
When Lothos sees Spike he drops the girl and she hits the gym floor with a thud, “Spike! It’s been awhile.How are you?”
Spike shrugs his shoulders as he looks around and notices that everyone here is already dead. It's disappointing. “Good, kinda hungry.”
“Welcome to my buffet. You’re welcome to have anyone.”
As Spike looks around his eyes come across the blonde in the white dress she is still alive and looking up at him with pleading eyes. Her beauty is astonishing. He’s never seen someone so beautiful. She’s glowing so much that the poet in him wants to use the word effulgent. He feels horrible for this thought but she might be more beautiful than his dark princess. The way her green eyes have locked on to his and there’s so much emotion there but there’s also a will to live. He can’t let a beauty like this die and rot.
He bends down to the young woman and puts his arm under her neck to bring her to a sitting position. He asks her the same thing Drusilla asked him over a hundred years ago. “Do you want to walk worlds the others can’t begin to imagine?”
She can’t speak, blood has begun to pool in her throat, so she nods her head. And Spike's demon comes out and he licks the holes left by Lothos, healing them up. He sinks his fangs into the other side of her neck, drawing the little bit of blood she has left. It tastes different but familiar. He hears her heart slowing down even more and on the last beat he pulls his fangs out.
He takes one of his fingernails and makes a slice at his neck then brings the limp girl to his neck. He softly says. “Drink luv and come join the world.”
Barely alive she musters all the strength she has and sinks her human teeth into his neck and drinks his blood. She can’t believe it, it's so gross but she can’t stop.
After a couple mouthfuls she dies in his arms.
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takaraphoenix · 5 months ago
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Single Mom Stiles (*cough* Stiles and Liam) leaving the pack because of Theo and, now packless, find their way to the Hale Pack.
Who are. Still alive and around and thriving.
Alpha Derek, Peter, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Jackson, Cora, maybe the twins, I haven't decided on that one yet.
(Maybe Malia/Kira will go with them. Because I love Kira and I think Malia needs to get to own the Hale heritage.)
Can you imagine Derek seeing Stiles be pack mom even without a pack and desperately wanting to court Stiles, like, his inner wolf is going nuts over this. But. To get to Stiles, Derek will have to get past Stiles' very protective pup first.
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mikichko · 6 months ago
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⛔ this blog is 18+ !! minors and ageless blogs please dni ⛔ part of: blurb a day series (trying to get these gears moving)
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ghost hates the feel of hands on his skin. despises it. it makes him feel dirty, filthy. even the cotton of his shirts feel too thin on some days and he wishes he would've added more layers. just as a precaution.
so when you ask, "may i touch you?" it catches him completely off-guard.
it's been a long time since someone asked if they have his permission to do something to him. simon has long since lost the privilege of choice, since he'd joined the SAS that is. he's long parted with the idea that he is something other than a weapon and a tool for the crown to maintain its power, however fleeting it may be. molded to obey orders and execute them as cleanly as possible. and yet, here you are, offering him a choice, something he hasn't had in years.
it makes his mouth water.
he nods silently, fearing he'll drool onto his mask if he opens his mouth. he watches your fingers work, peeling back the soiled fabric of his shirt as you expose the fresh wound. you're diligent, handling his arm with such care you'd think he was made of porcelain.
you rummage around in your kit, pulling out the alcohol and the gauze, "this'll sting a bit, apologies." you're so sweet for thinking that a mere swipe of alcohol would bring pain to his battle worn skin. too sweet.
jesus christ. he has to look away lest the entirety of his blood flow suddenly redirect itself between his legs. it's insanity that this bit of kindness is enough to drive him to such a state. he's had men hurl knives, grenades, shoot live rounds at him, has felt them thrash at his body with full force. has become so accustomed to violence and yet, your gentle touches make more of an impact than any of those blows ever did.
you are so careful with him. he wants to let you know that your hand, your blessed hands, could never harm him. not the way the rest of the world seeks to.
he wonders what kind of man he'd have become if you had found him earlier. if he had felt your soft hands before he ever felt the hot metal of a bullet graze his skin. what if he had been handled as softly as you handle him now since his birth?
would he still be here? a man turned weapon, in the perpetual cycle of violence? would he have opened his farm?
he doesn't know, probably would never know, but he knows one thing. he would have found you. would have still met your soft touch.
he'd still felt like a proper man, an honorable man, under your hands.
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utopiastri · 17 days ago
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you're always on my team
Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri, archive-locked, chapters 3/3
Lando DID U GIVE HIM MY NUMBER Max i gave him your number Lando MAX Max I THINK YOU’LL LIKE HIM Lando I DONT WANT TO LIKE HIM I DONT EVEN KNOW WHO HE IS
aka the landoscar texting fic where max does. the Strangest matchmaking known to man (not least because he's not even intentionally matchmaking lmao)
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blaydie · 3 months ago
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ᥫ᭡ FIRST ENCOUNTER — “I hope we can play again one day.” Growing up together — from childhood to adulthood. Sunday x GN reader series.
Word count: 2.8k
Contains: Fluff (lots and lots of fluff), first encounters, first friend (his), different backgrounds, growing up together (main stages of life—will progress over each post), lighthearted topics, lonely child Sunday + more!
Chapter: (1)
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Starting school wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Like the adults in your life said—it’s only scary until you go in and experience it. You have to keep your head held high and believe in yourself, and that’s exactly what you did. To your relief, you made your first friend easily. She was a girl, a lot smaller in height than you. You found her outside of the classroom, hyperventilating while the teacher attempted to console her. Before you could step inside the room, the teacher pulled you aside. You were asked to keep her company since she was having a tough time settling in, and you did it in a heartbeat. 
Her name was Robin. The two of you became inseparable, always found sitting next to each other in every class. For the first time in your life, you were invited back to someone else’s home. After getting permission with some extensive begging, your parents eventually caved and drove you over to her house. You never shut up about her, and she never shut up about you. Both of your families had to endure the nonstop chatter about your best friend. 
When the car stops outside of their house, your breath is taken away by the sheer size. This is way bigger than your place! As soon as the car door opens, you sprint up the path and wait outside of their entryway, a giant smile plastered to your face. You wave behind you at your parents, watching as they get back in the car. They were so proud of you for stepping out of the comfort zone you stuck yourself to when you were younger. Before you started school, their main concern was that you’d have a hard time fitting in amongst the crowd. You didn’t particularly get along well with the children in your neighbourhood, but you didn’t tell your parents the reason why. Those kids were just too mean, nothing like Robin. 
Fiddling with your hands, you began to wonder if anyone was going to let you in. Just as you reach to press the doorbell, the door opens. A man towers over you, a somewhat surprised look on his face. He turns his head back to look in the house, his attention temporarily assigned elsewhere. That’s when you notice the younger boy clinging to his leg, his head tilted as he stares at you with curiosity. 
“Hello, little one. Are you Robin’s friend?” The man pushes the young boy aside, ruffling his hair before crouching down to be on your level.
“I am! We’re best friends.” You give him a cheesy grin, and his face softens. 
“Robin and her mom aren’t here right now. You can come in, it might be a little wait.” He steps out of the way, clearing entry for you.
“Okay! Thank you, sir.” You take your shoes off and wander into the house, taking a look around at the interior. 
Too preoccupied with being wowed by their house, you didn’t hear the conversation between Robin’s father and the young boy who appeared to be hiding from you. Letting out a sigh, Robin's father strolls back over to you, accidentally startling you by placing a hand on your shoulder.
“This is my little boy, Sunday. He’s Robin’s older brother.” His dad drags him forward by the arm, almost crashing your two tiny bodies to the floor.
“Hi…” Sunday speaks quietly, unable to look you in the face.
“Hi, Sunday.” You smile, your eyes drifting down to see him fidgeting with his hands in a similar way you do.
“Do you wanna play with my toys…?” Mustering all of his courage, he looks at you and waits for your answer. 
You stare at him, then up at his dad. You were supposed to be here for Robin, but no one gave you a time frame for how long she would be missing. Since you had nothing else to do, you nodded. Sunday’s father made a cheer noise before leaving you in the living room with the young boy. He had long hair, a similar bluish shade to his sister’s. The wings attached to his head flutter before he extends his hand out.
“Let’s go play.” He beams, accepting your hand that you stretched out to meet his. 
The two of you scurried upstairs, a half-sprint, half-walk, speed. Neither one of you was that fast, but there’s no rush. Family pictures decorated each space on the wall, ranging from baby pictures to wedding photos. It was nice to see how well everyone seemed to get along, it made you happy that Robin had a nice home to live in.
Sunday’s room was huge—even bigger than your parents’ bedroom. Your mouth dropped as you looked around at all his belongings, a wide collection of stuffed animals littered on his bed. You wanted to say something, but you couldn’t get any words out of your mouth.
“Um… Do you want to play with my teddies? You’re looking at them funny.” Sunday walks over to his bed, taking one of the stuffed animals into his arms.
“Sorry! I think they’re cute. We can play whatever you want!”
“I want to play with the teddies.” He mumbles, scooting over to make space for you on his bed.
“What are your teddies’ names?”
“Oh, I didn’t give them names. Am I supposed to?”
“It makes it more fun! Can I name them?”
“If you wanna.”
“My one is gonna be called Cuddles and your one can be Patchy.”
“Patchy…” Sunday looks down at his teddy, squeezing it tighter in his embrace.
“What job is Patchy gonna have? Cuddles is a teacher!”
“I want Patchy to be the president.”
“Wow, the president?”
“Yeah, I wanna be the president too when I’m older.”
“That’s so cool!”
“You think?”
“Yeah!”
Sunday’s cheeks grow warm from hearing your excitement. He stretches Patchy’s arms and makes it “hug” Cuddles.
“Do you go to my school?” You inquire. You’re sure Robin would’ve introduced you to her big brother by now. 
“I’m homeschooled.”
“You have school at home?”
“Kinda. My parents have a tutor that comes in and teaches me stuff.”
“Ohh.” You’ve never heard of homeschooling, but it piques your interest. “Do you have any friends from homeschool?”
“Not really.” He didn’t want to admit that he was the only one who attended the private tutoring sessions.
“Why don’t you come to school with me and Robin?”
“I like it at home.”
“That’s awesome!” You give him a thumbs up, continuing to delve into the roleplay you created in your mind.
After a while of having Cuddles teach Patchy some valuable life lessons, such as how to pour a glass of water without spilling it, you begin to wonder where Robin is. You’ve been here for at least an hour or two, but then again, you don’t know how to tell the time quite yet. Sunday’s eyes were sparkling as he watched you play—this was his first time playing with someone who wasn’t part of his family.
“Do you wanna be friends?” Sunday asks, his nose scrunched while he waits for the big news. His wings were completely still—it almost seemed like he was holding his breath.
“Of course I wanna be friends! You’re really fun and nice.” As you would with Robin, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him, feeling the flutter of his wings brushing against your cheeks. It tickled, and you began to giggle.
