#navigation banner by @saradika | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

munson-blurbs · 1 year ago

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Summary: After you attend Harris's birthday party, Eddie's forced to confront some big feelings, and a Valentine's date has the two of you navigating a much different type of big feeling.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), fingering, protected p in v, slight breeding kink, very fluffy smut, brief mention of parental abandonment

WC: 8.6k

Chapter 12/20

Eddie's card credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers Mixtape credit to @lofaewrites Divider credit to @saradika

The mingled scents of wood polisher, stale cigarette smoke, and old frying oil invade your nostrils the second you step into Hawkins Lanes. Bowling balls thud as they make contact with the fiberglass lanes, subsequently crashing into the waiting pins. You offer a smile at the exasperated teenager clearly nursing a hangover, holding back a dry heave as he sprays a pair of red and blue shoes with a can of deodorizer that, given the undertones of pungent sweat permeating the air, is likely well past expired.

“I’m here for Harris Munson’s birthday party?” It comes out like a question rather than a definitive statement, and you hold up the gift bag in your hand like it’s some kind of evidence.

The teenager jerks a thumb towards the back left of the building, not bothering to look up. “Party room’s down there,” he mumbles, and you thank him as you walk along the pink and purple carpet.

You’ve arrived a little early, hoping to steal a few moments with Eddie before the chaos of the day begins. Wayne is the only one in the small room, stretching to hang up a sign proudly declaring ‘Happy Birthday,’ each letter a different color of the rainbow. He grins when he sees you approaching, and you hold one end of the sign in place as he adheres it to the door frame with Scotch tape.

“Good to see y’again, darlin’.” Wayne greets you with a grin, taping your side of the banner.

You put your arm down and return his smile. “You, too!” you chirp, glancing around the room. “Where can I put Harris’s present?”

The older man points to an empty table off to the side. “Right over there should be good,” he figures aloud. “Ed just took Harris to the little boys’ room, but they’ll letcha know otherwise.”

You nod, gently placing the bright yellow bag atop a table covered with a Hot Wheels-themed cloth. Amusement dances on your lips at the realization that Eddie must have splurged on decorations; it’s far better quality than one from the local 99-cent store.

“Ms. Sweetheart! You’re at my birthday party!” Harris’s enthusiastic voice captures your attention, and you spin around just as he’s launching himself into your arms. A tiny human rocketship.

“I am!” You laugh, motioning towards the gift table, “and I left your present over there.”

Harris’s face lights up and he starts towards it, arms outstretched and ready to tear through the tissue paper, but the sound of his dad clearing his throat stops him in his tracks.

“Remember,” Eddie says, keeping his tone calm but firm, “we’re gonna open everything once all your friends are here, after we eat cake.”

Harris juts out his lower lip in a pout. “But Daddy,” he protests, “I wanna open it now!” He stomps his foot indignantly, and you have to suppress a laugh at how silly it looks with the clown-esque bowling shoe on.

“Harris, can you wait until you open the ones from your friends?” You phrase it like a favor, hoping to appeal to him that way. “I’m really excited about what I got you and I want them to see you open it, too.” Of course, you couldn’t care less about what a bunch of random four- and five-year-olds think about your gift, but you had to think quickly before the whine escalated to a tantrum.

He releases a sigh of exasperation but ultimately concedes. “Okay, I guess I can wait.”

Eddie mouths thank you and winks as the four of you walk out to the lanes to wait for Harris’s friends. You feel a hand slip into yours, too small to be Eddie’s, and beam when Harris looks up at you with pure joy.

“Daddy! Grampa Wayne! I’m holding Ms. Sweetheart’s hand!” he exclaims, baby teeth on full display

Eddie ruffles Harris's hair. “I’m jealous.” If prompted, he’ll claim that he’s envious that his son chose to hold your hand instead of his. But you and him–and Wayne, let’s be real–know the real meaning behind his statement.

As Harris’s friends arrive and the birthday boy greets each of them with a hug, you and Eddie spring into action and line them up to get fitted for shoes. There are five kids, three boys and two girls, and though you recognize them as Ms. Marion’s students, you don’t know any of them by name. The bowling shoe laces are flimsy, and a few of them struggle with the fine motor skills necessary to tie them.

“Can I help you with that?” you ask one boy, who nods and extends his leg towards you. You crouch down and rest his foot on your knee as you double-knot the laces. When you finish, you look up to see that the rest of the kids have formed a line for your shoe-tying expertise.

Eddie returns from dropping off the guests’ gifts in the party room, laughing when he stumbles upon the queue of children. “You don’t have to do all that, Sweetheart,” he tells you, using his hands to assess the weight of different bowling balls before distributing them to the kids.

You shrug as you finish tying the last shoes. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie has reserved two lanes for the party, and before anyone can figure out who will be bowling where, Harris is tugging on his Black Sabbath t-shirt.

“We wanna play in teams,” he reports matter-of-factly. You’re not sure who ‘we’ refers to, since you didn’t see him corroborating with any of his friends, but you don’t question it aloud. “Team Harris and Team Daddy.”

Eddie gasps with feigned offense, bringing his palm to his heart. “What? You don’t want me on your team?”

“Nope.” Harris shakes his head, curls swaying back and forth. “I want Ms. Sweetheart on my team.” He pauses as he glances around the group, eyes brightening when his gaze lands on the eldest Munson. “You can have Grampa Wayne.”

“Old man’s probably gonna break a hip.” Eddie grumbles teasingly, picking up a red marbled bowling ball and hoisting it up to his chest.

Wayne scratches the top of his head. “And yet I can still kick your ass.” He keeps his voice low so that little ears can’t hear, but you and Eddie can, and you tuck your lips into your mouth so none of the kids catch on.

Harris is up first, squatting down and using two hands to roll the ball down the lane. His method proves to be somewhat effective when he knocks down a few pins, and the scoreboard screen flashes a giant number 5.

“That’s how many years I am!” Harris proudly announces, skipping back to where the rest of his team is standing. He cocks his head at the ball return’s open mouth for the neon green ball that Eddie had handed him earlier, eagerly scooping it up when he spots it. Assuming the same stance, he once again rolls the ball and successfully topples two more pins.

Eddie raises his brows incredulously. “Hmm, let me try that strategy.”

“I don’t think there’s enough pins for all of your years,” you quip, and Eddie sticks out his tongue in your direction before mimicking Harris’s approach, knees aligned with his toes. He draws the ball back between his legs and releases it a few inches ahead of him, smirking as it cascades down the lane.

His cockiness is apparently earned, since he gets a strike. He attempts a victory moonwalk, clumsily dragging one foot behind the other in a manner that would make Michael Jackson regret ever making the move popular. The heel of his shoe catches on the floor and he stumbles backwards, landing on his ass.

The kids burst out into peals of laughter, and you and Wayne join in once it is evident that Eddie’s not hurt, only embarrassed. You stoop down, clutching your ball between your palms as you grin. “That’s what you get for gloating,” you whisper in his ear, a joking lilt in your voice. “Try setting a good example for the kids next time.”

Unbeknownst to you, one of the kids, Kelly, strikes up a conversation with Harris while you’re up to bowl. “Is that your mommy?” she asks him, strawberry blonde pigtails softly swishing as she looks over at you.

“No, but she’s gonna be my mommy soon!” Harris replies happily. “She and my daddy are gonna fall in love and then she’ll be my mommy.” His voice lowers as concern mars his words. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? Because it’s my birthday cake wish and I need it to come true.”

Kelly nods, taking this obligation seriously, and she averts her gaze when she spots you walking back to the ball return. Since you’d only knocked down eight pins, you take another turn, slipping your thumb, middle, and ring fingers into the holes, frowning when you don’t get the spare you’d hoped for.

Harris’s chipperness brings a smile back to your face. “Ms. Sweetheart, can you teach me how to bowl like a grown-up?” He blinks a few times, hammering in his naturally docile nature.

“Of course!”

When it’s Harris’s turn again, Eddie watches you go up with him. It’s noisy, but he zeros in on your sweet tone among the clattering of bowling pins and cacophonous conversations.

“See, you put your middle finger and ring finger here, and your thumb here,” you’re gently explaining. “And then you lift the ball back just a bit, bring it forward, and let it go.” You go through all of the motions without actually letting go of the ball, Harris’s eyes glued to your every move. “You try.”

Harris follows your instructions, pink tongue poking from his mouth in sheer concentration, and knocks down a single pin. Eddie braces himself for his disappointment, maybe even escalation to a tantrum, so he’s pleased when his son spins back with a wide, toothy smile.

“I did it! I knocked it down!”

“You’re amazing! I’m so proud of you, Harris.” Eddie’s posture softens as Harris runs into your arms and gives you a giant hug, tiny fingers digging into your biceps as he squishes the side of his face just below your collarbones. When he does this, Eddie notices that Harris’s cheeks have lost some of their chubbiness; his son’s baby-like features subtly disappearing to make way for attributes of the older child he’s growing into. It brings a slight pang to his heart, and he swallows the emotion and focuses instead on the bonding moment between you and the not-so-little boy.

There’s a shared love; more than that, there’s trust. Harris knows he can rely on you to teach him with kindness and patience, that you won’t berate him or yell at him for doing something incorrectly. You’re his Ms. Sweetheart.

Wayne takes note of the goofy smile adorning his nephew’s face, nudging him before he drops the bowling ball on his foot. “I know you’re in love with her, but she ain’t worth losing your toes over.”

Eddie’s face flushes pink, the tips of his ears burning now that he's been caught. “I’m not in love with her, Wayne.” At least, I didn’t think I was yet, but now I might be.

“Whatever you say,” Wayne mutters under his breath, taking careful steps towards the lane. “You, uh, might wanna wipe the drool from your chin before you take your turn, though.”

Team Harris ultimately wins, mostly because Wayne throws the game so the birthday boy can have a victorious moment. You, Eddie, and Wayne quickly corral the kids into the party room, seating them at a large rectangular table for cake and presents before anyone can take offense over the game results. The three of you breathe silent sighs of relief when you easily shift their focus to the next activity.

Eddie pulls his lighter from his back pocket, flicking it on and lighting the five thin blue and white striped candles unevenly jabbed through the chocolate frosted homemade cake. He picks up the plate, supporting it from the bottom as he leads the group in a hilariously off-key rendition of Happy Birthday.

Harris squeezes his eyes shut before blowing out the flames with gusto, a big grin on his face when he opens them again.

Feeling a hand clap on his shoulder, Eddie swivels his body to see his uncle armed with a disposable Kodak camera. “Let me get a picture of you and the birthday boy,” Wayne insists, peering through the little viewfinder and snapping a photo. Eddie’s crouched down, right arm slung over Harris’s shoulders. Both of them wear matching smiles; the only difference is that Harris is still sporting his baby teeth.

“Now Ms. Sweetheart!” the little Munson declares. Eddie goes to leave, pressing his palms to his knees and standing up, but Harris grabs his wrist and pulls him back. “No, Daddy. You and me and Ms. Sweetheart together!”

You shuffle over to stand on Harris’s other side. When you place your hand on his upper back, Eddie’s slides over yours, the two of you and Harris chiming “cheese!” in enthusiastic unison.

Blinking from the brightness of the flash, you extend your arm and make a ‘gimme’ motion with your hand. “Let me get one of the three of you,” you say to Wayne, who begrudgingly places the camera in your outstretched palm.

Eddie pulls him in closer. “Alright, Munson men. Flex those muscles!” You giggle as the three of them bend their arms to show off whatever biceps they have.

“Ms. Sweetheart, who’s got the biggest muscles?” Harris asks as you lower the camera.

You scrunch up your nose as though seriously contemplating the question. “Um, me, obviously!” You smack your own bicep, sending Harris into hysterics.

“That’s so silly!” he cackles, glancing up at Eddie. “Daddy, isn’t Ms. Sweetheart so silly?”

You expect him to agree with his son, but he just puts his hands on his shoulders and gives a quick squeeze as he says, “Nah, she’s the strongest person I know.” Your stomach flip-flops when he peers at you through his impossibly long lashes. He picks up the plate and brings it over to the smaller, empty table. “Let’s cut this cake before the kids start revolting.”

The two of you use plastic knives and forks to divide the cake into slivers and toss them onto paper plates. Once all of the kids have their slices, Eddie licks the excess frosting from his fingers and hands you a plate.

“Havin’ fun?” He carefully wraps the question in a joking tone, but you can tell that he’s genuinely curious about whether you’re enjoying yourself.

You spear a piece of your slice with the plastic fork. “I am, actually.” The chocolate melts in your mouth, and your tongue glides over your lips to catch any crumbs. “I haven’t been bowling since I was a kid.”

“And it shows,” he teases, wincing when you flick his cheek. “Hey, now—violence is never the answer. What values are you instilling in these impressionable young minds?”

Harris pops up from his seat, waving an empty plate. Whatever cake bits were left on it have tumbled to the floor. “Daddy, I’m done! Can I open my presents now?”

“Jesus, did you inhale that thing?” Eddie wonders aloud, but ultimately agrees. He grabs a bunch of thin napkins and wipes Harris’s hands and face, laughing when the boy sputters as the paper presses against his lips. “Har Bear, you don’t wanna get your presents all messy.”

Once he’s all cleaned up, Harris grabs each of the gifts and brings them to his seat at the head of the table. He tears through brightly colored wrapping paper at lightning speed. Eddie tries to keep track of who gave what as his son unveils a Hot Wheels track from Charlie and his brother Brendan, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure from Kelly, a G.I. Joe from Emma, and—regrettably—a tub of Gak from Zachary. He makes a mental note to pick up a harmonica or a kazoo or something else noisy when that kid’s birthday rolls around.

The last gift left is from you, and you twiddle your thumbs as you await Harris’s reaction. Should I have gotten him a toy?

“It’s a stencil kit,” you feel the need to explain, as though you wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment of him asking what it is. “So you can trace shapes for your art. It’s got all different ones: food, animals, holidays…” You clamp your mouth shut, willing yourself to stop talking.

Your panic is short-lived; Harris’s brown eyes light up as he runs to you and wraps his arms around your legs in another giant hug. “I’m gonna draw you so much things!” he promises, gazing up at you excitedly.

“I can’t wait to see what you make me.” A drawing from Harris holds a deeper meaning than you ever realized. It’s more than a simple display of creativity; it’s a symbol of love and acceptance into his life.

He looks at his dad now with pleading eyes. “Can Ms. Sweetheart come to our house after the party so I can draw her a picture? Please?” He stretches out the last word so that it has at least five syllables.

Eddie looks at you expectantly, a timid smile on his lips. “Well?”

“I think that’s a great idea.” Your response earns you another quick squeeze from Harris before he darts back to his seat to further inspect his gifts.

Eddie’s warm voice is low in your ear, his fingertips ghosting the small of your back in a manner that lets you—and only you—know how starved he is for touch. “And you can help me get rid of that slime thing, too.”

Once the party has ended and you, Eddie, and Harris are back at their apartment, the cherubic boy takes the stenciling kit into his room.

“I’m gonna do art in here so you can’t peek,” he declares, clutching the kit to his chest as though there’s already something to hide.

Eddie chuckles, raking a hand through his curls. “Okay, bud. We’ll be out here, watching TV. You go be a little artíst.”

Once he hears the bedroom door click shut, Eddie puts the TV on a random channel and plops on the couch with a soft oof. You sit down next to him and he puts his arm around you, allowing you to snuggle in closer. The shirt fabric against his underarms is slightly damp with the day’s sweat, but you’re far too comfortable to even consider it an issue.

Your unsuccessful attempt at stifling a yawn has Eddie grinning. “Can’t hang with the kids anymore?” he goads, lips flush against your scalp.

“It’s exhausting being on the winning team,” you playfully retort, adding in an over-the -top fake yawn to drive home your point. “Not that you would know.”

“Oh, yeah?” He pulls you closer to pepper kisses across your neck and cheek until you’re a giggling mess. Satisfied with his handiwork, he allows himself to sink deeper into the cushions and lets out a yawn of his own.

You rest your head on his shoulder, gently brushing his curls back so they’re not in your eyes. A hum of contentment escapes you as you fully relax for the first time today.

You feel a slight nudge on your chin as Eddie tilts it upwards and kisses your lips. The gloss you’d applied before the party is long gone, a casualty of conversation and cake consumption, but he has no complaints.

