#my fic: bloodstains

[voxofthevoid]

JJK Teasers: April 2025

Skipping the teaser for my two-chapter kenita fic since the first intro chapter has already been posted. The rest are here ✨

Chapter 3/10 of taking the flesh is the only virtue

“Exactly what do you want from me, Itadori-kun?”

Itadori holds up the toy. “I’ve never used one of these before.”

Of course he hasn’t; he’s fifteen. But— “It’s not rocket science. The…design is rather intuitive.”

Itadori finally pries his eyes away from Kento to give the toy a dubious look. If not for the unnaturally strong scent radiating from him to drench the room and seep into Kento, it’d be easy to think he’s just a boy confronted with the unpleasant realities of a very hands-on sex-ed class.

“Is it?” Itadori asks doubtfully. “It looks weird.”

“It looks—” Kento isn’t paid enough for this. He’s also not drunk enough for this. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

Itadori shakes the thing’s artificial vagina at him. Kento promptly files that as one of the many images that’ll haunt his nights.

He almost misses Itadori saying, “Can you show me?”

Kento just gapes.

Itadori’s expression is wholly, suffocatingly earnest.

Kento doesn’t know what possesses him to ask, “Did you find the lube?”

“Oh, no.” Itadori turns the opening of the toy to his own face, squinting at it with a seriousness that’d be comical in any other situation. “Guess I’ll need that, huh? Are you sure it’ll fit in this, Nanamin? It’s so small.”

Chapter 1/14 of the ghost in me was true (but you were haunted too)

“Guess we could stage a break-up.”

Every bit of amused exasperation vanishes from Yuuji’s mind, leaving him cold.

“What?” It’s a faint, whispery thing.

Satoru raises a hand, waving it around. “Not for real! Relax. We could have a screaming match in the courtyard or something. It’ll be fun. Pretend you’re one of the women in those melodramatic romances you like. Or maybe I’ll be the woman? I’m a better actor. You can stand there and look all handsome and stoic. Cry a single perfect tear—just think of something really sad. And then…hm, I’ll storm off for a while, do some cleanup along the countryside. You can pretend to rebound with Megumi. Or maybe one of the first years. Even a Ten Shadows user might spook the council at this point. Anyway, they’ll forget about it eventually. I have full faith in my ability to be a bigger problem than even Sukuna incarnated would be. What do you th—oh.”

Yuuji’s not sure what the expression on his face is. He’s not even sure what he’s feeling.

But it must be something special if it’s making Satoru look borderline wary.

“That's a very serious face,” he says, standing up from the couch. But he doesn’t come any closer. The smile he puts on isn’t real at all. “Are you afraid you’ll find greener pastures? Don't worry, Yuuji. I’m gourmet fare. You won’t get me out of your system so easily.”

“I already knew that.” Yuuji’s mouth feels numb, but it’s moving, speaking. “It’s you. It’ll always be you.”

Satoru looks like Yuuji slapped him.

Chapter 14/18 of (let me be clear) every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered

When the flames clear, the cursed spirit is there.

It looks like a hunched old man—almost. There’s nothing human about the blue-grey skin and black teeth and cycloptic eye.

Or the head.

“Why does your head look like Mount Fuji?” Yuuji asks, distracted for a second.

That single, centered eye blinks once.

“Sukuna’s vessel,” it starts—

“I have a name,” Yuuji cuts in. “You know it. You’ve used it. Keep doing that.”

“I don’t care about your name. It’s Sukuna I want.”

“Why?” Yuuji asks, genuinely confused. “He’s a dick.”

Another blink, distinctly nonplussed.

Friend of yours? Yuuji asks his resident parasite; there’s no response, and he doesn’t expect any, but he knows the answer anyway. Sukuna doesn’t know this cursed spirit any more than Yuuji does. He’s interested though. He’s more interested than he has been in anything in a while, and Yuuji doesn’t really like it, how Sukuna’s focus has settled like sharp-edged razors along the insides of his skull. His eyes feel hot, and it has nothing to do with the blistering heat still permeating the air.

“You can’t have him,” Yuuji tells the cursed spirit; he smiles, and that feels like a knife too. “That’s my burden to bear. If it helps, you really don’t want him either. Trust me.”

Chapter 1/7 of bloodstains on the collar means just don’t ask

In the end, Yuuji arranges himself into the world’s most awkward seiza, right there on top of his panting, trembling uncle.

It’s a good look on Sukuna. A good feel.

“Alright,” Yuuji says, slowly sliding his hands from Sukuna’s shoulders to the twin blades jutting out under them, thick and hard even through the tank. “You can move now.”

He thinks Sukuna snarls.

But he does move. A slow, steady descent. A very long pause. A staggering rise.

His muscles flex and bulge under Yuuji, sweat slicking his palms and heat seeping into his flesh.

Fuck, Yuuji thinks, biting his lip till skin splits.

The pain and the blood don’t calm him down any.

Sukuna does another push-up, slower but steadier than the last. Veins pulse on his neck and his arms, the skin there turning an alarming red. Yuuji wants to touch it, but his hands are frozen.

All of him is frozen.

Sukuna again lowers himself, his muscles swelling and shifting. Yuuji stares and stares and feels, his own body pulling tighter and tighter. The sounds Sukuna’s making are even worse—grunts and gasps, subtly different from how he sounds when they’re sparring and so, so dirty.

His forehead presses against the ground. His torso alone moves with a great, heaving breath.

Yuuji moves with it.

“Get off,” Sukuna says, as brusquely as he ordered Yuuji to get on. “You’ve had your fun.”

Sukuna has no idea how right he is—or how wrong.

“One more,” Yuuji rasps, digging his fingers into the thick muscle between Sukuna’s shoulder blades. “Come on, Sukuna. One more.”

[spaceparadize]

I feel like Swan probably got fatally wounded more often than just w the like 4 successful stabbings Winslow got in and I wonder why all his wounds didn't open too along with his face melting. The white suit just oozing red as he's carried away would have been so sick visually

[irondad-defensesquad]

Tony, suddenly awake and horrified, asks in a rather low voice, "Where did that blood come from?"

"Wait, it's okay, Mr. Stark!" It's not actually blood, it's just ketchup! "It's not bleeding anymore!" Fuck.

[lavenoon]

Conjunction (~9.9K)

More menace4menace, based on @naffeclipse's Bloodstain Fool with the og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic!

Plays after the first doodle comic, and after Falling Into Orbit, but before Asterisms

—

“Got your target?” 

Sighs sound different without any breath involved, you’re learning. 

You’ve been following Eclipse for a small distance already, waiting for him to say something, to no avail. It’s not that you’re quiet about it, so you don’t think it’s a matter of not having spotted you yet - and his reaction to your question proves it. 

Eclipse turns.

You grin. 

Half lidded golden eyes glow even brighter with the sun starting to set behind the urban horizon. Not a true sunset yet, but darkness is starting to settle between the high rises. The lighting is gorgeous, and unfortunately, it’s rubbing off on Eclipse. 

And that, in turn, reminds you of your impulsive compliment just the other day. Is it worse that you still mean it?

At least you don’t have to think about it for too long, thanks to his sparkling personality.

“Why are you following me? Can’t you take a hint?” 

Ah. That’s why he ignored you for half a block. 

You try not to let it get to you. It’s not the easiest task, waving off the rejection from the only person you somewhat know and who knows about you in this time, but you’ve had a bit too much practice putting on an act anyhow. You shrug, grin just barely strained.

“We have a saying for hints, a wave with a fencepost.” 

The tired expression morphs into a scowl, one you’re a bit more familiar with. Now he’s confused - and that’s enough to soothe your wounded ego. Enough to make your grin genuine again, and then worse. 

Eclipse’s glower evolves in parallel. 

“Are you going to elaborate or not.” 

Well, you can be gracious. 

“You could throw the whole fence at me and I’d duck to look at a ladybug.” 

It’s likely that the only reason you notice his hand twitch is because it’s just barely below your eye level. Tall bastard. The movement draws your gaze, but when nothing else happens, you tilt your head back up. 

He’s no longer looking at you, eyes still narrowed as he stares off into the distance. His voice is quieter, too. 

“A fence is about the only thing you could dodge.” 

There’s a deja vu when he shifts and just walks away, except this time you do have other options. You still follow him. 

“I answered your question, so? Did you catch them? Why target, anyway?” 

As much as you want to keep an eye on his expression, unfortunately you’re too uncoordinated by nature and tripping on the uneven sidewalk is too much of a risk if you aren’t looking. Still, you spare him another prying glance he probably doesn’t see before focusing downwards. 

“Curiosity killed the cat.” 

“And satisfaction brought him back. So?” 

“Him?”

Eclipse actually slows, his optics already on you when you look up to check. Not hostile, for once, but still confused. You shrug with a lighthearted smile. 

“Or her. Either’s good. But I’d like my satisfaction, please.” 

Just to emphasize, you make a grabbing motion with your hand, palm up. And trip over a loose tile in the pavement. At least you don’t fall - but the inelegant floundering isn’t quite helpful in your endeavor of figuring out Eclipse’s job. 

He’s no longer looking at you when you regain your balance. 

“You’re awfully sure there will be satisfaction involved.” 

“Your mysterious deflections are only making it worse for you, you know?” 

Again, a sigh. Either the low rumble of static is just part of an animatronic’s sigh, or he’s starting to get grumbly again. Given his disposition, your bet is on the latter. Thin ice, then. 

Watch you stomp on it to find out just how thin. Maybe that’s why they call it ice breakers. 

You skip a step, keeping even with him, and grin. Eclipse sends you a burning glare, as if in warning. But all too quickly he averts his eyes again, and then you have to speed up to keep pace. He’s not getting rid of you that easily. 

And your stubbornness wins out after another few steps, and another fleeting glare. 

“I’m a bounty hunter.” 

You hum.

“Oh right, that’s a thing.” 

This time, it’s Eclipse’s feet stuttering - but you don’t look up to see how your reply insulted him this time. It’s certainly less regulated nowadays than what you’re used to, and somehow, you can imagine him in that kind of field perfectly. Grumpy loner with ominous favors who also hunts whomever the finger of the law is pointed at. 

Maybe that explains the suggestion of a gun, too. 

Silence stretches for just a bit too long, so you end up glancing back up at his face despite the risk of tripping. He’s facing away from you, so that tells you nothing. Are you imagining the tension in his shoulders, or is he waiting for something? 

Looking up comes with other nice surprises too - there’s a few clouds starting to smother the orange of the sunset. Oh, you hope it’ll rain tonight. Falling asleep might be a little easier that way. Your sleep schedule has suffered enough. 

You focus back on the path in front of you, preventing any other tripping accidents. 

Given that you haven’t been sent away or glared at again, you decide to say something else. It might not be anything particularly smart, but that’s his problem. 

“I’m assuming it’s not like the movies. Worn Wanted posters, ‘Dead or Alive’, that you can dramatically rip from pin boards or something.” 

Eclipse looks back down to glare at you, just as the street lamps buzz on. More golden light all around, even more so with his pupils shrunken to pinpricks. 

“What movies are you talking about?” 

Bastard has no right looking this pretty. 

“Westerns, mostly.” 

That actually stops him in his tracks. In an attempt to remain aloof you continue walking, except - you have no idea where you’re going. You halt just a few steps later, turning back with the best innocent smile you can muster. 

You’re kind of glad his eyes are such an easy tell for his emotions - they’re narrow, but golden, and his pinprick pupils have once again expanded. He just looks tired, maybe annoyed. 

“It’s a miracle you even survived the week.” 

The snort escapes you before you can stop it. A miracle, after he so pointedly got involved? 

“Well, only thanks to you. Food and a roof over my head are some basic requirements that helped a lot.” 

You wink, just to keep the air light. It doesn’t do anything to stop Eclipse from scowling. 

“Stop that.” 

A widened grin, and a deepened scowl. Somehow, this seems to be your pattern. You shrug. 

“Just saying.” 

With another rumble Eclipse starts walking again, brushing past you without concern. You jump a step to get back into the motion, and then match his pace. Who even needs a workout regime if you have a grumpy animatronic to keep up with?

“I see you still haven’t learned to keep your mouth shut.” 

Despite the cutting words, you don’t feel like the tone quite matches that sharpness. Not friendly, mind you, but much less hostile than you’ve heard from him before. Laughter bubbles up in your voice, and you don’t care to smother it. 

“Bold of you to assume I ever will.”

The long suffering sigh you get in reply only makes you laugh harder. Though only for a moment, before a question is directed at you for a change. 

"How are you still dressed like that?" 

He gestures towards you, eyes on you as he waits. Though he doesn’t slow down at all.

You blink, and look down on your outfit. It’s certainly a choice to walk around in something that won’t be worn for another century, but then again… Your choices here are rather limited. And as far as you’re concerned, you’ll gladly wear familiar outfits rather than worry about buying new ones with money you don’t have. 

Eclipse only narrows his eyes at your shrug. 

"Would you believe me if I told you the stuff just shows up in my closet every morning?" 

Silence sure isn’t the answer you expected. You glance back up, head tilted, waiting for his judgement. After a moment of consideration he looks away. The noise he makes isn’t hostile enough for a snarl, but too grumbly to be a sigh. It is a concession, though. 

"Your anomalous existence affecting your surroundings should faze me more, but sure, why not." 

The defeat in his tone startles a laugh out of you, and you skip the step it costs you. 

"Yeah, same. I went inside, didn't go home. Not even Narnia." 

Ah, hm. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that. 

"Narnia?" 

Yeah, no, that is not a story you want to get into. You’re not even sure how similarly history will play out with animatronics around. Also not a topic you want to analyze further. So once again, you shrug.

"Wait a couple years, it'll make sense."

And if not, by then he’ll hopefully have forgotten about it. 

“I would hope you’re not just volunteering future information to other people.” 

This time the sharper tone is accompanied by a quick matching glare. Naturally, you wink. 

“Nah, don’t worry. You’re special.” 

The frustrated grumble is wordless, and you have to press your lips together to not laugh. But he does pick up pace again, and you hurry after him. 

Something wet hits you. 

You look up. 

The sky isn’t just night dark - it’s covered in heavy clouds, and just like that, the next fat raindrop hits your face. You blink. Another.

So you get your wish of a rainy night. Now if only you were in your bed, you’d be all set. Mild panic creeps up in your throat, and you run a few steps to catch up with Eclipse. 

“Uhh!”

Eclipse turns, frowning at your tone. But he does stop, which honestly? You didn’t really expect. So you take the plunge.

“Where are we?” 

“Where -”

His scowl deepens in record time as he looks around, and then his eyes are blazing even in the twilight granted by the nearby street lamp. Mostly the light illuminates the steady increase of rain hitting the ground.

“You followed me home. You followed me home?” 

Your first instinct is to smile again, though this time it’s a lot more wobbly than before. You didn’t think this through, at all. You didn’t even notice how far you were going, all because you were too focused on talking. 

Maybe you can find your way back, retrace your steps - but you’ve been following Eclipse for a while now, and even before that you weren’t exactly close to the boarding house. You’ve been wandering a lot these days, for lack of other activities, and now you’re looking at a good distance to walk. In the rain. At night. 

But maybe Eclipse knows a shortcut. It’s not like you have many options. 

“Uh. How far to the boarding house?” 

“Too far.” 

Quick way of shattering your hopes, then. You deflate.

In your periphery, Eclipse reaches out - but aborts the motion with a curl of his fingers. Just as you look he turns, instead waving over his shoulder. Yours are getting wetter by the second, and you see the matching darkness growing on his coat. 

“Follow me. You’re not dying without paying me back for that favor.” 

You’d hopefully just get drenched, but if that’s what he has to tell himself to help you’ll take it. Thinking about how much better he knows this city by night isn’t really helping your anxiety. You’ve been a duckling for this long, so there’s no reason to stop now. 

Somehow you just keep getting yourself into these objectively dangerous situations, huh?

For once, you stay silent as you follow Eclipse past the last block. There’s tension in the line of his shoulders and you’re pretty sure you’re about to owe him again. He doesn’t seem happy about it. You can’t blame him. This was avoidable, it shouldn’t have happened. Anxiety is churning your stomach.

Only when he takes a turn into a nearby apartment complex do you find the courage to speak up again. Your steps echo on the tiled floor, breaking the silence for you.

“You’re waterproof?” 

You can figure, given his lax reaction to the rain, but you’d feel better with the confirmation. Despite everything, animatronics are new to you, and you’re missing a lot of what would be considered common knowledge. 

Eclipse just glares, obviously not happy over having to state the obvious. 

“Do you think I’d be done in by a bit of rain?” 

Your shrug doesn’t feel half as cheeky as all the preceding ones. 

“No, but wanted to make sure.” 

Something in his expression shifts, so you duck your head. If you can’t see his annoyance, it can’t hurt you. 

Silence reigns. 

Eclipse turns on his heels, and continues down the hallway. You shuffle after him, chancing a glance back up at his back. 

Have his shoulders relaxed, or is that wishful thinking?

“Don’t you think I would have been more concerned about the rain if I wasn’t?” 

Some of the edge has left his voice, and unfortunately you immediately read into it. Your own shoulders drop with the relief as you follow him up the stairs. This is a worse workout than everything before. He’s so fast.

“I mean, yeah, but I prefer checking in with the expert.”

“Surprising enough that you’re admitting ignorance.” 

You can’t see his face, but his tone makes you picture an eye roll. Still annoyed, but the edge hasn’t returned. You crack a smile.

“I don’t know a lot of stuff. Would you like me to elaborate?” 

He steps away from the stairwell, and you notice just how high the ceilings are - but still only high enough to leave a few meager inches between his top most sunray and the stucco on the ceiling. 