“Can I tell Dad?” There was nothing but joy in his voice when he broke free, springing to his feet straight away.
“If you want to!”
Bursting out of his room, Sunday runs down the hallway calling for his father. Met with urgency, he comes running at the call of his son, bumping into him before he can make it down the stairs.
“Dad!” Sunday exclaims, practically jumping in place with Patchy still in his hands.
“Is everything okay?”
“I have a friend!”
“Is that so? I’m glad, kid! Go on, go back to play.”
“Are you proud of me?”
“Very. Good job, Sunday.” Placing a kiss on Sunday’s forehead, his father pats his back before he dashes back off to his room. 
Sunday returns, stumbling over his own feet. He lands flat on the bed, chuckling to himself as you stare down at him. This was a big thing for Sunday, and you could tell that this friendship meant a lot to him. 
“Do you know when Robin is gonna be back?”
“She’s at singing practice with Mom. But it’s okay, we can play together.”
“Robin can sing?!” You gasp, clasping your hands together while Sunday nods.
“Yeah, she’s been going to those lessons since like, forever. She’s really good too!”
“Wow, you guys are so cool.”
“You’re way cooler.”
“Am not! You’re super smart and Robin can sing, I don’t really have anything like that.”
“You’re good at imagining things! I couldn’t even think of names for my teddies until you gave them some.”
“Is that cool?”
“I think it’s cool. I dunno how you do it so easily.”
You feel a surge of happiness wash over you, cuddling your knees to your chest. Sunday was so nice. Part of you wishes he could come to your school so you could all play together at recess, but Sunday seemed pretty adamant about liking his homeschooling. 
Time passes by quickly, you and Sunday continue to play with the teddies, having their identities expand rapidly. You yawn, rubbing your eyes and putting down Cuddles. Outside of Sunday’s window, you can see that the sun has started to set, and Robin still hasn’t made it back. You’re sad that she ditched you, but it wasn’t all bad with Sunday’s company.
“My parents are gonna be here to pick me up soon.”
“Already?” Sunday whines, his bottom lip flipping down. “Maybe I can ask Dad if it’s okay for you to stay for dinner.”
“Will I be allowed?”
“I think so. We have a lot of empty seats at the dinner table.” Sunday takes your hand, leading you towards the door. “Come on, let’s ask dad! Maybe if we add extra pleases it’ll work.”
Scurrying down the hall, you skip a few stairs as he drags you into the living area. You take a moment to catch your breath while he sprints off, heading straight towards where his father is sitting. Due to the distance, you can’t pick up on the conversation, but you see Sunday pointing at you with a pleading expression. Calling you over, you walk slowly towards to the two, still recollecting your breath.
“Sunday asked if you could stay for dinner. Is that what you’d like?”
“If it’s okay I’d like that a lot.” You put on your best smile, remembering what Sunday had mentioned. “Please.”
“What a well-mannered child! You didn’t need to ask so politely, but who am I to say no to a new friend? Do you have your parents’ phone number?”
“Um, I think I gave Robin a piece of paper with my family stuff on it. She said she gave it to her mom.”
“I know where it’ll be. Get comfy on the sofa, you two. I’ll call your parents and let them know to collect you after we eat.”
“Okay! Thank you, Sunday and Robin’s dad!”
Heading to the bigger sofa, you and Sunday climb on, legs dangling while the TV plays in the background. You were thrilled to see what they would have to offer since their house is so fancy, but you’re also worried in case the meal they serve isn’t to your liking. Either way, your parents taught you to eat what you’re given. Whether you like it or not will be kept to yourself. 
“I told you it’d work.” Sunday smiles subtly, kicking his feet which hover above the floor, not quite reaching it yet.
The two of you proceed to watch TV, a nature documentary which had been left running while his father made a call to your parents. After a few minutes pass, he returns and tells you both the good news, catching both of your faces ignite with thrill. It didn’t take long for the meal his father arranged to finish cooking, now scooping fair portion sizes onto three respective plates. The leftovers go back into the oven, keeping them warm for when Robin and her mother return from their outing together. 
Their dining room was grand. It’s the first time you’ve seen a chandelier hang over a dinner table in real life—you always thought it was something exclusive to the rich people in cartoons. It made you wonder if they were rich. They had so much more than you and the other kids in school did, but Robin never spoke much about home. If you lived here, you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about all of the luxuries. They’re extremely lucky.
When you took your seat, your face contorted at the vast arrangement of cutlery in front of you. You were only used to the classics, unsure of why there were spoons of different sizes displayed neatly in front of you. Sunday pulls out the chair beside you and sits down, patiently awaiting permission to begin tucking in.
“Um… I think your dad gave me too many spoons…” You fidget with the spoons of different sizes, and his gaze drifts over to you. He seems perplexed by your statement. 
“Huh? You have everything you need.” 
“Why do I have two spoons?”
“This one is the main one you’ll eat with,” Sunday picks up the bigger spoon, then slides it over to you. “Use that one first.”
“What about the little spoon?”
“It’s the one you use for dessert.”
“Oh.” You nod your head, blissfully unaware of fine dining etiquette. “In my house, we use big spoons for everything.”
“Really?”
“Before we eat, it’s fair that we show our gratitude for receiving this meal.” Sunday’s father stands to his feet, followed by Sunday. Unsure of what to do, you remain gawking at the two until Sunday tugs you by the sleeve, encouraging you to stand too.
There was a moment of silence over the dining room until his father bowed, followed by Sunday, then you. A domino effect. Now that it had been announced that you could eat, you didn’t hesitate. You weren’t sure what the exact name of this dish was, but one thing is for sure—you devoured it. You could hear the small chuckle Sunday’s father attempted to suppress as he looked at you. It was embarrassing; you thought he would be mad at you, but he seemed to understand the circumstances. 
“If you’d like more, I can get you another serving.”
“It’s okay! Thank you. It’s sooo good! You’re super lucky, Sunday! Your dad is such a good cook.”
“Ah, I didn’t cook it. Our chef did. I’ll be sure to send your compliments later on.”
“You have a chef?!”
“We do indeed.”
“Wow! Like a private chef?! Do they make anything you want?”
“That’s the sole purpose of a chef’s career, dear.” Sunday’s father snickers, reaching for his glass of aged red wine. 
When everyone had finished their plate, a waiter appears from a door you hadn’t initially acknowledged and collects the dishes. Just seconds after, another appears with two bowls of dessert. Your eyes widen as you see the ice cream placed in between you and Sunday. It appears to be drenched in syrup and other toppings. 
“I figured that Sunday would like to share his dessert with his new friend. Is that okay with you both?” His father glances in your direction, watching the nods in unison.
Sunday didn’t seem to eat much, mainly scraping at the sides of the bowl. When you looked up at him, he was smiling to himself, pleasantly happy with the small serving he was given. 
It was about time that today came to an end. You walk towards their door with Sunday and his father following behind. Your parents had already rang the doorbell—now greeted face to face with them as you ran out. Sunday remains close to his father’s side, his cheek resting against his leg while he watches you. Your parents show their gratitude and encourage you to say your thanks and farewells. With a small pinch on his shoulder, Sunday speaks up.
“Bye, I hope we can play again one day.” There was a pout on his face—you swear you saw his lip wobble.
“I hope so too!” You give your final wave as your parents cart you back to the car, setting off as soon as everyone is buckled in.
Inside the house, Sunday sniffles and runs back upstairs, gently closing his room door over. Cuddles and Patchy remain sitting next to each other, and he begins to cry. Tears spill from his eyes at the thought he might not be able to play with you again. After all, you were Robin’s friend first. When Robin is home, you probably won’t even look his way if you come over. That doesn’t remove the memories he made with you from his head though, and he keeps his hope that one day the two of you will reunite and continue to construct Cuddles and Patchy’s future together. 
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spaghettixdemon · 1 month ago
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J Stands for more words than one PT.1
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“While introducing his new girlfriend to the team, JJ is automatically confronted with her feelings for Spencer when they begin to get in the way of things"
DISCLAIMER You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Minors do not interact. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read it.
Warnings: Drinking/Drunkenness, P in V, getting freaky in a car, fighting, slight mentions of death, Jealousy??
Pairing: Spencer Reid x F! Reader
Word Count: 1.3k
This was originally in my Google Doc but I seem to have lost access to it :( SO I am re-writing it! (I will definitely add more chapters bc omg this is long)
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"Alright anndd finally done!" Emily turned to JJ, clapping her hands together and beaming. Today was a paperwork day, and everyone had been working until the late hours. "These reports are killing me...I've been on the same one the majority of the day..." JJ spoke to Emily with a sigh and a slight smirk playing on her lips. Yes, JJ had been stuck on the same case most of the day, but it wasn't just the amount of work, no. That wasn't the only reason her day was moving so slowly.
Right across from her desk, in perfect view, was Spencer Reid- their little resident genius. His legs were crossed in his office chair, his curly hair fell in front of his eyes, and his long, slender fingers traced down the written report, scanning every word and spreading it within seconds effortlessly. JJ had always been close with Spencer- because of their tight-knit team, their ages, and of course, the butterflies she would get around him. They were the two closets in age at the BAU, so maybe that was part of the reasoning behind her crush, but honestly, she just thought he was very attractive.
So earlier today, when Spencer was talking on his phone nonstop, JJ was confused. Spencer was not a fan of technology, thinking back on how it took Spencer literal years to finally sign up for an email address. So, whatever was keeping Spencer on speed dial on the other line clearly didn't bother him too much. JJ would sneak glances towards her coworker hourly, taking in his body language and how he seemed to be head over heels. He would fidget and spin in his office chair as someone talked to him, he had a faint blush on his cheeks, and a smile plastered on his face. In all actuality, she'd never seen Spencer look so dopey- maybe he truly was just happy right now, but the emotions on his face surprised her.
"Hey lover-boy, what's going on over here?" JJ shot her head down, burying her face in her work. It was Derek who popped the question already on JJ's mind. Derek crossed his arms and leaned against Spencer's desk as Spencer looked up at Derek. Rolling his eyes and hanging up the phone, Spencer set the phone down on his desk. "Was that a girl on the other end of the line? I don't think I've ever seen you so happy to pick up a call at work." Both men laughed as Spencer grew a little quiet, sheepishly shrugging. "I mean- yeah, actually, you're right for once." Spencer laughed as an expression of excitement and shock plastered onto Derek's. "Wow really?" He laughed, a little in disbelief "Congrats man! That's awesome!"
JJ watched as the two guys hugged and discussed Spencer's new girlfriend. Weirdly, JJ felt a pang in her chest of embarrassment...or more like frustration. Why? She wasn't sure. JJ could read anyone within minutes, but she could never read her own emotions that well.
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Days had passed, and work was pretty much back to normal. Normal meaning JJ wasn't constantly hearing about Spencer's new girlfriend, who he adored so much. It was cute, yeah, and she did feel happy for the man and his newfound love, but it would get pretty repetitive after a while. Derek and Penelope, in particular, would not let up on the subject. It was cute when Penelope giggled and twirled her hair when asking about this girl, but the way Spencer would drop information on her so easily was frustrating.