“Been wanting to do this all day,” he murmurs, shooting shivers down your spine. “And when I saw you helping Harris? Baby, I just…” he searches for accurate words. Nothing he can think of seems to fully convey the depth of his feelings, but he tries his best. “I’m so fucking lucky. We’re so fucking lucky.”

The feeling of your body against his relaxes him further; a marvelous white noise replaces the plethora of overanalyzed problems constantly buzzing through his brain. The heaviness of sleep falls over both of you, and you shift your body even closer to his in a primitive quest for the safety his presence brings. Whatever show is on the fuzzy TV set is now a dull hum until it’s muted by the dreams your subconscious brings.

Eddie only stirs fifteen minutes later when the bedroom door hinges give a soft squeak, ears trained to pick up on Harris’s innocuous noises that often precede chaos. Grogginess overpowers attentiveness, so he misses the smile on his son’s face and the way he whispers, “my birthday wish is coming true.”

Gray clouds cover Hawkins the next day, drenching the small town in cold rain. And while Eddie is certainly grateful that it’s not snowing, this means that he has to find indoor activities to keep his endlessly energetic son occupied.

Luckily, Harris is still enamored with his birthday gifts, particularly the stenciling kit you’d given him. He sits at the kitchen table now, tracing an outline of a cow on a Valentine for his classmate. Eddie’s not quite sure of the correlation between the animal and the holiday, but he’s learned that some battles are best left unfought.

“That looks great, Har Bear.”

“I know.” Harris agrees, not looking up from his drawing as he says, “Daddy, you should make a Valentime for Ms. Sweetheart.” Before Eddie can answer, Harris slides over a piece of red paper and a black marker.

“I should, huh?” Remembering a trick he learned back in elementary school, Eddie folds the paper and draws half of a heart against the crease. He has to use Harris’s blunted safety scissors, much too small for his fingers, to cut the paper. Pleased when he sees that it actually resembles a heart, Eddie taps the marker against his dimpled chin as he contemplates what to write. “You really like Ms. Sweetheart, don’t you?”

Harris nods, putting down the blue marker he’s using and reaching for an orange one. “Mhm. I love her, Daddy.”

Eddie’s heart soars at the confirmation of Harris’s adoration of you, but he tries not to make it obvious. “That’s, uh, that’s good.” He finally decides on a simple message: Be Mine, and he signs his name underneath with a dash. It feels a little less impersonal than “from,” but isn’t as strong as “love.” Do I love her? He wonders. No, it’s only been one date. He can’t fall in love this quickly. It’s not possible. “How’s this? Be mine,” he reads aloud, underlining each word with his finger.

“Oh, I like that.” Harris picks up a green marker and writes the same two words on a pink sheet of paper. The letters are a little too big for the paper’s limited space, and he ends up squishing the “e” in “mine” very close to the edge. “How do you spell ‘mommy’?”

Eddie’s throat goes bone-dry. “You wanna make a card for your mom?” Harris has never wanted to make anything for his mom before; never brought her up, really, but maybe that was changing now that he was in school and surrounded by children with present mothers.

But Harris shakes his head. “No, it’s for Ms. Sweetheart. I wanna write ‘Be Mine Mommy.’”

It takes Eddie a second to realize that Harris means “be my mommy,” and he massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Um, Har, you can’t just ask her to be your mom.”

“Why not?”

He doesn’t want to tell Harris that wants to make sure you’ll stick around, nor does he want to make a promise neither one of you can keep. “Because you…you just can’t, okay?” It comes out harshly, and he sputters to fix his tone when he sees Harris’s lower lip quiver.

“But it’s not fair! You didn’t have a daddy, so you got Grampa Wayne as your daddy. I don’t have a mommy, so I want Ms. Sweetheart as my mommy!”

Eddie flash backs to their zoo trip, when Harris had innocently asked him if Wayne had taken him out on father-son days. There’s no child-friendly way to articulate that Wayne had initially been legally obligated to act as his guardian. “I know, bud. I know you do–”

“Then why can’t I ask her?” His expression shifts from anger to confusion, brows pinching together.

Because she could say no, Eddie thinks. Because the responsibility of being a mommy was too much for your biological mother to handle; why would Ms. Sweetheart take it on? What if she doesn’t have a problem being your mommy, but she finds issue with the idea of being connected to me?

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Look, Har. I know you want her to be your mommy. And between you and me, I’d love for her to be your mommy, too.”

“But–”

“But, grown up feelings are weird sometimes,” he presses on, borrowing your verbiage from Thanksgiving, “and feelings like love take time. But I’m gonna make you a promise right now.” He sticks out his pinky finger. “I promise that if me and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love, I’ll tell you, and I’ll let you ask her to be your mommy. Is that a deal?”

Harris looks dubious, but ultimately hooks his pinky around his dad’s. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief that the crisis has been averted for now.

“Before we can ask her to be your mommy,” Eddie continues, “I need to figure out the perfect Valentine’s Day date to impress her. Wanna help?”

Harris purses his lips in concentration, resting his chin in his hand. “How about McDonald’s? They have a ball pit!”

Eddie has to tuck his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “A definite contender,” he finally manages. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Friday night. Valentine’s Day.

You had been unsure whether Eddie wanted to do anything for the holiday; your relationship was still so fresh, and you didn’t want him to feel pressured. When he crept into your classroom Monday morning with a coffee and a heart-shaped note—far more conspicuous than he’d intended to be—you couldn’t hide the excitement on your face.

The card reads Be Mine and currently resides under a magnet on your fridge, finding a home among the plethora of drawings from Harris. It’s got some creases in it that Eddie had explained were the result of Harris shoving it into his backpack that morning. You thought it was perfect as is.

“Are you free on Friday? For Valentine’s Day?” he’d asked, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. When you answered in the affirmative, he visibly relaxed. “Great. I’m taking you out.” His smile lights up his face. “Wear something that you don’t mind getting messy, and I’ll pick you up at 6.”

You’d wanted to try and pry more information from him, but Carol Perkins and her son Frankie walked in just then, and you’d put away the heart as quickly as you could as Eddie scrambles from the classroom.

You stand in your bedroom now in your Levis 501s and a fuzzy red sweater, taking one last look at your makeup in the mirror reflection. You scrape your fingernail along the bottom of your lip to wipe off any excess gloss. Underneath your outfit is a special surprise, wishful thinking if the night goes well.

At 5:55, you sling your pocketbook over your shoulder and make your way down to the lobby. You spot Eddie the moment you step out from the elevator. He’s pacing, hands shoved in his dark wash denim pockets and lower lip pinched between his teeth.

Your voice draws him from his thoughts. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him so your stomachs touch. “You look really, really handsome.”

“You’re…you’re beautiful.” He’s almost breathless as he says it, eyes roaming down your body and taking in the view. The way your sweater drapes the slope of your breasts has his heart leaping into his throat. He kisses you slowly before proclaiming, “My beautiful Valentine.”

You reach into your purse and pull out a tiny red gift bag, letting it sway and dangle from your fingertips. “I got you a little something.”

The tissue paper crinkles as Eddie rifles through it to pull out a silver lighter, much heavier in his palm than the usual plastic Bic he uses. “Sweetheart, this is…” He takes a closer look and reads aloud the engraved words etched on the front. “Fill my heart with song…”

“It’s from Fly Me to the Moon. Because of Thanksgiving, when you played the record, and Grandma…” you trail off, not wanting to get choked up, “and because you’re a rockstar. My rockstar.” You kiss his lips again, feeling his palm softly cup your cheek.

“I have something for you, too. Um, I didn’t get to wrap it, but I hope you like it.” He unzips his jacket, exposing the gray t-shirt clinging to his pecs. He digs into the inner pocket and clutches a cassette tape, handwritten label stating,“Ms. Sweetheart’s Mix.”

“‘S nothin’ crazy, just some songs that remind me of you.” There’s an array of genres and artists on there. Guns ‘N Roses, of course, as well as Frank Sinatra. There’s Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me, Un-Break My Heart by Toni Braxton, and a plethora of songs with ‘sweetheart’ in the title: Bob Dylan’s Sweetheart Like You, Bing Crosby’s Let Me Call You Sweetheart, The Spaniels’ Goodnight Sweetheart Goodnight.

Tears prickle along your lash line, and you blink them away before you smudge your mascara. “Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” You hold the gift in two hands, giving it a small shake to emphasize your excitement.

A small pang in his chest has Eddie realizing that he wishes you’d ended that statement with you instead of it, but he tries to shove the thought down by kissing you, tongue parting your lips, hand traveling up your side. His hands aren’t even touching skin, only your sweater, yet it’s so electrifying that you feel your thighs clench in wanting.

“C’mon,” you urge him gently, “let’s go on this date before we end up making out in the lobby all night.”

Eddie cocks his head. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Eddie…” Truthfully, you’re thinking the same thing, but your desire for a romantic Valentine’s Day date with him propels you towards the door. You take his hand so he dutifully follows.

“Fine,” he relents with an exaggerated sigh, smile showing off the soft dimples in his cheeks. “But only because you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, y’know that?”

“Oh, I know.”

Twenty minutes later, Eddie’s car pulls up to The Novice Chef. You’ve never been–taking care of Grandma didn’t allot you much time for hobbies–but Jess has told you about their incredible cooking classes. She and Robin went to one right before Thanksgiving and insisted that they’d perfected the art of turkey basting.

“Figured we could learn how to make pizza since we’re basically funding the local Surfer Boy,” Eddie grins, turning the key in the ignition. The car stills and the two of you unbuckle your seatbelts, pushing open the car doors. “Just, uh, no olives on my half.”

You find an unoccupied cooking station with two aprons on it, the venue’s cursive logo displayed on the front in an eager advertisement. You slip one over your head and Eddie does the same, twirling his finger in a turn around motion. You feel the brush of his fingers on the small of your back as he ties the strings in a bow. After returning the favor for him, you squeeze his waist, giggling when he yelps in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“I dunno; you’re just really squeezable.”

Eddie just shakes his head, already missing your touch after that brief moment. He slides a rubber band down his wrist and ties his hair in a bun at the nape of his neck before slipping his rings off of his fingers. He flexes his hands, almost taken aback by their nakedness, and you suppress a heaving sigh when you catch sight of the protruding veins, dark purple snakes that disappear amongst soft arm hair.

“All right everyone, let’s get started.” The unfamiliar voice brings your attention to the front of the room, where the instructor is standing behind his own station. “My name’s Argyle, and I’ll be your tour guide on our journey through Flavortown.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “First thing we’re gonna do is knead the dough.” He gives a demonstration and then invites the class to try on their own.

“Damn, that dude has some badass hair,” Eddie muses, noting the man’s long raven locks that are pulled back into a waist-length ponytail. He nods approvingly and flips the silver bowl of dough onto the table. A small puff of flour rises as it hits the surface with a thwack, and you’re very glad you’d heeded his warning not to wear something new.

Eddie presses the heel of his palm into the dough, kneading it with precision. Flatten, stretch, flatten, stretch, until he’s satisfied with the consistency. He shapes it into a thin circle, fingertips digging into the edges to form the crust. The movements are hypnotizing, and it’s not until he clears his throat that you bashfully realize you’ve been staring.

“Y’good, Sweetheart?” A sly, knowing grin stretches from one cheek to the other; now you’re certain that he’s caught you.

“Y-Yeah.”

The next step is to spread the sauce onto the dough, Argyle explains, and Eddie places the crust onto the pan and steps aside so you can take over. You dip the ladle into the pot, filling it to the brim. Bits of dried basil and oregano swim in a red tomato sea as you use the ladle’s base to evenly distribute it across the crust.

“Y’got a little somethin’ on your face.” Eddie whispers in your ear, making you stop mid-swirl.

“Huh? Where?” You use the back of your free hand to wipe at your cheeks and chin for any sauce that may have splattered, but a close inspection shows nothing.

Eddie leans over you, his chest flush against your back. You fight the urge to press the curve of your ass to the seam of his jeans, wiping a sweat-slick palm on your apron. “Right…” he swipes his finger down the ladle’s curved side, catching some sauce and dotting it on the tip of your nose, “here.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got it.” He leans over and licks the sauce off, a quick lap of his tongue on your skin. The unexpected sensation makes you giggle louder than you’d intended. You clap a hand over your mouth, surely smudging the gloss, but you’ve already drawn the instructor’s unwanted attention.

“Lovebirds, are we here to flirt or to make pizza?” Argyle punctuates his rhetorical question with an exasperated sigh. You duck your head in shame and Eddie just coughs to stifle his own mischievous laughter.

“All right, now for the cheese,” Argyle continues, dipping a hand into a glass bowl and retrieving the ingredient. “Some people think that ya just pile it on; the more cheese, the better, but there’s an art to–hey, not cool, man!” He’s looking right at Eddie, and you glance over to see your date drop a handful of shredded mozzarella into his open mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbles through a mouthful of cheese, but you’re willing to bet that his apology is anything but sincere.

Argyle rolls his eyes, not even attempting to hide his irritation. “You got one more strike, and then you’re out.” He points one finger at Eddie and then jerks his thumb backwards to emphasize his point.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie salutes, and you elbow him in the ribs.

Once the cheese has been sprinkled across the sauce–whatever remains after Eddie’s impromptu snack, anyway–you reach for the mushrooms. Eddie’s sharp gasp makes you freeze up before you can grasp any.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, placing his flour-coated hands on his hips.

You flick your gaze from the bowl of mushrooms to his impatient face. “Um, putting toppings on the pizza?”

“Not that one, you’re not,” he argues with a disapproving shake of his head. “Vegetables don’t belong on pizza.” He picks up the bowl of pepperoni and starts layering the slices on top, either unaware or indifferent to the fact that some of them stick together in a double layer of cured meat. “This is more like it.”

You nudge him, triumphantly layering mushrooms around where he’s placed the pepperoni slices. “It’s called compromise, Eddie. It’s how relationships work.”

His jaw drops and he places his hand over his heart like a southern belle who’s just been presented with extraordinary gossip. “Oh, this is a relationship?” He snickers when you give him a small shove. “I had no idea. I just thought we were two friends who make out sometimes.”

“God, I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

An hour later, stomachs filled with pizza that might rival Surfer Boy’s, you and Eddie return to your apartment. A tense stillness fills the air when he walks you to your door, daring either of you to speak your mutual desire into existence.

You’re the one to break the silence. “I had an amazing time tonight, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” he asks almost incredulously, as though he doubts the truthfulness behind your words. He pushes the insecurity aside with a joke. “Even though I almost got us kicked out?”

The memory brings a smile to your face, though you would imagine that the annoyed instructor would not share the same sentiment. “I still need to get you back for that.” You lick his nose and giggle, knocking his hand away when he lifts it to his face. “Don’t wipe it off!”

“And what if I do?” Eddie takes a step closer, resting one hand on the small of your back and putting the other on your cheek. He kisses you and you lean into it, pressing your body against his. His tongue parts your lips, and you hook a finger into his belt loop as you melt into each other.

“Do you wanna come in? Or do you have to get back home to Harris?” You’ve pulled the trigger. There’s no turning back now, and though you’re certainly in a healthier place than the last time you’d made this suggestion, the fear of a similar reaction has your heart in your chest.

He shakes his head, nose rubbing against yours. “Wayne’s staying with him tonight.” He omits the fact that his uncle was the one who’d offered to babysit overnight, a not-so-subtle hint at his expectations of Eddie’s evening plans.

“All night?”

“All,” he kisses you again, “night.”

You fumble with your keys and unlock the door, Eddie wrapping his arms around your waist from the back as though he never wants to let go. As soon as you get it open, its grimacing creak mere background noise to the pounding in your ears, you’re kicking off your shoes and pulling Eddie into the bedroom.

Your hands on his shoulders pin him against the door, only moving them to the hem of his shirt to begin tugging it over his head. It proves to be a difficult task as you try keeping your lips on his neck, but he wraps his fingers around your wrists and stops you.

“Been dreamin’ about worshiping this body…you,” he clarifies, pupils blown so wide that they overtake his chocolate irises. “Please,” he adds, a slight break in his voice. His begging starkly contrasts the bravado that dominated his personality the night you’d met. There was no patience or tenderness, just teeth clashing and hands searching for the fastest and easiest way to bring pleasure.