Mostly, you’re just glad you only had to climb the stairs up one floor. He’s fast enough on even ground, where he doesn’t get to skip steps.

“Don’t.” 

With a grin you start listing things, eyes closed for posterity. 

“Physics, never had a good teacher. Social cues - no one tells you those rules, and I hate it. Taxes are nebulous too, even after I’ve started - ough.” 

You’re yanked back by your collar, and make an ungraceful sputtering sound. Shouldn’t have closed your eyes then - seems like you missed Eclipse stopping at his apartment door. But his hand lets go of your shirt as quickly as he’s grabbed you, and you’re left rubbing the spot where the fabric dug into your throat. 

Eclipse scowls, but there’s something new to it. His grin is wider than usual, just a bit. 

“When to shut up.” 

You test it, just a bit, and let your own smile grow. 

“I think that’s part of the social cues.”

His eyes narrow, but you don’t feel apprehensive. 

“The fences.” 

You nod sagely. 

“The fences.”

A huff of static, and he unlocks the door. A snort? You’re starting to get amusement without it being at your expense then, that’s progress. 

Stepping past the threshold makes your anxiety spike again though. With the room he got for you it was different - this is his space, and you’re only here because you didn’t pay enough attention. 

Well, also because Eclipse is nicer than he lets on. Or believes himself to be, maybe. You’re still convinced you wouldn’t have died walking back to the boarding house.

But it’s strange. Following him through the foyer, the coat and shoe racks are the only things indicating that anyone lives here. No decorations to the wall, no carpets on the bare floor, barely even any furniture in the hall. That’s a lot of wasted storage space.

The first thing actually indicating a personality for the place is in the living room. 

“A leather couch?”

There’s more furniture of course, dark wooden drawers and shelves, a desk covered in documents and a chair, and a high coffee table matching the couch. But somehow the obvious source of comfort is what stands out to you. 

“Easier to clean off.”

Comfort, huh?

Eclipse continues walking down the hallway stretching on beyond the room, but you halt with a frown. 

The dark leather on the large (Eclipse-sized) three seater looks well maintained even with the worn creases on one of the edge seats. Eclipse’s preferred spot, it seems. The furthest from the window, and with a good view of the entrance. A realization about as cheerful as his comment. 

You trace a deeper line on the armrest, bright where the leather broke.

“Ominous. Have they invented blacklight yet?" 

You hear rustling from an open door, and you don’t think he heard you. Warily you step away from the couch to follow. Probably best if he didn’t hear you, actually. 

Except he did, and his reply echoes from what you must now assume is the bathroom.

"Why?" 

The suspicion is evident, and you have no other option but to commit. Not that he sees the shrug, but it helps you remain lighthearted. He heard you all the way over there without issue, but still you raise your voice just slightly.

"I’m taking that as a yes. Even cleaned up, you'd still see a whole lot in blacklight. Urine, blood, platypuses."

The confusion echoes, too.

"Pla-” 

Eclipse ducks back out, stepping out of the bathroom with a scowl directed at you. 

“No. Don't do that here."

Shame, you almost got him with the platypuses. It makes not grinning very hard, and you fail much too quickly. His eyes only narrow further as he steps back into the living room, and then his hand is moving too fast for you to process. 

Fabric covers your head. You blink against the bright terry cloth, yellow from the light passing through it, then pull it away from your face. 

A towel - you aren’t even that wet. But what gets you more than the gesture is the sheer size of it. Nearly a blanket, really. 

“Something wrong?” 

The words are barely more than a growl, a storm just waiting to be unleashed. The question, not really a question - a dare. Seems like you look just a bit too taken aback. 

Honesty it is, then. Baffle him too much to be upset with you. You look back up to meet his glare head on, fingers still buried in the soft fabric, and blink. 

“I kind of expected red towels. White doesn’t match you.” 

Eclipse blinks, too, and for a breath his eyes are just wide and golden. Plan, success. But much too soon he averts his gaze, eyes narrowing as if on instinct. 

You want to see him relaxed more often. 

And where did that thought come from? Challenges usually aren’t your thing, and this guy is tougher than a rock with about as much emotional awareness.

Honestly, that might even be too generous an assessment. 

“Red can’t be bleached.” 

The response startles you out of your thoughts, and it takes you a moment to process. It clicks, just a bit belatedly - Eclipse has already brushed past you back into the hallway. 

“Oh.” 

You don’t leave the living room, but step closer to the threshold to the hall. Watch as he takes off the wet coat and hangs it up on the coat rack, nearly bunching up at the ground. 

Again you raise your voice.

“Thank you.” 

The glare hits harder from the dark hallway, but it doesn’t faze you. You’re getting desensitized.

“I told you to stop that.” 

You stick out your tongue, then cover your head again and towel your hair dry, just a bit. Plausible deniability in terms of disrespect, or something. Mostly hiding from retaliation, given that you’ll disappoint him yet again.

“I won’t stop saying thank you if you keep helping me, that’d be rude.” 

“Don’t test me, I’ll kick you out.” 

As expected, his tone is sharper than your knife collection. Though, to be fair, you got yours for the looks, and not for their functionality. 

“I don’t think you will.” 

You pull off the towel just a bit, holding on to it as you look up to where he’s scowling. But angry as he looks, he’s not making any move towards you, remaining more than an arm’s length away. One of his, too. 

It’s a gamble, daring him to go through with his threat - but if he wanted to get rid of you, he really wouldn’t need to threaten it. From the start he hasn’t tried particularly hard to make you someone else’s problem. Your police bluff couldn’t have been that convincing, unless he’s really worried about involving them, and just running for a block would have shaken you off easily. 

He’s not as uncaring as he wants you to think, and unfortunately for him, you won’t play along.

You blink, ending the staring contest, and his shoulders drop with a static huff.

“You’re a walking headache. Dry off, I’m not dealing with a sick you.” 

It’s hard not to smile, so you just hide it behind the towel and a ducked head. You’re still pretty sure you earn a glare for your quiet snort, even though you try to cover it up with a cough. 

Pulling down the towel you unfortunately see the next issue.

“Uhh? Eclipse?”

Where did he disappear to, anyway?

“What?” 

Your drawn out hum doesn’t seem to incite any confidence, because he stalks through an open door back into the hallway.

“What?” 

You grimace.

“So, uh, the bleach? You might need that. Usually the dye washes out without issue, but that’s with the cleaning stuff from a hundred years in the future, so…” 

The frown deepens as confusion starts to weigh on him, and he steps closer. You pull the towel away from your neck and hold it out. The red and purple dye spots are faint, more orange and pink respectively, but definitely visible, and you really should’ve thought about that before. It’s not like your hair was that wet either. 

Eclipse stares. 

You swallow. 

No reply. 

“I’m sorry -” 

Faster than a cobra his hand darts forward, and snatches the towel from your grasp. You fumble just a bit as he drags it away from you, holding on out of instinct before letting it pass through your hands. No rope burn for you today.

Without sparing you another glance, or even the chance to gauge his expression, he vanishes back into the bathroom. An insistent clank makes you jump, and then he reappears with a dark static brewing in his eyes like a storm. His pupils flicker ever so slightly, but you don’t get the time to really look. 

A new towel is flying your way, and you scramble to catch it out of the air before it hits the ground. 

You blink. 

“Don’t stain it.” 

When you look up, the door to what must be his bedroom slams shut. You think the doorframe vibrates, even. 

It makes no sense. The old towel was fine, and if he doesn’t want them stained, why give you a new one? You could go grab the other one, making sure this one won’t get dripped on, but after what felt like progress his reaction to the stains throws you off. Risking the dark eyes isn’t really on your agenda for this unorthodox sleepover. 

Wrapping the towel around your damp shoulders instead, you step backwards until you hit the leather of the couch. Kick off your shoes, and then curl up on the seat closer to the window. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

—

You don’t know how late it is when the door to Eclipse’s room opens quietly. Definitely late, long past your bedtime, but your mind is too restless to grant you any reprieve. 

Golden eyes find yours in the darkness, and the tall shape that is your reluctant host steps into the hallway. You turned off the lights earlier, feeling more comfortable in the darkness, so the only sources of light are his optics and the faint illumination from the moon and street lights reaching through the window. The light doesn’t reach him.

“You’re still up.” 

Huddled in your towel blanket, you shrug.

“Can’t sleep.” 

The rain outside has trickled away to nearly nothing, and you’ve spent the last few hours lost in thought as you watched the raindrops race down the glass of the window. 

Eclipse remains in the hallway, where the faint light from outside won’t reach. You still see his eyes narrow, bright as they are.

“I don’t have any bedding.” 

“It’s not that.” 

He shifts, but it’s too dark for that to tell you much. 

“Ah. I didn’t expect you to be that prudent. I wouldn’t trust me either.” 

You should have figured he’s being an idiot. The glare you send his way is probably the worst you’ve directed at him so far, and the glow of his optics disappears for a moment as he blinks. 

“I’m not you. I was trying to figure out what I did wrong with the towel, not waiting for you to come kill me while I sleep. What the hell am I supposed to do if you decide to do that, anyway?” 

There’s hardly anything you can do to stop him if he decides he’s had enough of you. Your only reassurance is his continued inaction despite all your pestering. Well, and the fact that you refuse to default to that kind of paranoia.

Still frowning he steps forward, just into the space where the moonlight dips into the hallway. Just that amount of light is enough to let you see the confusion evident on his face. 

“... The towel?” 

“You got angry.” 

You don’t like how quiet your voice is. But any louder and it would crack. 

So instead you just duck slightly, resting your chin on your knees. The perspective and your hair should hide most of your face. Maybe you pull the towel tighter around you, just a bit. It’s warm, offering just a bit of a shield. 

Eclipse takes half a step forward, though you hear it more than you see.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. My reaction had nothing to do with you.” 

That makes you look up. If he wasn’t mad at you for staining his towel, then why was he mad? 

“Then why?” 

Confusion furrows your brows as you right yourself. Eclipse dodges your gaze much too quickly. 

“I won’t answer that.” 

Given the reaction and now his tone, you’re starting to wonder if you even want to know. In any case you don’t feel like pushing him further on this, not tonight. You can let it go.

“Okay. But you’d tell me if I did something wrong?” 

That part is important - and actually earns you another static snort. This time the narrow eyes aren’t angry, more a squint. Amusement. Back on track. 

“Little star, have I hesitated to criticize you before?” 

The bluntness makes you laugh, just a bit. You quell it quickly, but the smile doesn’t leave. Relief floods through you, and you feel more at ease. 

This time when you rest your head on your knees you don’t look away from him. 

“Good point. Why are you still up? Don’t you have to, I don’t know, charge some time?” 

His shoulders rise, and that is an answer in and of itself. Right, he thought you’re “prudent” for not trusting him. Of course he’d manage to think of you as a threat. 

“Ah, right. I could come into your room and kill you. Somehow.” 

“Nothing personal. But I won’t trust you on principle.” 

Your sigh hopefully tells him just what you think about that. Still, you decide to let him off the hook. And besides, you’re already talking, neither of you planning to sleep, or otherwise rest, so maybe you can have a little fun. 

You extract a hand from your cozy cocoon to pat the couch. An invitation.

“Can’t blame you for that, I guess. Will you sit with me then? If neither of us is going to sleep.”

Eclipse frowns as he follows the motion with his eyes. Warily, he takes one step closer, into the dim lighting of the living room. The line of his shoulders relaxes just a bit, and then he closes the distance to the couch in resolute steps. 

He does sit down in his spot, and you can’t even take the space between you two personally. Not when he looks so out of place looking back at you. 

“And now?” 

You huff, smile crooked where it’s pressed against your knees. 

“I don’t know. It’s been a while since my last sleepover, and I don’t think you have a bottle to spin. We could play truth or dare.” 

For a moment, his pupils flick away from you. But just for a breath - and then he relaxes against the backrest, settling into it.

“You go first.” 

You perk up. 

“Wait, really?” 

One eye narrows, the other remains wider, and it gives the impression of a quirked eyebrow. At least, that’s how you choose to interpret it. The amusement in his tone speaks for it, too.

“A free pass to learn more about you and how you got here, and you don’t think I’d take you up on that?” 

Snorting actually hurts - you pull your head down on instinct, knocking your nose against your kneecaps. Enough of that, then. You readjust just a bit, leaning into the crook between armrest and backrest. It allows you to face him more easily too, and you don’t hide your grin. 

“I’ll pick truth, then.”

He doesn’t even hesitate.

“Why would you trust me? Follow me?” 

You don’t know which time he means - which honestly just makes his question all the more relevant. For now you’ll answer for both, can’t go wrong with that. 

“I didn’t really have a lot of options. And you haven’t made me regret it yet.” 

He frowns. 

“That’s reckless.” 

You shrug.

“Sure is. Truth or dare?”

Best to move the game along. You can see he still wants to argue, but there really isn’t more to it. He’s helped you whenever you needed it for as long as you’ve known him - sure, it hasn’t been many times, or for long, but a hundred percent is a hundred percent. Grumpy or not. 

There’s a moment of silence, and then, like pulling teeth, his choice. 

“... Dare.” 

Shoot, now you have to think. That’s the downside of these games, having to come up with questions and dares yourself. There’s not a whole lot you can ask him to do, given that this is his apartment and you don’t want to overstep. 

Unless… 

Your grin grows instinctively as the idea takes hold. Eclipse’s eyes narrow in suspicion, but you voice your dare before he gets to backtrack.

“Let me thank you, without being grumpy about it. Accept it.” 

Golden eyes blaze before narrowing back at you.

“Wha-” 

You squint, channeling your strongest little shit energy. 

“Backing out?” 

Even in the darkness you can see his expression twitch. It’s not what he expected, but pride forces him to let you go through with it. Pride, and the fact that he probably still has questions he wants to ask, and can’t end the game prematurely.

His tone does little to hide the strain, and you nearly laugh. 

“No. Go ahead.” 

Perfect. You straighten a little, as if that will help reflect that you mean it. Even with the dare, you don’t think he’ll actually believe you, but it’s the best you’ll get without being glared at. 

“Thank you, for letting me stay tonight. And for getting me a room. I would’ve been majorly screwed without you, and I appreciate you cashing in a more lucrative favor to get me settled.” 

The lemon face is back. You’re trying very, very hard not to laugh. 

“You usually say ‘You’re welcome’ to expressions of gratitude.” 

If his face looks like he’s bitten into a lemon, yours now looks like you’re trying to be unaffected by a sour candy. You’re pretty sure your eyes are tearing up from the strain of keeping the laughter down. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Words near dripping with disdain. You'll have to watch out for a puddle later, or you’ll slip.

You duck your head, hiding your face behind your knees again. Only this time you’re shaking with silent laughter. 

“You sound like I’m holding you at gunpoint.” 

Your voice warbles ever so slightly in amusement, and you’re not surprised when Eclipse cuts to the chase immediately.

“Truth or dare?” 

He has questions, and you’re not sure you want to invite retaliation. Easy choice.

“I’m scared of the dares you’d come up with. Truth.” 

Eclipse tilts his head, settling with a click. The suspicion isn’t new - in fact, it’s old enough to give you an inkling of what his question will be.

“What do you know about how you got here?” 

Bingo. Unfortunately, there’s no prize to win, and you just sigh. You’ll have to disappoint him. 

“Answer is absolutely nothing. One moment I’m back home, taking a little walk, I blink, I’m here and looking at a whole ass animatronic. I’ll give you a do over if you want.” 

There’s a yawn creeping up on you, but you don’t want the game to end. You stretch your arms over your legs with a hum, hoping the tension will cover up the tiredness, and then relax again. 

There’s a flicker to Eclipse’s expression that you can’t read, but then he sighs, too. 

“No, an answer is an answer, satisfying or not. Truth.” 

That’s barely better than dares, just on the other end of the spectrum. Dares are hard to come up with, whereas with truths… There are so many things you want to ask him, about this time and this world and about him and - 

You hum, trying to stall for time, and scrunch up your face deep in thought. Maybe you need to approach this practically. For now you’re living here, so perhaps it’s good to learn about some rules you simply know nothing about.

“What do I need to know about animatronics?” 

“That’s a broad question.” 

Fair point. But he doesn’t sound inherently against the question, so you decide to elaborate. Maybe that will help him answer.

“I’ve been fumbling for over a week now. I just want to avoid obvious mistakes, things I shouldn’t mention, things not to ask. Like if you’re waterproof.” 

For a moment he squints, amusement sparking in his eyes. But then he looks away, expression falling into something more thoughtful, and he hums. 

When he meets your eyes again, his expression is hard. No trace of amusement left.

“Don’t ask about assignments before the revolution, before we had rights. It’s been twenty years, but too many humans still believe it was better then. Do not imply we should submit to that again.” 

A revolution, huh? Of course things couldn’t be peaceful. It’s good to know about it, you figure, though you also can’t help but think that not knowing wouldn’t have been that much of an issue. It's not something you would have assumed blindly, and thus nothing you would have brought up. Maybe asking in and of itself was the faux pas you wanted to avoid.

Still, you want to go back to the lighthearted air you had going for you just before his answer, so you shrug.

“Well, that’s easy. ‘Don’t be a dick to people’, I can do that.” 

“‘People’?” 

That's a weird emphasis. Bad weird emphasis. 

You crack your eyes open again, with a bit more effort than it should take you. Then again, it’s late. Then again, you already abandoned your sleep schedule for tonight. 

Eclipse is frowning at you, and you have no idea why.

“Uh, duh.” 

“We’re not human. And you can just accept that?” 

You match his frown, if for different reasons. 

“Why are you arguing against your personhood after just telling me not to do that?” 