Penelope beamed, ecstatic over all this new news. Then, looking at Derek, she gasped and clapped her hands together. "You should bring her here! We could all meet her it would be so nice..!" Spencer looked a little uneasy. The few times his relationship did start getting this serious, work would interfere and often kill the relationship. Though, Derek backed up Penelope and agreed it would be fun.
"I don't know guys...That might be a little intense..." JJ heard this and thought over the idea in her head. Meeting the girl Spencer was so enamored by might be interesting...to say the least. She looked up and smiled at the three talking. "No Spence you should totally bring her in! I want to meet this girl!" Spencer gave JJ a hesitant look, visibly thinking over the interaction in his head. He slowly smiled and rolled his eyes, looking at the three before him. "Ok Ok..I'll bring up the idea and if she's cool with it, I'll bring her here next Friday"
Penelope and Derek cheered while JJ sat there, smiling quietly. She clapped her hands together and sighed "Amazing! I can't wait".
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The week that followed that conversation wasn't a pleasant one. The team had traveled out of state to work on a pretty gruesome case- Spencer, in particular, had a rough time during the case. He should be used to the horrible feelings that came with the job, but it was never really easy dealing with death so often.
The team had thankfully made it back to base Friday, and everyone was exhausted. They spent the day quietly filling out paperwork and trying to unwind as they worked into the early hours of the night. Around 7pm, Spencer got a call. JJ noticed this in particular because of how eager he was to answer the phone. A small smile appeared on his face, and the faint blush was back. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, hanging up the call with a simple goodbye.
Spencer looked around at his friends as the smile on his face grew. "My Girlfriend is apparently downstairs in the lobby! ...I was thinking of bringing her up is everyone ok with that?" The office was suddenly filled with energy again, and everyone seemed to wake up. JJ in particular, shot her head up and looked at Spencer, a little shocked. She had completely forgotten this would be happening...She made eye contact with Spencer and looked a little hesitant as she spoke up. "um...yeah that would be great..!"
"Yes, PLEASE bring her up! I need some fun to distract me from all this work." Penelope popped her head out of her office as she spoke to Spencer. Spencer looked a little confused by what JJ had said but smiled and nodded anyway. He slowly made his way towards the elevator, a bit of pep in his step.
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Everyone in the office had quickly wrapped up what they had been working on and made their way to the office cubicles to meet this girl Spencer was so into. Penelope pulled up a chair next to JJ and beamed. "Are you excited to meet her?" JJ...still felt very conflicted. Just earlier that week, when they had been solving the case, She was staying in the hotel room next to Spencer's. She thought about how she ran into him shirtless and wearing sweatpants. He apologized and made his way inside his room, but she felt so conflicted.
She wasn't upset that he was shirtless...definitely not...but something about getting caught off guard like that made her blush. She remembered the feeble nerd she used to work with. He was in his mid-twenties and looked so new to the BAU world. Now, the man she saw earlier that week and today was a bit different. He had toughened up more and was a bit more muscular- not to a Derek level, but he definitely wasn't feeble anymore.
"Something like that" JJ mumbled to Penelope, a faint blush on her face. Penelope was about to question JJ, just as an elevator 'dinging' noise saved her. Everyone's attention was on the elevator and who was inside.
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lilacxquartz · 2 months ago
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A SIGHT FOR SORE EYES
part 1 of 3 • mahito x reader
summary: following an accident that destroyed your vision, you begin to suspect that your boyfriend, your caretaker, was actually replaced by an imposter.
tags/themes: body horror, psychological horror, reader insert, disturbing themes, dead dove, dark
ao3 • masterlist • more series • part 2 >
1. Fade Away
The accident itself came out of nowhere.
All you could remember was the squeal of the tires and the slamming force that threw you forward against the dashboard. The glass around you held for maybe a second before it collapsed and fell like sharp, near lethal snow.
Soon after, darkness followed, but not the slow pull of sleep or even death, but quite literally something pitch black and devoid of colour that crept into your vision, or lack of.
Before you knew it, the world was taken away from you and as was your remaining hope.
Essentially, you were left unable to see.
At least maybe temporarily, or so the doctors had otherwise claimed, feeding you a false sense of promise that the light could one day return. Days, maybe weeks all blurred together in perpetual darkness otherwise, so it didn’t take too long for your hope to fade.
The recommendation was to wear eyepatches over your eyes, or rather, a dual patch to both protect your eyes as they heal as well to hopefully make the gradual return of vision not feel so overwhelming.
You hated the things if you were honest; the very feel of them resting atop your eyes only served as a mocking reminder of just how easy it was to ruin the course of your life within mere seconds.
Your boyfriend however, as sweet as he was, tried to see you through it all. His calm and kind voice was the only consistent thing throughout your entire experience. He was always there to guide you when you couldn’t find your way—telling you it was all going to be okay—even if that word no longer made sense to you.
What was it… to be okay anymore?
Everyday, you looked forward to his calming voice and his gentle touch, except for when you didn’t; at least not anymore.
It was a subtle shift in the air, but something had changed.
When he walked into the room, something about his presence felt off. He greeted you the same way that he did before and the sound of his voice was familiar enough, but there was a different quality to it. It wasn’t wrong, at least not exactly, but something about the way he spoke had suddenly felt unnatural.
The way he touched you felt slightly… off, too. His touches were usually light against your skin; yet whoever this was, seemed to apply an uncomfortable amount of weight against you.
The scent in the room, the scent of his cologne that he wore was the exact same, although it was certainly faint, as though stale.
Maybe you were just going insane…?
It wasn’t that unlikely, you supposed. The trauma was life altering enough and after being in a loop of total darkness for the last couple of weeks, it was highly probable that the very last strings of your sanity were finally on their last threads. This whole thing was disorienting enough, since you essentially lost what you knew as the entire world in just a matter of minutes, so maybe it was the case of your senses being elevated a little too much.
It was a possibility, right?
Your mind was probably to blame, playing sneaky and cruel little tricks on you and feeding into the exhausting paranoia of losing one of your most vital senses.
The feeling however still persisted deep down. It was a creeping unease that would sink to the depths of your stomach and bubble away into poorly digested yet festering doubt every time he would reunite with you.
His laughter, while soft and familiar, now carried a hollow tone. His breath felt somehow hotter, his words felt almost… rehearsed. Your heightened remaining senses be damned; you knew it in the core of your very being that you weren’t crazy for picking up on such things.
It was the way his footsteps walked down a methodical path on his way to be with you. or how he hesitated to say your name, instead calling you sickly sweet nicknames that he had otherwise never before in his life used on you.
It was strange, but the company of someone you supposedly had loved for the last five years, had become almost foreign to you.
At one point, you reached for his hand while lying down next to him in bed and your fingers grazed against his, only for you to pull back away in an instant. His soft palms were now calloused and you could feel strange sorts of sutures line up his wrist in brushing retaliation.
You continued to try and drill in the idea that this had to have been all in your head out of desperate delusion, hoping, praying even, that it was the fault of the darkness for twisting everything into something so vile.
But still, that nagging feeling persisted. It wasn’t fear clouding your judgement; it was an innate warning to trust your gut to understand that something was actually terribly wrong.
You didn’t dare question him however, because after all, this person—whoever he actually was—was the only one who had fed you, bathed you and cared for you. How could it not be him? You kept telling yourself that it had to be because you were otherwise stumped on all other plausible explanations.
Whoever it was that tucked themselves away next to you in bed and idly traced haunting patterns in your skin was not the person you once knew.
It was absolutely, without a doubt, someone else.
Someone pretending to be him.
~~~
The doctors had been cautiously optimistic concerning your recovery; a phone call with the person who had initially treated you had revealed that while the accident had been devastating, your future might not be in ruins just yet. With time and provided that you were correctly taking the medicine that your boyfriend had been giving you, you should actually begin to heal.
There were signs to look out for in your returning vision; flickers of light, passing shadows and the like. They warned you that it might at times seem alarming, but it was all positive; a sign of healing, if you were lucky enough.
And much to your delight, you started to indeed notice hints of your vision returning after a while. Exercised moments without the eye patches would reveal partial sight in the form of colourful blurring patches manifesting within your view. It was something so little yet so hopeful, but you couldn’t help but cling to the fleeting glimpses of colour that painted your vision with almost elated anticipation.
Anything but constant darkness.
If you could at least see colour, even if it wasn’t so clear, then suddenly the future wasn’t as bleak as before.
Yet, every time you thought you were getting better, the progress would soon slip away every time he visited.
Just like the initial shift, it all started subtly. The brief casted moments of light would be stolen from you the second that he left the apartment, leaving you behind in a suddenly plunged black void and whenever you would mention this in a call to the doctors, they were simply perplexed. According to them, if you were seeing positive changes in your vision, then it should be improving—not deteriorating.
They told you that they would arrange for your partner to pick up a changed strain for the medication, hoping that an adjustment to your treatment should guide you in the correct direction.
But try as you might, the pattern continued to repeat itself, again and again.
You would heal and then the lights would go out.
You could have sworn that it was his doing somehow, even if the assigned blame was insane in its own right. With every touch from his tainted fingertips, he would somehow weaken you despite being otherwise gentle. It was so odd, because it was like he eluded poison from every stroke against the contours of your flesh.
You soon grew to fear contact with him as a result; dreading any sort of contact with the impostor who claimed to be your lover, lest he would damage you again. It was as though every time his fingertips brushed against your skin, he changed something about you and with every recurring visit, it only got worse.
You kept trying to talk to him about it, hoping that his once warm personality would return and tell you that you were wrong about your assumptions but you never got such comfort.
Again and again, you would ask him something of the same sort of variation, “I’m getting worse, aren’t I?”
But there would be no comfort that followed.
“Don’t be silly,” he would often taunt, almost, his words always so playful as they flicked off of his tongue with hidden venom. “Why would you feel worse, huh? That’s so funny to me, because you shouldn’t. I’m taking such good care of you, silly. You should be feeling better.”
His voice was soft when he spoke too, like smooth dripping honey against your weary ears. “Maybe you’ve got it all wrong, even. You’re feeling worse from me not being around. Don’t worry though, I’ll keep you running, safe and sound.”
His words were now more erratic, almost playful. He no longer carried the same patterns that your partner once did with his speech. You wanted nothing more than to pull away from this monster—because that’s what he must have been—to escape from him, to scream at him to leave you alone because how dare he pretend to be someone you loved?
And yet you didn’t.
You couldn’t.
Instead, you did nothing, resigning yourself to just sitting there, laying there as he would continue to purr falsely planted reassurances into your ears with promises that you prayed that he would not keep.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he would say, “I’ll be right here, always. Watching every last bit of you unravel—I mean heal. We’re in this together, right? I’ll stay with you until there’s nothing left—I mean, until you’re fixed right up.”