You nod. “I have a surprise for you first.” You take off your sweater, drawing it slowly up your torso to build up the anticipation, and toss it to the side.

Eddie goes slack jawed at the sheer mesh bra that leaves nothing to the imagination, just as you’d expected him to. He quickly snaps his mouth shut and swallows, a last-ditch attempt to salvage his machismo before he fully loses his mind.

“It’s a matching set, if you wanna see.”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie walks over, pressing kisses to your collarbones that leave your knees weak. His thumbs graze your breasts, slipping the bra straps down and unhooking the clasp. It falls to the ground and he stoops a bit, bringing his mouth to one hardening nipple and sucking it before moving onto the other. “Perfect.” He trails kisses down your stomach, dropping to his knees as he does. “Perfect.” He lifts one hand, kissing each individual finger right on the first knuckle. “So perfect.”

He remains on his knees as his nimble fingers, still cold from the brief walk to your building, unbutton your jeans, and you shimmy out of them eagerly. His eyes widen when he sees that your panties do, in fact, match your bra: a red-tinted mesh thong that has everything on display.

“Baby,” he moans, grabbing one ass cheek in each of his big hands and pressing soft kisses to your clothed pussy. “Baby…f’me?”

“All for you, Eddie.” Your breath hitches when you feel his lips graze your most sensitive spot. He’s not intentionally teasing you, but logic has no place in your current state.

He kisses down your thighs. “Lay down f’me, yeah?” You do as he asks, laying your head down on the pillow as your body sinks into the mattress. Eddie climbs on top of you, slotting one knee between your slightly open legs. He brings his lips to your ear, gently biting your earlobe and singing in a low murmur, “got it bad, got it bad, got it bad…”

You giggle, the breath from his whisper tickling the shell of your ear, and you tilt your head slightly so you can see his face. “Can I undress you now?” He nods, and you wrestle with his shirt to expose the pale expanse of skin. There’s a dusting of curls across his chest, thicker in the middle and thinner around his nipples. You plant a kiss on his left bicep and drag your palm down his tummy, practically concave during his teenage years but now has a slight softness to it, stopping when you reach the bulge in his pants. He groans at your touch, and you feel his cock twitch slightly. Eager to alleviate his pent-up energy, you undo the button and tug down his zipper, cupping his erection through his navy blue boxers.

“Not yet,” Eddie mumbles, “not done showing you how much I l–care about you. How much you mean to me.” With a burning in his cheeks from what he’d nearly admitted, he drags your thong, a wet patch formed on it, down your thighs and past your calves until it drops to the ground unceremoniously. He balances your legs on top of his shoulders and pulls himself in closer, nudging your clit with his nose as he licks a stripe up your folds. His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, brushing it with his tongue. Soft brown eyes peer up at you, desperately seeking your approval.

“F-Feels good,” you manage, words caught in your throat as pleasure seeps into your body. “Please keep going.”

Eddie needs no further convincing, reveling in your growing wetness against his face while slipping his middle finger into your pussy. You whimper at the feeling of him inside you, bracing yourself for a comment about how needy you are, but he just continues to draw you closer to your orgasm. His finger glides in and out, in and out, rhythmic but not too slow. The bed shifts ever-so-slightly, and you realize he’s rutting his hips against the mattress, desperate for relief.

Your hand finds purchase in the curls adorning his scalp, digging your fingers into them and giving a small tug. Eddie lets a second finger into your tight hole, curling them upwards and hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Right there, th-that’s it, please, Eddie,” you beg, your moans barely audible over the sounds of him fervently fingering you and lapping at your cunt. “Fuck, Eddie, ‘m gonna cum!”

Eddie just lets out an “mmm,” in acknowledgment, the vibrations shooting through your core and bringing you right to the edge. Your release overtakes you and your thighs instinctively squeeze against either side of his head. He makes a mental note to ask you not to do that because he absolutely needs to hear every noise you make while you cum.

“Y’good?” he asks as you drift down from the high, still perched between your legs. He wipes his slick-glistened lips with the back of his hand before licking the taste of you from his fingers. “I can keep going, trust me.”

“Need you closer.” You try to sit up, but your legs fail you, and you flop back onto the bed. “I have condoms in the top drawer–”

“Brought my own,” he grins, reaching into his back pocket–now positioned just under his ass from the way he’d dry humped the bed–and pulls out three connected foil packages. “Ribbed, for her pleasure.”

“Such a gentleman,” you tease, but it’s the truth. The way he took care of you, made sure you were okay after, offered to continue eating you out despite the raging hard-on he’s sporting…his chivalry isn't lost on you. You watch as he strips down until his body is rid of any clothing, tearing one wrapper and rolling the rubber down his cock, and you bite your lip in anticipation of its delicious stretch.

There’s an unspoken disappointment at the addition of the barrier, regardless of its practicality. You want to be as close as you possibly can without anything in the way, but neither of you are in any rush to give Harris a sibling.

Imagine it, though, Eddie can’t stop himself from thinking. Imagine the intimacy of filling her up every night until she’s carrying my baby. Taking any little bit that drips out and stuffing it back inside to make sure it takes. Imagine kissing her growing bump every morning to greet her and our unborn child.

He puts one thigh on either side of yours, looking into your eyes as he asks, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Eddie lines up with your entrance, pushing in gently and keeping his gaze trained on the way you take him in. Inch by inch, he disappears into your wanting hole until he bottoms out. He holds your hips while he finds a steady pace, and as soon as you arch your back, he’s slipping his hands around your waist just above the curve of your ass. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers. “You make me so fucking happy.”

Your hands grasp at his shoulder blades and you kiss him, tongues intertwining while you moan into each other’s mouths. “I’m always yours, if that’s what you want,” you promise, wrapping your legs around his.

“Of course, that’s what I want. Most beautiful girl in the world, asking me if I want her to be mine.” He grins cheekily, burying his head in the crook of your neck and sucking on it lightly before asking, “do you want me to be yours?”

“Yeah,” you exhale as his cock presses against your walls. “Yeah, I want you to be mine.” You smile, moving your hands to the nape of his neck and deepening the kiss. You want to be the only one he touches like this, the one who goes to bed next to him every night and wakes up next to him every morning. The one who celebrates his wins with him and brings comfort during the losses. You want everything that comes with belonging to each other.

Eddie thrusts into you, pulling wanton moans from your lips. “Say my name,” he pleads. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” you pant, not able to fathom a single thought beyond the pleasure you’re feeling and who’s bringing it to you. “Eddie, ‘m so close. You feel too…too good.” Good is an understatement; perhaps a more accurate adjective would be euphoric, but finding a more elaborate term is low on your priority list.

Eddie’s peak is not far behind, with the feeling of your warmth around him bringing him closer every second. “Always wanna make y’feel good, baby,” he says. His face hovers just above yours, a bead of sweat sliding down the bridge of his nose onto the tip of yours. “I gotta–”

“Cum for me, Eddie,” you tell him, and with your permission, he pistons his hips a final time and spills into the condom. Your walls contract around his length as you finish with him.

Eddie stays inside you as the two of you catch your breath, smiling and stealing kisses from each other. He’s never felt anything like this before; for him, the thrill of sex is typically fueled purely by the primal instinct to get laid, but he’s in no rush to let you go. His cock begins to soften and he slowly pulls out, chuckling when you whine at the loss of fullness.

“Gotta toss this,” he says, removing the condom with a soft hiss and tying a knot. “Then I’m gonna hold you, mmkay?” Part of him is waiting for the post-sex adrenaline to wear off and the inevitable crash down when he realizes he’s mistaken lust for passion, urgency for belonging, but that doesn’t happen. As much as he’d love to be inside you again, hearing and feeling your satisfaction as you unravel for him, what he wants more than anything is to lay next to you and keep you safe. Safe from what, exactly, he’s not sure, but something compels him to protect you.

He takes you in his arms, the two of you a tangled, sweaty mess of naked limbs. Perspiration mats his sparse chest hair to his skin, but you press your cheek to it anyway and breathe in his scent. Your body grows heavier as sleep overtakes you, but Eddie’s low voice pulls you back for just a second.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

I love you. The words want to flow freely but come to a screeching halt on the tip of his tongue. It’s only your second date, and his mind is clouded with the sappiness of Valentine’s Day and oxytocin; what if he just thinks he loves you? Or what if he truly does, but you don’t feel the same way? Would you tell him, or would you pretend to reciprocate to spare him the hurt? Which is worse?

I love you. But it’s too soon to feel that, to know it for certain. And if he rushes things, he’ll get Harris’s hopes up–get his own hopes up–only to be met with heartbreak and disappointment.

I love you. And what would that admission accomplish, anyway? Where would you go from there? What would it change?

“Get some rest,” is what he settles on, biting the inside of his lower lip in shame. He kisses your forehead and watches you drift off, grateful when the exhaustion of the evening hits him and he follows suit.

I love you, is his last thought before he falls asleep, but he convinces himself that he’s not ready to speak it into existence.

taglist:

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

1K notes · View notes

saradika-graphics · 1 year ago

Text

j | 30s | she/her | main

a sort-of library to keep all of my graphics in one location ✨

all graphics shared are free for you to use on your tumblr posts! credit is greatly appreciated 💕 (ex. in your post, tags, or masterlist - either @saradika or @saradika-graphics or with an @/ is fine!)

I use 3000 x 1055 px for my headers & 3000 x 240 px for all my dividers/banners

✦ request guidelines - [currently closed!]

✦ current queue [wips & to be posted]

✦ graphics masterlist

⇸ shortcuts:

dividers masterlist

headers + dividers

support banners & navigation

✦ frequent tags

✨(Everything is made in Canva - so check it out if you’re looking to make your own! credit is appreciated but not required, a reblog would be great if you use! 💕) ✨

#hi! 😊💕#housekeeping #pinned post

557 notes · View notes

val-cansalute · 10 months ago

Text

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 5

ch. 1

ch. 2

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 6

a/n: 😪 banners by cafekitsune and saradika-graphics

Snow still lays thick upon the soil once you’re gone. Along its boundless surface, specks of silver glisten, basking in the gentle glow of the moon, smothering the town’s bustle.

“You sure?”

The wind is cruel, lashing auburn locks erratically about Ellie’s face, numbed by the frigidity. In spite of the burning cold overtaking her limbs, her grip on the straps of the saddle tightens and her eye contact with Tommy turns ever so slightly hostile,

"Tommy, it’s been less than a day. She can’t be far. You comin’ or not? ‘Cause I’m doing this with or without you.”

He looks back at her wordlessly with a furrow in his brow, piercing through the tense silence laced with the distant bustle of Jackson,

“Alright… Let’s set off quick then.”

“Okay.”

Something compels her to silence, an impulse to keep her lips sealed over restless secrets. Maybe she knows that going after you is illogical, that it was a choice you made on your own. But she can’t bring herself to indulge in those realisations – all she knows is that she has to find you; there is no hesitation. Thankfully, the urgency in her tone was explanation enough for Tommy.

With a rushed onset, they split up to cover more ground, venturing onwards into the overrun territory encompassing Jackson with eyes vigilant, searching for signs of you, but seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to hours of vacillating between trot and gallop, losing sense of direction and fragments of determination to the exhaustion that mutinies her mind.

Thank god the hoofprints come into view when they do - as if by magic or a blessing, the impressed snow shows itself clear as day, juxtaposing the sea of white bordering it, darkened by dirt and grime. Ellie perks up with desperate intrigue so she pulls the reins and crouches down beside them, muttering to herself,

“Huh, what do we have here?”

And then her heartbeat quickens in anticipation of relief,

“She's close.”

Verily, she follows, the tracks guiding her further into the dense vegetation with senses working overtime to accommodate the fact that it is winter and hordes are rampant. She fucking prays you didn’t run into one, but the forest is deafeningly silent, seeming to hold its breath tonight.

She’s fast on your track; in this moment, the path is hope, a lifeline steering her along. Every now and then, a rustle of leaves, or the distant echoes of infected throw her mind into disarray, but she scans the area rapidly, shaky grip tightening on her firearm, before pushing on.

Just under an hour, the prints become faded and scattered, and the apprehension makes her stomach twist before she lifts her head to greet the destination - a desolate clearing.

“Fuck me.”

Dim moonlight hangs over Ellie and Tommy’s exhausted figures. The night has been relentless. The trail resulted in nothing more than wasted time and the discovery of a empty clearing, devoid of any sign of you.

Frustration and fatigue etched on her face and lingering in the air around her, Ellie kicks at a loose stone on the ground like a little kid, the full regret of having set off hurriedly with no real plan or navigation overcoming her. They’ve gotten nowhere.

In a see-through attempt at remaining pragmatic, Tommy pats her shoulder and states with a tone of reassurance, though it’s betrayed by the wearied rasp in his voice,

"We'll figure it out, Ellie. We just need to rest for a bit and rethink our strategy. She couldn't have gotten far."

But Ellie's resolve is fixed and her jaw is set in determination. It’s too late to turn back now, she knows that.

"I can't rest, Tommy. Every minute wasted is another minute she's further."

He sighs heavily with complete sincerity, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

"Ellie, she’s probably asleep right now, or some shit. And pushing yourself like this won't help anyone."

Their intermingling voices rise, threaded with increasing aggression until the tension has thickened beyond salvaging, and the rift between their convictions seems insurmountable in the darkness of the night.

Finally, unable to find common ground, Ellie announces,

"I'm not waiting. I'm going to keep searching. You wanna go back? Fine."

And, without waiting for a response, she takes off, leaving her horse and Tommy, who mutters quiet cusses into the heavy stillness of the night. She moves with purpose, the flashlight attached to her backpack tearing through the darkness.

She refuses to let the ache in her feet claim her; every step she takes echoes the silent plea for you to be found. Even as the hours wear on, Ellie's determination refuses to wane in spite of the fatigue gnawing at her bones. She can’t let herself think, she can’t let herself dwell, she has to keep searching, even if she can’t tell herself why.

However, the moon, as always, gives surrender to the encroaching dawn. Ellie's flickering hope of finding you dims as her steps grow heavier and her eyes wearier, and the first light of sunrise bleeds into the sky from the horizon.

Eventually, shattered and running on sheer god-like willpower, Ellie stumbles upon a vantage point, and stands over the landscape, large enough to swallow her whole millions of times over, like she’s the last person on Earth, staring into the face of impending destruction.

But it’s just dawn, and the overcast warm glow showers upon her as the realization that she has been searching through the night hits her. The screeching thought of you inevitably having gotten hurt plagues her mind. Deep breath, in and out, she lets the weight of it all settle upon her weakened shoulders, yet there’s still no time for rest.

The search is far from over.

You strain your neck to squint up at the skeletal structure that has born the brutality of the post-apocalyptic world, barely making out the details past the overgrown foliage seeping out of its broken windows and destroyed walls.

You enter with caution and heightened senses, searching for any signs of danger. The creaking floorboards beneath your feet shatter the palpable silence in the damp air.

Shifting through the shadows, your senses remain sharp and attuned to the slightest noise, scanning the objects illuminated by the dim light of dawn filtering through the cracks in the abandoned building. Shadows loom outstretched along the corridors.

In a shadowy corner, a man is crouched over a bag, and you watch him with a racing heart before you emerge, your silhouette a silent spectre against the dilapidated walls.

Your eyes meet for a fleeting moment before you both jump into action instinctively, but you swiftly disarm him. The struggle is brief but intense, and he is overpowered, because, if there’s one thing fear has taught you, it’s that each movement has to be calculated and purposeful.

And when he’s on his knees, trying to plead for mercy, when he’s scraping pathetically at the scruples of humanity left in your soul, you remain resolute - just don’t think. Your grip is firm as you subdue him.

A few blows leave him incapacitated, and you leave it at that because you have never been able to succumb to gratuitous violence. He lets out a muffled groan with his cheek pressed against the cold stone floor.

Swiftly, you bind is wrists and ankles taut, ensuring he can’t pose a threat before confiscating his meagre supplies and rifling through them. Food, water, anything that could sustain you on the journey ahead, you take, and then you drop his bag my his side and arise.

You turn to leave, but you glance back at the man over your shoulder, meeting his eyes with a solemn expression. You haven’t done this in a while, not since you arrived at Jackson, and your penchant for showing no mercy has been buffed down.