Silence and a deepening scowl are the only answer you get. You stare for a moment, but when it becomes clear he won’t elaborate, you sigh. Sounds like this runs deeper than you have the brain cells to spare tonight.

“I don’t know your history. I came here, and you helped me. That’s all I need to know you’re a good person.” 

“I’m really not.” 

There’s more gravel in his voice than in a good quarry. He’s still being difficult, and you’re a bit too tired to be gentle about your questioning.

You huff, barely dodging another sigh through spite alone.

“Do you want to be?” 

Squintier and squinter, and then he’s avoiding eye contact again. Of course. 

“It’s not your turn to ask.” 

You throw your head back with a groan. It’s frustrating, not getting a straight answer. But “an answer is an answer, satisfying or not”. You’ll take it, and just hope the rest of the game will be more fun.

“Ugh, fine. Truth.” 

Eclipse seems to be out for revenge now. His tone is still sharp, and you can’t say you’re a fan of his line of thinking.

“How are you so cheerful here? You lost all you know.” 

Stating the obvious there. Whether purposeful retaliation or not, you figure you can look past one unfortunate question too. 

You rest your head on your knee again, your cheek squishing almost uncomfortably. 

“Yeah, but I also escaped late stage capitalism trying to kill everyone’s future.”

There, that’ll do. Except a snappy reply won’t really bring back the fun of the game, and only makes both of you feel awkward. 

Maybe… maybe you do have a way to turn this conversation around. The smile comes automatically, small as it is.

“I do miss my sister though.” 

“You have a sister?” 

Surprise softens his tone. Seems like your little redirection worked even better than expected. You widen your grin then, thinking about how Eclipse would react to meeting her. 

“Yup. Menace. She’s younger, but taller. Honestly, if you can’t handle me, she’d wreck you. She has a knack for sniffing out insecurities, and pulls no punches.” 

You stretch, humming along. It does little to dampen your amusement, and you squint at Eclipse. His eyes are still narrow, but much more relaxed than before. Amused, maybe? He relaxes against the backrest again - you didn’t even notice him straightening. 

“... I see she learned from the best.” 

Your laughter is more a bark than anything else, and you slap your hand over your mouth quickly. Who knows how thin those walls are, and how many sane people are actually trying to get some sleep right now. 

With the volume control back in place you do allow yourself a chuckle though.

“Student surpassing the master, if anything. Your turn.”

His eyes wander, moving away from you, and then he’s staring out of the window. You glance back, too. The rain is starting up again, a gentle background noise. 

“Truth. Don’t make me regret it.” 

You untwist your spine to look back at Eclipse, finding yourself late to the party. His glare doesn’t feel hostile, but it does remind you that there was something else you’ve been eager to ask. And while you’re already on the topic… 

Time to figure out whom Eclipse doesn’t hate. You spare him a smile, aiming for a reassuring look, but the way his shoulders slump in resignation you don’t think you succeed. 

“No fun in you ending the game early. Who's 'not everyone'?” 

The quotation marks are more a suggestion from underneath the towel, but you don't care. You trust Eclipse understands - and he does, because he looks down. Almost melancholic. You don't know if you like it.

“... I have two brothers.” 

A blink. A small part of you is intrigued by the technicalities - family by choice, but how so? Without blood in the way, when really all you have is choice, how does a family find together? 

But even though it’s not about any revolution as far as you’re aware, this just screams insensitive question. So instead, you let excitement take over. 

“You have brothers?” 

As your grin grows, his frown deepens. 

“Why is that so sur- why are you looking at me like this.” 

The couch isn’t the bounciest, but soft enough to let you swing forward. You land on your hands, splayed on the leather of the unoccupied middle seat. Eclipse actually leans back, surprised by your sudden approach, or maybe put off by the mischief promised by your smile. 

“Younger or older? Shorter or taller?” 

At least he relaxes again, though not without his expression twisting into annoyance.

“... Your priorities are off, little star. And it’s not your turn.” 

“Consider it a follow up. I need to know for science!” 

You bounce once, insistently, and nearly laugh when you see it reach Eclipse. Scary scary bounty hunter, moved by your shenanigans. 

“... Science.” 

He says it just as the couch settles again. Too much fun. You bounce again. 

“Younger or -” 

“Little brothers.” 

“Ahw man.” 

You’ll keep the bouncing tucked away as an effective method of getting him to talk. Whether or not it’s just to keep you from talking is a secondary concern. For now, you groan in mock frustration, and push yourself back again. Your back hits the armrest, and you tuck the towel close again. 

You huff, and Eclipse tilts his head slightly as he squints at you.

“Why are you disappointed?” 

As you explain you wiggle a bit, shifting your legs into a position that doesn’t hurt your stiff knee. 

“I have this theory of younger siblings outgrowing their older siblings. Though I guess with you in the mix I’d seriously be concerned for your brothers’ heads.” 

For a second, you imagine it. Two more animatronics, even taller than Eclipse. Given that you know nothing about them so far, your imagination supplies you with two more Eclipses, somehow looking even grumpier as they flank the already grumpy Eclipse of your mind. 

The real Eclipse isn’t any more cheerful in his reaction.

“... Do I have to tell you that animatronics don’t grow?” 

Animatronics are not early two thousands robots, you forgot. 

“... I might have been thinking of a movie again.” 

At his groan you press your lips together tightly to avoid laughing. You’re pretty sure if he had a defined nose bridge he’d be pinching it. 

“You’re incorrigible. Truth or Dare?” 

You know what, you’re feeling daring. 

“Hit me with a dare.” 

Eclipse is much quicker than you in choosing dares, and you don’t like this stormy expression. 

“Show me your shoulder.” 

Your brows furrow on instinct. Your shoulder? Which one? Why? 

“Huh?” 

There’s no change to his expression, but he does elaborate. 

“The one I hurt.” 

Now you blink. That was over a week ago, and you haven’t even paid attention to the bruises. They’re gone, probably. You think. Moving around hasn’t hurt after the initial soreness wore off, and you don’t like the thought that he’s that hung up over an accident. 

“It was barely anything, really. The bruises all faded.” 

Still he won’t let up. 

“Show me.” 

No way out then. Though no one said you have to be happy about it. You peel yourself out of the towel blanket, and then push away the fabric from your shoulder. 

In the dark, you can’t see shit. Maybe the bruises are gone, or maybe they’re just too faint to see. Without thinking you raise your finger and test instead, poking around where you remember Eclipse’s fingers digging in. You don’t get far before a larger hand wraps around yours, immediately pulling you away from the exposed skin. 

You blink at Eclipse. His eyes are wide, flickering to something darker in the corners, and his hand twitches around yours. He snaps to the movement, as if unaware of his own actions, and then rips his hand away again. 

“Don’t do that.” 

He sounds like he’s hanging on by a thread, and you don’t think you want to know what happens when it snaps.

His sudden departure after learning he bruised you back at the boarding house. The strain in his voice then, and now. And, for a second, you think about the towel again. You don’t know how it relates to the bruises, but his eyes looked like this earlier, too. 

The dark static calms somewhat, though he glances back at your shoulder for a moment. There’s no better word for it - he slumps in his seat. 

“I’ve seen enough.” 

You spare him one more wary glance, then sigh. 

“I didn’t see anything, and the touch test was negative too. You can stop feeling guilty.” 

No reply. You get started on restoring your layers of comfort. As you pull up your sleeve your eyes fall on your hand again, and you think about how big Eclipse’s is in comparison. You knew, he even grabbed your head before, but just like then you can’t let it go.

On the one hand, you would have liked some more time to actually process what his hand feels like. On the other hand, you’re mad at yourself for thinking like that. 

Eclipse seems eager to move things along. His eyes may have brightened, but his voice still hasn’t. 

“Dare.” 

You hum. If you don’t know how to reassure him your best course of action is to ignore the weirdness entirely. Maybe one day you’ll figure out his deal with bruises. Maybe not. For now, not your circus and not your giant monkey. 

“Ah, hm. Give me a moment, I need to think.” 

There’s a brief pause, but then, slowly, almost hesitantly, Eclipse huffs. 

“If I wanted to, I’d take that as the dare.” 

So he’s fine with trying to keep things lighthearted. He doesn’t want to linger on whatever that was, either, and it strengthens your resolve. Said resolve may involve a lot of silliness, but he’ll have to deal. 

“Shush, or it’s going to be something stupid.” 

Just for posterity you scrunch up your face in thought, then tap your toweled finger against your chin. 

Never looking away from your antics, Eclipse relaxes further. He leans back against the couch, even going so far as to rest his arm on the backrest. For a second, you believe him. Except then you notice the way his fingers are digging into the leather, and his careful projection shatters. 

“Your last dare was stupid.” 

You do have to admit he’s trying though. Unfortunately for him, you just had an idea, and it’s entirely self-serving. Well, maybe it’ll distract him, too.

“I don’t want to hear that from you. Show me your hand.” 

A blink. 

“My hand?” 

“Yeah, like this.” 

You grin as you raise one hand from your cocoon, splaying the fingers in the air. Eclipse looks on, tilting his head as if he’ll understand you better from a different perspective. From the way his frown twitches you don’t think it’s helping. But he does mimic the motion, glaring first at you and then at his hand. Slowly, hesitantly, he holds out his hand in the space between you two. 

No time to lose. You scoot closer, and press your palm against his. He jerks back, but you only stretch further, following the motion. 

“Stay. You’re not grabbing, it’s fine.” 

He stills. 

A soft laugh escapes you, now that you have the time to look. His hands are proportional to his body, which is to say they’re ungodly huge. 

Not that you mind. 

“Oh, big. I mean, I knew, I saw, but the side by side comparison sure is something.” 

Eclipse tilts his hand, and you move with him. There’s a twitch that you ignore.

“You’re just tiny.” 

Again you scoot closer, and extract your other hand too. Again he starts, but then you’re already pulling his hand closer. He lets you. 

Absentmindedly, you prattle on.

“Look - okay, I can’t argue, I’m short even by human standards - wait! I think I’m actually pretty average in this day and age!” 

One hand you keep on his, just so he doesn’t get any ideas about the dare being over. With the other you trace the lines on his palm where the casing is broken up to allow for movement. You move towards his thumb, the indent of the lower joint and the upwards, brushing past the rougher shell of his fingertip. Worn down from all the grabbing he does, for who knows how long. 

You’re so lost in thought, you nearly miss his quiet retort.

“That doesn’t matter.” 

It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to remember just what you were talking about, but then you huff. 

“Because you’re big.” 

The moment is over, and Eclipse’s patience runs out. He pulls his hand back and leans away from you, out of reach. 

“Shut up.” 

Despite his glare he still doesn’t sound hostile. You stick your tongue out at him, then shuffle back against your cozy nook. 

“No, I’m choosing truth.”

The question comes much too quickly after another glance at his hand. 

“Why aren’t you scared?” 

You freeze. 

The anxiety you’ve managed to keep down rears its ugly head again, churning your stomach, and you pull the towel tighter around you. Duck your head, even if you can’t escape his gaze. 

Sometimes, silence is answer enough. He understands.

“You are.” 

Try as you might, you don’t think he buys the nonchalance of your shrug. Still, you have no other option but to continue the act. 

“Pretty much always, yup. You get used to doing things despite it.”

There’s a pause, the silence weighing heavy as you wait. Turns out you’re not off the hook yet. 

“You had a follow up question earlier.” 

Part of you wants to sigh. So you do, even as it turns into a yawn halfway through. Tiredness is starting to win out over the anxiety, so you look back up.

“Shoot.” 

There’s an expectant hum in the air. Not like the intentional ones, more like the soft sound from old TVs. Well, old for your time, not this. Eclipse weighing his words, perhaps. A click, and he speaks.

“How scared are you of me?” 

Ah. That probably shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does - from his perspective a valid concern, and of course something that would occupy his mind. After his very first question tonight, it just makes sense.

But he doesn’t understand what you’re scared of.

“Not as much as I probably should be. Not as much as you think I should be, anyway. Mostly just on principle - you’re bigger, stronger, and one of few people who even knows I’m here.” 

No one who would miss you, or bother looking for you. You were lucky to meet someone who isn’t interested in making you disappear, not even to make his own life easier. 

Someone who knows societal rejection first hand, too. 

Anxiety quells, and you breathe easier. You relax against the backrest of the couch, accepting that you’ll have to peel yourself off later.

“I’d probably be more scared if you were human, actually.” 

The tension you expelled is the tension Eclipse soaks up, it seems. His shoulders harden into a straight line, and his eyes narrow.

“That makes no sense.” 

Earlier you thought you’re getting desensitized against his glares. Right now you’re just way too drowsy to care. 

“Does it? I’m not really a human humans in power like. I’ve got things ‘wrong’ with me that don’t even have names yet.” 

You take in a breath, barely concealing yet another yawn. The quotation marks you mimic with your fingers are about as energetic as your tone, so you can’t be sure he even notices. 

For a moment, Eclipse just stares. But then he too sighs, and his shoulders drop again.

“I don’t doubt that. I’ll concede the point, I have no reason to antagonize you for who you are.” 

Even so, this isn’t the tone you want to end this conversation on. You smile, tired as you are. At least he can interpret your squint as amused, too. 

“Just for how much I’m annoying you.” 

And you got him. 

“So you admit you’re doing it on purpose.” 

There’s no fire behind his words, and you chuckle softly.

“Never said that. Plausible deniability is my friend.” 

His glare actually makes you laugh. It’s overly dramatic, and you’ve seen him be scary - this is so far from it. Maybe if you hadn’t been playing a silly little game for the better part of an hour you would be more inclined to be properly impressed, but now? Nope, no can do. 

You sink a little lower on the couch, and your cheek squeaks slightly against the leather. Ough.

“One last round for you? I have one more question.”

Your enunciation is slowly but surely saying goodbye. Lack of sleep is catching up on you. 

But for now, Eclipse indulges you.

"Truth."

"Why did you help me?" 

If he can wonder just why you aren’t appropriately terrified, you can wonder just why he cares. Coincidence is the only thing tying you together, and that doesn’t actually seem like a big enough incentive for him.

He sighs again, turning a bit where he sits. Drapes his arm over the backrest again - no more need for distance then. Or maybe it’s just more comfortable. He’s not even looking at you, rather past you, out of the window. The rain is still pittering away. 

"My reputation at the station is bad enough as is. Didn't want you running into either of my brothers telling them how I abandoned you."

What crumbs of energy you have left let you perk up at that implication.

“Your brothers are cops?” 

“Yes. Don’t call them that to their faces.” 

You snort. If you ever meet them you’ll have to remember, but for now you can’t help but abuse that newfound crumb of power.

“So that's how to get you to -” 

The hand you so thoroughly inspected before now covers your entire face, and you laugh against it. There’s not much to see - the bit of light passing by his palm is barely enough to make out his fingers. 

Though you didn’t get to sniff it before. If you were any more awake you might refrain, but right now you’re tired and his hand is right there. Given that you need to breathe, not smelling is harder than just giving into the impulse. Heavy and metallic, but mixed with something sweeter - some of it the leather, almost earthy, and some of it you don’t recognize. 

At least he doesn’t seem to notice what you’re doing.

“Shut up. Don't even try.” 

There’s something else you might try. Your impulse control is so dangerously low.

He’s not holding on tightly right now, barely even holding rather than just covering, but you’re not sure how well-advised it would be to translate your impulses into actions. 

… Did he even wash his hands earlier? 

Maybe you can distract yourself.

“Can you imagine though? ‘Hi everyone, I’m from the future, and also I met this grumpy animatronic who wouldn’t help me out. Name’s Eclipse, anyone know him?’. Makes me almost sad it was a bluff.”

“You were bluffing?” 

Can’t make bad decisions if the temptation is out of reach. Eclipse pulls his hand away, just so you can see his wide eyed glare in all its glory. 

You manage a satisfied grin despite your eyelids weighing all too heavy on your eyes. 

“Oh, thanks, my next idea was to lick it and I don’t think either of us want that.” 

For a moment he stares at his hand. You’re glad you’re looking, because you notice the near imperceptible shake of his head before he drops it again. Your laugh is barely more than a tired huff. 

And yet, despite all that interesting bonus information, he hasn’t actually answered you yet.

"That's not really it though. That bluff came way later. Why not just dip when I started screaming?" 

Again that half squint, leaving one optic wider. Sardonic, maybe. 

"A human in hysterics and the bounty hunter with a violent reputation. What do you think people would have assumed?"

That sobers you up, too. 

"Oh. I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. It's out of your control." 

He’s no longer looking at you. His back is against the couch, and he looks off into the room. Not at anything specific, you don’t think. Just staring off into space. Maybe pondering some what ifs, too. 

What if you hadn’t appeared in front of him. What if right now, he could be charging in peace, being owed by someone who can actually pay up, and who won’t antagonize him at every turn. 

You shrink in on yourself.

"Still, I've been causing trouble for you from the start."

Silence settles between you. It’s heavy, but your eyelids are heavier, and sleep might just win even against the fresh wave of guilt. 

The moment stretches, and then golden lights find you again in the darkness. 

"It's not all bad." 

For someone who doesn’t believe in friendship he’s doing a shit job of keeping you at a distance. How can you not read into that? 

"Yeah?" 

Amusement sparks, even as the lights dim as he squints.

"I've learned many interesting things already. Like platypuses being fluorescent under a Wood's lamp." 

A squeak, or a huff - you don’t know what your laugh resembles more. Eclipse is still squinting.

You stretch again, but there is no stopping this yawn. If you’re already standing by your sleepiness, you’ll make yourself comfortable too. First you unstick your cheek from the leather, then let yourself slide down. The couch is big enough for you to curl up in the corner and rest your head on the armrest, the towel between the leather and your skin. Avoid the bad stickiness. 