You could only sigh and endure, the ache behind your eyes getting gradually worse, as if something was pushing and pulling inside of your skull somehow; messing around internally, poking and prodding in places that should have remained untouched.
It didn’t take long for your body to feel wrong, like it wasn’t put together correctly anymore.
Like it didn’t belong to you anymore.
You could have sworn that your skull was contorting under your skin, slowly twisting and waning through whatever pressure his passing touch would apply.
Sometimes, late at night (or what you assumed to be night), you would lie awake and feel things moving inside of you; slowly, and deliberately—as though something was crawling beneath your flesh.
And all you could do was just sit there.
Broken, blind and waiting for the next visit.
For the next time that this thing wearing your boyfriend’s persona would return and wrap its hands around your body once again, uttering sweet little lies while tearing you apart from the inside.
“It’s all gonna be okay,” he would murmur or rather, mock, “I’m here for you, after all.”
But it wasn’t going to be okay.
That much you did know.
In fact, you had a very good idea that nothing was ever going to be okay ever again.
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stormz369 · 2 months ago
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☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 3
Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem)
written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, fluffy, mild angst, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!
warnings: reader character dealing with anxiety from previous chapter (non-descriptive),hinted at trauma from fatphobia, hints of Jason's self esteem and body image issues, otherwise it's fluff central
word count: 2.2k (oops? 😅)
Chapter Selection
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Ding!
I looked over at my phone, briefly considering not picking it up. When I got through my front door I had ripped my jeans off, suddenly hating everything touching me. I showered, scrubbing the night off until my skin was raw and tingling, and now I was curled up on my bed sheets, having a good cry. I didn't really want to talk to anyone right now…
Ding! Ding! … Ding!
God, whoever it was was insistent though … I sighed softly and picked it up, checking the messages:
Jason: Good morning! I am so sorry for the sudden disappearance - my phone broke on my way to visit my brother! 
3:15am
Jason: Just got back into town, so I've finally got the sim card in an old one for now.
3:17am
Jason: I feel bad, I owe you a week of good mornings! 😭
3:17am
Jason: And sorry for spamming you - I just didn't want you to think the worst for a second longer than necessary…
3:18am
I stared at the screen for a long while. Jason was back … just like Red Hood said. Huh… 
Me: Don't worry about it, shit happens!
3:40am
Jason: �� What are you still doing up? 
3:41am
I briefly considered telling him everything. Maybe it would feel good to tell someone … or maybe it would feel even worse. We didn't really know each other yet, who knew how he would react? Nausea gripped my stomach and I shook my head, taking a few deep breaths before replying.
Me: Just got home is all. Picked up a late shift tonight.
3:50am
Jason: That's a hell of a late shift, that must have sucked!
3:52am
Me: … Yeah, honestly it wasn't great… 😔
3:53am
Jason: What are you doing tomorrow?
3:54am
Me: Nothing in particular, y?
3:56am
Jason: That settles it then! No more excuses, come hell or high water I will see you tomorrow!
3:56am
I stared at the screen, not sure how to feel about that idea. I did want to see him again, but I also really just wanted to sleep for 48 hours straight…
Jason: Seriously, name a time and place. We'll do anything you want! 😁
3:59am
Me: You don't have to do that, Jason - you just got back! Don't you need to work?
4:00am
Jason: Nope! We came back a day early, so I am all yours!
4:02am
Me: … All mine, huh? 😏
4:05am
Jason: 100%! Anything you want, name it!
4:06am
Me: … Gotham City Mall, meet in front of the bookstore at … say 4?
4:08am
Jason: Perfect, see you in 12 hours! Good night
4:08am
Me: Good night Jason
4:09am
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I was exhausted, but couldn't seem to sleep. I was still coming down from the anxiety and adrenaline from being attacked, and now I was also nervous and tentatively excited about seeing Jason. This was the step that usually proved someone was playing games with me. I sighed softly, sliding a hand down my soft tummy. I didn't mind the way I was shaped, but other people sure had a way of making it seem like the end of the world… I silently begged the universe; let this one be good. No more games, let it be real this time…
When I finally did sleep, my dreams were filled with red. Blood all over the pavement, staining everything. Red chrome staring me down as I cried. Large hands, so gentle against my cheeks, pulling me against a warm, broad chest…
I woke with a start and peered over at my discarded clothes in a heap from the night before. Red Hood's flannel peaked out from under my ruined pants, taunting me; I was about to go on a date and I was dreaming about another man? A man I was surely never going to see again no less? That's real healthy, well done Brain.
I stepped over the clothes on the floor, not wanting to deal with the mess left over from last night, and selected a cute but comfortable outfit. I ate a quick breakfast, spent longer than I'd care to admit on my hair and makeup, and headed downstairs to catch the bus to the mall.
My anxiety grew as I approached the front doors. It’s a trick, it must be a trick. The cold air conditioning hit me in the face, a welcome respite from the summer heat, and I made my way toward the bookstore. He's a hottie, and really sweet. Or at least knows how to play sweet. He's definitely not actually interested. I could see the sign for the bookstore on the other side of the mall. And he's a Wayne too! What could a Wayne want with me?? … Oh god, I threatened them, didn't I? I told the little one I'd stab them if they came back to the table. Why did I say that???
I blinked a bit, pausing. That was him, leaned against the wall right next to the bookstore. He had actually shown up. I watched him scroll on his phone for a minute before looking up and scanning the crowd. When his eyes landed on me I continued walking toward him. He pocketed his phone, kicked off the wall, and walked over to meet me, a little grin lighting up his face.
“You're actually here…” the words left my mouth before I could reconsider, my disbelief apparent in my tone. Jason looked a bit confused at that, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.
“Well, yeah? … You said 4, right?”
“Sorry! Yes, I said 4. I just … I honestly wasn't sure this was … real…”
“Why wouldn't it be real?”
I blushed a bit, clearing my throat slightly; “n- never mind! Sorry, I had a weird week; my brain hasn't fully caught up.”
He nodded a little, smiling gently. “Well, I hope it's getting better at least.”
I nodded. “Yeah, it is. Thanks. … So, what should we do?”
“Like I said last night; anything you want.”
“Well, … we're right here, do you want to start at the bookstore?”
He nodded and fell into step beside me, smiling gently. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked into the store, browsing the aisles. It was odd how comfortable this was; he was a good half foot taller than me, and at least 200 pounds of pure muscle. If his arms and cheek were any gauge he was absolutely covered in old scars, and he had a bandage on one forearm so whatever gave him the scars probably wasn't confined to the past.
I should be terrified - everything about my upbringing told me this was a dangerous situation to be in. But when I saw the look in his eyes, like I was the most interesting thing in the world, all of my self-defense training fell out of my head. The voices urging me to get to safety quieted, all my instincts stilled, and there was peace. His eyes were so beautiful… 
“... Is there something on my face?” He blushed a bit, chuckling awkwardly.
I blinked, looking away. “Sorry! I wasn't staring, I just …”
“... Did you want to ask about this?” he pointed to the scar on his cheek.
“Huh? No! I have a policy of not asking people about stuff like that; you'll tell me or not on your own time. No, I just … I like your eyes is all …’’ I blushed brightly, staring at but not reading the back cover of a book.
“... My eyes?” I nodded, still pretending to read the back cover. “... You're really not going to ask about my scars?”
“Unless you want to talk about them, it's not any of my business.”
“... You're a very unusual girl.”
“Because I'm not going to pry about something you may or may not want to talk about, particularly on a first date?”
“Well, they're usually the first thing anyone wants to talk to me about. If they don't avoid me in the first place…”
I frowned a bit at that. If we met under any other circumstances, I would have taken one look at him and ducked my head to avoid an interaction. “... People suck…”
“It's not their fault; I'm intimidating…” I cautiously looked over at him. He was also staring at a book cover, a pensive little frown on his face.
“... I don't think you're intimidating.”
His eyes darted over and back to the book, and the corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly. “... Thanks.”
I nodded, setting the book down. “.... So …”
“So? …”
“... Play a game?”
He chuckled, looking over at me. “A game?”
I nodded. “You tell me some of your favorite things in books, I'll tell you some of mine. We separate, select a few of our favorites that the other might like, and reconvene.”
“Alright. Is there a way to win this game?”
“Well I assume we'll each pick at least one book the other hasn't read, so we'll get to make each other read at least one of our favorites. That sounds like a win to me.”
He chuckled. “Alright. Meet back up at those comfy chairs in the back?”
I nodded, telling him some of my favorite tropes, genres, and settings. He did the same, and we darted in opposite directions. He beat me back there, but I eventually approached with a small stack, falling into the seat next to him.
He gestured toward my books; “ladies first.”
I tucked my feet under me, passing him each book in turn and making a case for it. He took each one, read the back cover, and listened intently. He had read one of them, and I figured he'd pick one of the others, if that, but he insisted he was going to get them all. When it was his turn, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but Pride and Prejudice wasn't the first thing that came to mind. 
“I've seen a few movie adaptations, but I haven't gotten around to reading it.” I smiled softly, taking the book. It was a beautiful blue cover with swirling calligraphy font in gold.
“An unparalleled tragedy - I insist this is the one you're taking home!” I giggled at his determined tone and nodded.
“Yes, sir!” I made a little mock salute, trying not to smirk at the sudden wave of pink overtaking his face. “... Well, what else do you have for me?”
He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking at the books in his hands. “Ah, um …”
One by one he passed me Hamlet, the Three Musketeers, a book of Greek myths, and … a trashy romance?
“... Not gonna lie, this is an unexpected choice.” I read the back. It looked like your typical bodice ripper.
He chuckled, blushing a bit. “Look, it was the only book I had access to one day and I was losing my mind with boredom. But if you give it a chance, it's actually really well written, and the love interest isn't one of those creepy possessive guys the genre is known for, so …”
I nodded, taking a picture of the book covers. “I will give it a chance then!”
“... Why are you taking a picture of them?”
“... To get later? I'll start with this one, since you were so determined that I read it.” I held up Pride and Prejudice. Jason gathered up the others, putting them on his stack, then gently took Pride and Prejudice from me as well.
“Or I could just get them for you.” 
“What? Jason, no. I mean, that’s really sweet of you, but that's way too much!” Between the books he'd picked out for me and the ones I'd selected for him, he was holding at least $200 in his hands. And he'd picked the pretty hardcovers too! 
He shook his head. “I've had to cancel on you at least 5 times, and then I disappeared with no warning. You have been incredibly patient and understanding, and I will make today worth it.”
I blushed brightly, a bit surprised. “Jason, … you're worth waiting for. I enjoy talking to you, you don't have to spend money on me for today to be worth my time.”
He looked away uncomfortably, bright red, holding the stack of books to his chest. “... I … I like talking to you too … just let me do this, yeah? Call it a first date splurge.”
“... Alright, if you're sure. But I don't want you making a habit of this.”
He nodded, smiling softly. “Don't worry; I know you're a strong, independent woman.”
I nodded once, chuckling. “Damn right.”