There’s so much you have to beg your mind to steer itself away from, beg it to not to linger on the helplessness in his eyes as he looks back at you, or how you would’ve slit his throat without a doubt when it was just you and Soren.

With the stolen supplies secured, you walk through the entrance. You have to convince yourself of one last thing.

Mercy takes on different forms.

Out into the muted light of dawn, the air is brisk, and the horizon enlightening drags the worry of not making it out of the treacherous night you endured off your shoulders. A new day. A momentary respite washes over you; you’re only a little scathed.

With the first light of dawn illuminating your path,

“Only an hour or two away …”

It is a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it’s enough for someone with your past.

Mounting her horse, the familiar weight of the saddle grounds you as you set off once more into the unknown. The rhythmic, muffled thump of hooves against the snow-blanketed floor, and the shadow of the horse and rider stretched long over the ruins, a lone traveller navigating the remnants of a world.

You ride on, your mind numb to the thought of returning to Soren. Back to the old house, to the doorstep where your heart lies dormant.

Crestfallen, the fruitless landscape stands before Ellie, as if to mock her hunched over figure, bathed in the warm hues of the noontime sun. She has been traversing since the wee hours of the morning after stopping momentarily to map out a journey in her relentless pursuit of you, trying to stay determined, but the urgency that keeps her moving forward is dulled by the incessant pangs of hunger and the desperate struggle to keep her eyes open. Doubt creeps in as the vast emptiness erodes her resolution.

Just as thoughts of turning back infiltrate her sleep-deprived mind, a faint sound carries along a whistling gust of wind, drawing her fading attention. Pained noises, barely audible, leave her instantly alert, and Ellie follows the source of the sound with a subtle limp in her step. Though her senses are sharpened by the urgency of the situation, everything still seems blurrier and muffled.

Guided by the haunting echoes, she carefully weaves her way through the silent surroundings, every step weighted with anticipation, into a derelict building.

She approaches cautiously, entering a room where the sound is amplified and she comes face to face with the source: a man, bound and gagged, his eyes shut as he lies, weakened by his restraints. Without hesitation, Ellie kneels beside him, pistol pressed to his pained temple, her gaze unwavering,

“Who did this to you?" she demands, her voice edged with a fierce determination. His eyes fly open, looking up at her fearfully.

“Shit! Some fuckin’ girl – I don’t know!”

“… When did she leave?”

“Like ten minutes ago! I haven’t got shit, she took everything! I’m begging you, please untie me!”

She stands, contemplating it for a moment, before she kicks him over so that he can contort his body into a sitting position, eliciting a sharp groan. He wasn’t tied up beyond hope of managing to undo the knots, you made sure of it,

“You can figure that out on your own, I got shit to do.”

With a sense of exhilaration, Ellie jogs out and circles to the back of the building, her eyes scanning the snow-covered ground for any sign of movement where she notices a fresh set of foot and hoofprints, meeting at a point along the line where they become one trail of hoofprints, a delicate dance littering the frozen canvas.

Hope surges within Ellie as, once again, she follows the tracks. She has to move fast; you have a horse and she has only her feet. The air is tense with anticipation, but she somehow manages to power through the all-consuming exhaustion and hunger with the promise of getting closer to the elusive figure she seeks.

The sun dips lower on the horizon; the bitter cold forgotten in the warmth of purpose.

Nothing is left of your house but the gnarled bones of the home it once was. The memories of all you left behind seep through the cracked walls – the good and the bad, a silent witness to the passage of time. You hold your breath captive in your tightened chest and push open the door, its rusty hinges protesting your return with a shrill creak.

The air is thick with dust dancing in the slivers of dim light that manage to pierce through boarded windows. Everything surrounding you, once thriving and familiar, is now reduced to mere echoes, whispers. Your fingers gently trace the life left in the fray, your gaze sweeping over the remnants of all you lost to the destruction. There’s nothing but blood left to salvage, to hold onto.

You lay in the centre of what used to be your bedroom, save for the actual bed, beside the shadow of the place where Soren used to lie, but there is no reprieve. You can’t look at it, your gaze pointed to the damp-stained ceiling, rust-coloured organic forms scattered across it.

If there’s one thing you can trust to remain a constant in your life, it’s that memories flood your mind no matter when or where you are, unbidden and unwelcome. Here, you can let them play out wholly, succumb to the deserved guilt that you cannot let yourself escape.

Trace the mustard outline of the leakages in the wallpapered walls with the movement of your weary pupils, stop trying to battle the thoughts as they influx from the depths. Turn your head to look at the ruined wall – no matter how hard you scrubbed, droplets of what once was his blood, and his blood only, taken over by that cruel evil, seeped through and infected it just as the clicker infected him. They still burn as hot and bright as they did that night, staring back at you.

You had been splayed out on the floor, over tattered blankets, similar to now, waiting for Soren, who had heard a noise beyond the gate. The worry was becoming an annoyance, so you got up and ran out into the night to find him, further out than you usually would on your own.

You should’ve stayed. Never should’ve wandered. It was your fault he had to fight off that clicker, the scar etched into his back for all eternity, evidence of your fatal error. Even though you made it home with adrenaline pumping through your veins, the nagging sting eventually became an undeniable ache, and from that point, Soren was already dead.

He begged and begged, eyes glassed over for the first time since your mother died, but your pathetic selfishness left him shrinking beside the new force overcoming his body, till he became what he prayed he would never become.

Then, and only then, did you do it. Coward that you are, bashing his obliterated skull over and over in the haze, blood and brains sent adrift, consuming all the surfaces they landed on, your mind, body, and soul, for the rest of your life, and anything that lies beyond.

There’s a violent shift and you jolt back to the surface, gasping for air like you were drowning with sharp, shallow, greedy breaths.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Ellie's urgent voice cuts through the remnants of the memory.

"I got you," she whispers, a breathless relief in her voice. You, disoriented and still caught in an intersection between past and present, struggle to hold back the already fallen tears and even in spite of the glaring truth that you came here wilfully, the sight of her brings sweet relief.

“Ellie-”

“Shimmer.”

“Huh?”

“The horse’s name is Shimmer.”

187 notes · View notes

viceofdionysus · 3 months ago

Text

Of Beachgrass and Seafoam

Alfred Pennyworth x F!reader

Word Count: 9.6k Rating: 18+

When Alfred takes a vacation at Bruce's insistence, he expects to get some rest and relaxation. He doesn't expect you.

Contains: Flirting, Dirty talk, Soft Dom!Alfred, PiV, Mutiple orgasms, Cock Riding, Fingering, Oral (f!receiving), Semi-public sex, Cum filled, Cum covered, nicknames (sweet, dear heart, pearl)

Banner from @saradika-graphics

A/N: I just wanted to write beach smut with Alfred, so there's very little actual plot in this fic. Please enjoy the smutty summer vibes!

“You've been working too hard lately, Alfred. I'm worried about you.” And hadn't that been a kick, he thinks. Bruce worried about him this time. “Take a vacation. A couple weeks. A month. As long as you need.”

He'd insisted he couldn't possibly leave, especially not with everything happening in Gotham. But Bruce had just looked at him with those big, dark eyes, unrelenting and finally he'd sighed. Bruce had reached out and grasped his forearm in a show of affection.

“Pick the place, wherever you want to go. I'll cover all of it, no arguments.” And he'd swept out to do patrol before Alfred could argue.

Now, here he is, pulling his rented car onto the short drive next to a cheerful beach cottage. Shaking his head at himself, he shuts the car off and takes a moment to take in the almost quiet. Even with the windows rolled up, he can hear the crash of the waves down at the beach. Bruce's words echoing in time with the waves.

With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the car door and lets the sounds of the beach roll over him. He sits for a moment, just taking it in. Then he reaches into the passenger seat and grabs his cane before stepping out of the car. He pauses for barely a moment, before he shuts the door and makes his way to the little fence and the stairs beyond it. Carefully he navigates the stairs, his leg protesting the whole time. He finally reaches the bottom, pausing to massage the aching muscle.

The waves are louder here, drowning out the voices in his head. Alfred turns to face the bay, his eyes falling closed. He breathes in the sea air and feels something in his chest start to settle. He takes a break to just breath in the salty air, letting the tension in his shoulders ease.

Finally he continues on, his feet sinking into the soft sand. He crosses the narrow beach and stands just out of reach of the grasping waves. They crash before him, but his gaze seeks further out. There's a flash of something amongst the waves. He narrows his eyes, trying to see better, cursing himself for leaving his glasses in the car.

“Is that…no it can't be.”

He shakes his head and looks again. This time he nearly convinces himself that he saw what he thinks he did.

“A mermaid?” He says softly and chuckles, “Maybe I'm more in need of this break than I thought. Seeing mermaids, honestly.”

But he can't help thinking of the tales his grandmother used to tell him. Beautiful women with sinuous tails that traveled the oceans. She would always show him the seashell that she swore a mermaid had given her, one side a soft beige and the other pearlescent. Alfred's pretty sure his grandfather got it on his travels, but his grandmother had always looked so delighted at the thought of a mermaid present, so he'd never tried to correct her.

“She's called the Sapphire Bay Siren. Not very original, I know, but I didn't name her.”

Alfred feels his heart skip a beat at the voice behind him. He turns slowly and feels his breath catch. “Oh.”

You smile at him, “Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting.”

“Not at all.” He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling. He offers his hand, “Alfred Pennyworth.”

Electricity sparks up his arm when you take his hand. With his ears ringing, he almost misses your name, but manages to catch it.

“I'm renting the cottage there,” you gesture behind you, “I guess that makes us neighbors.”

“I guess it does. How long are you staying for?”

You're quiet for a moment, and he thinks maybe he's overstepped, but then your light comes back.

“The summer for sure. I'm not sure after that. Guess I'll have to see where the whim takes me. What about you?”

“The summer. My…ward was rather insistent that I take a break.”

“They must care about you a lot.”

“He does. In his own way.”

There's a loud splash behind him, water droplets splattering just short of his shoes. He whips around, but there��s not even ripples to show what happened. He turns around, a question on the tip of his tongue, and finds you laughing. He raises an eyebrow and you do your best to stifle the laughter.

“The Siren is quite the trickster sometimes.”

He hums disbelievingly. “I'm sure.”

“Well, it was great to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth…”

“Alfred,” he clears his throat, “Please, call me Alfred.”

Your smile is brighter than the sunshine, “Alfred it is. I'm sure you'd like to get settled though, so I'll leave you to it. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” He takes your hand again and gently brushes a kiss across your knuckles.

Sparks of heat shoot up your arm at the sensation. You force yourself to stay still, despite the desire to sink into the feeling.

“I'll see you around.” You say, feeling a little light headed.

“I'm looking forward to it.”

Alfred watches you walk across the beach. You pause at the base of the stairs that lead up to your cottage and turn back to him. You wave cheerfully and he raises his hand in answer. He watches you take the stairs and then disappear into your cottage. There's a sound like laughter behind him, but he forces himself not to turn and look. Instead he crosses back to his stairs, already making a To-Do list.

🐚🌊

Alfred learns quickly that mornings dawn slow and soft along the beach. It feels odd to him at first, but slowly he settles into a rhythm over the next few weeks, allowing himself the time and space to relax. He sits at his patio table and sips a cup of tea, watching the colors brush across the sky. This morning the dawn is accompanied by a jewel toned flash amongst the gentle waves. He watches for a moment and then turns his gaze away. Instead, he watches the light turn on in your cottage and then a few minutes later, you step outside, mug in hand.

You watch the bay for a few minutes, before your head turns his way. He raises a hand in greeting, the gesture starting to feel familiar. He can't see that far, but he likes to think you smile at the gesture. Like all the other mornings, you wave back and then walk down your stairs and cross the beach.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask at the base of his stairs.

“Not at all.” He smiles and gestures to the second chair.

You take the chair, tipping your head back to the sky. You breathe deeply, letting the briney air settle in your lungs. Slowly, you let the breath out, smiling.

The silence between you is a gentle, soothing space. Together you watch Mother Nature finish painting the sky. When she’s done, Alfred turns to look at you, not quite ready to break the silence.

“Are you hungry?” He asks finally.

You turn to face him and smile softly, “Starving.”

“How about some eggs?”

“Eggs sound perfect.”

It's the same conversation you've had every morning, and yet every morning it feels a little different. Alfred smiles and pushes to his feet.

“I'll be right back then.”

He pauses after closing the French doors and watches you for a moment. He commits your facial expressions to memory, feeling a soft warmth in his chest.

The stove clicks quietly as he turns the burner. While the pan heats up he gathers his ingredients, humming quietly. He holds a hand over the pan and judging it to be hot enough, drops a pad of butter into it. As it melts, he preps the cherry tomatoes and green onions.

When the butter is ready, he drops the tomatoes into the pan, smiling with satisfaction when they sizzle. As they cook, he cracks eggs into a separate bowl, one-handed. After seasoning the eggs, he whisks them briskly and sets them to the side of the stove.

The tomatoes shift around the pan as he gently grasps the handle and shakes it. When he judges the tomatoes to be ready, he pours the eggs into the pan and immediately starts pushing them around with a spatula. He hears the toaster pop behind him and a moment later he turns to pull the toast out. He butters it quickly and plates it before turning back to the eggs. A few moments later, he divides the eggs in two and adds them to the plate. Quickly he sprinkles the green onion on top.

You look up at the sound of the door and smile when he steps out, the two plates balanced on one arm. Carefully he sets them on the table and then takes his seat.

“This looks amazing. Thank you.”

You hum in pleasure at the first bite. Alfred looks up quickly and looks away just as quickly. If you’d looked up, you would have seen a soft blush on his cheeks.

When you finish the last bite, you sit back and stretch your legs out, gaze turned towards the bay. It’s still early, but you can spot white sails dotting the horizon.

“That would be fun.” You say mostly to yourself, but Alfred cocks his head.

“Sailing?” He asks, following your gaze.

“Yeah, I’ve never been, but it seems so fun! Do you know how?”

He laughs a little, “My grandfather taught me a very long time ago.” He looks up and sees the wistful expression on your face, “I’m sure if I tried it though, it would come back to me. Would you like to go out with me?” It hits him suddenly, what he’s just asked. But your expression is a happy one.

“I would love to. Just as long as you don’t dump me in the water.”

Alfred adopts a serious expression, “I solemnly swear.”

Your laughter is as bright and bold as the sun glinting off the waves.

🐚🌊

Alfred’s hand is warm and firm around yours as he helps you into the boat. The small boat rocks gently beneath you as you step into it. You take a seat as Alfred unties the boat and shoves gently away from the dock. When he sits, he smiles at you.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Alfred works the tiller, pointing the boat where he wants it to go. He guides the boat away from the dock and towards the open water of the bay. You turn your face to the sun and let the rays warm your face. Alfred watches you for a long moment, before forcing his attention back to the boat and the water.

Finally, when the beach houses are barely specks on the horizon, Alfred shifts. You turn your attention toward him, raising an eyebrow. He shoots you a cheeky grin.

“Hold on sweet.”

You grab the bench beneath you as he shifts. Above you, the white sails snap open. They swell immediately as the wind fills them. The boat rocks for a moment and then shoots forward. Laughter bubbles out of you as the boat goes skipping across the top of the water. Alfred works the ropes with firm hands, guiding the boat carefully.

He lets the boat fly for a while, keeping a steady eye on the water. He relishes in the sound of your joy, feeling his own smile start to spread. After a while, he guides the boat out of the wind and lets it settle calmly.

“Well,” He says, with a chuckle, “I can tell that you hated it.”

“Alfred!” He wants to memorialize that smile, “That was incredible! And you acted like you wouldn’t be able to sail.”

“I guess I just found the right motivation.”

You meet his gaze and then duck your head, feeling your body heat. Before you can respond, Alfred clears his throat.

“Should we find a place for our picnic?”

“You packed us a picnic?” Soft warmth curls through your chest.

“Of course.” He smiles, “It wouldn’t be a day of sailing without a beach picnic. Why don’t you pick the spot?”

“Oh. Okay.” You look over the water, spotting several possible spots, but none of them seem quite right. And then there's a vibrant blue flash out of the corner of your eye. You turn towards it and gasp. “There!”

Alfred follows your gaze and smiles, “Well chosen, sweet.”