Eclipse watches you silently, and you lazily blink his way.

“Don’t scratch the couch.” 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Hrm.” 

Whatever he means, you’re not in the mood to ask. Words are escaping you at record speed. Instead you close your eyes, shuffling closer into the corner.

“That can’t be comfortable.” 

Just because he can’t try. You’d shoot him a squinty glare if you had any inclination of opening your eyes right now. 

“‘m small, ’s perfect.” 

It’s comfortable, despite it being leather. The towel is a good barrier against the stickiness, and a warm little cocoon. Not as heavy as you’d like, maybe, but you don’t think weighted blankets have been invented yet. 

At least you have the rain as background noise. 

“The boarding house isn’t too far away from here, if you’re walking in daylight. I’ll map it out for you when you’re awake again.” 

Eclipse’s voice startles you out of your daze, and you jolt. Still, your eyes remain closed, even as you huff. 

“Not asl’p.” 

There’s a low rumble of a laugh, and you smile against your cozy nest. He should laugh more often. Maybe you can tell him a few good jokes, see if he likes any. Not now though. Enunciation is too hard right now, whether you’re awake or not. You totally are.

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

You don’t have the awareness to argue. 

Tomorrow. You’ll tell him tomorrow.

[nightclimes]

Bloodstains, by bowblade

Fandom: Overwatch Relationships: Ouihaw (Ashe/Widowmaker) Rating: M Wordcount: 118,214 (27 chapters, complete) A gothic romance Junkenstein-verse fic featuring Countess Widowmaker, a vampire, and Warlock/Little Red Ashe, cursed to be a wolf. Featuring fairy tale curses, pining, falling in love and a defiance of the fate bestowed to you... and vampire bites, of course.

Preview of Chapter 1 and full list of tags/warnings below the read more. Read at AO3.

Thunder looms, and out on the lake through the floor to ceiling window lightning strikes. The room illuminates for but a single solitary moment, but it's enough.

A shock of white hair and flecked deep red on her clothes to match the lipstick on her mouth, and the white of her teeth as the human wolf grins up at her.

"Now that wasn't very nice of you."

Feminine. Werewolf. Bandit. Thief.

"Outlaw," the countess recognises. Another defender of the Door in it for the money, who had vanished into the darkness of the night the moment Adlersbrunn was saved – or to the depths of the dungeons and quite a few vaults, given the immediate spate of petty robbery in the days after, written off as inevitable after zomnics take the town prisoner.

Her doing, as it happens. Her doing still. The outlaw had asked her, once, if she'd run into any thieves, and she'd told her hounds had.

It makes sense now why that doesn't and didn't bother her.

Another crash. Boom, boom, boom, like shotgun pellets. The outlaw does a dignified miniature rolling wave with her good arm, only it's not so good, as she winces and cradles it back toward her body. Her shirt hangs limp across one shoulder, with the majority of it wrapped around her torso, covering her ribs. Even she's surprised by how many scars she has. Wrapped around every bone and healed over, a thorn patch of ivy or roses. Yes, the perfume's odour makes sense, now. She vaguely recollects the fondness with the ink of a vine around her forearm, about the one place that isn't scarred. Clearly, this isn't the first scrape the outlaw hasn't perished in and lived.

No matter how much she heals, the reminder never fades.

It's different to a vampire. Or maybe just the same. The wounds on her neck pulse, faintly, and the countess rolls her shoulder. Regardless of her scars or her underdressed state, that still doesn't explain what exactly she's doing in her chateau and her parlour other than getting blood all over the upholstery.

"Why are you here?"

"Because someone," she labours, clicking her tongue, "shot me."

"I shot the wolf that stalks the town," the countess says cooly, folding her arms as she stalks into the room but stays standing, and the outlaw is still quite at home despite her presence, and she has the gall to shrug. She wonders why she tore her shirt to bandage herself, and not the intact hood and cape, still up over her head. "You are not innocent in this."

"I'm not here to talk innocence," the outlaw sniffs, dismissing her with a flick of her fingers. "I'm here to patch myself up. And I know an opportunity when I see one. I wondered how you'd been keeping since the door incident. So. Whatever scheme you're running, I want in."

[raynavan]

for @blueisquitetired's fic Silver Bloodstains! spoilers for chapter 18

something about a heartbeat

[potatoesandsunshine]

everybody hates my silly au but i stay silly

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Holiday Gift Fic Requests

Now that whumptober is over I can start thinking about gift fics! I had a lot of fun with them last year so if you ever wanted me to write something (or are excited for the next chapter of any of my WIPs and want me to prioritise it) then let me know so I can gift it to you this holiday season!

Send me an ask with what you would like me to write (or update!), and I will do my best! I'll put my WIPs and anything I just don't think is in my writing wheelhouse below the cut.

Published WIPs

thought i wanted love ('til you showed me what it was) - Jamie wakes up in A&E with no recollection to how he got there and his sober father by his side. (Currently chapter 1 out of ? posted)

can't be anyone else - What if Jamie was the one injured when Roy tackled him in the season 1 finale? (Currently 3 out of ? chapters posted)

marked me like a bloodstain - Jamie saves Roy from being hit by a car after the gala in s1 (Currently 2 out of ? chapters posted)

dear leslie - Leslie Higgins giving advice to people (2 chapters posted - planned chapters left include Keeley, Isaac and Beard)

old habits die screaming - Beard and Jamie bad dad's universe (Currently 3 out of 5 chapters posted)

damaged beyond repair - After Ted rejects him at the Crown & Anchor, Jamie runs into two men who are looking for a fight, Jamie more than happy to give it to them. (Currently 1 out of ? chapters posted)

false confidence - Jamie suffers a concussion during the Zava era and Ted takes a look at how he's been coaching since the superstar arrived (Currently 4 out of 5 or 6 chapters posted)

Unpublished WIPs

copenhagen - Jamie and Roy spend the night a la Amsterdam in Copenhagen. When Jamie gets on the bus the next morning with a black eye, no one believes it was an accident.

i worry i'll grow old - sequel/roy's pov from i worry I'll die young

post-series Jamie saves Roy from being hit by a car

Jamie and Dani become secret besties when he's sent back to Manchester and Jamie insists they hide it when he comes back so the team accepts him for him not because of Dani (might not finish it completely but can definitely prioritise the first chapter likely 3 or so chapters) (requested lol)

Things I'm Not Great at Writing

shipfics

anything related to CSA, it's an important subject one that i want to do justice and I'm unsure if I can

[writersblockiskillingme]

Russian Roulette | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After doing everything in your power to find the salesman who got you and Gi-hun into all this mess, he unexpectedly shows up in your motel room.

Warning/s: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!!, angst, unspoken feelings (until now), guns, playing Russian Roulette, threatening, mocking, blood, character death, cursing (maybe, idk), tears, talk about the games, tension, reader gives off femme fatale energy, also reader has longer hair to fit into a braid but if you don't just ignore it please, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I just watched the first few episodes, and for a little while, I got out of the writers block. NO SPOILERS, PLEASE!

Prequel to this fic here!

Rain was pouring down like crazy, wind blowing around as I drove my black car with full speed as I tried to get to the Pink Motel that Gi-hun and I co-owned as fast as I possibly could after today's events. Gun that was placed on the seat next to me was jumping slightly as I drow down the road every time I hit a bump or such. My left hand gripped the steering wheel til my knuckles turned pure white as my right hand gripped the phone to the same extent.

"I found bloodstains there!" I practically shouted into my phone as I came to a stop, the images of blood seeping down the trash bags and the knife thrown on the ground never really leaving my mind. "Gi-hun is still looking, I'm sure they didn't get far from that alley."

"What do we do, miss?"

"Check all the CCTV and dashcam footage you can collect from the area and keep asking around." I continued to practically shout for him to hear me over the rain on the street, my braid swinging over on my left shoulder as I got out of the car, running towards the entrance to the Pink Motel.

"I'll join you soon." And with that, I ended the call, quickly putting my phone in the left pocket of my jacket.

I roughly pulled loose threads of hair that fell on my eyes as I quickly took out the key. However, I came to a sudden stop. Something wasn't right. I found myself freezing as I slowly moved my head to look around. That's when I noticed. The sign of the Pink Motel was lit up.

Someone is here, and they want me to know that.

I stood there in the rain for a little while before I decided to take a deep breath before entering. I walked up all the way to the fourth floor before entering, the light going on as I did. I walked into my bedroom as quietly as I could. But even before I could prepare myself for what I was about to see, just as I walked to the end of the first corner, I saw him.

After three years of endlessly, tirelessly trying to find him, he was here. Right in front of me. He was standing in front of my wall, a shining black gun in his hand, looking at the calendar on which I crossed the dates with red marker every single day for three years. Next to in was a map of the underground, every single route mapped out, drawn on, and my handwriting shone on it to.

"It's been a long time, Miss."

For a while, I said nothing. I was just standing there, soaking wet, the rain that I took with me inside dripping on the floor. I was staking in his appearance for a moment. He was just as tall as I remember, standing there in his suit. For a moment, it seemed like he didn't change one bit, like nothing changed from the moment that I fist saw him on the train station three years ago.

But it did.

His hair was longer, I won the games alongside Gi-hun, we weren't on the train station, but in my Motel room, he wasn't holding a briefcase, he was holding a gun and I didn't.

But his voice was the same, he was still as tall as I remember, I suppose his smile was the same, too. And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same feelings he did three years ago before I gained and lost it all.

I just sighed and moved towards the table I ate. There was a towel that I threw last night. I started to pat my hair, trying to dry it off as I looked around for some dry clothes.

"You should've gotten on that plane that day." He said, looking over at me as I paused.

"I changed my mind when I saw you there." I said before continuing to dry myself.

The moment of quiet continued as I put the towel away. He tapped the map with his gun before he started to speak again. I truly didn't know how to feel. After I wasted three years trying to find him, he just shows up at my motel room. Funny.

"It looks like you've been trying hard to find me, darling." I could just hear that ignorant smirk in his voice. Motherfucker.

"Don't let it get to your head." I told him slowly, my voice completely calm. "I just wanted to thank you." I said as I took off my wet jacket, throwing it in the corner.

"Thank me?" He asked as he sat down on one of the sofas by the table next to my bed. I turned to look at him slowly, a dry jacket in my hand. That's when I noticed blood on the collar of his suit and his face. Motherfucker.

"For inviting me to the game." I said as I approached him, his eyes on me as I sat down, opposite him. "I won and took a bloody fortune with me."

He kept quiet, listening to me, his dark eyes flickering all over my face as I spoke.

"So the decent thing of me to do would be to thank you for it."

"I'm just a messenger who delivers invitations." He smirked, but before he could say more, I continued, all off my anger resurfacing.

"And just who had you deliver those invitations, handsome?" I spoke, venom infecting my every word. "Let me meet him. I have something to say to him."

"Give me the message, and I'll pass it along." He continued, giving me a smile at the end. It appears that I was right. His smile is the same.

"Oh, dear." I mockingly pouted as I crossed my legs. "I'm afraid that it's not something I can discuss with an underling like you."

His smile quivered as he raised his eyebrow. Waiting on me to continue.

"You prey on people who are hanging by a thread and corner them at subway stations." I could feel myself slowly starting to shake from anger and despair. "Someone like you wouldn't be able to understand what I'm trying to say, of course."

For a while, there was silence yet again. We were just looking at each other. Our eyes never leaving each other's.

"You know what the funniest thing was?"

"What, miss?"

"For a moment, when I was hunting you down, I was just delusional enough to think that we could actually team up. You know? Take down the games and whoever was behind them. I liked you. And I liked to think that. But now I realize just how wrong I was." I whispered, turning away from him as I spoke. Yet I still felt his eyes on me. "And boy was I wrong. You will never change. You like the monstrous things that you are doing."

"How do you think I got to where I am now?"

"I don't fucking care." I spat at him as I turned to look at him again, his expression unreadable. "I don't care how you became their dog. I just want you to bring me your master."

He looked down, sighing as he cracked his neck, gun still in his hold. After a while he spoke again.

"I used to work in the games when I was younger. I removed and burned the bodies of countless people like you."

He was the pink guard once.

"'These things aren't human. They're just trash utterly useless in this world.' I kept telling myself that and worked hard for a few years." He spoke, suddenly smiling again. "Then they gave me a gun."

The triangle guard.

"It felt pretty good." He said as he lifted up his gun, examining it. "Like my existence was acknowledged for the first time in my life. I don't know which year it was, but one day, I was about to shoot a man who had lost a game. The guy seemed familiar. Guess who it was."

I kept quiet.

"My dad." He finally said. "My dad was suddenly standing in front of me. He was in tears, desperately begging me to spare his life."

He suddenly moved his hand, placing the gun in front of my forehead, but his suddenly, quick movement did not startle me one bit. I was used to it.

"I shot him right in the middle of his forehead, and realized, 'Ah. I'm cut out for this job.'"

He was looking straight at me, his dark eyes mad. I narrowed mine at him. Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? Maybe, but I didn't. Not only did he enjoy it, but he also has no idea how it was like for me. All the things Gi-hun and I went through. All of people we lost along the way... Ali... Sae-byeok... Sang-woo...

"Whether you shoot people in there or con them outside, it doesn't change anything." I said, slowly leaning over towards him. "You have always been nothing more than their dog."

He clicked his gun, putting his finger on the trigger, his expression darkening.

"Miss." He started, his hand shaking slightly as I kept completely still. "Do you think you're special because you won the game?"

I said nothing. My expectation still as I leaned forward just a bit more, pressing my forehead directly on his gun. His dark expression broke into one of shock.

"Someone like you could never know or understand how I made it out of there alive. And how it feels to play the games."

Suddenly, he pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. My expression barely changed, yet I could he on his face that my eyes old him every. Shock, disappointment and sadness.

He sighed before leaning over to me on the table that until now kept us at a distance. He was quiet for a while. I suppose he has always been that way.

"Let's play a game." He smiled at me.

I didn't say anything. He pulled out his phone and placed it on the table, letting a song play.

Time to say goodbye.

He leaned back against the seat as he lifted up his gun.

"I'm sure you've seen this in the movies." He started to explain, never breaking eye contact with me. "It's called Russian Roulette."

Motherfucker.

"Usually, you place one bullet in the gun, spin the cylinder, and pull the trigger." He said, clicking the gun in its place before pulling the trigger, explaining the game as he showed me what to do. "And before the next round, you spin the cylinder again. It rests the odds back to 1 in 6."

"I know." I mumbled and he smiled.

"But I'd like to make this game a little more serious." He smirked. "Because you're truly special, love."

"Cut to the chase." I glared at him and his stupid antics. He blinked at me and continued.

"We'll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over." He paused. "What do you say?"

"Spin the gun." I frowned.

He smirked before gently placing the gun on the table. This could end badly on both sides, but for a moment, I found myself being selfish. Maybe, just maybe, if I lost this game after everything I went through, I could die and find peace with the people I lost. I could join them and leave with the feelings I have for him, that he possibly realized, unsaid. I could finally end it all. The night terrors, the time I spent searching for him, my cigarette addiction, mourning what I lost and what I couldn't have, yet at the same time not enjoying the money I got form the games. Who could enjoy that? Who could possibly enjoy living the life that I live.

He spinned the gun, and its tip pointed at me. Without a second thought, I took the gun and placed it by the side of my head. A few seconds later, not looking away from him, I pulled the trigger. Noting happened. That chamber was empty.

I put the gun on the table. I barely had time to move my hand before he took the gun, placed it by his head just like I did and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He sighed in content as he placed the gun back on the table, smiling at me almost lovingly. I knew.

I took the gun and placed it by my head again, but before I could just pull the trigger he spoke up.

"I've always wondered how you made it out of there alive." He smiled before he laughed a little. "For, one thing, you were even terrible at ddakji."

I said nothing, glaring at him. I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened once again.

He looked at me, impressed by my luck so far. I looked him straight in the eyes as I threw the gun on the table. It slid over on the other side, right in front of me.

He took the gun after he took a moment to just look at me. Not breaking eye contact, he took the gun. Leaned over to me until he was basically touching me, pointing the gun at me. Then he did something that I did not expect at all. He put the gun in his mouth.

Motherfucker.

He pulled the trigger. I winced a little. Nothing again. He laughed at my expression as I tried my hardest to keep myself composed. He slowly took the gun out of his mouth before sitting back, putting the gun back on the table.

I took the gun and as I was about to place it by my head he spoke up again.

"What's the matter?" He asked me, raising his eyebrows. "Is your mind starting to race?"

I scoffed slightly.

Motherfucker.

"Now your odds of death are 1 in 2." He nodded. "That's pretty high indeed. I'm sure you're afraid, darling. Lots going through your mind."

I said nothing.

"Let me guess what you're thinking right now." Motherfucker. "'The gun is in my hand. Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow his face off.' Isn't that right?"

I kept looking at him, glaring as I did. All while he spoke. "If you and Gi-hun want to meet the person you mentioned earlier, the key is in my pocket." At that I allowed my eyes to travel all over him. "You can simply shoot me with that gun and take it. But I'll have you admit one thing."

He took a moment to pause, my hand still holding the gun by my head. He leaned over once again.

"That you're a piece of trash, just like Gi-hun, just like everyone else that was in the games." He leaned over more closely, our lips practically touching as he spoke. "A piece of trash who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster."

He laughed as I pressed the gun against my head, our lips barely an inch away from each other's. This was it, I thought to myself. This round will determine if I live or die. I tightened the grip on the gun, my knuckles turning white again. I pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He looked at me, then at the gun and then back at me. I started to chuckle lowly, like a maniac. Perhaps I was one. I watched his face closely as I pulled the gun away from my head. The grip on the gun still tight as I pointed it at his chin before slowly opening up my palm, waiting on him to take the final, real shot.