Jason grinned, god he had an infectious grin, and led me to stand in line together. He held the stack of books in one hand, and we chatted a bit more while we waited for our turn. I was looking at a selection of little plushies in the impulse items when I felt something brush ever so slightly against my finger. I looked down; his trembling hand was next to mine, his pinky slightly extended toward me. I chuckled softly, extending mine toward him, and gently linked our fingers together. He stiffened ever so slightly before relaxing into it, gently squeezing back.
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Next ->
Divider by @saradika (and my thanks for making them free to use!)
Taglist (let me know in the comments if you want to be added or dropped!)
@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona
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morphestic · 9 months ago
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Only in the bsd fandom will you see people shipping Jesus Christ with Fyodor Dostoevsky.
488 notes · View notes
forevercaroline · 2 years ago
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Tagging: @raaliyo, @misssophiachase @missmystic-vampirebarbie, @ceceswritings, @karinanic, @laultimahijadelcaos, @cecesrings, @austennerdita2533, @crazychicke, @charliewrites99, @midnight-2411, @midnightstaylorswift, @riverdalelover2, @dumb-bitchculture, @xoxoloverb,
Caroline throws her arms up in the air and is just letting the music from the dj booth wash over her. Being in this graffiti building that the rave is in, is freeing for her. She is not freaking out over how her life is in shambles, every night either at a rave or a nightclub she is just a blonde American enjoying the Spanish nightlife.
Harlan notices Cyrus looking at him and they hold each other's gaze. Cyrus is shirtless showing off his 6 pack abs and fit physique. He is only in a pair of jeans with a white tank top sticking out of the back pocket. Harlan takes his black razor back tank top off revealing his six pack abs and fit physique. Both guys look like they were cut out of marble. They are both so stunningly beautiful. They both look each other up and down.
Caroline notices them looking at each other and rolls her eyes and continues dancing. It’s been about a week since they all met each other and Harlan and Cyrus still haven’t talked they just look at each other from across the bar or dance floor.
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consultingskeletondetective · 3 months ago
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Virginal, chapter 1
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Michael accidentally discovers his dick while he's trying to kill you, and then he comes back for more.
Or: you awaken something animalistic and sexual in Michael Myers, and he cannot resist you in any way. You just hope you survive it.
masterlist ❤️🖤 ao3
chapter tags: serial killer, death, violence, blood, gore, weapons, knife, non con, female reader, rutting, forced orgasms
You didn't even know why you were running, not really. You could hear the heavy thud of his booted footsteps echoing almost cruelly in your ear. It was a cosmic joke, that no matter how fast you scrambled, Michael would always catch you, leisurely following behind as if your blood on his knife was a certainty he was merely playing into. 
Still you ran, into the pitch of night, darting between trees and praying to something that you didn't smack face first into one you couldn't see in the hellish gloom. You hear his breathing, amplified by the mask that hides his face from the world, as if it's ghosting over the flesh of your neck and leaving goosebumps there. 
You wail, low and stupid, as fear carries you, your trainers crunching loudly on every twig and leaf on the floor as if screaming 'follow me! find me!' and he does. 
Large thick fingers curl around the back of your neck like a solid brick and you squeak, terrified, as you're held immobile by Michael's gargantuan hand. Your fingers scrabble back, both of your hands barely able to close around his wrist, boiling hot and solid, as you try and tug him from you like you're batting uselessly at a statue. 
"Please - Michael - please don't do this, you don't have to - I don't…" 
You hear his breathing in your ear, the rubber of his mask against your cheek and you freeze, paralysed, as everything goes silent. 
In a rush of air you're swooped forward, pushed, until your forehead is richoteing off of a tree directly in front of you. You wail low in your throat as pain spirals out onto your face and down your neck, blood dribbling down your nose and into your mouth. You have no time to do anything else as you're yanked back, your body bowed against his, you can feel every hard line of his hulking form through his boiler suit, the small of your back only connecting with his thighs and you scream - expecting to be thrust forward again into the tree, expecting this to be the blow that kills you. Everything goes quiet again. Eerily quiet. 
Michael doesn't move you, his fingers still firm on the back of your neck, he keeps you tucked snug against him for minutes as if he was thinking. 
You're too scared to think, until your brain onlines from the pain and fear and you try again to scrabble your nails across his wrist, to wriggle your small body free and break his hold. His free hand comes sharply down, resting heavy and dangerous on your hip, you freeze again. His message is clear. Stop struggling.
His fingers curl dangerously around your hip, pinning you immobile against him, and your heartbeat is erratic in your chest. Why is he taking his time with you? Why doesn't he just end this? What's he going to do? Choke you? Shatter your pelvis with the barest flex of his fingers?
Moments pass, his grip on your hip tightens and he pulls you back into him, you scream, short and shocked, as he - he wriggles you against him, pulls you in tight to his hot heat, his thighs framing yours, large and muscular and intimidating and - and - is this fucker hard?
Your breath comes out in a stuttered exhale as you feel the unmistakable drag of Michael Myers' erect cock over the small of your back, just above the cleft in your ass. He's utterly silent still, except for that breathing, that hasn't changed pitch or volume, but you can somehow tell he's thinking, calculating, only if in the slowness of his movements. His hands on you are not gentle, you can feel bruises blossoming beneath his fingertips, but you're not dead. 
You'd never heard those kind of stories about Michael Myers before, as far as you knew he was pretty much sexless, either killing or comatose. You'd never heard even a single rumour that he got off on killing. It only served to increase your fear, making your death that much worse. He moved again, hips pistoning slowly until you feel his cock jam against the cleft of your ass and a sharp exhale leaves Michael's mask and he stills to a statue. Except his cock, his cock, twitches against your ass and you tremble violently. You're utterly defenceless and vulnerable, trapped in the arms of a brutal subhuman killing machine as he rubs his thick arousal against your defenceless, weak body. 
Something dribbles traitorously in your underwear. 
You feel it then, tears, hot and thick as the blood drying in rivulets down your face and you sob openly. You didn't want Michael Myers to fuck you, or kill you, so why were you clenching so hard? The white hot fear in you was making you crazy. The waiting, it was torture, you couldn't stand it - you were close to begging, but for what? For what? 
The hand on the back of your neck was gone, and your head snapped forward, tendons in your neck springing back to life painfully and you sucked in air through your scream-damaged throat. Then pain was shooting through your spine as something metal and sharp sliced down the skin of your back, nicking the tops of your trousers and the hands on you were gone completely as Michael seized the frayed edges of your slashed waistband, the muted rip of fabric being torn apart in his bare hands loud in the silent woods as he tore your jeans down to your thighs, leaving you exposed from the waist down in nothing but your panties. 
"No, no, no, Michael, please don't do this, you don't have to do this - I'm begging you -" 
He doesn't listen, maybe doesn't even hear you, as you hear the drag of teeth as he pulls his zip down and then there's nothing in the air but your twin breathing, Michael's measured and heavy, yours panicked and trembling. 
The hot weight of his stiff cock presses between your thighs, slippery with blood that had been dribbling down from your ruined back, and a burst of breath comes from his nostrils like a wild bull as he bucks into you, fucking the slick coppery cleft of your thighs, his gargantuan hands coming to rest on your hips, pushing your legs together to give him something tight and motionless to fuck into. 
You honestly don't know how to react, each one of his tight pistoning thrusts is hard enough to shake every bone in your body, and you can feel each ridge, each thick vein of what you can only imagine is an immense cock to match this immense man. You shake violently as he uses you, the sharp snap of his hips the only indication of what he's doing, his entire body is still, his breathing unaffected, the rubber of his mask brushing the back of your neck a constant reminder of how close he is to you, how fucked you were, figuratively and literally. 
You don't have time to wonder why he's doing this, to humiliate you? To get off without having to fuck you? Because his thrusts speed up, the height difference between you enough that he's lifting you off your feet with every upward brutal shift of his hips, and enough that he's jamming his thick cockhead, weeping with precome and slathering you as thick as the blood between you, against your clit with each thrust. 
The pleasure is sudden and all-consuming, the repeated rough treatment of your poor clit nothing you've ever experienced before, it's painful having your sensitive nub rubbed like this, merciless and uncaring, igniting waves of pleasure in you you didn't even know you could achieve. Your core feels violently hot, your thighs squeezing Michael's length of your own volition and he likes that, he must do, because he squeezes your thighs in response, whole body tensing, and it's the first time you've managed to communicate with the murderer in any way. 
You realise, with dizzying, bone-shaking horrific delight that you're going to come, his cock is too hard and unyielding against your clit. Your knees lift all by themselves, your thighs tense and shake as your vision blacks and you all but collapse back against Michael's body as pleasure ignites every one of your nerve endings. He doesn't stop fucking you through it, stringing out your orgasm until you're a jolting, trembling, mewing mess, every muscle twitching as you soak his cock with more than just your blood. Your cheeks are scarlet, your body alive and thrumming with fear and pain and you think your orgasm has hurtled you off into another realm. 
Your hands scrabble back to grab at him, seizing fistfuls of his boiler suit if only to anchor yourself as you babble. 
"Michael, Michael, Michael -" 
He stills completely, jammed right against your weeping cunt as you feel his cock pulsing, and suddenly your clothed and dripping seam is flooded with hot wet seed. He doesn't make a single sound, except for the flexing of his fingers on your bruised and wrecked thighs, he might as well be made of stone. 
You're trembling, you can't do anything else, shrill little animal screams of pure emotion ripping themselves from your throat every now and again before he's stepping back, releasing you completely, and your ruined body hits the woodland floor like a ragdoll. You feel twigs snapping under you and you register somewhere in your brain that it probably hurts. 
You roll onto your back, the biting sting of the cut and the devastation to your mottled and purple thighs, the size and shape of Michael's hands, making you twitch in pain but it's worth it to look up at him. 
He's stood where he first caught you, huge and towering, the emotionless mask not even out of place on his face. The only indication of what just happened was the opened zip on his boiler suit and his cock, good fucking christ his cock, hanging heavy and hard and scarlet with blood and white with come, if it had been inside you it would have torn you apart, of that you're certain. 
You hazily register that you're going to die now, you've served your usefulness, Michael Myers' cooling come between your legs a testament to that. You know you should run, but your feel drugged somehow, fuck drunk, your brain supplies somewhat stupidly. How pathetic was that? How pathetic was it that arousal shot through you even now at the mere sight of this colossal beast standing in front of you? 
He doesn't look at you as he zips himself back up again, not bothering to wipe his cock as he does. He might be looking at you, you'll never know. But those blank eyes seem to be staring ahead as he bends and retrieves his knife, crusted in your blood just like his cock was. 
Lazily, your hands find purchase as you try and push yourself up, animal brain finally kicking in to tell you to move now, or you're going to die. A sharp incline of his head stills you, he's definitely looking at you now. His mask cocks, regarding you almost, and your heart stutters and stops. 
It barely begins beating again as he turns his hulking form around and disappears off into the trees. 
What, your brain tries, Where is he going?