It’s the first time you’ve let yourself register the term of endearment and it sends a pleasant jolt through you. Alfred guides the boat back into the wind and opens the sails again. He circles the small island carefully, looking for the perfect place to land. When he spots it, he guides the boat in closer before closing the sails and letting the momentum and the current do the rest of the work. He tosses the rope around the post on the beach and ties it with a quick knot. Carefully, he stands, making sure his footing is secure before offering you a hand. He helps you stand, his large hard wrapped around your forearm. He guides you out of the boat and makes sure that you land steadily before handing you the basket. You resist the urge to peak inside, instead watching Alfred swing himself out of the boat. The way his soft cotton pants pull tight across his thighs as he maneuvers has you fanning yourself.

“Are you okay?” He asks, noticing the movement, “You haven’t gotten too much sun have you?”

“No! I’m good. Just…enjoying the sea air.” You internally wince, hoping that wasn’t a lame excuse.

Alfred just smiles though, “I enjoy the sea air too. It’s different in Gotham, more industrial.”

He offers his arm and you take it with a smile. Arm in arm, you cross the beach, asking him questions about Gotham.

“I’ve actually never been.” You admit, “I’ve always wanted to though. I've heard so much about it, I think it would be fun to go and see which sordid rumors are actually true.”

Alfred laughs, “Very few of them, I imagine. Though we do have our fair share of true ones.”

The conversation stills as you cross into the shadow of the lighthouse above. You and Alfred pause, looking up at the faded structure.

“It’s almost sad, isn’t it?” You ask quietly.

“Melancholy.” Alfred answers. “Like it’s waiting for something that will never come back.”

There’s a loud splash behind you, breaking the tension. You turn to look, but just catch a glimpse of her tail as she slides between the waves. When you turn back, you expect to find Alfred looking out at the water, but he’s watching you, Heat courses through you as you meet his gaze.

“Shall we?”

You manage a nod and take his arm again.

Alfred leads you around the small island to a nicely shaded area. He takes a blanket out of the basket, gently grazing your arm in the process. You stifle a gasp at the touch, swallowing hard. When Alfred pauses, looking at you in concern, you nod at him.

“Maybe a bit too much sea air.” Mentally, you roll your eyes at yourself.

He just chuckles though and snaps the blanket open. He guides it to the sand, daring it to rumple itself. It lands in a near perfect square. He smooths the wayward corner out and then takes the basket from you.

“What did you bring?” You ask, curiosity finally getting the better of you.

He smiles, “A bit of this and a bit of that.”

You find a comfortable spot on the blanket as he unloads the basket. He spreads containers of various foods, a delightful rainbow of colors and textures. Then he pulls a bottle and two glasses out of the basket.

“Non-alcoholic,” he answers your unasked question, “Drinking and sailing is ill-advised.”

He pours a glass of the soft pink liquid and passes it over. You accept, taking care to keep your fingers to yourself. He watches you sniff the glass before taking a small sip. Flavors burst on your tongue, a delightful melody of fruits.

“Do you like it?” He asks, and you realize that he’s nervous.

“I do.” You smile at him, “This is wonderful.”

He holds up a small plate and you consider. “Why don’t you surprise me? I trust you.”

Alfred hesitates and then nods. Carefully he considers the options he packed and starts to fill the plate. When he hands it over, you realize that he’s organized the plate by color. You swallow a laugh, feeling endeared. He fills his own plate and then settles back. You try everything he’s given you and find that he’s chosen well. As you eat, the conversation flows easily, never settling on one topic for long. A sense of joyful ease settles over you.

Alfred looks towards the sky, noting the clouds beginning to build on the far edge of the horizon. He looks over to you and raises a brow.

“You’re the captain today. Whatever you say goes.”

He takes a moment to consider that and sees the moment you realize what you’ve said. But you don’t back down. Instead you tilt your head and smile at him. He smiles back and gets to his feet. You take his offered hand, ready for the way his touch lights you up.

When you get back to the boat, he helps you step back in. But when you go to sit, he shakes his head.

“No, sweet, it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“You didn’t think I was going to do all the work, did you?”

You gape at him for a minute and then smirk, “I suppose I did.”

He catches the edge to your words and can’t help smirking in return. Keeping his eyes on you, he pushes the boat away from the sandy beach until it’s bobbing gently in the water.

“You’ll have to show me how.” You say, watching sea spray soak his shirt.

Carefully he climbs into the boat and settles by the tiller. Watching you, he spreads his legs wide and pats the bench.

“Are you sure? We’re not going to tip the boat, are we?”

“Scared?”

“Of going overboard? Absolutely.”

He laughs, “I’ll keep you safe. Now come here.” His tone doesn’t allow for any arguments.

Carefully you settle between his legs, heat rising across your body. You try to leave space between you, but Alfred loops an arm around your middle and pulls you in close. The press of him against you is intoxicating.

“Alright?” He asks, breath hot against your ear.

You swallow hard, “Yeah, I’m good.” It rings false to your ears, but he just smiles into your shoulder.

He shows you where to put your hands on the tiller and then wraps his hands around your hands. You can hear him speaking, but your brain can’t make out the words through the ringing in your ears. Alfred can feel the rapid beat of your heart where you’re pressed tightly against him and he can’t help the smug feeling that rises in him.

“Here we go, sweet.” He murmurs. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

As the boat moves further away from the beach, your grip on the tiller tightens. Gently Alfred works your hands loose.

“Don’t choke it,” He says, “You want to be firm, but not too firm.”

You’re not sure if he’s still coaching you about the tiller, but you swallow and nod.

“Good,” He praises, “When we’re a little further out, I’ll show you how to work the sails.”

The rush of speed comes back to you and suddenly your nervousness increases. Alfred feels the way you tense, and he runs a soothing hand along your side.

“It’ll be okay,” He soothes, “I’ve got you.”

He lets you guide the boat back into the bay waters, only making the smallest adjustments.

“You’re doing so good.” He says softly, “Before long you’ll be a pro at working the tiller.”

True to his word, once you're far enough away from land again, he shifts and starts pointing at ropes. He explains what each one does, keeping his explanations short and to the point. You nod, trying to catalog everything he’s telling you.

“Got that?”

You nod, “Yep, just go over it about ten more times for me.”

He laughs, a deep throaty sound, “Steer the boat into the wind and we’ll open her up.”

Carefully following his instructions, you guide the boat into the wind, feeling the instant way it starts to rock. Alfred guides your hands to the ropes that you’ll need and shows you what to do.

“When you’re ready.”

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

Mimicking the hand motions Alfred showed you, you work the ropes. The sail snaps open above you, the wind instantly filling the fabric. The boat lurches forward and then settles into a steady speed. Delighted laughter bubbles out of you.

“Good job.” Alfred says, “Keep guiding the boat where you want her to go.”

He keeps his hands hovering over yours for a bit, but slowly he lowers them to rest on your sides. You feel him relax behind you, and you can’t help smiling. The boat responds readily as you work the ropes, gently guiding her through the bay. The wind merrily rushes past you, stirring up sprays of water that leap across the boat.

Eventually though, you guide the boat out of the wind, letting the sails deflate. You lean into Alfred, letting your weight rest against him.

“That was amazing!”

“You did a good job.”

You turn your head and find how little distance there is between you and Alfred. If you tilted your head just a bit more, you could kiss him. The scent of him wraps around your senses, tempting you.

“Alfred,” You whisper.

“Sweet.” There’s a rough edge to his voice. You can see him struggling with himself.

Before you get a chance to respond, something knocks into the boat, sending it rocking.

“‘What was that?”

You and Alfred look over the edge of the boat in time to see a flash of disappearing sapphire. Alfred narrows his eyes, but you just laugh.

“She’s been very playful lately.” Alfred just hums, a sharp annoyed sound. You look over at him, “You still don’t believe she’s real, do you?”

“I don’t not believe.” He answers, “I’ve seen too much in my life to disbelieve. I just don’t like being toyed with.”

“That’s too bad.” Alfred looks over at the note in your voice and meets your heated gaze.

He feels an answering heat pulse through his veins, a wicked thought passing through his head.

“No, sweet. I don’t enjoy being toyed with. I do enjoy being the one doing the toying though.”

You bite your lip, meeting his gaze squarely. Images tumble through your head, no one staying long, but you get a good idea of what your brain is trying to tell you.

“Alfred.”

He answers by closing the distance and yanking you into him. His mouth is an inferno against yours. You cling to his shoulders, a little desperately, and kiss him back as best you can. His hands claim your hips, holding you tightly. Alfred thinks that he’d like to stay in this moment forever, tasting you for the rest of eternity.

A clap of thunder has him pulling back, his breath ragged. You press a hand to your still tingling lips as the first rain drops start to fall.

“We,” He has to swallow, “We should head back.” You can only nod.

It seems to take half the time to get back to the dock as it did to get away from it. When you look over your shoulder, you can see the outline of a feminine figure pushing the boat.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

Alfred ties the rope around the wooden post and knots it with quick efficiency. Carefully, he stands and then steps up onto the dock. He makes sure that his footing is steady before he reaches down and helps you out of the boat. The first rain drops begin falling as you reach the end of the dock. Alfred digs the blanket out of the basket and toss it over both your heads.

“Come on, sweet.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. You realize that he doesn’t have his cane with him, so you press closer to him, letting him rest more of his weight against you. He shoots you a grateful look.

The beach seems to have doubled in size since you left it. Every step starts to feel like you might be walking backwards as the wind kicks up, shoving hard against you.

“They weren’t kidding about the storms here!” You raise your voice to be heard over this wind.

Alfred laughs, trying to keep his footing. Finally, the wind relents enough and you start to feel like you’re making real progress. And then all of the sudden, the stairs to Alfred’s cottage are in front of you. Carefully, you navigate them, trying to stay under the blanket and keep supporting Alfred. At the door, he shoves it open, guiding you inside. It closes behind him with a decisive snap.

You lower the blanket, eyes never leaving his. He meets your gaze steadily, feeling the heat building between you.

“Alfred,” You whisper.

He crosses the short distance, already reaching for you. His broad hands settle on your sides, immediately tugging you into him.

“Now where did we leave off?” He asks softly.

Gently, he cups your face, his thumb resting on your chin. He tilts your head slightly, before slotting his mouth against your’s. A supernova bursts behind your eyes. You grip his shoulders tightly, trying to steady yourself against the waves of heat and lust.

“My sweet.” He murmurs, when he finally manages to pull back, “Beautiful pearl.”

“Alfred.”

“I wanted to do this properly.”

You smile, tugging him back in for another kiss. “I don’t need properly, I just need you.”

“Fuck, sweet.”

The explicative sounds so luxurious falling from his lips. Need is pressing in around you, heat pounding in your core. He kisses you, feeling the demand of his own need.

“The bed is upstairs.” He says.

“Too far.” You gasp, “Couch.”

Alfred doesn’t need to be told twice. He presses forward, walking you backwards, his mouth never leaving yours.

“How?” He asks, voice ragged.

“Let me ride you.”

Alfred turns and lets his weight fall backwards, pulling you with him. Your legs fall on either side of him, feeling his hardening cock pressing against your core. He can’t help rocking up, pressing against.

“Too many clothes.” He gasps, “We’re both wearing too many clothes.”

You fight your way back to your feet, stripping off clothes as you go. When you stumble, Alfred catches you, his hands brands against your bare skin.

“Easy, dear heart.”

When he’s sure you’re steady again, he reluctantly lets you go. Before he returns to stripping off his clothes, he watches you take yours off. Each new area of exposed skin sends delightful heat straight to his cock. Finally his brain manages to remind him what he was doing.

“Oh fuck this.” He mutters, giving up on his shirt buttons.

He undoes his pants, and shoves them and his underwear down, his cock bouncing free. You pause, eyes catching on the sight, mouth watering. You’re not done stripping, but suddenly that doesn’t matter, you're naked enough. Alfred grips your hips as you settle back on his lap. Slowly, he guides you down until you can feel the press of his cock at your opening.

“Alfred.” You moan.

“Fuck, sweet.” He chokes out.

It takes every effort for him not to thrust up into you, burying himself to the hilt. His hands remain at your hips, but he lets you take the lead for now. Your hips rock slowly over him, a tease for what’s to come. His shoulders are broad and steady beneath your hands. When you finally pause and start to sink down on his cock, Aflred mutters an oath. It’s a torment and a tease to slowly slide down his cock, feeling yourself be filled. But everytime you try to go faster, his hands hold you back.

“Want to feel every inch of you, dear heart.” He says, his eyes half lidded in pleasure.

Already you feel small quakes of pleasure through your body. Faintly you can hear the storm outside, but the pounding of your heart seems so much louder.

‘’Oh, fuck.” You gasp as you take the last few inches of him.

Alfred holds you still for a moment, reveling in the way you feel wrapped around his cock. Your hands grip his shoulders tightly, an anchor in the waves of emotion rolling over you.

Experimentally, you roll your hips, moaning at the bright punch of pleasure. Alfred loosens his grip on your hips, but his gaze remains steady on you.

“Good girl. Keep going.”

His words spur you into movement. You take your time, finding your rhythm, moaning at the feeling of him filling you so well. Every roll of your hips, presses his cock into the sweet spot in your core, sending jolts of pleasure through you. Alfred runs his fingertips over your sides before carefully cupping your breasts. He rubs his thumbs over your nipples, leaving you moaning.

“Alfred.” He’s never heard anything as sweet as the sound of you moaning his name.

“Close already pearl?” He chuckles, “Such a good girl for me.”

The orgasm crests over you slowly, and then all at once. The pleasure sweeps you away, your sense reeling. Alfred holds you as you quiver, pleased with himself and with you.

“Good,” He croons, “You’re doing so good.”

“Alfred.” You sigh as you return to yourself.

His hands slide down to your ass, kneading firmly. “Keep going, dear heart.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find your rhythm again. It takes even less time for the pleasure to begin mounting again.

“You feel so good, sweet.” He murmurs, pulling you in close.

You try to rock steadily, but the demanding need in your core drives you faster. Your breath comes in short bursts, mingling with your moans. Your second orgasm breaks fast and bright over you. Alfred groans at the feeling of you clenching around him. His head falls back as you ride out your orgasm.

“Alfred,” You chant.

As you start to come down, Alfred wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly as he thrusts up, chasing his own orgasm. You moan at the feeling of his beard as he buries his face in your neck.

“Close, sweet. So close.” He groans.

You feel his cock twitch and then he's over his edge. His cock pulses as he fills you deeply. The feeling sends you crashing into a third orgasm. He stills finally, still wrapped tightly around you. Slowly, your breath evens out and your heart rate returns to normal. As your senses return you realize Alfred is nuzzling your neck.

“Sweet?” He asks.

“I'm good.” You say, your voice heavy.

Outside you can hear the storm settling, the rain gentle against the roof.

Alfred eases his cock out of you and settles back into the couch. He takes you with him, holding you close. You settle against him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He runs his hands over your back, soothing and warm.

“We may be doing this a little out of order, but would you like to stay for dinner?”

You smile and kiss his neck before shifting back just far enough to see his face.

“Let's order in and stay in bed.”

Alfred cups your face before kissing you deeply. “You pick and I'll call it in.”

🐚🌊

One early morning, Alfred leads you down the stairs to the beach, the basket hanging from your arm. He takes your hand, interlocking your fingers tightly. The sand shifts under his cane, but he finds a good balance.

“Where are we going?”

He smiles, “You’ll see.”

The houses get smaller as he leads you down the beach. You follow the curve of the beach until Alfred tugs you towards a group of felled logs. There you find the perfect spot tucked between two logs. You help Alfred spread the blanket out and settle next to him, curling into his warmth. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side. Then he grabs a second blanket from the basket and tosses it over both of you.

“This is wonderful.” You sigh, “Just perfect.”

Alfred traces his fingertips over your sides as the sun breaks over the horizon. There’s a lone figure playing in the water, her figure shadowed in the dawn.

“Hungry?” He asks softly.

You consider the basket and then the waves. “Later.”

He watches as you stand and start to strip, his mouth going dry.

“Dear heart?”

“Come on.” You smile and offer a hand.