His hand touched mine. I felt him and myself freeze at the contact as he took the gun from my hand. I pulled my hand away as he looked at the gun.

"What's the matter?" I taunted him, my face mirroring the smirk that he always wears. "Is your mind starting to race?"

He said nothing as I spoke to him.

"That's right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me." He looked pale at my words. "But... before you leave me forever this time. I'll have you admit two things."

He looked at me as I brought my hand at his cheek, wiping a little bit of blood on his face.

"You put a mask on your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark, and wave your tail for them. You're nothing more than their dog." I told him before my voice became gentle.

He waited on me, his eyes soft.

"And regarding this." I said as I waved my hand slightly between the two of us. "You really are a dog. A dog that loves me. And... perhaps I am a fool, too. Because I love a dog that could've made it all work out for us but was too much of a coward to do so."

I leaned over to him, my hand landing under his chin, holding him.

"Admit it." I whispered as we looked each other in the eyes. "Admit that you love me, that you did ever since you gave me that fucking card."

For a moment, there was silence. His tortured eyes, looking at me. I knew. I always did. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, for a moment. This would be the last time that I spoke to him, that I could look into his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

All of a sudden, there was a loud sound followed by blood spraying my face as his body fell backward.

I stood up and walked over to him. I don't know how long I stood there, but after a while, I felt a tear sliding down my cheek. My hand touched my cheek as I whipped it away.

Motherfucker.

[strwbrychffoncke]

"i just wanted to tell you incase you forgot... 'i love you',, 3k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: the ways in which you tell sylus "i love you" and ways in which he reciprocates contains: lnds sylus x mc?reader (fem in mind but she/her is used like once or twice) ,fluff! ,kitten/sweetie used as pet names ,domestic!sylus feel ,cuddling ,playful banter ,baker sylus ,incorrect evol use but its wholesome ,sylus chases u around ,twins feature ,not much to say other than soft!sylus being in love w u / both of u being lovesick for e/o + twins shenanigans at the end (i think thats it) note: (mostly edited ,will check back later) added this track last minute but immediately knew who i wanted to write it for. first fic of the event woooo~ :x

-

sylus wasn't a man of love-filled sentiments.

or at least, that's what you'd initially thought.

a man like him, the big bad leader of onychinus, someone who was above everyone else and the most sought-after criminal, wielding a steel-cold gun in one of his bloodstained hands...

someone like that didn't know love, surely.

but oh, how wrong you were.

you were the only one that knew, under all of that tough exterior, the true tenderness that lied beneath it.

and you were the sole subject to it, from the very beginning.

-

you woke unceremoniously in a bed that was not your own, surrounded in a blanket of warmth but not solely due to the comforter surrounding your plush body:

it was mainly due to the otherworldly individual beneath you, who you were using as your personal body pillow of sorts.

you stir, letting out a small groan before peeking your eyes open to catch a glimpse of the man before you.

the big, bad leader of onychinus, sleeping soundly in bed next to you, arm firmly wrapped around your waist and your head comfortably planted on his chest— your favorite makeshift pillow.

you can't help but to smile at the sight.

feeling a touch mischievous, you begin trailing your fingers, touch featherlight, up from his waist towards his chest and back down, slowly shifting to drawing mindless shapes in the expanse of exposed skin.

he doesn't react to your touches, still deep in sleep, so you change your tactic.

you drag a single index finger up, up, up past his slender waist, then his slowly rising and falling chest, his pretty neck then up towards his sharp jawline to poke at his cheek.

he grunts in his sleep, but nothing more.

you let out a huff, lifting your head up and staring at the serene expression on his face— even lost in the land of dreams, you couldn't help but to admire every feature of his visage.

a couple of minutes pass by just like this until you decide you're feeling a little bored again.

so you repeat your earlier action, dragging your finger up slowly, slowly, just about to poke his cheek again—

when your wrist is swiftly caught by a warm hand before you reach it.

"it seems my dream of a kitten mistaking me for a toy wasn't a dream after all."

sylus' crimson eyes crack open to look directly into your bright (albeit still slightly-sleepy) ones, heart full at the little playful smile you're sporting.

"she seems bored," he muses, thumb from the hand still gripping your wrist gently caressing your knuckles back and forth— a subconscious habit whenever his hands hold yours.

"should i entertain her?"

his question goes unanswered as he shifts over on his side while letting your hand go at the same time, causing you to slip from your spot on top of him to behind him, facing his back.

"—or leave her to her own devices?"

"sylus!"

your laughs are airy, quickly enveloping the spacious bedroom, and sylus finds himself smiling at the sound.

you don't leave him alone for long, quickly pressing against him and hugging his large frame from behind.

sylus releases a playful scoff. "is this a new attack of yours?"

"yeah, you can't escape, i'm going to stick to you like this forever and ever!"

"how touching," his voice is filled with amusement. "i think i can get used to this..." he trails off, smile evident in his words.

you stay that way for awhile when you decide to repeat your earlier actions in the new space, retracting a hand as you begin to draw shapes into his back this time. at the same time, sylus begins to hum whatever song is on his mind, eyes shut as he revels in your touches, neither one of you in a rush to get up from this sacred space for two.

"what are you drawing, kitten?"

your finger dances across the bare canvas of his back.

"guess," you answer simply as you continue.

he lets out a huff of a laugh. "not going to make it easy for me, are you?"

you hum in response, dragging your fingers to create imaginary lines over the muscles.

"is this... a kitten?" you can almost hear the raise of his eyebrow and see the funny yet curious expression on his face.

"oooh, i didn't think you'd get that one. how about..."

your finger traces several lines again, taking your time before you stop and wait for his answer.

"hmmm..." the way he's concentrating trying to figure it out fills you with amusement like no other.

"a... plane?"

"wrong, it was mephisto!"

"..it was close."

"are you calling mephisto a plane..?"

"..let's move on to the next one."

a hearty laugh rings out as you pretend to erase the image.

"wait until i tell him~"

"you wouldn't dare," he jokingly threats, causing you to only giggle back in response.

you decide on something much simpler this time.

your movements are slowed as you start near the center, drawing a tilted line outward and up before curving it inward and mimicking the same on the opposite side, connecting them to form a heart.

i love you.

a short, amused laugh leaves him, immediately recognizing the shape, but shaping a question instead of an answer.

"i'm not too sure, sweetie. might have to try that one again," he says, voice soft and tender, a hint of a smile within it.

say it once more.

so you do.

you repeat your action, slower, drawing another imaginary heart on his bare skin and within it, your unspoken promise of devotion towards him.

i love you.

this time, he turns around to face you, pulling you flush against him. you let out a short laugh before its devoured by his lips on yours, caught in a dance of love and devotion, giggles bubbling out of you between the breaks as you try to catch your breath while he needily chases your lips.

and the message he wishes to convey is clear as day.

i love you, too.

-

someone like him was the last person you thought you'd ever associate sweets with.

but after the time spent together, you find it hard to imagine anyone else cautiously reading the instructions, mixing the ingredients precisely, and carefully readying the icing for the fresh cupcakes that have come out of the oven and are left cooling nearby, except for him.

you tiptoe into the kitchen, watching him prepare a piping bag for the freshly-made icing he's made while he hums (when you asked him why he goes through the trouble of making it from scratch, he countered by asking "doesn't it taste better when you put in the work for something?" and despite playfully scoffing at the little smirk he offered, you couldn't help but to agree with him).

you smile at his focused expression, reading glasses perched on his nose, some remnants of ingredients spotting his clothes as he decides on which icing tip to use for these particular cupcakes (the last time he made them, they resembled simple flowers. based on the icing tip he was inspecting now, it seemed he was going to try for roses this time).

now just a step away from his back, you reach out both hands, index fingers out as you poke both sides of his lower back at the same time.

he jolts at the sensation, small gasp emitting from his lips and shock washing over him as he cranes his neck over his shoulder to catch your satisfied smile.

"another sneak attack, kitten?"

"i couldn't resist."

you step up beside him, taking a peek into the bowl filled with icing.

"red this time? i would've never guessed."

he scoffs, smiling.

"am i that predictable to you?"

"well, after spending so much time together, its only natural, right?"

"its bad if an enemy learns to read you so easily; who knows what trap will be set in the future."

"you're right," your words trail off as you step back, causing the sly crow before you to raise a brow.

"they can plan an attack when you're vulnerable, like—"

behind him again, you jump forward, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"this!"

his hearty chuckle rings through the kitchen.

even if he saw your intention from the start, he made no move to stop you. he'd surrender to you if you so much as asked.

"so? what will you do with me now that i'm caught?"

"hmmm..."

you hum in thought, noticing sylus has picked up the piping bag and was inserting the icing tip into it, getting ready to fill the bag with the red icing.

he's waiting for your answer when one of your hands reaches forward, dipping your finger into the icing bowl and quickly withdrawing your arms, swiftly turning around—

when you feel yourself being lifted into the air.

you let out a surprised squeal, giggling as you thrash around in the hold of sylus' evol, said man's attention still on the icing bag as he scoops a dallop of red into it.

"such a naughty kitten," he says, evol pulling your suspended body over to him slowly as you laugh the entire way.

"and naughty kittens deserve a punishment," as he speaks, he dips his own finger into the bowl of icing, red now gathered onto the tip before looking up at you through the rims of his glasses.

realizing what he's planning, you thrash around to no avail within the confines of his evol, trying to create distance between you two.

"nooooo! im sorry! please- aha, hahaha! sylus!"

your attempt is futile, sly smirk curling on sylus' lips as his finger moves closer and closer to your smiling face that's trying to inch further and further away, pressing his finger right onto your nose, painting it in red.

"noooooo!" you whine, sylus chuckling in amusement.

"how cute," he muses. "maybe this will teach you to behave in the kitchen."

he finally lets you down with his evol, eyeing you as you're standing upright and before him once again.

"now, go and wait till i'm finished, i'll even let you have the first taste," he bargains, turning his back to you and walking back towards the icing bowl.

despite this, a smirk plasters itself onto your face as you creep your way up behind him once again, red icing still staining your finger from moments ago stretched out, ready to paint his cheek—

"i thought i told you to behave."

despite the countless attempts to catch him by surprise attacks, he knows what you're saying through them:

i love you.

your wrist is easily caught in his grasp, stopping your attack before it can hit his cheek, a displeased groan emitting from your throat.

he brings your icing-covered finger close to his lips, lapping at the red. you watch as it momentarily stains his lips before his tongue licks them clean, humming at the flavor.

"it seems.. better this time, don't you think?" he turns, looking down at you.

you huff out a breath, trying to hide your embarrassment at his little action.

"be patient, kitten, i'll be done soon enough..." he trails off, hand unraveling from your wrist. "or do i have to restrain you?"

"i'm going, i'm going!"

with that, you scurry out of the kitchen to wait in the living room, sylus' amused chuckle surrounding the kitchen soon replaced by his soft, mindless humming once again.

i love you more.

-

a man of his caliber having a playful side seemed like a far-fetched idea.

until you experienced it for yourself.

and since the very first time, you're convinced he may be the most playful person on the entire planet.

to be fair, you kind of expected this, after all, its not like it was the first time.

but when you snatched a cupcake when his back was turned and took a bite, you didn't expect him to notice— at least, not right away.

but he did, and when he began counting, you instinctually bolted out of the kitchen, cupcake still in hand, giggles trailing behind you, determined to not be caught by him.

you dashed past the living area, two crow masks peeking up from their spot on the sofa and shifting to another figure— their boss— who was trailing behind you, watching until your figures disappeared down the long corridor of the hall.

"i give her five minutes," kieran pipes up, turning towards his brother.

"i give her three!"

"you're on!"

. . .

even as you dash down the halls, careful not to hit anything and running in scattered directions, it doesn't take long for sylus to close in on you.

you make it to a lounging area, movements slowed from the amount you've ran in the past couple of minutes, beginning to catch your breath after not sensing him around when you feel a weight on your shoulders.

"caught you."

"...!"

he's equally out of breath, taking a few moments to even his breathing, leaning against you more and more before pushing your body down onto the sofa. you fall back on the cushions with a short oof! still in the midst of catching your breath before sylus lays what feels like his entire weight right on top of you.

"sylus!"

you push against his broad chest, completely crushed by his beautiful build of a body, laughter ringing through the living space at your futile struggle against the smirking man above you.

"it seems a little kitten is stuck," he heaves a couple of breaths. "what are you going... to do about it?"

"get... off!" you laugh.

"i'm tired after all of that chasing... not to mention this is comfortable for me," he takes a couple more breaths, looking down at your slightly-sweaty face. "so i'd rather not."

"you're heavy, sylus!"

you weakly hit at his chest when he closes his eyes, pretending to fall asleep on top of you.

"sylus!"

slowly, he lifts himself up with his arms, hands planted flat on either side of your head.

"attacking me after making me chase you? how very cruel of you, sweetie."

your breaths are mostly even now, watching for sylus' next move.

he slowly begins moving his head down, and your eyes naturally flutter closed, expecting a kiss.

he takes this opportunity to plant his knees into the sofa, shifting his weight onto them as he leans down, breath fanning your lips.

"you trust me, sweetie?" he whispers against your lips.

"always," you whisper back.

he suddenly lifts his head, arms lifting at the same time before his fingers immediately begin dancing over your midriff.

your eyes shoot open in shock and betrayal, laughs immediately ripped from your throat as you thrash beneath him, trying your best to get away despite being caged into the sofa.

"s-sy-sy- ahahah! sto-o-p! s-stop! hahaha!"

his fingers continue their brutal attack on your sensitive skin, bubbling laughter infectious as sylus joins you, pleased smile adorning his face at your current state.

he relents shortly after, allowing you to catch your breath again as he looks down at you in a daze, reaching out to straighten your hair.

"kiss..." your voice is breathless, but he catches it.

"hm?"

"you still owe me... a kiss...." you breathe out, looking up at him expectantly. "from earlier."

"ah, of course."

he leans down, capturing your lips with his, hovering over your body as your arms snake around his neck, pouring your hearts into the action. you both kiss with equal fervor, chasing each others lips, never able to get your fill of the other.

i love you.

he pulls away slowly, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close in fear of him leaving you all of a sudden. the look in his eyes says i'm not going anywhere, his forehead touching yours as you both breathe each other in before he tucks his head into your shoulder.

"lets stay like this... just for a bit," his quiet, husky breath hits your ear and you shiver at the sensation.

"okay," you smile, hands petting through his silver locks.

i love you, most.

and you stay together, just like that, losing track of time in the world reserved for two, heartbeats syncing up as you meld against one another, both with the shared sentiment of never letting go.

(only at your insistence of taking a shower and slipping into some fresh clothes when you think he's dozed off does he relent, slowly getting up and scooping you into his arms, making his way down the hall towards his room).

-

sylus wasn't a man of love-filled sentiments.

at least, that's what you'd initially thought.

a man like him, the big bad leader of onychinus, someone who seemed to be above everyone else, the most sought-after criminal wielding a steel-cold gun in one of his bloodstained hands—

the same hands that cradled your face, caressed your hair any chance he got, tickled you when you least expected it, carried you so lovingly at your beck-and-call, hugging you close to his chest, close enough that you could feel his beating heart—

the heart of a man who loved so wholly and completely, devoting his entire being to you.

so, despite what anyone else may think, may also assume at first glance, you knew the truth:

despite the odds, sylus was someone that knew love the best.

-

epilogue:

"so... who won?" luke turns to his brother under the crow mask.

"i did, obviously," kieran is all-too confident.

"what?!? nuh-uh, she was definitely caught in less than five minutes!"

"did we watch the same thing? that was maybe six!"

"are you.... stupid?"

"rude!"

"i didn't think you'd try to lie your way to win," luke crosses his arms over his chest.

"i am not lying!"

"are too!"

the bickering continues for a couple more minutes until luke pipes up again.

"wait, what was the prize for whoever won the bet?"

"......"

kieran is the first to speak up again.

"you know what, since you won, you can be the one to tell boss the reason so many cupcakes are missing."

"WHAT???"

later, the cameras in mephisto's eyes would relay the twins chasing each other around— just amongst the footage of them scarfing down the freshly-made rose-icing cupcakes.

-

a/n: spreading the soft sylus agenda... this is inspired by a number of domestic art/tweets ive seen if i find them ill add but.. he's so soft..... i adore him

-

[voxofthevoid]

I've finished Chapter 1 of the no-powers Unclekuna fic, which means...incest! Here's a sampling of Yuuji perving on his Very Big uncle, for those interested:

Sukuna takes a threatening step forward. “I look like your butler, brat?”

Yuuji makes a show of giving Sukuna a once-over. He’s dressed…exactly like he always dresses, in a loose tank top and a looser pair of sweatpants. Yuuji can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Sukuna in anything else, and two of those were formal occasions: his parents’ wedding when he was five and his grandfather’s funeral last year.

“No,” he says, pointedly staring at the swell of Sukuna’s pecs over the low-cut neck of the tank. It’s practically cleavage. “You really don’t.”

Yuuji’s eyes drop, after a surreptitious look around to see whether any of the other passers-by are paying him any attention. They’re not, though more than one pair of eyes stray to Sukuna.

The hem of the tank top falls past Sukuna’s ass, but one corner of it is tucked into the waistband—not on purpose, just a careless catch of fabric on fabric. It still bares most of his ass, and the sweatpants are loose along Sukuna’s legs but obscenely clingy at this part. There’s a lot to cling to.

Scary hot, that one guy said. Most of the others seemed to agree.

Yuuji can’t really blame them. After all, he’s thought that and worse since he was twelve.