There's nothing around you but trees, you hug the nearest one to you when you finally stand, seeing the outline of your own blood there in the dim moonlight. 
That shakes something in you, and you remember the pain in your forehead, concussed probably right? That's why you'd acted like such a maniac. Your whole body ached with pain and shock. 
But you were alive. 
Why?
link to chapter 2
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distantdarlings · 1 year ago
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BY THE FIREPLACE (PT. 4) // t. nott
RATING: R / 2.3K WORDS
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Theodore Nott x Fem Reader
+ SUMMARY - *Requested* In an attempt to forget about the events of the last few days, you try to relax yourself as best you can. You pull a book and some tea down to the common room but are shocked to see that Theo had the same idea.
+ WARNINGS - Language, sensuality (described in mind), nothing else really
+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -
affection - BETWEEN FRIENDS
*sorry for the short chapter
- - -
You awoke early the next morning. Much earlier than normal. The small clock sat on the desk beside your bed barely had its big hand brushing the four. There was little to no light outside. You pulled your hand to your face to rub some of the sleep out of your eyes.
The only sounds around you were the occasional soft snores from your roommates and a deep rumbling in your stomach. Shit. You must have fallen asleep last night without eating anything. You raised your arms above your head and coaxed a few cracks out of your spine before slipping out of bed. The green, fur-lined slippers lay right beside the head of your bed, waiting patiently for you to sleep your feet in.
You were no longer tired and didn’t feel like laying in bed until classes started, trying to urge yourself back to sleep. You figured you could catch up on some personal reading and have a mug of tea.
Beneath your bed, was a small wicker basket your mother had made for you on your eleventh birthday. It was intricately woven with two pastel ribbons secured on either handle. You loved it dearly and it had held many things as you grew up. At the moment, it held a large assortment of teas and a small kettle that you could hang over the fire in the common room. You knelt down and retrieved the items, deciding on a nice rose and lavender blend.
You gathered the things together, slipped the book you were currently reading into your arms, and made for the common room. At 4 o’clock in the morning, where the sun was not even up, you were expecting few students, if any, to be occupying the room. You were hoping for none.
The common room was always pleasantly splashed in moonlight around this time of the morning. Its cool rays showed through the water just outside the windows and bathed everything in the whiteness. Everything except for the warm fire in the middle of the room. You waltzed over to one of the plush couches, not seeing anyone else around—thank Merlin.
Wandlessly, you conjured some water, watching as it filled your small kettle. You hang it on the fireplace hanger and collapse into the couch, propping your book open. It had been over a day since you’d last read—some fiction about a knight’s journey dealing with the PTSD of his position—and you wondered if you even remembered what had happened the last few chapters. Your eyes found the small words on the page and let yourself fall into the story.
After a few minutes, the kettle began to whistle. You marked your place in the book and tossed it to the cushion beside you. You wanted to get the kettle off the flame before it started screaming and waking up the whole Slytherin house.
You wrapped your hands in your night robe and slipped the kettle away from the fire. With a whispered incantation, your favorite mug from under your bed appeared on the side table. You poured the steaming water into it and watched as the steam poured over the lip of the cup, its billowing moisture brushing against your bare legs.
Once you’d allowed the tea to steep and it had cooled, you became comfortable once again, leaning against the edge of the couch’s arm, sipping your tea every once in a while. It really was a good book. You’d almost found yourself forgetting about the ridiculous events of yesterday.
Until….you sigh. Out of the corner of your eye, a pair of legs appear coming down the stairs to the male dormitory, then a chest, then a face. A particularly difficult pair of eyes met yours. You all but groaned and rolled your eyes. You could not believe it.
“Hey,” he said, a small chuckle coming out of his mouth. It was awkward and the silence that followed it was somehow worse.
“Uh, hey?” You knew he was just talking to you now because he felt just as weird as you did—at least, that’s what you assumed. Before, he never went out of his way to acknowledge you, now…
No one spoke for at least a minute, the both of you just stared at one another, briefly found the other’s eyes, then quickly glanced away again.
“Well don’t let me interrupt you, I was just passing through,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of the plaid pajama pants he was wearing. Your eyes followed him as he began to walk towards one of the bookcases in the corner. He wore a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms beautifully. Your line of vision traced the thick vein that wrapped around his arm, curled down his wrist, and disappeared with his hands in his pants pocket. The pajama pants sat low on his waist and framed the sharp edge of his hip bones. You watched closely as he contemplated the options on the shelves before him.
His eyes caught something interesting. He raised up on his tip toes and lifted his arm to grab it. The tank top slid up his stomach, revealing the strong line of muscle that traveled from below his ribs and down to what lay beneath his waistband. The band of his undergarments traveled briefly over his hips. Fuck. He looked absolutely edible.
You shake that thought off and turn your head back to your book, forcing yourself to focus on the words before you. Surely, this was a normal feeling. It was just natural hormones forcing you to look for a mate. This was simply Mother Nature taking its course. Completely ordinary.
But Merlin, the way he had looked at you when he’d come down the stairs. His eyes, so dark and wanting, glancing over you in your too-big night robe and your ratty shorts. You felt like the most desirable thing in the world with the way he looked at you. Maybe you were just imagining it, but he looked as though he wanted to devour every inch of you.
Your fingers scraped over the book’s pages, letting the light scratch of the parchment control your thoughts. Intrusive ones that you indulged for just a moment before realizing what a weakness it was. Ones that gripped your hips and bit your chest and traced your thighs.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” His voice appeared behind you suddenly. You jumped at his abruptness.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine, Nott, take a seat wherever you’d like,” you sighed, trying once again to refocus yourself. But as he traveled over to the love seat at the far end of the rug probably no more than ten feet from you, you couldn’t help but glance up over the pages every so often.
You watched as he made himself comfortable, legs spread wide open with one ankle resting on the other knee, one hand against the arm of the chair propping his head up, the book balanced against his raised leg, and a strong arm coming up every once and a while to flip the page. As he launched himself further into the story, he began to fidget a bit. His thumb and forefinger pinching his bottom lip, the knot in his throat sliding up and down as he swallowed, his hips readjusting themselves, sliding them slowly against the cushion and—
You slammed your book shut. You couldn’t live like this. You were just going to force yourself back to bed. At the sudden sound, Theo’s eyes shot up in a worried glance.
“You okay?” he asked. You began to gather your things, tucking your now-cooled kettle under your arm. When he realized what you were doing, his book dropped to the cushion beside him and he stood abruptly. You stopped and the two of you watched each other, waiting for the other to speak. His eyes were slightly widened and he was breathing a bit heavier than usual. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly. Neither one of you moved.
“You know I’m—” “I’m sorry if—”
You both began talking and stopped at the same time. Theo dropped his head and you glanced away, finding the stained glass windows particularly interesting.
“You go first,” he says. You sigh.
“I was just going to say that I’m going to go back to bed,” you explained, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh,” he says, sounding particularly dejected. Or maybe he didn’t. You couldn’t tell what you were and weren’t imagining the last few hours.
“What were you going to say?” you ask.
His eyes glanced around the room. His fists opened and closed, flexing the tendons that ran gracefully along his forearm.
“I was going to say I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the whole…,”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” you brush it off, “let’s not make it more than it is, okay?”
“No, yeah, I didn’t mean to,” he quickly says. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
His eyes find yours and for a second you feel your heart liquefying, melting and rushing down your ribs, sliding across your stomach and legs. Your eyes hold and it feels as though neither of you can look away. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears and echoing against your back.
His lips open and close multiple times and the heavy breathing is back. His chest rising and falling, rising and falling. His honeyed lips pulsing with each breath. His eyes slipping down the length of your body but your vision is too shaky to even notice it. And when did you guys get closer to each other? His hand now rested delicately on the back of the couch you stood in front of. There was but an arm’s length between the two of you. You could just reach out and touch him…
“Yeah, uh…,” you interrupted, your eyes falling away from his. You broke the moment. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking in, Nott.” He chuckles.
“Do you even know my first name?” His eyes find yours once more. No, thank you. You finish gathering your things and begin to walk around the side of the couch.
“Um, I do but…you know, if we aren’t making this weird, I figure we just go back to the way we were. You not knowing I exist and me not caring that you do.” Yikes. Fucking harsh. You shake your head and start walking past him to the staircase.
His hand suddenly wraps around your arm, your skin stinging like he had electrocuted you. You jump and he pulls away quickly. He mumbles a quick apology. You brush it off swiftly. God, this was painful. You imagined your friends watching this play out and cringing so hard they passed out. Because you were on the verge of doing the same.
“Is that seriously what you think of me?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with concern. You sigh again.
“I’m sorry, that was rude, I shouldn’t have said that,” you apologize. “But before…this whole situation, we didn’t talk to each other. We went about our days, blissfully ignorant to one other.”
His eyes hit the ground. He knew it was true. The both of you knew that if this hadn’t happened, nothing would have changed between your relationship—or lack thereof.
“If you want to…you know, be friendly,” you start. His eyes raise to yours. “Come to the library with me or have lunch with me.” You felt pretty sure he wouldn’t. He had a reputation to uphold.
He and all of his friends were ‘well-known’ around Hogwarts. They were all handsome, smart, and hailing from very old, wealthy Wizarding families. Everybody liked them or wanted to be them and you knew that well. All cliches aside, you were a Half-Blood and probably none of their concern if not the subject of their bigotry.
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I will do those things with you,” he shrugs. “Give me a time and place.”
You were flabbergasted. And you were sure your face was showing it painfully well. You didn’t know what to say without sounding like a fool.
You wanted to say yes. God, how you wanted to say yes…Should you? Is it even worth all of the trouble? You know if anyone sees the two of you chatting it up at lunch, rumors will fly and you’re not so sure you’re comfortable being at the center of those. Yeah, no. You’re definitely not. Say no.
“Um…alright,” you breathe, smiling nervously. “I usually eat lunch by the Black Lake and read. I’ll be there today.” Merlin, help.
“Okay,” he says, smiling. “Well, don’t be reading while we’re eating lunch together.” You laugh.
“I won’t, as long as your conversation can keep my interest.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure it can.” He sends a wink your way. Embarrassingly, a bit of heat blossoms in your stomach. This was ridiculous. You weren’t thirteen. You needed to get it together.
“We’ll see.” The two of you smile and begin to slowly separate. You didn’t really understand what was going on and you half-wondered if this was even worth it simply due to the amount of teasing you were going to get from your friends. But he seemed…nice. You wanted to see what lunch was all about today. It couldn’t hurt to have a new friend.
Part 5!
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idontcaboose · 4 months ago
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Haunted car Au part 11
Previous. Masterpost
When Duke woke up, he remembered the fight he had with Bruce last night. All in all, it was actually what Duke wanted to happen in a way. Duke got full access to “fix” the Batmobile, but just the way Bruce made it sound was just… Infuriating. Like, sure, blame the newly 17 year old kid who had only moved the car, not even a hundred feet, for everything wrong with the car. Being benched until he figured out how to get whoever was possessing the car sucked though.