He meets your eyes and lets his worries go. You help him to his feet, making sure that he’s steady. Your clothes end up piled together at your feet. Your smile turns mischievous as you meet his eyes. Then you turn and plunge into the water. The waves greet you cheerfully, lifting you up and away from the beach. Your laughter flows back to Alfred as he follows you.

You’re not far out before he catches you, his hands wrapping around your hips. He pulls you into him, his strong form sliding over yours. He turns, bouying you above the water. You let your weight rest against him, letting your head fall to his shoulder. Alfred turns and presses a kiss to your temple.

When you press against him, he loosens his grip, letting you slide out of his arms. You don’t go far though, just enough that you can turn and look at him. He can see your wicked smile before you slip down in the water. He catches your hands just as you’re about to wrap them around him. You look up at him, your brow furrowing.

“Forget something dear heart?” At your questioning look, he shakes his head. His voice deepens, “Good girls ask to touch.”

Lust, hot and bold, shoots through you, leaving you a little breathless.

“Can I touch you?” He narrows his eyes, “Sir?”

He lets go of your hands and nods. You wrap one hand around his hip, teasing the curls at the base of his cock with the other. He turns and guides you closer to shore, kicking gently to keep you both afloat.

“Alfred.” You sigh, something sweet building in your chest.

He groans when you wrap your hand around his hardening cock.

“You have such a pretty cock.” You murmur in his ear. “It’s so hard to keep my hands off it.”

‘Do you think about it often?”

“All the fucking time.”

He brushes a hand over your cheekbone, “All you have to do is ask, sweet.”

You stroke his cock slowly, enjoying the weight of him in your hand. Trusting him to keep you above water, you let go of his hip. His balls fit perfectly in your hand when you cup them.

“Sweet.” He groans as you massage them.

He hooks an arm around you and hauls you towards the beach.

“Alfred!” Your laughter rings across the bay.

You’ve barely made it back to the beach, feet still unsteady, before he’s dragging you down. He slides two fingers into your core, curling them up into your sweet spot.

“Hmm,” He purrs, “Handy that you’re already naked and wet for me sweet.”

You gasp as he slowly pumps his fingers. It doesn’t take long before you’re shaking and clenching around him, trembling on the edge of an orgasm. He smirks at you and slides his fingers out.

“Alfred!” You whine.

He just shakes his head though. He looks down, considering his fingers and then sucks them into his mouth. He sucks them clean and then slides them out with a pop.

“Sweet, you taste so damn good.”

He settles between your legs, lining up his cock. Slowly, he presses it, watching your face intently. When he bottoms out, he takes a moment, letting himself enjoy the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers in your ear.

He rolls his hips slowly and firmly, setting a slow, deep pace. He links hands with you, stretching your arms over your head, his weight settling over you as he continues to thrust. His blue eyes are shadowed in the early dawn, but you can tell they’re locked on you.

“Alfred.”

“Louder.” He demands.

“Alfred!”

The waves crash around your bodies, the cool waters surrounding you, but they do nothing to quench the heat in your core.

“That’s it.” He says softly, “Just like that sweet. Scream my name to the dawn.”

“Alfred!” You’re close, you can feel the heat pounding in your core, demanding to be let out.

His pace is relentless, not slowing even as he watches the orgasm rock you. As the dawn light illuminates your face, he buries his face in your neck, the scratch of his beard has you gasping. His own orgasm is building fast, the feel of you sending pleasure through him. With a deep groan, he pulls out, his seed spilling all over your thighs and stomach.

“You made a mess.” You say softly, when you’ve finally remembered how words work.

“Good thing we’re already in the water.”

He tugs you up and gently slides both of you back into the cool morning waters. The water feels glorious against your heated skin. Alfred bobs a few feet out, enough that you’re both covered. You tuck your face into your shoulder and laugh.

“Maybe we should come to the beach more often.” He muses, your laughter doubling.

He tilts his face up to the soft morning light and realizes what his heart has been telling him. He’s in love with you. He smiles at the thought and turns to kiss you.

🐚🌊

The tables are covered with white tablecloths, the silverware shined to perfection. The waitstaff moves with impeccable precision. But you don’t notice any of it, not with Alfred’s warm hand on your thigh and his gaze focused on you.

“What do you think, sweet?” He asks. “Dessert?”

You eye the dessert menu, thinking of all the wonderful things they could bring you, but your stomach protests, “How about dessert at the cottage?”

He smiles and shakes his head at the waiter, “Just the check, please.”

A few minutes later, he sets the signed receipt in the book and snaps it shut. He stands and then offers you his hand. Walking through the restaurant, he tucks you into him, a hand on your lower back.

Outside the bay air greets you warmly. You smile as it flits around you, swirling up sand on its way past. Alfred slips his hand into yours and smiles at you.

“Almost forgot something.” He leans in and kisses you.

You can’t help smiling into the kiss, a low heat simmering through you. He gently bumps his forehead against yours before pulling all the way back.

“Let’s go home.”

It’s not a long walk back to the cottages, but you find something to stop and look at every now and then. He stops every time you exclaim and watches fondly as you delightedly inspect your find. By the time you make it back to the cottage, you have a handful of seashells and pretty rocks and Alfred has tucked a small beach flower behind your ear.

As Alfred gets your drinks, you settle into the corner of the couch, the generous cushions welcoming you in. You lay your head on the back of the couch and smile at the ceiling. Alfred hums something in the kitchen and you roll your head to look at him. Your heart gives a single solid thud at the sight of him.

“Oh.” You say softly, eyes wide.

“Pearl?” He asks.

You smile at him, “Just realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Alfred raises an eyebrow, but lets it go. He sets your drink on the small table next to you and settles in the other corner of the small couch.

“Well, if you’re not going to share, I will.”

“Oh?”

He hesitates, “I know there’s a few weeks of summer left, but I’ve been thinking about what happens when it ends and I return to Gotham.”

“Sure. That makes sense.” Something sad pierces your heart.

Alfred takes your hand, tugging your attention back to him, “I know we haven’t truly known each other long, but,” He pauses, “I’d like you to come to Gotham.”

You blink at him, mouth falling open slightly.

“You don’t have to move there, of course, you could just come stay for a bit. See if you like the city.”

"I hope you like the city", you can hear the sentiment behind his words. A brilliant smile crosses your face.

“Alfred,” He pauses, swallowing hard, “I would love to come to Gotham. And,” You meet his gaze squarely, “I look forward to you convincing me to stay.”

🐚🌊

The last few weeks of summer pass in a slow burn and on one of the last mornings, Alfred wakes to the quiet dark. He smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You make a soft noise and slip back into sleep. He slowly disentangles himself, from you and the sheets, careful not to wake you. He pulls on a pair of soft cotton pants and quietly leaves the room.

He steps out onto the beach and lifts his face to the predawn sky. He lets the sense of peace settle over him as he walks down to the water line.

“I wanted to let you know that summer is coming to an end for us.” He says, watching the waves, “We’re both going to be heading out soon. She’s going to come home with me. I,” He hesitates, “I just wanted to let you know. That way you’d know we didn’t just disappear.”

The bay does’t answer, but he sees the flash of something a little ways out. He sighs and nods.

“Anyway, we’ll be around for a few more days.”

He turns away from the water, starting back to the cottage. There’s a splash behind him and when he turns, there’s a small box sitting on the beach. His brow wrinkles, but he steps towards it. Carefully he kneels and scoops the small box up, his fingers running over the carved driftwood. When he opens it, his brain stutters for a moment. A beautiful ring winks at him from the soft interior and he’s sure that somehow it will fit perfectly on your finger.

“Ah, well,” He coughs, “It might be a little early still for that.” But something in him knows it’s you.

“For when you’re both ready,” Her voice is soft, “So you’ll remember this summer.”

He looks up and meets the Siren’s steady gaze. “Somehow, I don’t think either of us will ever forget this summer. But she’ll love this. Thank you.”

“It makes my heart happy.” She smiles at him, “Go, go to your love, make her heart happy.”

She winks at him and then slips back into the waves. Aflred watches for a moment and then turns and walks back to the cottage, the ring box in his pocket.

You shift as he slips back into bed. He wraps an arm around you as you nuzzle into his chest.

“Where’d you go?”

“Just saying some goodbyes. Go back to sleep, it’s still early.”

You nod, sleep already tugging you back into its embrace. Alfred kisses the top of your head, his thoughts on the box he tucked into his briefcase.

When you finally wake up, it’s still early, just less so, You’re tucked against Alfred, his arms hold you tightly. You smile and shift, you hand trailing over his back. Your fingers trace the lines of the faint scares that he carries, wondering at all the stories he must have.

“What are you thinking about sweet?” He asks, his voice rough with sleep.

“You.”

“oh really?” He smiles, “Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

You can feel his laughter rumble through you. You press a soft kiss to his chest as he kisses the top of your head.

“What’s on the schedule today?” You ask.

“I thought we might walk down to Main Street and get breakfast at the cafe on the corner, and after that, I suppose, the world is our oyster.”

🐚🌊

Your last few days seem to be endless, and yet, over all too soon. You light the candles on the little deck table and take a moment to look out over the bay. The night is rolling in fast tonight, but it’s still soft around the edges. At the sound of the door behind you, you shift so that Alfred can slide in behind you. He kisses your shoulder as he sets the plates on the table.

“As requested, dear heart.”

You look over the table and smile, “All my favorites, and yet something is missing.”

Alfred frowns, running over his mental list, You laugh softly and lean into his space, kissing him.

“Oh, there it is,” You say with a laugh, “My favorite of all.”

“Cheeky,” He admonishes, but he’s smiling.

He shifts away from you and pulls out your chair. After you sit, he pushes you in, taking the opportunity to kiss the top of your head. He rounds the table and takes a seat across from you. He picks up his glass and then hesitates.

“A toast,” he says.

You pick up your glass, smiling at him, “What are we toasting to?”

His gaze falls on the bay, “To our Siren.”

“To our Siren.”

You clink glasses and take a sip of the cool liquid. Alfred serves you little portions from all the dishes.

“Tell me your favorite thing about Gotham.” You say as he hands your plate over.

He pauses, his face considering, “Its people. Some of them are terrible, but most of them are the most resilient, interesting people you’ll ever meet.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment. Will you,” Suddenly you feel a little shy, “Will you tell me more about Bruce?”

Alfred smiles, “Where to begin with him? Ah, have I told you about his Robin Hood escapades?”

“Not yet. Did he dress up as Robin Hood?”

“He did, bow and all. Mrs. Wayne lost a few art pieces, but she quickly learned to put replicas on display at home.”

You laugh as he talks, sharing stories of Bruce’s childhood. He clears dinner, sharing more recent stories, and brings you dessert as he talks about Bruce’s plans for the city.

“It’s nice to see him more involved.” He admits, “I was worried about him.”

You reach across the table and take his hand, “Any one would be lucky to have you worrying about them.”

He smiles across the table at you, the light highlighting his features.

“Why don’t you tell me about what you’d like to do in Gotham?”

“Oh, I have lists.”

After he clears the dessert plates, he returns, offering you his hand. You accept and he helps you to your feet. He draws you into his arms and tilts his head to meet your lips in a soft kiss.

“Would you like to go upstairs with me?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather go.”

Alfred keeps your hands interlaced as he guides you through the house and the stairs. In the bedroom, he lets go of his hand, so he can step back, eyes still locked on you. You tilt your head, considering him.

“Strip for me, pearl.”

You smile at him, feeling the heat in his gaze like a caress. Slowly you take your clothes off, letting him have ample looks at your exposed skin. When your last piece of clothing falls to the floor, he steps forward and pulls you into him.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” You say.

“Mine come off later.” He says and spins so that you land on the bed with a bounce.

“Alfred!”

He smirks and follows you to the bed. Moonlight filters through the thin cotton drapes, sending dappled light dancing across the room. He traces the spots that scatter across your body, sending thrills shooting through you. The soft calluses on his hands rub against your skin, sparking electricity. You gasp when he brushes against your nipple. And then he catches the sensitive bud in his mouth. He drinks in the noises you make for him, feeling his cock start to ache for you. He presses his hips against you and rocks gently. His cock weeps when you moan.

“Dear heart, you're going to be the death of me.”

“And you'll love every moment of it.”

He presses his laugh into your skin with his kiss.

“There's nothing I've ever wanted more.” He prays into your chest.

“Alfred.”

“Let me worship you.”

His words leave you speechless and he takes the opportunity to move further down your body. He drags his hands down your form, his mouth following. At the peak of your legs, he gently slides his hands between your thighs, parting them slowly.

“I always did enjoy unwrapping a present.” He murmurs, more to himself than to you.

Then he dips his head low and your whole world goes wet and warm.

“Oh. Fuck.” Your brain stutters.

Alfred drags his tongue slowly through your folds, tasting every inch of you. He hums in satisfaction and pleasure. Carefully, he draws his tongue near your clit, but stops just short. Your whine is music to his ears. Instead of indulging you, and himself, he drags his tongue back down.

Gently, he prods your opening, tasting the sweet heat there. Your body arches of its own volition, pulling your muscles tight. The motion grinds your clit against his nose, hot sparks flying through you.

“Alfred!”

“Needy thing, aren't you.” he says, but you can tell that he's amused.

He grips your hips tightly and forces you down against the bed. Hunger snaps through him, driving his head down and into your welcome warmth. He laps at your core like a man starved, his tongue pressing in as deep as he can go. He listens to you chanting his name, feeling the way you're clenching around him. Slowly, he forces himself to slow down and pull back.

“Alfred.” You cry out when you realize.

“Shoo, it's okay. I've got you, my pearl.” He coos.

He flicks his gaze up to watch you as he dips his head again. Gently he seals his lip around your clit and sucks. Your cry of pleasure has him flicking his tongue over your bud, slowly at first. He flicks faster at your soft gasps.

Your hand sinks into his hair, fingers weaving through his curls, pressing him closer. You can feel the heat tightening in your core.

“Alfred.” You chant desperately.

He hums around your clit. The vibration sends you crashing over the edge with a cry.

Alfred gentles his tongue as you quiver beneath him, but he doesn't stop. As you come down from your first orgasm, you can already feel the next one building.

Alfred’s mouth is ceaseless, his tongue always finding the right spot. So slowly that you don’t realize he’s moving, he slides his hand down to cup your heated core. With a quick movement, he presses two fingers into you, curling them up into the sweet spot. Your vision goes hazy as you gasp loudly. Alfred picks his rhythm up again, flicking his tongue in tandem with the press of his fingers. Your grip in his hair tightens, a life line in the waves of ecstasy rolling over you. Your second orgasm hits you like the perfect wave. Your core tightens around Alfred’s fingers and you rock your hips gently against his hand.

When you finally start to come down, you hear his voice and you follow it back to your body.

“That’s it,” He says and kisses your hip, “That’s a good girl. You did so well for me.”

When you can feel your fingers again, you slowly release your grip on his hair. You can feel him smile against your thigh before he kisses it. Then he shifts and presses his body up until he can meet your eyes.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

Good, so good.” You answer, your brain is still a touch mushy.

He kisses your forehead, “I’ll go get you some water.”

You feel him shift out of bed and watch him go with confusion coloring your expression. When he comes back, you accept the glass of water, but tilt your head to look at him. He meets your questioning gaze and smiles.

“Oh don’t worry, pearl.” He says, correctly interpreting the question in your eyes, “But I want to make sure you’re taken care of first.”

He watches you drink deeply as he strips out of his clothes. He takes the glass when you hand it back to him and sets it on the nightstand. Then he takes your hand, letting you draw him back down to the bed, pressing tightly against him.

“Alfred.” You murmur, kissing every part of him you can get to. You can feel the press of his cock against your thigh. Gently you nudge your thigh against it and hear his quiet hiss. You smirk into his shoulder at the sound.

“Now you’re playing dirty, sweet.”

“Can’t have that, can we?”

He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s a mischievous glint in them. “Maybe I should tie you up and make you watch.”

You pout at him, “Now who's playing dirty.”

He just laughs, “Maybe another time then. Tonight, I’m going to fuck you slow and deep, sweet, until the only thing you can feel is me.”

You look at him, words abandoning you. He smirks slowly.

“Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He hums, “Something's missing. Again.”

“Please, fuck me.”

He considers and then shakes his head, “Still missing something. Again.”

“Alfred, please fuck me until I forget my own name.”

“Now, that's a pretty request.”