He mutters something else, too low for Yuuji to catch, and resumes the push-ups, noticeably faster and more violent than before. For a moment, Yuuji just watches the growing stains on his tank top, the red of it turning darker and wetter along Sukuna’s side and back. The black sweatpants don’t show it, but if Yuuji slid his hand into the space between Sukuna’s thighs, he’d find damp fabric.

“I get it,” Yuuji says. “I mean, I’m a lot heavier now, and you’re all old. You’d break something.”

Sukuna stills, everywhere.

For a moment, there’s no noise, not even breathing. Yuuji’s chest burns around a hundred different things.

“Get on.”

He straightens up and steps over Sukuna, till he’s standing with his legs on either side of his uncle’s waist. The broad back under him ripples, Sukuna shifting without really changing the angle or height of his body. Yuuji leans down again, bracing both hands on Sukuna’s shoulders.

The muscles under his palms are hot and damp from exertion. They flex, and Yuuji grips tighter in instinctive response, shuddering all over at the sheer power he’s feeling.

“Oi, brat,” Sukuna says, a nasty edge to his voice, “those ain’t tits. Stop groping and move.”

Yuuji swallows all the things he wants to say to that, moving as asked instead. And maybe he digs his knee into Sukuna’s back harder than needed, but the answering grunt would’ve been worth it even if he’d felt any guilt for it.

[shinraelectricpowercom]

writing bg3 fanfic really has me understanding that rich burlew “do i check the rules for a gag in OotS” flowchart like never before

[strang3lov3]

Seeing Red

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

Joel’s sorry that your period sucks, but he's reached the end of his rope with your attitude. (6k)

Tags - 18+ smut, brat taming, blow jobs, face fucking, rough period sex, fingering, mating press, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare in the form of a shared bubble bath, all things periods and period symptoms so headaches, breast pain, cramps, irritability that reader takes out on Joel. You will feel so bad for being such a cunt to this man but he gets to fill two of your holes with his cum so it all kind of evens out. takes place in jackson Fic help - @beefrobeefcal @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you all for being my compass and giving me direction and helping to make this fic perfect. I love you <3 A/N - if you're on your period, i'm sending you a hug <3 if you're not i'm hugging you too

I was reminded of my friend @covetyou's fic "Sleepless" which is a lovely piece of classic literature, just like the rest of her works, and I'd like to credit her for inspo. Thank you Lo 🤎🩷💚

You should have guessed there’d be a bloodstain in your underwear, but despite the headaches, your sore breasts, and your cramping abdomen, you’re surprised when you’re met with rusty red in your panties. Fucking great, you whisper, dripping with sarcasm, this is not what you needed today. You had so many things you wanted to get done and now you were going to be spending the whole day miserable and in pain.

“Joel,” you loudly call out. You wait a beat, nothing. “JOEL,” you yell louder. 

You hear the faint sound of his recliner, the popping of his knees and the creaking of the stairs as he walks up them. His two feet are visible through the space between the floor and the bathroom door and then he knocks, “Whatcha need, darlin’?”

“New underwear,” you answer. “And a pad. Also in the underwear drawer.” 

Joel walks away and returns with what you’ve asked for and slides both items under the door. You change your panties and secure the pad made of old rags and t-shirts with the clothespin attached to it. “You got it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Guessin’ you just started your cycle, then.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nope,” you answer. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.” 

“Alright. I’ll join you, then.” 

 You wash your hands and rinse the bloodstain out of your panties with annoyance in the sink, wringing them out before tossing them in the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. When you unlock the door and leave the bathroom, Joel’s already asleep in your shared bed. He sleeps curled on his side and yet he still fucking snores - between that and the pain you’re in, you know it won’t be a restful night of sleep. You look at Joel, sleeping peacefully like a baby, and yet you wanna beat the living fucking crap out of him. You curl your body around his, stealing his body heat to soothe your cramps. 

Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. “Fuck off,” you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure there’s a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joel’s just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says as he kisses the top of your head. “How do you feel?” 

“Shitty.” You grab at the mirror and Joel’s skin crawls as you touch the glass with your thumb, the smudges left behind from your fingertips clear as day on the freshly cleaned glass. He’ll just touch it up later. You pull out your toothbrush and frown, your nose scrunched in disgust. “It smells like bleach in here,” you complain.

“Well, yeah,” Joel chuckles. “I just cleaned it for ya. ‘Course it smells like bleach.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumble. “The bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.”

“Oh,” Joel scratches the back of his head and frowns. “M’sorry, then. Well, we can let it air out for a while, we’ll leave the fan on. Shouldn’t smell for more than a day or so.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

If looks could fuckin’ kill, Joel thinks. You’re glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. You’re crampy, but you’re also probably hungry. He’ll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it. 

He cleans the kitchen first. He washes the dirty dishes you must’ve forgotten about last night and wipes crumbs from the table. As you come downstairs dressed in sweats and a shirt you stole from Joel, he’s finishing up making your breakfast. “Sit down, I made your favorite.” 

You sit down at the table with your head in your hands. Joel puts a plate with two slices of perfectly golden brown toast and two over-easy eggs in front of you, then a fork and a knife on either side. He fills a glass with water for you as well. He walks away to clean up the stove, then turns around to check on you. Your face is contorted in disgust and you’re not eating. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want this,” you grouse.

“But s’your favorite. You love your eggs over easy,” Joel says. “And the toast, that’s fresh bread and butter. Eat up.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted scrambled.” 

Joel stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded. You usually hate scrambled eggs, and he knows this. But you’re not smirking or holding back laughter like you’re fucking with him. So maybe your tastes have changed, who knows. “Okay. Would you like me to make you scrambled eggs instead, then?”

“Yes,” you mumble in a small voice. 

“I didn’t hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.” 

“I said yes,” you snap. 

Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you. He quickly scarfs down the perfectly cooked eggs and toast as he makes you a new plate of breakfast, this time with scrambled eggs. He places it in front of you with a little less care than before and waits for you to take a bite. “Better?”

“Just okay.” 

‘Just okay’. Of course you think it’s ‘just okay’, they’re scrambled fucking eggs - which you don’t like. You’re just being - 

Joel needs to cool off. Hopefully once you’ve eaten you’re a little less irritable. “I’m gonna head out an’ do some errands. Be back shortly,” He’s met with no answer from you, which he expected. 

-

He comes back an hour or so later with a few things from the market he’s been needing along with a couple of VHS tapes that he rented from the library. “So,” Joel says, “I picked out some movies for ya.” He lays four tapes down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you lay. “When Harry Met Sally, that’s a good one,” he begins, “Next is How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, then Blade Runner, and I picked out My Cousin Vinny,” Joel says. He thinks you’re gonna pick out Blade Runner because it stars Harrison Ford, who he knows you have a thing for. “My Cousin Vinny is pretty good, I don’t think we’ve seen that one yet f’ya wanna give that a try.”

“Mmm, no.” 

Shot down. “Okay. How ‘bout Blade Runner, then. S’got Indiana Jones in -”

“No. I don’t care,” you interrupt, which hurts Joel’s feelings a little. A lot, actually. “I wanna watch this one,” you point to How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days. “He’s cute.” 

Of course you picked the Matthew McConaughey movie. God, Joel fucking hated him. He always seemed so skeezy, if there’s anyone who should’ve bit it on Outbreak Day, it should’ve been Matthew McConaughey. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. Do you think he’s dreamy too?”

“Fuck off, Joel.” 

So teasing’s off the table too, he’ll add that to the list of things that have pissed you off today. Joel turns on the TV and puts the tape in the VHS player before he sits back down next to you. At first you rest on his shoulder, then you spread out and lay your head on his lap. It’s not long before you fall asleep on Joel, leaving him to watch this dumb fucking movie all by himself because god forbid he move you and disrupt your nap. He knows better than to do that. 

-

“So fuckin’ stupid,” Joel whispers to himself as the movie plays, though he did find himself enjoying the part where the Kate Hudson sings “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon. He always did like that song. 

“Mmmm,” you groan, shifting onto your back. Joel’s hand is stroking your hair as you look up at him, but you push it away. “You’re too close to me,” you grumble. 

“What’re you talkin’ about?” 

“You’re crowding me. I feel smothered.” 

Joel scoffs. “Oh, you feel smothered? You’re the one who laid on me.” Once again, your glare is all that you need to say. “Alright then, I’ll move.” Joel concedes. He lifts your head gently and scoots down to the opposite end of the couch. And then he hears you huff. “What?”

“Well, now I don’t have a pillow.” 

Joel sighs as he gets up to grab a throw pillow from the opposite couch. 

“The other one.” 

You’re referring to the other throw pillow that’s absolutely indistinguishable from the one currently in Joel’s hand, but he gets it for you anyway. “Lift your head,” he says softly, putting the pillow under you. He sits back down in the spot you made him move to as you both watch the movie play, but your soft groans interrupt. You’re no doubt in pain from all the cramps right now. “I’ve got somethin’ like a heating pad,” Joel says, looking at you. “S’a big sock filled with rice, I heat it up and use it for neck and back pain. Would that help with them cramps?” You nod without making any effort to meet Joel’s eyes, which he finds a little rude. But still, you’re hurting. He’ll give you grace. 

So, once again, Joel gets up for you. He goes upstairs to get his rice sock from his nightstand, then comes back downstairs and heats it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He pokes the sock to make sure it’s plenty warm for you and then gives it to you to take. “Here,” he says, “Hold it on your tummy.”

“JESUS,” you yell at him. 

“What?”

“It’s too fucking hot, Joel, why would you make it so hot?” 

 “Just give it a second, sweetheart, you’ll get used to it.” 

“No. It was burning me.” 

“Okay, then let me have it and we’ll let it cool off a minute. Christ almighty.” Joel takes the sock back from you, and he knows his hands are pretty calloused but…it doesn’t feel that hot. When a few minutes have passed, he gives it back to you. “This should be better.” 

You lay the big, warm stuffed sock across your stomach and frown. “It’s not warm enough.” 

“You have gotta be kiddin’ me.” 

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, giving Joel back his sock like you just assume he’ll heat it up again for you. 

“Just a couple minutes ago you screamed bloody murder about it burnin’ you. And now it’s not hot enough?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” When Joel doesn’t jump immediately to reheat the sock for you, you look at him impatiently. “Joel.” 

“You can ask, you know.” 

But Joel gets the hint and gets up for you a third time to reheat the sock he’s letting you borrow. You don’t say please, and when he returns with the sock reheated, there’s no thank you either. What does he get from you? “It’s too hot.”

“Then tell me how I should rectify that for you, because last time I let it cool off and it wasn’t warm enough for ya after.” 

“I don’t know,” you snap. “You’re just really upsetting me right now. Everything hurts and your voice is grating.”

“I’m upsetting you?” Joel repeats your words back to you. “And my voice is grating.” 

“Yes.” 

He’s about at his wits end. “You know, you–” Joel decides not to finish that sentence. Instead, he sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out on the count of five. “Two, three, four…You need to drink some water. S’your first issue, you’re probably dehydrated. Did you drink any water?” 

“It’s not your business.”

 Jesus fucking Christ. “Okay, well I’m makin’ it my business.” Joel gets up for the fourth goddamn time and slams the cup cabinet before filling a glass with water from the sink. He marches back to the couch, “Sit up,” he says. “Drink.” 

“I don’t want to,” you whine. 

“It’ll fix your headache. Drink.” 

“It won’t actually, that’s a myth.” 

“Right, what do I know when you’ve got an answer for fuckin’ everything. Drink.” 

You sit up, scowling at Joel as you take a sip. 

“All of it.” 

You drink the rest of it, glaring at him the whole time. He’s so full of shit, as if any of what you’re going through could be fixed by drinking a glass of water. Water won’t fix your cramps, won’t fix your aching and sore back. When you’re done, you slam the glass on the end table next to you and in doing so, break Joel’s reading glasses. Oops. Didn’t see those. The lenses aren’t shattered, but one of the arms is all bent now. When you look at Joel, he’s biting his bottom lip and breathing deeply. “Your glasses broke.” 

“Yeah. I see that.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” you tell him defensively.

“Right.” 

“But you really shouldn’t leave your glasses there, Joel.”

“Yeah, right. Shouldn’t leave my glasses on the end table,” Joel says. “I should leave them where, exactly? Maybe the floor?” 

“Somewhere else.” 

“Right. Somewhere else.” 

He’s hoping that by repeating your words back to you, you start to hear how absolutely ridiculous you sound. But you don’t seem to. Joel turns and walks away before he fucking throttles you. 

“Can you put on the next movie? I wanna watch My Cousin Vinny.”

Now, now you want to watch that movie. And Joel’s gonna miss out, because he can’t stand to be around you for one minute longer. “Are your legs broken?” 

“Yes.” 

Walked into that one. “You’re fuckin’ impossible. Fine. I’ll put it on, then I’m goin’ away for a bit.” 

“Good.”

Oh, he could fucking kill you. This whole day he’s heard nothing but complaints from your mouth, no pleases or thank you’s at all. Everything he’s done today has been for you, and you couldn’t give a flying fuck. 

Joel puts on the movie, grabs his bent glasses from the end table and heads out to the garage without saying a single word to you. You wonder what bug crawled up his ass. 

-

My Cousin Vinny plays just fine until Vinny shows up in his ridiculous suit to the courthouse. The tape begins to skip a whole bunch, the movie barely making sense, and you have no idea how to fix it - not that it’s your job to know, anyway. So you call out the name of the man whose job it is. 

“Joel.” 

No answer. 

“JOELLLL,” you yell. 

Same deal. You sigh as you sit up and get off of the couch, walking to the garage door. There’s finally a break in your cramps and you’re feeling halfway-human for the first time since yesterday. Entering the garage, you find Joel sitting at his workbench, he’s working on bending the frame of his glasses back into shape. “Joel.” 

He doesn’t turn around to look at you and in fact, he heard you calling for him. He had just ignored you. “Looks like your legs are workin’ now,” Joel replies, without looking at you. “S’a miracle. Means you can follow me around now, terrific.”

You choose to ignore his sarcasm. “Whatever. You need to do something for me. The VCR is messing up and you have to fix it.”

“Hm,” he hums.

“What’s hm?” 

“I’ve fixed lotsa things for you today,” he says quietly. “I need some time to fix my glasses that you broke. S’a difficult task on account of the fact I need my glasses to see.”

“You can do me one favor, Joel. It won’t kill you.” 

Joel stops and gently places his broken glasses on his work bench. He turns to his right and glares daggers at you. “One favor,” he scoffs. “Oh, you’re a fuckin’ peach. You wanna try that again?”

“Try what again?” 

You’re fucking with him. You have to be fucking with him. Why are you fucking with him? You’re not antagonistic like this, not usually, so he concludes that you must be looking for a fight. At this point, Joel is too. 

“I’ve done you countless favors today, sweetheart,” Joel gripes.

“Yeah, but-” you begin.

Joel’s large, warm hand suddenly covers the lower half of your face, silencing your argument. “If the next words outta this mouth aren’t thank you, then I don’t wanna hear ‘em. In fact…”

He bites his inner cheek, nodding his head as he thinks. The way he stares at you, his dark eyes piercing through you - you feel the chill deep in your bones. A wave of clarity hits you as you recall some of the details of the day, the way Joel was there at every turn and while you were busy being cranky and achey, he was trying to wait on you hand and foot. Shit. You’ve been a Grade-A bitch to him all day, a total fucking cunt.

Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, “I’m gonna give you two options,” Joel says. “You can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.” 

It’s like you’re watching a scene from a movie. You hear Joel’s words, but you almost don’t believe they’re real and so they don’t quite register. He pulls his hand away from your face slowly. Your mouth falls open a bit but you don’t say or do anything.

“Nod. If. You. Understand.” You nod quickly. Joel awaits your decision as you look at the garage door and contemplate your clean way out from this situation, “So what’ll it be?” he asks. Despite it all, that uneasy feeling in your gut, you drop to your knees anyway, eyes still lingering on the door before you look up at Joel. You trust him to take care of you and you think you might owe him this obedience after your behavior today. “You’ve earned yourself brownie points choosin’ the latter of the two options, but this still ain’t gonna be fun for you,” he says. It should scare you - and it does - but you’re still thrilled by it, by the way he sighs and his knees crack as he gets off of his barstool, by the cold look in his eyes as he reaches under his thick belly to unbuckle his belt. Standing above you, he pulls out his half-hard cock and pumps it, feeling it grow to full length in his hand. He’s thick, veiny, and generously sized, a pearly white bead of precum sits atop his slit. His cock is just an inch or two away from your mouth as he holds it between his fingers, his thumb on top and middle and forefingers on the underside. With his other hand, he cards his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips. “Open.”

You part your lips open and with that, Joel pushes himself into your mouth inch by inch. You smell him first, that musky and heady sort of scent. Next, you taste the saltiness of his skin and his precome on your tongue and for a moment it’s pleasurable, with his cock halfway in your mouth. You wrap your hand around the end of his shaft like you know what he wants but you don’t know, not really - Joel holds your hand in his own and squeezes it so that your knuckles grind against each other a little bit. He pushes himself further and you can’t lick him or savor this like you wanted to, you just feel his cock intruding, sliding into your mouth. Joel’s testing you, making sure that you can handle all of him and if you can’t, you know he’ll make you. 

He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. “Nuh-uh. I don’t know where you think you’re goin’, hon.” 

There’s no gentleness to it, he fucks your mouth heatedly so that you’re drooling and choking on him, your eyes springing with tears as that pressure builds behind them. “Breathe through your nose,” he reminds you. “In and out. You ain’t done jus’ ‘cause you’re cryin’.” Your lips are sore with the repeated action, your jaw is aching. He rolls his hips, his cock is deep down your throat as he relishes in your warm, wet mouth and the way it makes him feel. 