The good news is that the only people who would be awake to bother him or ask unwanted questions would be Alfred and maybe Tim. If Tim got on his case it would be simple to call in Alfred or to threaten him with calling in Alfred. The only other people that use the cave like the front door are Dick and Jason. Both would be up for hiding the issue from Bruce once explained. Dick would be a bleeding heart to a potential meta/alien kid getting stuck because of their powers. Jason would keep the secret just on principle, especially if told Duke got blamed for something he had no hand in. Jason would probably help set the kid up after he gets out of the car too, assuming Bruce doesn't pull a Bruce. It would be nice to not be the only meta in the family though, and the kid would already know about the family, but that would be the kids choice.
After a short breakfast, Duke made his way back down to the cave, only to hear a…Rave?
He made his way through the cave following the muted music to… the car…
“What in every hell are you doing?” Duke could not help to exclaim as he saw the Batmobile, for lack of a better comparison, dancing.
The car was strobing its headlights from the yellow driver's lights, to the brights, to the color changing LEDs Jason and Dick put in for a party prank that Bruce never removed, all to the beat of some techno that had to have been in Tim's Playlist. The car stopped in its perceived dancing to open its door in another mockery of a wave causing the music to become almost deafening as the door opened. Duke had to cover his ears as the kid in the car panicked and set off its alarm before turning everything off. If Duke thought the cacophony before was deafening, the silence after was even more so.
“Seriously, what the hell kid?” Duke said with as much incredulity as he could muster.
The car responded with a slow turning of its front wheels and a quieter sound of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Beiber playing, which could have been from either Dick or Steph’s playlists.
“You know what? I am not going to deal with song names and lyrics to guess from. Give me a second.” Duke went to the Batcomputer and found Tim's folder containing all of the sound bytes and clips that he uses when he gets real malicious with the power points for his team, the JL, or for Bruce when he is being exceptionally pissy, and downloads it onto a large USB stick. It took a little longer than Duke expected, but within an hour the USB was downloading its new playlist into the Batmobile’s radio storage. The sound bytes should be better than songs, right?
“GOOOOOOODDDDDD MOOOOORRRRRRNNNING GOOOOOOOTTTHHHHAAAAAAAAAMMMM!!!!!!!!!!”
“God dammit Tim”
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laurrelise · 3 months ago
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someone talk with me about an AU where delores is a real girl who somehow survived the initial apocalypse and spends it growing old with five and keeping him sane
someone talk with me about delores being five’s age when he discovers her body in the rubble and thinks she’s dead before he notices the small rise and fall of her chest before he pulls her out and desperately tries to help her breathe normally again and watches the life fill her eyes with tears in his own that he’s finally no longer alone
someone talk with me about delores being an only child to parents who she wasn’t close with leading her to become dependent on herself until she meets five and learns to trust other people before finding out about his huge family and doing everything in her power to help him not only because she cares about him and wants him to be happy but also because she wants to experience the family she’s never had
someone talk with me about how delores never had powers but survived for the 40+ years in the apocalyptic wasteland of the future due to her seriously genius mind (and five’s help) and lives to help five figure out how to save his family
someone talk with me about young five and delores searching for anything they can find to survive before they stumble upon a half-broken mannequin with a surprisingly intact polka-dotted blouse that five says would suit her so she puts it on out of boredom from looking for materials before five looks at her with the most genuine, in-love eyes she’s ever seen and she decides to keep it just for him
someone talk with me about five always making sure delores has a comfortable place to sleep, to rest, to eat, etc
someone talk with me about five explaining his childhood so nonchalantly one day once he realizes that he can trust delores to her surprise, and she asks why he suddenly had the strength to tell her and he looks her in the eyes and says “believe it or not, you’re stuck with me, and i’m stuck with you, and i want you to know who i am when we’re kicking this apocalypse in the ass”
someone talk with me about teenage five teaching teenage delores how to defend herself with the training he was given during his childhood but reassuring her that he’ll always be there to protect her if something were to happen (to which she reminds him that she appreciates it, but knows she can defend herself with the spite and sheer willpower she has to survive)
someone talk with me about five and delores having a makeshift wedding and five’s vows being along the lines of “even if the rest of the world was alive, i don’t think i could ever hope to find someone that makes me as truly happy as you do, and i will be eternally grateful that of anyone i could get stuck in this goddamn apocalypse with, it was always you, and it will always be you”
someone talk with me about the handler showing up from the commission to recruit five as a temporal assassin and delores as a case worker because they’re both dangerously smart and incredible at surviving in harsh conditions (also, the handler approached them separately to see where their loyalties lied and they both firmly explained they wouldn’t go anywhere without the other)
someone talk with me about delores getting fed up with the handler repeatedly making moves on five despite him clearly being uncomfortable until it bubbles to a climax and she punches her square in the jaw, which results in an ER trip and zero regret (plus five falling even harder in love with the woman who endlessly sticks up for him)
someone talk with me about five and delores plotting an escape plan to get back to 2019 which all goes well, except five had once again messed up the math (or so he thought) and he and delores are placed back in their 13 year-old bodies, but she confesses that she doesn’t mind seeing the boy she fell in love with all those years ago once again
someone talk with me about delores learning to trust and love the hargreeves just as much as five, as they learn to love and trust her just as much
someone talk with me about five always keeping track of dates and specifically remembering the exact times of significant events for himself and delores, like the moment she looked at him for the first time, the moment he knew he was in love with her, and the moment they decided they were going to stop at nothing to keep each other alive and stop the world from ending
someone talk with me about five and delores, the 58 year-old couple that they are, snuggling up on elliot’s couch together because they can’t fall asleep without the other one there to remind them that they’re safe and out of harm’s way (mostly)
someone talk with me about how delores has never been the type to step down, and she continues to stand her ground and be brutally honest when shes upset or wants five to listen to her, and he admires her bluntness (and frankly, needs it) due to his impatience and expectations of honesty at all times
someone talk with me about delores knowing exactly when five needs his time alone and stepping away to help his siblings as much as she possibly can, usually by encouragement or (again) brutal honesty hidden behind a kind and genuine smile
someone talk with me about five reminding delores of his love for her whenever it’s too quiet or he thinks she’s gone too long without him showing it, in every way he can think of, like letting her know that he would’ve lost his mind in the apocalypse without her (which.. he kind of did?), finding little things that remind him of her and bringing them to her, and holding her hand whenever he sees frustration or discomfort bubbling behind her eyes
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too-much-tma-stuff · 3 months ago
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Beach Episode (Part 19)
Previous | Masterpost | Next
Danny and Jason talked out their issues and dealt with it. Jason didn’t think he’d fuck up again, he’d felt so fucking bad, but Danny didn’t trust that. Which was fair, even if it hurt, he was going to have to prove that he meant it and could hold to it even when he was angry. He needed to get into therapy too, he’d been putting it off because he was scared, and protective of his identity, so much of the shit he’d seen and done was so hard to explain in a civilian situation.
But now that he was on slightly better terms with the JL he could prevail himself of one of their therapists. That ended up being the favour that Danny demanded from them was providing Jason with a therapist, one that wouldn’t be too judgmental of his… ‘methods’. They asked for Wonder Woman’s advice on that, which she was very happy to provide, relieved that Jason was facing up to his bad behaviour and taking steps to make it right. She’d been worried she was going to have to physically knock some sense into him.
The other favour that Danny asked for, not of the JL but from Jason, was not to complain about the family vacation that was being planned between Dick, Tim, Danny, and Alfred. Jason still didn’t love the idea but Danny gave him puppy dog eyes and insisted that it was needed to make him forgive Jason for his slip up. Necessary to make things right with his family and moving on, so he accepted it.
It took a lot of arranging and planning to get the family on vacation. They had to find a time everyone was available, find people they trusted to cover their patrols or cities, and of course agree on a destination. That was harder than you would expect, especially when Bruce got involved and tried to insist it should be in the deep woods somewhere and be a training exercise more than anything.
In the end he was shouted down and it was decided that they were going to go to a beach somewhere warm and sunny. Far enough away from any of their usual haunts that they wouldn’t feel the urge to work as long as there weren’t any natural disasters and Tim was kept off his ipad. Since it was a family vacation Danny invited Ellie and Dan too, though he wasn’t sure that Dan would come. Half of him hoped he wouldn’t because having Dan there was bound to be complicated, but they had decided to be family so Danny was going to put his money where his mouth was. 
Dan had been doing well anyway, he hadn’t missed any check ins and hadn’t caused any chaos in space. So he at least deserved an invite, whether he wanted to come or not. They had a check in two weeks before the trip so Danny brought it up with him then.
“A family vacation huh?” Dan asked, they were ‘sitting’ on a broken satellite which was still orbiting earth through inertia.
“Ya, God knows the Wayne's need it. And honestly so do I. Ellie will be coming too, and you're welcome too if you want to,” Danny said with a little shrug.
“And draw more attention from the GIW onto both of you?” Dan asked skeptically.
“Ya, but they already know Phantom is back and working with the Justice League now. I really don't think they're brave enough to touch us now. And if they try to, with all three of us together with the bats? Frankly I'd like to see them try. Maybe it would give the Justice League the push they need to really give them the smack down.” 
Dan snorted a little at Danny, he still didn't expect that ferocity from his younger self. “Ya I guess so,” he agreed with a crooked little smile.
“But if that was an excuse and you just don't want to come, that's fine. I don't want to push you, I just don't want you to feel left out since we decided we're family now,” Danny explained.
“Nah, I want to come. I want to meet my future brother in law,” Dan said with an absolutely feral smile.
“Oh dear,” Danny said faintly. “That doesn't sound good. Is it too late to uninvite you?” 
“Oh absolutely,” Dan cackled wickedly. “If you're going to be my little brother I should get to vet your boyfriend,” he teased, reaching over to ruffle Danny's hair and laughing when Danny smacked his hand away.
“Fine, you'll be a better judge than some people since I'm assuming we have the same opinions about violence?” He asked, glancing at Dan.
“I think I'm probably even more down for it then you are, but ya. Why?”
“Batman tried to stage an intervention about Jason hitting me. Trying to explain to them that I was totally fine with it and kinda liked it suuucked,” Danny groaned, flopping back dramatically as Dan laughed at him.
“Poor you,” Dan said, entirely unsympathetic. Danny flipped him off. “I'll probably give him shit about it.”
“Just don't scare him off. I really like this guy. If you pull anything I swear I'll spend the rest of our eternity making sure you never get a date!” 
“Sheesh, that's a serious threat kid! As long as he's not a wimp I won't scare him off. If I do scare him off he wasn’t a good fit for you in the first place,” Dan pointed out reasonably.
“Fine, I'll be keeping an eye on you though,” Danny warned.
“Of course you will, I'd expect nothing less after everything I've done,” Dan agreed dryly. “I'm surprised you're letting me be around your new found family at all.”
“Ya, well, you're one of my new found family as well.”
“Shit.”