He presses down and kisses you softly, slowly, drawing you in. Still kissing you, he shifts and nudges your legs apart. Carefully he settles between them. He nudges his cock head against your opening, drinking in your answering moan. Slowly, he presses forward, reveling in the way your walls grip him. He breaks the kiss as he bottoms out, cutting off a soft oath.

“You feel so good around my cock, sweet.”

“Alfred!” You whine, trying to grind your hips.

He chuckles, “So greedy.”

When you try to lift your hands, he pins them to the pillows. He shakes his head at you.

“Not until I say so.”

He feels your pussy clench at that and nearly groans.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes!”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Alfred!”

“Try again.”

“Yes…sir?” At his stern look, you swallow hard, “Yes, sir! I'll be a good girl.”

He smiles, “You're fucking perfect, you know?”

He nuzzles into your neck as he starts rolling his hips. He fucks into you with long, slow strokes that has heat simmering in your core. Alfred releases one of your wrists and runs his hand down your body. At your thigh, he slides his hand under and lifts. The change in angle has you seeing stars.

“Alfred!”

“Come on, sweet, make a mess on my cock.”

You’re helpless against the unrelenting waves of pleasure and you let yourself get swept away. Alfred groans as you tighten around his cock, his own resolve rapidly dissolving. You open your eyes, biting your lip.

“Are you going to fill me up, sir?” You ask, your voice breathy.

“Fuck, sweet.” He gasps.

His cock twitches and then he's filling you.

When he comes back to his senses, he's braced on his elbows, hovering over you. Your hands gently trace over his body, his muscles relaxing under your touch.

“Sweet,” he says softly, “look at me.”

You open your eyes and meet his gaze. You smile up at him sleepily.

“Sweet, I love you.”

Your mouth rounds in shock even as delight dances in your eyes.

“Well, I guess it's a good thing I love you too Alfred.”

🐚🌊

Alfred closes the car's trunk as you close the front door of the cottage. You slide into the passenger’s seat as he opens the driver's door. He pauses, taking one last look over the bay.

“Alfred?”

“Just taking it in one last time, sweet.”

After one more deep breath, he slides into the driver's seat. The car starts with a gentle rumble and he backs out carefully. At the end of the drive, he takes your hand, and kisses it.

“Ready?”

“I'm ready for anything as long as you're with me.”

He kisses your hand again, thinking about the ring he'll put on it one day. Then he shifts and interlocks your fingers over the center console.

The car rumbles down the road, the beach growing smaller behind it. The Siren pulls herself onto the dock, watching it disappear. Once it's nearly out of sight, she blows a kiss it's way and dives back into the bay. The waves welcoming her back.

#alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth x f!reader #the batman

67 notes · View notes

hellishjoel · 1 year ago

Text

what happens after

2.9k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

← masterlist | notifications blog

summary: A string that pulled you out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar. And what happens after.

warnings/information: swearing, alcohol consumption, minor injury, blood, light angst, allusions to smut, one-night stand vibes, soft!joel (thank you kiwi!)

A/N: I have been working on multiple wips, but then this idea struck, and I wrote it in a day and a half flat! Thank you to @kiwisbell for beta-ing this one shot!! It would not sound as clean as it does without her <3 love you kiwi!! And thank you @thetriumphantpanda for being my cheerleader when I was screaming about this idea and obsessively writing it <3 Lastly, I've decided to start using banners because I was introduced to @saradika's blog and I'm OBSESSED! Please consider reblogging and checking out their masterlist!

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!**

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Shit,” the first-name-only man named Joel mutters.

You’re standing in his kitchen, feet circled in glass shards. The light above the kitchen sink spotlights a small droplet of blood that glides with vigor down your foot. You barely feel the cut, but the sting is underlying.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you blurt, the reality of what’s happened finally hitting you. You were just filling a glass of water. Perhaps you were snooping inside the handsome stranger's home. You were curious about the older, southern-charm-filled man with the barely-there smile who took you home after an hour of casual flirting over drinks.

Joel grabs your waist since your feet are frozen in place, afraid to move. He uses his upper body strength to hoist you up and out of harm's way, assuring that he doesn’t step on any spare shards himself as he rests your body to sit on his countertop. Your hands gently grip onto the breadth of his broad shoulders, fingers delicately pressing into his warm skin as your body lightly shudders from the chill of the counter.

“Sit,” he barks.

You nip at your bottom lip, soft and tired eyes glancing at the blood that trickles onto his floor.

“Did you step on any?” he presses, wetting a paper towel, gathering the pieces on the floor, and carefully navigating them into the trash bin.

“No, didn’t step on any. But when it broke…” You tilt your head down, Joel following your eyeline to see how a shard had nicked your skin after the glass had shattered into tiny fragments. He sighs quietly and flattens his hand to coast up and down his stubble-filled jawline in thought. You purse your lips and hesitantly meet his eyes.

“Just a scratch,” you say, shrugging it off.

Joel brings your foot up, heel resting on the edge of the countertop as he observes the two-inch-long scrape that barely breaches the surface of your skin. He grabs a tissue and lightly wets it, placing it over the scratch and adding pressure as you wince. He instructs your hands to take his place. “Stay,” he says before exiting the kitchen.

“I’m not a dog, you know! I know more commands than just sit and stay.” You huff as you lean your head back, gently thudding your skull into one of his cabinets as you echo out your pain with a whispered curse.

A light flicks on down the dark hallway, and you observe his quiet home in silence. The glass of water was your initial goal. After Joel fell asleep beside you, tuckered out after midnight activities, you caught a second wind of energy and found yourself staring at the ceiling in boredom.

Sneaking out from under the covers, cupping your tits as you searched the floor for your underwear. Everything was a mess, socks thrown about and shoes a tripping hazard in the middle of the doorway. You pulled on his shirt he wore at the bar. It smelled of pine and a little bit of Old Spice deodorant. Attempting not to wake him, you quietly felt your feet meet the cold hardwood as you snuck out of his bedroom. You didn’t know much about him besides that he was a casual flirt. The southern accent gave his origins away. And god, did he know how to press you up against his truck just right.

His body was perfectly chiseled marble. Broad body with a stocky torso and large, calloused hands that melted into the soft skin of your cheeks. His tongue licked your lips before he explored your mouth. Your hands were in his dark chocolate hair, those wispy curls that lined his forehead, and the perfect crow’s feet by his eyes. It was all a blur after that. The amount of times you came was damn near blinding, which made it all the more frustrating when you couldn’t sleep. You slept the best in your own bed, not a stranger’s.

The hallway light flicks off, and Joel returns with a small first aid kit. He doesn’t look at you but rather focuses on cleaning the small wound with a little soap and more warm water. He’s controlled the bleeding; the cut was too small to make a real fuss anyway. You whimper as he adds an over-the-counter antiseptic cream to prevent infection.

“Shush,” he whispers in false annoyance, brows furrowed in concentration as his body looms over yours, foreheads barely brushing as you both watch his hands carefully mend you.

“You shush,” you counter, watching as a small smile breaks across his face. He playfully scoffs after he applies a small brown bandaid across the expanse of your foot.

“What, were you sneakin’ out on me?” he asks, voice low and drenched with sleep. You feel bad for waking him.

You tighten your lips in a furled smile, your soft hand gently cupping his rugged cheek. “I don’t do that. Anymore.”

Joel scoffs playfully, his hand reaching up past you to the knob of the cabinet by your head. He slyly picks up a glass and fills it with water at the sink before offering it to you.

“Thanks,” you mutter with slight embarrassment, the back of your neck catching some heat as you gently sip on the cold water.

Joel crosses his arms, curiously gazing over you adorning his shirt. He had worn it earlier to the bar. He was meant to meet his brother, Tommy, but he never showed. Joel decided, since he was already there, that he could kick back an ice-cold beer or two. You were looking too pretty, silently staring at the flatscreen above the bar, playing with the straw in your drink.

“Seat taken?” he had asked, to which you gave him that gut-clenching, glowy smile. The first thing he found himself sneaking glimpses of were your perfect lips. Whether you were grinning, speaking, or sucking on your straw, he wondered where else those pretty lips would look so perfect.

For the next hour, his singular goal was to kiss you, to taste you. Anything after that was considered a bonus. He had never felt this feverish for a kiss in so long. To taste someone. To melt. So when you batted your eyelashes and gently landed your warm hand on his upper thigh, he was hooked. Luckily, so were you.

After midnight and his head hit the pillow, he was out. Until he woke to a crash coming from further inside the house, and the other half of his bed was empty. He found a pair of sweats and, half-asleep, found the source of the noise. And there you were, bare-legged, shirt dangling by your upper thighs, and your hand outstretched, holding nothing but a figment of air. He looked down at your feet, seeing that a glass must have slipped through your fingers.

“So if you don’t sneak out on men anymore in the middle of the night,” Joel continues as he helps you down off the counter, your feet still cautious as they hit the ground before you both exit the kitchen, “what were you doin’?”

You follow him to his living room. He pulls the string to a standing lamp before he settles down in a large chair. From the looks of it, that’s his chair. He falls into it perfectly, like he’s probably done a million and one times after a long day of work or a lazy Sunday watching football. You settle on the taupe couch beside his chair and set your glass of water down on the side table.

“I just had a hard time falling asleep. I thought maybe a glass of water would help.”

Joel nods slowly, eyes grazing over your body: your bandaged foot, accompanied by bare legs and his worn shirt that hung oversized on you. He liked the sight. His eyes flitted back up to your own, watching as you slowly surveyed his living room with a hint of curiosity.

You abandon your spot on the couch, walking up to a bookshelf with your hands lightly clasped behind your back. Despite being a tad quiet and very broody, he seems like a complex guy. His interests are scattered, from a manual on the birds of North America to a collector’s edition of Fitzgerald’s The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Your fingers stroke the old book's spine, turning to a small framed photo of him and a young girl. He has a daughter—of course he did.

Joel looks younger, hugging the girl at his side with his arm wrapped around her shoulders while she dangled a set of keys in the air, an impossibly infectious smile on her face that made her cheeks glow. Joel’s hair was a lot darker. Thankfully, he still had all of its fullness. Pretty curls licking at the ends of each strand, no salt and pepper in sight like he has now. Aging suits him.

“She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

Joel watches from afar as you admire the silver frame and its contents. That picture was from several years ago when Sarah was a teenager, and she had just passed her driver’s test. On her first try, too. They did lots of practicing in the shopping mall’s parking lot after hours. She was no natural, though. And Joel wasn’t the best teacher, with only a pinch of patience to his name. But she begged him to practice nearly every damn day after school. She wanted to be the first of her friends to have her license.

“Sarah,” he says with a fond smile, just happy upon speaking her name. “She’s at Texas U, studying…” He pauses and shakes his head, always forgetting the long and strung-out major. He closes his eyes and puts his head down to think. “Geosystems engineering and hydrogeology. What that means, don’t ask.”

You give him a crooked smile before placing the photo back in its rightful spot. You picked up a few other pieces, Joel explaining them in a sentence or less.

“Photography books?”

“Sarah’s. She does it as a hobby.”

That explains the vintage camera one shelf down. Your fingers find the neck of an acoustic guitar that was resting against the bookshelf, playfully wiggling an eyebrow at him. It was beautiful, finished with a light wood stain, and the strings were just freshly tightened. He played, and often. Now you noticed all the small guitar picks of varying colors that littered nearly every shelf. He could play guitar, but could he sing? You decided it was a tad too personal to ask, but you’d keep it in your back pocket.

You hum and hold up an old football trophy with his name etched on the nameplate, cocking your eyebrow playfully.

“MVP?”

Joel simply closes his eyes and shrugs as he purses his lips, his silent way of saying no big deal.

You both sneer playfully, admiring the other little tidbits of Joel. And now you had his last name from that trophy. Joel Miller. He disappears into the kitchen while you keep exploring. Old southern cookbooks, more sports memorabilia, plant and nature guides, along with a hiking pamphlet for the local area.

Tiredness sets in behind your eyes. You can feel it in your body, the way you’re slowly growing heavier, and standing is too much of a chore. Your eyes flick up to the window once you’ve sat back down on the couch, seeing the distant orange of a rising sun through his windows.

Joel returns from the kitchen, two mugs in hand, with hot steam rolling off the top like billowing smoke.

“You take cream? Sugar?”

You shake your head and take the coffee as it is, letting your fingers get accustomed to the warmth of the mug. “This is fine. Thanks.”

Joel tips his head, chin pointing to the door. “I’ll grab you a blanket. We can sit on the porch swing. If you’d like,” he offers, to which you nod. Joel grabs the blanket that's folded at the end of the couch, and you follow him out the front door. It’s a little chilly. The grass is glistening with morning dew. Joel sits down first and puts his arm around the back of the porch swing.

He puts out his hand, offering to take your coffee. You wrap the blanket around the top of your shoulders and pull it tight around you, small hands clutching it around your chest as you fall in beside him. You settle your head on his shoulder, and once he’s returned your mug, he gently runs his hand up and down your covered arm.

Joel can smell distant perfume and the eucalyptus shampoo you’ve recently used. You can feel him set his chin at the top of your head, both admiring the sun starting to rise beyond the houses huddled around the street’s small cul-de-sac. The morning chill disappears once the sun arrives for its shift, humming as you feel the warmth that seeps through your stomach from the coffee.

“You make one hell of a cup of joe, Joel.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle through his nose.

“Thanks.”

As the sun rises higher in the sky, you feel that it’s time to go. Not because Joel is rushing you or things are feeling awkward after a one night stand. It was just time.

After you finish your coffee, Joel walks you back inside. He sets your mugs in the sink, tiredly rubbing his eyes before he follows you to his bedroom. With his help, you’re able to piece together your wardrobe from the night before.

He snuffs out a laugh as you turn your back to him to take off his shirt, changing into the one you came with.

“S’nothing I haven’t seen already.”

“Wouldn’t you like that, Miller,” you tease before you secure the top, grabbing your purse and assuring you have stuffed your cell phone, wallet, and keys inside.

Joel pushes himself off his bed, a strange feeling inside him as he watches you get ready to leave. That’s how this sort of thing worked, one-night stands. But he enjoyed you and your company beyond what happened in the bedroom. You’re delightfully chatty and a tad clumsy, but there’s no denying that last night into this morning was one of the best days he’s had in a while.

“Do you need a ride back to the bar? To get your car?” he asks once you’ve returned from the bathroom, vying for more time with you. Perhaps he could make breakfast, or you both could finally fall asleep after a long night.

“No, thank you, though. My friend is on her way to pick me up.”

Joel nods gently and stands silently with his hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweats. He walks you to the door, his living room flooded with the orange hue of early morning light. He sees a car slowly pull up to his driveway, to which you look up to him with a light, tired smile.

“Get some rest,” Joel mutters quietly, his own voice laced deep with a need for sleep. “And take care of your foot.”

“Thanks. Will do.” You playfully salute him, and he opens the door for you. He walks you down the porch steps, both of you casually smiling in an unsure way of how to say goodbye. Joel is the first one to make a move. His hand settles on your waist, stopping your movements as he pulls you into his front. His head dips down, and he shares one last kiss with you. The lips and smile that lured him in the first place. Soft and gentle, unlike the hungry and eager ones from last night, where he pressed you up against his truck.

You can’t help but smile and lace your arms loosely around his neck, kissing him back as a gentle thank you for everything and sorry for breaking your water glass. You smile as you pull away, just a few inches as one of the hands you had weakly resting on his broad shoulder moves to cup his grey stubbled cheek.

He was so handsome, too handsome to only see just once. You place one last peck to his lips before he releases your waist with slight reluctance, sighing as you step inside your friend’s car. Joel watches as the car circles around the cul-de-sac, making their way down the road. Joel clears his throat and bends down to grab the newspaper that was tossed by the grass.

Once inside, the house felt utterly empty again. No woman had been here in so long, looked at him the way you did in ages. He wouldn’t pull two mugs down from the kitchen cabinets for a while. He wouldn’t share his bed any time soon. He’d wondered if he’d see you again. And maybe you two could just talk because, frankly, he enjoyed that part too.

Sex and the physical connection he shared with you was one thing, but what happens after might be what he’ll cherish the most. The banter, the conversation, falling asleep beside one another, or at least the attempt to do so. Joel would remember those fragments of happiness, the little things that brought him warmth that spread through his chest. Until then, or until he sees you again, he’ll revel in the memories shared.