“Mmm,” you moan, you’re not sure if the noise is indicative of your pleasure or discomfort.

“Quiet,” he growls. “Heard fuckin’ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.”

Your nose is buried in that thatch of coarse curls as he rocks his hips over and over, his soft and pillowy tummy bouncing against your forehead. You squirm and whine as his tip teases the back of your throat and your mouth feels so full, uncomfortably so. Joel picks up on that. “Let it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth ‘a yours has done nothin’ but bitch and moan at me today. S’a punishment, ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.” 

He’s grunting and groaning, eyes screwed shut as he uses you, pumping in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches with the brutality of the way he fucks your mouth, and just as you think you can’t take anymore, you feel Joel’s cock begin to twitch and pulse. He comes in your mouth without a warning, painting your tongue with his hot spend. It’s salty and bitter and warm on your tongue. Once you’ve swallowed, Joel reaches down and yanks you up by your bicep. He thought fucking your mouth and coming down your throat would make him feel better but honestly, it doesn’t. As he looks at your face, all puffy with tears and swollen lips, he can’t quite find it in himself to let go of his anger. Not yet, at least. “Let’s go,” he grunts as he drags you with him towards the garage door. He marches you though the house and up the stairs. 

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” Joel growls, answering your question like it’s obvious. You suppose it should be, but you figured he was done with you. But he’s not. The regret begins to set in when you realize the retribution you’re about to be met with for the way you’ve treated Joel today. You’d be lying if you said that while wallowing in your pain you didn’t notice how your curt tone got under his skin, hurt his feelings and frustrated him immensely. The dread you feel can’t save you, it’s all too late now. 

 “Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

“Fuck me,” you whisper. 

“Exactly.” 

Joel pushes you into the bedroom and locks the door behind himself. “Lie down on your back,” he says. 

You protest, “But the sheets, Joel. The blood–”

“I will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things I’ve done for ya today, hm?”

When you don’t jump at his request, Joel takes initiative. He pulls off your - his - shirt from your body and then bends you over the end of the neatly made bed, the old and worn comforter feels rough on the skin of your cheek. Joel pulls down your sweatpants and panties in one motion and then flips you over onto your back, your legs hanging off the end of the bed. You feel embarrassed when you catch a glimpse of your bloodied pad and underwear, moreso when you feel yourself making a mess on his bedding and between your legs. 

“You didn’t make yourself come today, did you?”

“Uhh–” you stutter. “I - I…”

“No point in gettin’ bashful now, darlin’. Just gimme an answer.”

“No,” you tell him. It’s been a while. 

“Figures.”

Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. It’s why he got his first, but now it’s time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary. 

Joel undresses himself before pushing your thighs apart and hitching your legs around his waist. Slowly, he slides his thumb through your folds and then circles your clit. He knows you’re vulnerable like this - bleeding pussy on display for him as you make a mess of his sheets. But he’s patient, and he massages your clit calmly until you finally let a moan, a little mmm slip. He smirks at that. 

He pushes his middle two fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly. He then curls his fingers, searching for that sweet spot on a woman he loves so much. “Fuck,” you cry out, legs instinctually closing shut around him, and he knows he’s found it. 

“Don’t fight it,” he says, opening you back up. He curls his fingers and circles your clit in tandem, making all sorts of lewd noises with your cunt. He admires your body all laid out for him like this, your breasts and your pebbled nipples, soft tummy rising and falling with your breathy oh’s and ahh’s, thick curls framing your pretty pussy like a picture just for him. Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name. 

Joel pulls his fingers from your core and wipes them haphazardly on his own torso. “Joel,” you gasp when you feel the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

“I am sorry,” he begins, notching his tip inside you and popping it out. He slides the blunt head through your folds and over your clit, then taps the sensitive part of you with himself. “That you’re in pain. It isn’t fair and I know that. But you’ve done nothing but take your hurt out on me.” He presses himself inside you again, “I’ve got a half a mind to take my own hurt out on you, y’know.” His voice is dark and angered, but he speaks calmly in a way that contrasts the darkness but maintains his authority all the same. “And I think I’m gonna.”

“Joel, I– ”

“Quiet,” he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, “So this is what we’re gonna do: you’re gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. You’re not gonna cry or complain ‘cause you’ve done enough of that today. Right?” Joel pauses, “Nod your head.” 

 You obey his rule and nod, yes.

He drags his cock up and down your cunt again, the soft skin of your labia rubbing so nicely against his thickness. He notches himself inside you over and over again, pushing in a little bit deeper each time and pulling back out. You whine, rolling your hips in search of more. “I know, I know, sweetheart,” he coos at you to quiet you down. “You’re all out of sorts today. M’gonna fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

Yes. You nod again. Quiet.

“S’right,” he says. “Good girl.”

With that, Joel pushes his leaking cock into you entirely, one gradual slide that has you sucking in a breath that comes out in a strained sort of whimper. His hard, warm shaft parting your insides, filling you whole. Joel hears it in the way that you sigh, that this, this is what you needed. He rocks his hips once, twice. Experiments with shallow thrusts, inching his way in and out of you before he draws out of your pussy entirely only to thrust himself right back in, deeper and harder than before. 

With the fullness of Joel inside of you, everything seems to melt away - all that anger, misplaced or not. Joel’s rhythmic thrusting soothes you, sort of. The soreness of your body, the aching cramps in your abdomen are all gone as you focus on the in and out, the in and out. He builds a comfortable pace, but one that borders on too much too soon. His hands on your waist, pulling you towards him as he pushes into you in equal measure. 

He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but you’re more lost in him than he is in you - he’s focused on your face, watching you make an ‘O’ with your mouth, and he’s focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joel’s brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over…

“It’s all ya needed, isn’t it? The whole goddamn time,” he pants. “Didn’t need to go an’ bitch me out all day if you needed lovin’ like this. Woulda been nice f’ya just said so.” Joel reaches for your breasts, harshly squeezing the tender, sore flesh. You wince in pain and he loosens his grip, focusing on your nipples instead. He twists and flicks the sensitive buds and your moans become louder, more high pitched. Joel fucking loves it when that happens, you never realized. 

“Oh, Joel,” you moan, “Yeah, fuck.” 

With one hand still teasing your nipples, he brings the other to your pussy. A few strokes of his thumb on your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge a second time, wanton moans and choked sobs spilling from your lips as he fucks you through it. 

And fucks you, and fucks you. 

And keeps fucking you. 

It doesn’t end, he doesn’t slow himself and you never feel that come down, that descent from pleasure. It keeps going, like pressure with nowhere to go and you feel like you might break. “I can’t, I need you to stop, stop, Joel.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, thrusting still. “You can take it, be a good girl. Gonna fuck you good and deep like you need. You brought this on yourself, anyway. Two more.” 

This whole time, he doesn’t stop. It’s so much at once and when you thought it was going to end, it doesn’t. Tears of overstimulation spring in your eyes and flow freely down your cheeks. Joel lets you cry because he knows you need it, he knows the release is good for you. You poor thing, how much you must be feeling right now, both physically and mentally. “It’s too much, Joel, I can’t,” you plead.

 “Always the tears with you, huh?” he taunts. “Always somethin’. Oh, I know. I know.” 

It’s the way you look at Joel that causes him to cave, eyes all wide and tear-stained. You’re spent and he knows it, what with all that your body’s put you through. You’ve had a rough day and though he did too, he can’t help but feel sympathy for you at this moment. “Oh, my sweet girl. What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you sniffle. 

“Know you don’t, ‘n you don’t have to. S’my job,” he soothes. With his clean hand, he traces the side of your face and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. “How about this, then - what are we gonna do next time you’re not feeling so good?” 

“I’m - I’m–”

“You’re gonna tell me what you need,” he instructs, “And you’re gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usin’ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Yeah, I remember.”

 “But you forgot ‘em the whole day today,” Joel says softly. “I think you gotta learn to compromise, too,” he adds. The guilt had begun to set in before, but you really start to feel the burn now. You were unkind to Joel, and he’s been nothing but sweet, doting on every one of your needs. “I think an apology’s in order for the way you treated me today.” 

He’s right, and you know it. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Joel.”

“Oh, I know you are. You just needed the reminder, s’okay,” You hadn’t even noticed how his thrusting had slowed to a still until it picks up again slowly, as he presses kisses to you. Your cheeks first, then your lips. “I’ll compromise too - I’m only gonna make you come one more time, not two. Sound good? Sound fair?”

“I don’t think I can, Joel…”

“Yeah, you can, s’the last one. Take it good for me,” he encourages. “Take it good.” 

That’s what he repeats as his thrusts build again, fucking you deeply. Take it good, take it good for me. He hikes you up further on the bed and joins you so that he’s no longer standing at the floor, he’s got you pressed in half instead, your knees on either side of your chest and your feet above his shoulders. This angle intensifies everything and he knows, oh he knows how much it is for you. You’re tired, sore, overstimulated. But you’ll be done soon, he’ll be done with you soon. He takes your hand and wedges it between your bodies, pressing your own fingers to your clit, “Let go for me, I wanna feel you let go for me,” he says. “Focus right here. You’re gonna come with me, keep your eyes on me…”

You don’t even have to massage your clit, the way Joel angles himself has his body doing all the work, his pubic bone adding pressure to your fingers adding pressure to your clit. It’s intense, all of it - deeply energetic, overwhelming. You can’t quite discern your orgasm as it builds, there’s no definitive start but it’s powerful, devastating almost. Washing over you in waves, you feel it in the base of your spine first. You feel it in your gut, the backs of your thighs all the way to your toes. You hardly register that he’s coming with you, filling you deep with his come. His jaw is clenched tight and he’s groaning, grunting as he milks himself in you.

He leaves you there, whimpering, twitching on the bed. You hear the faint sound of running water, you figure he’s washing himself off. You’re surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. He’s got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. “Picked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “Yes. Please.” 

Joel sits in the tub first, spreads his legs and welcomes you to sit between them. He washes the blood from your poor, sensitive core and your thighs, washes it from his own body as well. When he’s done, he pulls you back into his chest and his hands find your breasts. “They’re tender, huh,” he murmurs into the side of your head. 

“Super, yeah. Sore.” 

“I’ll bet,” he says. He gently massages the tissue for you, his strong hands working you out in a way you can’t quite do. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Joel chuckles. “Bout fuckin’ time you thanked me,” he says. “You’re welcome.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog with thoughts, leave me a comment, or send me an ask! Your words motivate me to keep writing for you all 🩷

Least helpful cats award goes to these two 👇 if you’ve ever wondered what takes me so long to put fics out, it’s this. I try to write and I’m cockblocked by these fuzzballs.

[lavenoon]

Falling Into Orbit (~4.1K)

Bloodstain Fool by @naffeclipse, og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic

Menace4Menace first meeting - plays before the first comic. Also reminder/ disclaimer that this is not a Y/N, and pronouns used will be he/she

Next -> Conjunction -> Asterisms

-

“You’re going to draw attention, looking like that.” 

You look up at the animatronic towering in front of you. For some reason, the comment offends you. Could be the fact that so far any passerby walking past has only spared fleeting glances your way, before looking up at your new friend and scurrying off with fear in their eyes. 

In a way, you get it. Twice your height and cutting quite the imposing figure in his suit, Eclipse is no one to sneeze at. 

Your nose still tickles.

“Are you sure anyone is even going to see me standing next to you?” 

Got him. There’s a twitch to his expression as his fingers curl around nothing but air, before he abruptly rips them down to his side. Just as suddenly he turns, walking down the sidewalk. 

You have to take two steps for each one of his. The most annoying part of it all is keeping your grin down.

Eclipse glares down at you just as you round the block. His eyes only narrow further, so perhaps you’re not doing that good of a job, hiding your amusement. 

“You’re still here.” 

… Where else would you be? He started walking, so you followed. Did he expect you to just shrug it off, and let him leave? Or maybe it’s wishful thinking, him hoping you’d turn out to be an apparition only. Too bad you have to disappoint him. 

You blink, and tilt your head. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Again with the furling fingers. It’s not a really reassuring gesture, but mostly you wonder if this time has stress toys. Eclipse sure looks like he could use one. Some, actually - multiple spares, just in case. 

The thought only intensifies when one hand wraps around your head, keeping your head fixed to where he leans down into your vision. While you’d love to say you’re fully focused on that probably faked cheerful smile, 

That hand is big. 

“I have work to do. I won’t babysit you.” 

You pat the hand on your head, and it twitches. 

“Lucky for you, I’m not a baby. You said you’d help me.”

“Because you were freaking out and drawing attention. Speaking of which, you calmed down really fast.” 

The words come out in a snarl, and his grip tightens again. At this rate you’re going to get a headache. That won’t help you clear his suspicions, so you do your best to project nonchalance with your shrug.

“I got distracted. Not every day you meet a sentient animatronic after all.” 

You look around, as much as your limited range lets you, and immediately realize that he won’t be able to sign off on that. There’s three other animatronics out and about, and that’s just from a quick glance around the busy street. 

So you have to amend your statement.

“Well. I suppose that no longer applies.”

The pressure from your head lifts as Eclipse straightens, his optics covered by his fingers curled into claws. He tilts his face up, and just like that you can’t see his expression anymore. Quietly, he mumbles. 

“Why did I agree to this?” 

You’re not sure if you were supposed to hear that, but you decide to reply anyway. First with a hum, earning you another glare, and then you grin. Eclipse drops his hand again, not looking even an ounce happier. You’re not sure it would have made much of a difference - he’s quite a lot of ounces. 

So you end up smiling for two.

“Because I’d go around and tell everyone I met you first. Think the police would enjoy my crazy story?” 

For an animatronic with a fixed smile, he looks awfully close to having bitten into his first lemon ever. But then, for just a second, his expression shifts - too bad you can’t read it at all. His pupils flit to the side, then narrow back down at you, and he looks as hard as ever. Moment over, then.

“You are my punishment.” 

You blink, unimpressed.

“You’re awfully sure you deserve to be punished.” 

Ignoring your comment entirely, he turns to look past you. When he speaks up again, his tone radiates eternal suffering, and you bite your tongue before you comment on that, too. 

“I know where you can stay. There’s someone who owes me a favor.” 

He starts walking again, and you follow with a dreary sigh. 

“Oh no, I landed in a time of ominous favors.” 

Golden eyes with black pinpricks glare back at you for a moment, and then Eclipse accelerates. You have to actually hurry now to keep up. 

“Word of advice, if you want to last here for more than a day, learn to keep your mouth shut.” 

And so you do, if only because your sense of self preservation isn’t quite that eroded. Well, maybe also because jogging after him is enough of a workout, and you prefer not announcing that via embarrassing wheezing. Without lungs he sure has it easy. That, and legs as long as you are tall. You’re barely more than a tripping hazard for him. 

That’s an impulsive thought you better don't indulge. 

Instead you try to focus on everything around you, taking in all the sights without falling behind too much. Just once do you stop to stare at a very fancy couple and their just as fancy car, and get lost a little bit in the excitement they radiate. 

And maybe the old car. Do you know the brand? Could you sneak back to steal a glimpse at the emblem? It’s a rolling death trap, even more so than the cars you’re used to, but if it doesn’t look cool…

Eclipse walks on, and when you look, he just rounds a corner. He nearly left you behind before. You hate running, but needs must. Rushing after him you nearly run into him - seems he waited after all. 

He scowls, grumbling a quick “Hurry up,” and moves on. 

This time you don’t let yourself get distracted. Getting lost in a city out of your time, without money or ID or anything else to your name isn’t your idea of a good time. Your little threat earlier was little more than a bluff - involving the police isn’t an option you actually want to consider. 

When Eclipse takes a sharp turn into a building you stop for just a moment, looking it up and down. Just a little shop, from the looks of it, selling a variety of things. 

The bell rings when you enter, and both Eclipse and the human shopkeep turn to you. The man frowns, and you instinctively smile - it probably does little to help. 

“Hi!” 

He turns to Eclipse again, thick brows furrowed. 

“For her?” 

“Do you have a room or not?” 

Your smile turns into a small grimace at the hostility in Eclipse’s tone, but at least it’s not directed at you. 

It gets worse, because the shopkeep does not seem to have a sense of self preservation. 

“Since when did you fancy…” 

Apparently unsure how to describe all of you, he makes a vague circular gesture your way, and what little you can see of Eclipse’s expression does not look happy. Maybe you can defuse the situation just a bit.

“Oh, we’re just friends!” 

Again, four eyes are on you. Eclipse’s optics are dark with thin, golden halos staring at you in disbelief. The shopkeep glances from you to him before tensing, and promptly making his escape into the back.

“... I’ll go grab a key.” 

You spare him a glance before looking back to Eclipse, who is currently strangling the air where you presume he would wish your neck to be.

“Why would you say we’re friends?” 

It’s hushed, as much as you assume he can lower his voice. The result is more of a squeaky rubber chicken toned stage whisper, and your little smiley grimace twitches. 

“Would you have preferred whatever he was assuming?” 

Somehow you don’t think him “fancying” you is in any way the better alternative. You don’t really look like someone anyone in this day and age would fancy. 

… At least your skirt reaches past your knees.

Eclipse’s fingers curl further, clenching into fists.

“I’d prefer to not be associated with you at all! I don’t have friends!” 

That was not what you expected. You blink, scowling as well now. 

“... Weird flex but okay.” 

His voice shoots up half an octave in strain.

“What?” 

There’s a small sound from the counter, and a stiff shopkeep slides a keyring with a small plated keychain and two keys over the counter. The way he keeps avoiding both your gazes makes you think he caught a bit too much of that conversation. 