“If you didn't want to be part of my found family you should have killed me when you had the chance!” 
“IS THAT A FUCKING MEME?!”
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All the Wayne’s could have asked their respective flying friends to give them a lift to the resort, but it had been decided no kryptonians were invited. They were trying to keep things to their family, though Dick was bringing Kori, that was fine they had been together off and on for years and were well settled together this time. She might as well be an in-law already. So she would be flying Dick in from Bludhaven, and everyone else was going to fly out from Gotham in the Waynes’ private jet. Well, the Waynes and Babs and Steph, who had taken a little more convincing to come, getting past their insistence they weren’t actually family being the trick. Thankfully the fact that the phantom siblings were coming too helped them see it wasn’t only a trip for the Waynes, and with different heroes and allies found to cover protecting Gotham they were bundled onto the private jet as well. 
 Which Danny and Ellie teased Bruce and Tim relentlessly about owning, Jason snickering in the background and egging on the two ghostly siblings in their teasing. They deserved it, no matter how much Bruce tried to defend that it was expected of him to have a private jet and he needed it for business! 
Teasing didn’t stop them from enjoying it though, Ellie chasing Tim around the isles, with Alfred chiding but not actually trying to stop them from having their fun and being kids for once.  Danny spent half the time exploring and stealing any snacks he found, and half the time murmuring in Jason’s ear about how they should steal the jet to join the mile high club. It was sweet torture and Jason did not want it to stop even as he shifted awkwardly and tried desperately to think unsexy thoughts so he wouldn’t get a boner surrounded by his family! Thank fuck Dick wasn’t here, the knowing smirks he’d be shooting the two of them would be too much.
It was a 16 hour flight, and once Ellie and Tim tired themselves out and fell asleep Bruce pulled out a sleep mask and settled in. Danny gave them this, it was much more comfortable to sleep in, and Jason and Danny slept soundly, at least until Ellie got bored and pounced on Danny. They phased out through the wall of the plane to go for a fly, racing the jet and flying loops around it until Ellie got tired and Danny had to help her back into the jet when she started to fall behind. 
Everyone else had started to wake up while they were gone, so by the time they got back it was just in time to have a family breakfast, and talk about what they were going to do once they landed. They had booked the entire top floor of the resort for privacy, which Danny thought was kind of overkill, but these were The Bats, they were incredibly security minded people, so he didn’t argue about it. Danny was mostly excited about swimming, this was a beach vacation after all!
Finally they landed, and grabbed as much of their stuff as they could from the plane before the bellhops could get them, as if all the staff hadn’t already been vetted by Babs. They were only staying for a week so they didn’t have so much they couldn’t reasonably carry it, and Danny suspected at least Tim had some stuff in his bags he would not want anyone else to see. He was going to keep an eye on the younger man to make sure that he hadn’t smuggled any work with him on vacation. 
They piled out of the plane, chattering excitedly about the vacation, Dick coming onto the plane to help Babs on the slightly too steep ramp from the plane. Kori was waiting for them on the tarmac with a warm smile, taking a couple of the heavier bag.
“We already picked out her room on the left side. I suspect Jason and Danny will want to be on the right, and the… single, and younger members of the family should be in the middle so we all have some place,” Kori suggested. 
“Kori!” Dick chided, though he clearly wasn’t actually shocked. Actually those who’d known the two of them for a while knew that was far more delicately put then she might have said it a couple years ago.
“What?” She said, blinking her bright green eyes innocently at Dick. “This is a romantic destination, and we love each other, we are only doing what is surely expected of a loving romantic union. I doubt your father wants to hear-”
“YES thank you Kori you’re right. We’ll make sure you and Dick, and Jason and Danny have your privacy,” Bruce promised.
Before the conversation could continue Ellie shrieked and dropped her bags, taking off running away from the group. It startled everyone, but hackles smoothed immediately when they spotted Dan, strolling across the lot to meet her at a more casual pace. He rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face as he bent down to scoop Ellie up before she could headbutt him in the gut at full sprint. He was wearing regular clothes, a black shirt and pants with white stripes down the side, and his fiery hair had been gathered into a low ponytail. He still looked obviously inhuman with his grey-green skin and red eyes, but there were all sorts of meta-humans around and he didn’t look like a supervillain at least. 
Ellie scrambled from in his arms to onto his shoulders as he grumbled at her without any real heat behind it. He shrugged his shoulders, making her squeak and hold on tight as he strolled over to the rest of the group.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Danny said, approaching Dan and patting his arm.
“Hey I told you I would,” Dan said ruffling Danny’s hair and ignoring the way the humans around them shifted nervously. Danny was either ignoring it as well or hadn’t noticed the nerves.
“I don’t believe we’ve met!” Kori said cheerfully, holding out her hand to shake. 
“Hey, I’m Dan. I’m these two’s big brother, by technicality,” Dan joked, gesturing to Danny and Ellie with his free hand, shaking her hand and squeezing too hard. He looked impressed when her smile only brightened and she squeezed back just as hard. “And who might you be?”
“I’m Kori, I’m Dick’s partner,” She said brightly. “You seem strong, we should spar some time soon.”
“I’d like that,” Dan agreed with a shark's grin. Grunting and dropping the smile when Danny elbowed him in the side. 
“Behave,” Danny grumbled at him, getting a growl and an eye roll in return, before his gaze landed on Jason. 
“And you must be Danny’s boyfriend huh?” He asked, letting go of Kori’s hand and offering it to Jason.
“Ya, I am. It’s nice to meet you. He warned me about you,” Jason said, standing up straight and shaking Dan’s hand firmly, trying not to wince when he squeezed it far too tightly. 
“I’m sure he did. I warned me about messing with you too,” Dan cackled, letting go of Jason’s hand before it could crack and shoving his hands in his pockets. 
“Right, well now that everyone’s met each other let’s head inside hm?” Bruce interrupted trying to shoo them all towards the door. They were starting to attract attention standing out in the open like this. “We should pick out our rooms and get comfortable.”
“Ellie, how do you feel about sharing a room with Dan?” Danny asked, glancing up at his young clone, still perched on Dan’s broad shoulders. 
“I don’t need a babysitter!” Both Dan, and Ellie said at the same time before looking at each other, startled as Danny laughed.
“You’d both be absolutely terrible babysitters,” He said fondly. He expected them to get into a good deal of chaos together, but he did think that Ellie would keep Dan from killing anyone, or get Danny if things got completely out of control. 
“Fine, we’ll share,” Dan sighed, and Ellie nodded. 
“Thanks guys,” Danny said, smiling at his siblings before grabbing Jason’s hand and tugging him towards the door. “Come on, let’s go find the most extravagant room we can!”
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There was a bit of a scramble for rooms, not that there weren’t plenty of rooms, but Step, Dick, and Tim were petty and silly and argued over the ‘best’ rooms. And of course once they started Ellie had to get in on the action. Danny and Jason left the younger ones (and Dick) to their squabbling and went to pick out their own room as far away from the rest as they could manage. They found a lovely one with an airy, beachy theme and a window seat looking out onto the ocean.
“It’s beautiful here,” Danny said, sitting down on the padded bench in front of the window and making grabby hands at Jason.
“Is it,” Jason chuckled, going to sit with Danny, who practically dived into Jason’s arms. “I wouldn’t want to live in a place like this, but it is very nice to visit.”
“Of course you wouldn’t, you're a Gothemite and a bat! If it’s not a little close, dark, or gloomy you stand out like a sore thumb,” Danny teased, nuzzling against the underside of Jason’s jaw, who laughed along. “I like our home and our nest though, it’s cozy,” Danny added before Jason could get insecure about it.
“Me too, do you want to unpack first or go exploring?” Jason asked softly.
“As much as I want to go exploring, I think we had better unpack before anyone tries to kick us out of our room by throwing out our bags,” Danny said with a put upon sigh, going nearly boneless against Jason’s chest. 
“You know you’re going to have to get up for us to unpack, right?”
“Noooo!”
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The resort really was beautiful, and since they’d rented an entire floor it wasn’t as crowded as they were sure it usually was. Danny had never been to a place like this and he intended to make the most of it, all of it! The beach, the spa, and the incredibly fucking fancy restaurant and bar where he and Jason could actually drink since the Maldieves actually had a reasonable drinking age! 
Over the course of the week they got couples messages, got so drunk they had to lean on each other to get back to their room, and ordered far too much room service. But undoubtedly the beach was absolutely the main attraction. They spent a lot of time there, to the point Danny got a tan, and Jason was very glad he didn’t burn like Bruce did, who spent most of the second day laying on his stomach in bed with Alfred scolding him about not refreshing his sunscreen after swimming. On the second day Danny remembered he didn’t strictly have to breathe! And Jason spent the rest of the day sitting on the beach while Danny (and Ellie or Dan in turns) disappeared into the water for hours and came back to tell him about everything they saw.
On the third day Jason rented some scuba equipment so he could go down with his boyfriend and see all the wonders he’d been so excited about. At least the ones in shallower waters, he couldn’t follow Danny deeper where the pressure got too much, when Danny realized that he stuck to the shallower areas. By the time they got back to shore Jason was exhausted and very ready for supper, which was a family affair every night of the trip. It was really nice, since Alfred didn’t have to cook he could actually join them and he kept it from being too rowdy. 
They had to push tables together to accommodate the whole family, but the Waynes had more than enough money to get away with it and establish an extra long table for themselves for the entire week of their stay. They tended to eat late, which worked too because there were fewer people for them to disturb with their chatter and chaos, and the eleven of them were usually more than enough for the kitchen to contend with since most of them were big eaters. The dinners were really nice, it didn’t have the baggage of being at the manor, and though they’d met up in smaller groups all of them (minus Kate who had opted out) had never been in the same place. 
It was the perfect opportunity for… something, something that Dick unfortunately beat Jason too on the third night, during dessert when he got up from the table, and got down on one knee in front of Kori. Silence fell over the entire restaurant as Jason bit back a groan and quickly readjusted his expectations to be happy for his brother. 
“Koriand'r, you and I have been together for a long time, and we’ve been through a lot of shit. But never have I not been happy you were there with me for it. You’ve made all of it easier by letting me be by your side, and I hope you’ll let me stick by you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?” 
“Yes!” Kori yelped, holding out her hand and letting him put the ring on her finger before she grabbed his wrist and his collar and hauled him in for a passionate kiss as the family cheered and everyone around clapped politely. “You’ll have to come with me to pick out a ring for you as well My Love,” Kori told him warmly while Dick grinned like an idiot. 
“Congratulations!” Steph cheered, practically leaping over the table to tackle both of them as Bruce ordered a few bottles of the best champagne the resort could offer and everyone else lined up to congratulate them as well. Besides Dan, who was being ignored as he grumbled in the corner about how ostentatious and cliche the whole thing was. 
Hey, maybe if Danny secretly shared some of those thoughts Jason had dodged a bullet not being able to propose on this trip. He’d come up with a new plan, one Danny might even like better.
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