“Second floor, third room on the right. You still know the address?” 

The keyring disappears in Eclipse’s hand, and then his coat pocket. 

“Yes.” 

From his voice, you'd think the furious voice crack never happened. You definitely don't trust like that.

And then the storm is coming your way. You scramble out of the shop, the doorbell ringing again, and not a second too early. Eclipse ducks back out right behind you, dark eyes still trained on you. For a second you duck, not exactly in fear, but certainly preparation. For what, you don’t want to think about. 

But then Eclipse straightens, closing silicon lids over his eyes, and when he opens them they shine in gold again. He squints at you, and somehow that smile is much more terrifying than the one before.

“Let’s go.” 

For a few blocks, you follow in silence, but then your curiosity gets the better of you (and your self preservation). Though a bit of it, the part you would like to not acknowledge, also is the looming realization that following a pissed off animatronic you have known for a few hours to an unknown tertiary location is currently your safest bet moving forward. 

Can’t have you thinking about that. 

“Do you really have no friends?” 

You barely hear his reply over the noise of the street and his grumbling tone.

“What did I say about keeping your mouth shut?” 

Well, the energy is certainly unmistakable, so you don’t think you’re wrong with your guesstimated perception. Who even needs to process full sentences? Definitely not you, as proven by your entire life so far.

Even though he can’t see, you shrug.  

“That’s kinda sad, dude. Friends are cool - nifty. The bees’ knees even. The cat’s meow?” 

Your brain sifts through months of fluctuating interests to scrounge up the brief interest in dated vernacular, with limited results. You’re not even entirely sure you’re in the right decade with those.

Eclipse still doesn’t grace you with even a look.

“Stop talking. Somehow, understanding you is worse.” 

You press your lips together tightly, keeping down another snappy comment. Antagonizing him is not in your favor, and you need to remember that. 

He doesn’t make it easy though. 

You’re busy studying the old fashioned traffic lights when you notice the motion in your periphery. Eclipse looks away as soon as you look up, rather paying attention to the lights himself. At least it’s too busy for jaywalking, and even he has to wait. Spares you from having to run after him, but not the conversation he picks up again. 

“I have a reputation to uphold.” 

While you have no doubt that nothing about you is helping him with that, you also don’t know why he’s bringing it up. Are you supposed to apologize? Or - 

The friends. He’s talking about having no friends. A fact which is apparently part of his broody loner reputation. 

Your realization must show on your face, because Eclipse spares you another glance, and his expression flattens immediately. 

“Don’t say it.” 

You grimace, and look back to the lights. As soon as it turns red, you’ll have to hurry before the traffic rounding the corner gets its go. Pedestrians are car fodder still. 

“I mean, you’re thinking it, I’m thinking it, I really don’t have to.” 

Unfortunately, your shrug gets interrupted by Eclipse wrapping his hand across your shoulder, and dragging you across the street. You didn’t even notice the light turning red. The fumes of the last car are still whirling in the air, and you cough through that cloud of exhaust. Either he’s really impatient, or pissed off at your comment that you technically didn’t verbalize - maybe both. 

He lets go as soon as you reach the other side, fortunately all in one piece, and at worst only slightly bruised from the fingers digging into your flesh. You rub the spots where his grip was tightest for just a moment before you have to hurry after him again. 

At least you wait until you’re right behind him to pry a bit more. 

“Seriously though, is your reputation just ‘loner who hates everyone’? People can’t do everything on their own, that’s madness!” 

Eclipse stops abruptly, stepping back and startling you into a jump. His eyes are dark again, the golden rings within blazing. 

“Not everyone. And what I can’t do, I arrange through contracts and favors. Friends are nothing but a pretty lie, none of it means anything.” 

Well, good to know the guy really never had a friend. You’re curious about the emphasis - but right now you want to focus on a different point to make. 

“So you do rely on other people! You know, sometimes coworkers can become friends too.” 

The static crackle coming from above sounds awfully close to a choke, except then… He’s laughing. It’s not bad, honestly even kind of nice, except you have no clue what the joke is - which means it’s most likely you. 

At least his eyes are golden again. 

“No, absolutely not.”

You blink. Okay, maybe his coworkers suck, too. What do you know? But still, you huff - you’re not done yet. 

“You know the saying ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb’?” 

The last of his lingering amusement seems to drain from him, a frown taking over. There’s a dark flash in his optics, just for a second, gone before you’d be concerned. Doesn’t mean his expression is in any way happy when he leans down just a bit. No, his grin is bitter, and you still have to crane your neck uncomfortably - you’re pretty sure he just wants to loom. 

You wonder if there’s a craft store nearby. He might strangle you for real, but it would be a hilarious practical joke.

“If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have blood to mingle.” 

Bonafide snarl, once again. You only cock an eyebrow.

“You do know how a metaphor works, right?”

As suddenly as he stopped before, Eclipse now straightens. Somehow, you’re glad you’re not shorter - he looks at you like you’re a particularly nasty bug, and you’re very squishy. Your still aching shoulder speaks for that. 

In your endless wisdom, you decide to stick out your tongue and blow a raspberry. 

“I’m just saying. You can choose a whole lot, and good friends are part of that.” 

“I choose none. Let’s get you settled, before I do something you will regret.” 

The remainder of the trek you stay silent. You’ve poked the bear enough for now - especially considering that this bear is very tall and very sharp, and currently begrudgingly helping you. 

Except the silence means you’re lost in thought, and you nearly run into him again once he stops. You catch yourself just in time, and look up at a nondescript apartment complex. At least, you think it’s an apartment complex. It looks decent enough, not fancy or otherwise flashy but clean. Besides, right now some privacy sounds heavenly. 

“This is the place?” 

Narrow eyes meet yours again, as if daring you to complain. 

“A boarding house. They’ll have meals, and you have your own room. You owe me for this.” 

You pause, then look back at the building, higher and higher up past the rows of windows. The different curtains and various trinkets you spot make it fun, somehow. 

“Currently, I can only pay with the power of friendship, which we established you don’t want. Can we go up and look at the room? My feet are killing me.” 

Wordlessly he unlocks the front door, leading you past a few curious gazes up into the staircase. You barely get to take in the hallway and adjacent communal rooms on the ground floor, but it’s fine, really. You’re a bit out-socialed anyway, and tomorrow is another day to leave bad impressions. Or, well - impressions ahead of the time. 

Second floor, the third door on the right. Nondescript just like the outside, and you don’t see any obvious scratches around the lock or frame when you duck to see past Eclipse’s hand. He scowls at you, then opens the door. 

The room is small, no question. But there’s a bed, a desk with drawers, a quaint little closet and a chair. Together with the promised meals and presumably bathrooms you’ll have to find, you’re all set. 

From the window ring the faint noises of afternoon traffic, and you step closer. Eclipse remains by the door, and a small part of you reminds you that he’s probably eager to leave. You just can’t help it, you have to look first. Staring through the glass, the same street you just walked past seems a lot smaller. Somehow, it makes reality sink in more. 

“You might want to look into getting a gun. You look like an easy target.” 

The words barely reach you through your daze. At first, you just hum - but then you realize just what he said, and grimace instead. Not looking away from the window, mind you, but it’s the thought that counts.

“I don’t like guns.” 

“Let me guess, you prefer knives?”

As much as it sounds like a question, his tone is too dry to actually mean it. You turn with a frown, tilting your head in a silent question. Just as silently, he gestures towards your arm, expression flat. Unnecessarily, you follow the motion, and blink at your tattoo. 

And just like that the dread pooling in your stomach disappears.

Unfortunately for Eclipse’s mockery in the making, you grin. 

“Oh, yeah! I collect them. Only ever carry one, though.” 

“You already carry a knife?” 

Eclipse perks up too, suddenly interested. You don’t think that mild enthusiasm will hold. It’s not really anything appropriate for self defense, not even as a bluff. Still, you dig around your pocket, and flip open the little knife before proudly holding it out towards him. His pupils shrink as he looks.

“Yup! Professor Stabby McStabstab.” 

You’ve never seen an animatronic this disappointed before. Sure, you’ve seen your first one today, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. Maybe disappointed isn’t the right word, either - maybe, he just looks defeated. 

“I need to stop having expectations. You shatter each and every one.” 

The cheeky wink you direct at him doesn’t seem to cheer him up in the slightest. 

“It’s my specialty.” 

Eclipse has tasted many a lemon today thanks to you, it seems. 

“I’m leaving.”

He turns where he stands, expression still sour, and moves to open the door. That gets you moving, too. 

“Wait, one sec!” 

The door stays open at a crack as you dash over to the desk, hoping there’s something to write there. You end up in luck. A rough pencil, hidden in a small ridge and looking slightly chewed on, and some yellowed paper stacked in the corner. 

Quickly, you note down a haphazard I.O.U., together with the date you’ve seen printed on some newspapers now. There’s little else to write - “thanks for making sure I don’t end up homeless after appearing out of thin air and screaming at you” seems a bit wordy - but you feel like he’ll appreciate having a physical favor to cash in. 

Skipping over to the door does mean you nearly trip over the chair, and have to steady both it and yourself for a moment. Your leg and side complain where you’ve hit them against the wood, and you wince slightly. You’ll have to get used to the small space. 

For now, you finish your step and wave the note in Eclipse’s direction. He takes it with a frown. Probably best to explain before he can somehow turn it into an offense. 

“Here, for that favor. I guess I can only offer friendship, and the professor, but if you do ever need either you know where to find me. You can also show this to your boss, maybe, if they decide to make a stink over you being late.” 

Because you did end up occupying a lot of his time today. You don’t know enough about his job, given that you never asked, to know how much trouble he got himself into just to stop you from spiraling. All your pestering aside, you don’t want him to regret that. 

Eclipse stares. His expression keeps shifting, and you end up somewhat concerned before he settles on a mild frown. The note he pockets carefully - you don’t hear the paper crinkle as he slides it into his coat.

“You’re strange.” 

Without a care for what could be considered an insult, you take the two steps to cross the room back over to the bed.

“Would be rather boring otherwise, no?” 

You drop onto the mattress, doing your best not to mind the squeaky springs - gift horses, and all that. With a grin his way you let yourself fall backwards. There’s not a lot of room to spread your arms, and the angle is off, but after a day of stress and running after a cactus on stilts it’s soft as a cloud. You even end up closing your eyes in a sigh. 

There’s an exasperated echo from the door.

“Right, I’ll get to work then.” 

The dismissal is obvious, and you crack open one eye just to wave at him. If the lazy twitch of your arm even counts as such. 

“Great, have fun! I’ll lick my wounds, or something.” 

Actually, maybe your eyelids are still too heavy. Just lying there sounds great for now. Everything else can wait until after a nap, maybe. 

You haven’t heard the door shut yet. 

“Your what?”

Eclipse is granted a spectacular view of your double chin, given that you’re entirely too lazy to actually sit up. He doesn’t seem to care. The pinprick pupils aren’t a good look for him. They startle you into honesty.

“Uh, yeah, I mean I’m pretty sure you bruised my shoulder.” 

That was… sure a way to go about it. A very, very blunt one, unfortunately. 

Whatever goes on in his head, you wonder if the journey his facial expression takes you on depicts it all. His eyes flash darkly twice before he chokes out a response. 

“I have to go now.”

And then he’s gone. The door shakes slightly at the force with which he closes it. 

Because you mentioned the bruises? In bad taste, you’ll admit, after all the help he offered you, but it’s not like you mind them. You’re pretty sure your run in with the chair left you just as bruised, not to mention all the mystery bruises you already have. The shoulder doesn’t even hurt anymore either. 

But it doesn’t feel like he was reacting to the bad manners. You don’t know him, really, so what was going on in that head of his?

Curious, you heave yourself back up, first on your lower arms, and then into a sitting position. Did he… 

You narrow your eyes, and investigate. Tip toeing for no reason other than feeling like the pink panther, you make your way over to the door. From afar, it could have been the light, or a strange texture to the handle - but brushing over it with your fingers makes the dents undeniable. Your shoulder got off easy, then. 

Something tells you that Eclipse wouldn’t take that as reassurance. 

Your hand lingers on the dented metal. 

On impulse, you turn and bound over to the window. It’s stuck, and you have to throw your whole weight into it, but it opens with a pop - and when you stick out your head to look down, golden eyes furrowed in confusion meet yours. 

A fun perspective, seeing him from above.

You grin. Cheerfully, and loudly, you call out to him, waving the “injured” arm for emphasis.

“Hey! Big, scary Eclipse! Thank you!” 

The startled expression morphs into something unpleasant again, but you don’t mind it at all. If he has no friends, you bet he’s not used to gratitude either. Even gratitude tinged with a tease. 

He draws a finger past his thin neck in a choppy motion before he stalks off, pointedly not looking up. That’s just fine by you. 

You’re pretty sure he can hear you laughing. 

[deadsetobsessions]

Can you do this fic prompt Danny stuck in justice league dimension, where he can hear and see ghosts in his seated form. A couple of persistent ghosts kept trying to bribe him to get adopted by a fruitloop.

Ghosts are Batman 's parents.

Of course! Sorry for the late response! I seriously never do anything timely.

————

“For the thousandth time, Lonnie, I can’t help you find your gun,” Danny muttered to the air. The people that passed him gave him funny looks but minded their own business. Crazy was crazy and as long as crazy didn’t mean Joker, they figured he was relatively safe to pass. Danny set a brisk pace towards his home, managing to suppress a wince every time a shade flew through one of the living. Honestly, Gotham ghosts— shades, really, since most of these only had enough echo to be visible to him—had no manners. He regrets every single day he’s in this hellscape, trapped with no way back home.

“You never do anything for me, man!” Lonnie complained. “How’m I supposed ta finish my business if you ain’t gonna help?”

“Lonnie, you want me to murder people. I’m not murdering people. I draw the line at making more ghosts, thanks.”

“Spoilsport.” With a pout and a twist of Gotham branded smog, Lonnie flickered out. Danny sighed in relief, hurrying back to his house. Apartment. Hovel, really. When he gets there, he’s hounded by two more ghosts, ones he’d rather not cuss out no matter how much he wanted to.

“Hi, Martha.” He exhaled, glitters of frost leaving his mouth as Danny subconsciously put a little too much ghost in his greeting.

“Danny! Don’t go in, sweetheart. Someone broke into your…” her face flickered with a frown. “Living area…?”

“Thank you for letting me know, ma’am.”

“Oh, dearie, you can just call me grandma!”

“You’re too young to be called grandma, Martha.” He deflected, peering into the dirt clouded window.

“Come now, sport!” Danny jolted as Thomas sparked into existence beside him. “You wouldn’t have to worry about this if you’d just go visit our son!”

“That’s right. Brucie will take one look at you and adopt you on the spot,” Martha said proudly. “I’ll let you know where we kept our magical tomes if you go.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Your son is, pardon my language, a complete fruitloop. I bet he has a secret basement to do shady stuff like Vlad did, complete with a portal, like a supervillain.”

There was nothing the couple could say to that, as their son did have a secret basement where he did do a bunch of shady stuff. Plus, he does have that portal to the Justice League. Still, it wasn’t their secret to spill. The dead speaks no secrets, after all, even if everyone else failed to get the memo.

“Well, what are you going to do about this intruder then, chum?” Thomas asked, crossing his arms and creasing his bloodstained suit. “You know, if you get adopted by our son, you’ll have access to even better things than this thief is trying to steal. Don’t you want it? Delicious food? Or, we could even do you favors! Anything for our grandson, right, dear?”

Martha leaned in eagerly. “Give him the old one, two! He looks like he has breakable knees, little dove. Bruce could show you how to throw a punch! He’s seen a fight or two in his day.”

“Yeah, or I can just do this,” Danny went ghost, muting the flash of light from his transformation and fading to invisibility and intangibility. He’s not one to overshadow people, but he’s tired and this guy’s looking for treasure in a pigpen.

Danny dumps him three blocks from his house and flies back to flip on his floor mattress. “Gonna take nap. Shhh.”

He paused. “And for the record, I know how to throw a punch, thanks.”

——

“Mom? Dad?” Bruce’s voice echoed in the empty manor hallways. It was a dream; he knew because he was eight again, dressed in the same outfit he wore the day his parents died. He moves his body as he wants to, a trick he learned from a Tibetan monk who could dream walk.

“Brucie!” His dad appeared, lifting him up and cheering. Bruce allows himself to wallow in the memory of the last happy moments he had with his parents.

“Dad!”

“Thomas, set Brucie down.” Mom scolded, walking up and clipping her pearls onto her neck.

“Momma!” Bruce wiggled so that his dad set him down. He hugged her, enjoying the imagery even if he couldn’t feel her. Now… the next few words should be her ushering them to get into the car.

“Bruce, we have something we want to talk to you about.”

Bruce stiffens in shock. What?

“That’s right sport. We were thinking we could have another grandson!” Dad floated to her, placing a hand on mom’s shoulder.

“There’s this boy, on the West End, his name is Danny Nightingale.” Mom informed him.

“But momma, I’m a kid!”

“Are you?” His dad asks, smile creasing into those memorable dimples.

“To us, perhaps. You’ll always be our child, no matter how old you grow to be.” Mom caresses his face, Bruce suddenly sprouting to be taller than her, older. He’s older than they’ll ever be again. “But to him, you’re not, Bruce. Truthfully we didn’t want to resort to this…”

“But he’s stubborn. He needs family, sweetie.” His father clapped his shoulders. “Go get us another grandkid, son.”

Bruce Wayne bolts upright, waking from his dream with a gasp.

Two moments later, and he sits in front of the BatComputer, street cam footage of one Danny Nightingale pulled up.

[raynavan]

Tw horror, plese read the tags carfully