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!**

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #joel miller x reader #joel tlou

351 notes · View notes

thecutestgrotto · 8 months ago

Text

-> This blog supports the freedom of Palestine <-

🚧 Undergoing some construction 🚧

Main Masterlist // Navigation & Support sets // WIP & Queue

You can call me Erin, Elle or just El - short for my first name!

Send an ask for requests but please check the Rules first 💗

I prefer one request per ask for organization purposes, but you can always send more than one!

Everything here is free for everyone to use! Credit isn’t necessary but much appreciated.

Please be kind and polite in your requests. I’m a person, I do this for fun and I want to keep it that way.

I don’t always see comments on individual sets so if I don’t respond I’m not being mean, it just got eaten by other notifications!

I recommend opening each image for best quality and to prevent any blurring.

-> All media made using Canva Pro with these dimensions: dividers: 3000px by 240px or 3000px by 120px, banners: 1055px by 500px

-> I also made a mini guide for anyone looking to make their own graphics or need some tips. 💗

My Free Palestine set is really important and I added more information and links, so I have a proposition:

Get the set to 1.5k and I’ll post a picture of my dogs

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics for the tips on how to make the best quality designs. 💗

Part of the @pixelcafe-network

#navigation #graphic design #dividers #post dividers #banners #headers

81 notes · View notes

raccoonfallsharder · 14 days ago

Text

᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.⋆｡✶˖ the bounty ⌖˖✶｡⋆ part two of evasive maneuvers ✶ book two of kinktober 2024

a bird in the hand... WARNINGS: dom/sub vibes, restraints & bondage, continued dirty talk, use of a cloth gag, gunplay, electricity play, forced orgasms, overstim, fantasies of dubcon/noncon, dacryphilia, tech/sex toys, nipple & clit clamps, painplay, subspace, aftercare, biting/marking.

“Little birdie.” The words are soft — admiring. “Such a sweet thing for me.” The praise melts through you: a second wave of heat on the heels of the first one, though this is softer and more syrupy — silvery-sweet. When he coasts a light fingertip over the line of your cheek, you lean into his hand — nudging into the curve of his palm, grateful for the soothing warm balm of his approval. His hand lingers even as he lifts himself from your torso, fingers coasting along your jaw as he steps to one side and then moves down between your thighs. He holsters the modified electroshock baton into a loop at his hip, and gently pries your knees apart. The way you’re tied makes it impossible to resist him — not that you have much will to do so, anyway. “It’s one of the things I thought you’d promise me, when I was imagining catching you in Xandar — that you’d be so good for me. That you’d do whatever I frickin’ told you, with your big weepy doe-eyes.”

The baton crackles blue, casting him in a silvery halo — hovering just an inch over the soft curve of your belly. The metal wand doesn’t even touch your skin — just ghosts lightly through the air over your flesh — and the electricity still sings through you, contracting every muscle, sending your abdominals into wrenching, clenching spasms — sending your pussy into wet spasms, too. Your teeth grit into the fabric stuffed in your mouth, and when the baton lifts from your skin, you find yourself sucking on the cloth: whines crowding up your throat, tears cluttering up your lashes. Your hips roll toward him without your permission. Rocket just grins, of course. You can see the moon-white flash of his teeth through the blur of your lashes. He’s still got the baton grasped in one hand as he spreads your knees wider, skating the other palm through the slipperiness between your thighs. “Yeah, sweetheart, I knew you’d like a little shock or two. You’re such a sloppy mess down here. And look at that clit, all cute and twitchy.” His grip tilts, and the baton taps just below your belly button. Your body snaps into a bridge, every nerve careening wildly, pussy fluttering madly. Then the electricity leaves and you’re melting into the mattress, shuddering and shivering with waves of heat and cold. Your tits tremble with each breath, clamped nipples pulsing heat with every thud of your heartbeat. “Good girl,” he croons, and you watch with a wide wet stare as his baton dips lower, the rounded tip dropping just beyond your range of vision. “Eyes up here, buttercup,” he croons, and your gaze snaps to his burning stare.

read part two ✶ the bounty now ⌖˖✶｡⋆ evasive maneuvers | kinktober 2024 | navigation | fanfiction masterlist

gray support/mdni banners by @/saradika-graphics | silver sparkle divider by @/strangergraphics

15 notes · View notes

saradika · 1 year ago

Note

Hi I love your banners and dividers so much. Can you do a navigation banner for these two colors, please? I do not know the names but the hex codes are #f7d5d5 and #fbe4df. Thank you so much if you plan on doing it.

thank you so much!! And sure, I worked on a couple with those hex codes - wasn’t sure which themes you liked but I saw your gwen icon and that you wrote for ATSV, so I included 2 spider-themed ones. Hope you like them! 💖

———

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

#navigation banners #headers #requests #tinkerbelle05 #saradika answers #thinking of queue

14 notes · View notes

writingbylee · 3 months ago

Text

hi hello i think it’s time that i actually introduce all of my OCs? because i truly have so many and i never actually talk about half of them. so below you will find all my OCs! along with short bullet point explanations of their characters. if they have an OC sheet, that’ll be linked— as well as any fic i have posted about them. i’ve also included links to my vibes page (@vibesforlee) where i’ve got tags for each of my OCs.

Fandoms Below Include: Star Wars, A Song of Ice and Fire, Percy Jackson, Marvel, Chronicles of Narnia, Critical Role, Avatar The Last Airbender, and Top Gun: Maverick

so uhhhh yeah i hope this is helpful for at least my own brain but also anyone else who is interested!

dividers by: @saradika-graphics

banners by: me

Lyra Amidala Naberrie

General Knowledge

Younger sister of Padme Amidala

Jedi Healer during the Clone Wars

Served as Medic General of the 104th Legion, Chief Medical Officer of the 104th Company known as the “Wolfpack”, and as Medic General of the 501st Legion

Fic: @abandoned-by-destiny

Vibes

House of the Dragon

Aemma Velaryon Targaryen

General Knowledge

Firstborn child to Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon, before Laenor’s premature death three years after the marriage

Older sister to Jacaerys Targaryen Strong, Lucerys Targaryen Strong, Joffrey Targaryen Strong, Viserys Targaryen Strong, and Visenya Targaryen Strong

Bonded to the dragon Vermithor

Vibes

Game of Thrones

Lyanna Stark

General Knowledge

Eldest child of Catelyn and Ned Stark (by approximately seven minutes)

Twin sister to Robb Stark; believed half-sister of Jon Snow; older sister to Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, Bran Stark, and Rickon Stark

bonded to a red and brown direwolf called Scarlet Shadow

Fic: screaming from a crypt

oc blog: @princess-lyanna-stark

Vibes

Ceara Murphy

General Knowledge

daughter of Neptune and Emma Murphy, a legacy of Fortuna and daughter of Irish immigrants living in Portland, Oregon

inherited the power from her father to start earthquakes, and eventually manipulate seismic waves into concentrated blasts

brought down Mount Othrys after helping Jason Grace kill the Titan Krios

one of the demigods of the prophecy of Nine

Vibes

Emmalee Miller

General Knowledge

inherits the spirit and powers of the mythical Scarlet Witch when Wanda Maximoff is killed during her torture and experimentation at The Raft prison

is brought in by SHIELD after her powers emerge, and is initially assumed to be an Inhuman— and is therefore recruited by Daisy Johnson to join her Secret Warriors

Vibes

Edme Pevensie (female!Edmund Pevensie)

General Knowledge

Younger sister to Peter and Simon Pevensie, older sister to Lucy Pevensie

gains the power to manipulate ice and water after being stabbed with the shattered wand of The White Witch during The First Battle of Beruna

is crowned as High Queen Edme the Just, alongside her siblings; High King Peter the Magnificent, King Simon the Gentle, and Queen Lucy the Valiant

returns to Narnia twice after The Golden Age, both times to assist Prince, later King, Caspian the Tenth

Fic: A Reminder

Vibes

Campaign 1: Vox Machina

Alythea Vance

General Knowledge

Level 1 Druid/Level 11 Cleric (Death Domain) when hired by Vox Machina

is hired by Vox Machina to be their temporary healer/cleric during their mission to Whitestone, after Pike Trickfoot leaves on her vision quest

helps liberate the town of people of Whitestone, and returns to Vox Machina after the arrival of the Chroma Conclave in Emon

Vibes

Campaign 2: Mighty Nein

Kara Dean

General Knowledge

Level 7 Bard (College of Valor) when she meets the Mighty Nein

is Captain Avantika’s first mate/navigator when the Mighty Nein meet up with Avantika after stealing The Mist in Nicodranus

betrays Avantika and helps the Mighty Nein steal her journal

leaves The Revelry and Darktow with the Mighty Nein after The Plank King kills Avantika

Vibes

Xia Beifong

General Knowledge

Older sister to Toph Beifong, and heir apparent to the Beifong fortune

a nonbender who has trained extensively in swordplay

assists her younger sister in escaping, both to the fighting ring and to leave with the Avatar

in retaliation, is essentially sold by her father into marriage to the much older Earth King in Ba Sing Se

Vibes

Major Taylor Gardner

General Knowledge

28 year old Marine pilot

first Marine to ever be allowed to attend Top Gun, and the youngest female aviator to ever win Top Gun

callsign “Wasp”; due to the fifth generation fighter, colloquially called a Stinger, that she stole while escaping the uranium enrichment plant after being undercover there for several weeks obtaining vital intel

fic: Hangman and The Wasp

Vibes

15 notes · View notes

lunarubra · 28 days ago

Text

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Cillian Murphy (RPF)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x OC

Summary: This is the story of Cillian and Jiyan, who met in 2010. From their very first encounter, their bond grew stronger as they navigated the challenges and joys of life together.

Word Count: 35,499

Notes: This story is purely fictional and written for the sake of storytelling. No disrespect is intended toward the real people portrayed in this scenario. Created with love and respect for Cillian and the real Murphy family, it is not based on his actual family.

✧ Marks stories with multiple chapters. 🔞 Marks stories with explicit smut.

Masterlist

Part 1: Roots in Water ✧ 🔞

Part 2: [SOON]

Moodboards and Others

Jiyan Fabris OC Card Jiyan Appearance Cillian x Jiyan Moodboard Cillian x Jiyan Moodboard in Venice Newroz Moodboard Bookshop AU Moodboard by @raincoffeeandfandoms OC Interview - Game TAG

Masterlist

amazing dividers from cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics gorgeous banner from @cillmequick

#shadows of the sea #masterlist

17 notes · View notes

starwriterulia · 3 months ago

Text

Tomb of the Goshenite Stargazer Dragon - Chapter 6

SUBJECT MATERIAL WARNINGS FOR THIS FANFICTION ARE INCLUDED IN THE MASTERLIST POST OF MY BLOG AND THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THIS FANFICTION.

(Long A/N before cutoff, sorry!)

Bat divider by @violetbudd

Sun and moon divider by @saradika

Scene cut and creator support banner by @cafekitsune

Latest update: August 18, 2024. Added scene cut and "Support your creators by reblogging" banners. Added ⏭️ emoji below end of chapter banner with text explaining its function as a navigational button.

Chapter summary: Jason joins morning training. Wonder Woman, Zatanna and Damian arrive with Batman, who begins to scold the process before the Batkids remind Batman that they're working with a disabled person. The heroines talk with Faith about the asteroid belts that appeared when Faith came to Earth-33 and disappeared when she fixed the loophole she briefly explains, and how it was fixed, referring to Thalassic Space as a toy. Faith begins to age-regress when thinking about how she was unhappy due to her adoptive mom constantly taking away and breaking her favourite toys. Her favourite, a rabbit plush named Mr. Bunny, was the one tht was never taken away, but Faith herself threw him away when she was confirmed to be moving out; it was the toy she couldn't find online, and she shows the two closest pictures to the heroines and Batfamily.

She cries herself better in Batman's arms, then the group go to Faith's Dragon Tomb, inspired by Saarthal, to obtain her other two Relics and magic Astral Jester Costume. Faith successfully gains her full demigoddess powers and is given her items in a satchelbag, but afterwards, when one of the cat anthros guarding the final room exposes Faith's desires, the Batkids rightfully shout at Faith and leave, Batman leaving after speaking his mind in the way that only a father could. Martian Manhunter speaks to Wonder Woman and Zatanna over comms, offering to take Faith, but the heroines reply that they have another idea. Faith has delusions in the darkness left by Batman's cape as Wonder Woman and Zatanna walk Faith outside and through the portal, back to the Belfry, where the Batkids punish Faith on her way out. Batman gives Faith her belongings at the door, saying that he hopes she improves, then Batman slams the door. The heroines ask Faith if she'd like to be taken to a homeless shelter, or if she wants help. Faith, stuttering out of terror, asks for help. They ask Faith if she's OK with talkin to Oliver Queen and Dinah Laurel Lance, and Faith nods, then screams, as it was only 8 AM. They take to the sky for Star City, Washington.

A/N: (The night of writing this chapter:) Holy shit, I actually fucking went there!

(The day after writing this chapter, lightly revised the day after:) Y'all, I put my whole pussy in this chapter. It's got a lot of angst. PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND CONTENT WARNINGS! THIS CHAPTER GETS SUPER FUCKING REAL! 95% of this chapter is unedited, which I think speaks to its quality, and my skill as a writer, sorry to even imply towards having an ego, aaaaaa. But, yeah. I needed to confront myself about this. I've always been trying to just live, move on, and it was working until I started this fic, and I realised why I've been so passionate about it. It was time for me to talk to myself about that memory, and walk away from it, for good, and forever. In other words, I've literally punched my own face asdfsalkfj. What can I say? Things happen when you have too much brain juice at 1:30 AM!

Next chapter, another fandom will be added to the list!

That being said, I really hope this chapter is a good read! I think it's the best one I've written, so far. Thanks for reading, liking, replying and reblogging, everyone!

Also there's a spider in my bedroom, and I'm just like, please stay there, at the corner up the wall between my bed and the window, eat the flies, and don't come over here, otherwise you will die, thank you.

Fandoms: DC Comics, Batfamily, no Batcest, Thalassic Space (OC; takes inspiration The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Assassin's Creed: Black Flag, Silent Hill 2, Silent Hill 3, and other sci-fi, fantasy and horror titles, as well as original concepts, such as the science and lore of the galaxy.)

[In order of appearance] Characters: Faith Lawson (TBA; self-insert), Stephanie Brown (The Spoiler), Jason Todd (Red Hood), Barbara Gordon (Batgirl), Dick Grayson (Nightwing), Tim Drake (Red Robin), Bruce Wayne (Batman), Damian Wayne (Robin), Zatanna Zatara, Diana Prince (Wonder Woman), Dohannar Salmpho (OC), Wysherah Sōnā-Salmpho (OC), Ashanti Salmpho (OC).

Word Count: 10, 607 (post-revision; HOLY SHIT, THAT'S REAL? OH MY GOD, I REALLY DID WRITE THIS WITH MY PUSSY, DAMN!)

Content warning: Depressive, age-regression episode in which Faith talks about how her adoptive mother took away her toys, being more specific this time, and describes her favourite toy, Mr. Bunny, while showing similar pictures; fictional religious sermon in which Dohannar gives Faith all of her demigoddess powers; huge rational reaction from the Batkids following Tim's translation of Dohannar's offer; as Wonder Woman and Zatanna bring Faith out of the Dragon Tomb, Faith has a delusional panic attack in the darkness left by Batman's cape; the Batkids bully and mock Faith as she leaves with Wonder Woman and Zatanna.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Monday, February 12, 2024. 7:30 AM.

Faith and Stephanie, in daytime clothes, Faith wearing her olive green shirt with leggings, took turns using the toilet, the other brushing her hair or washing her hands and face. They descended, and Faith gasped, smiling, as she saw that Jason was loitering near the computer area, Dick, Barbara and Tim also present. "Oh my God, hi!" Said Faith.

Jason gave a warm smile. "Hi, Faith. Nice to finally meet you."

"Finally had a moment to spare?"

"Yeah. 'Should be fine until the evening. The others have been telling me that training's going well."

"Yeah, I haven't dislocated my knee yet, and I've still been having knee pops, but it's been going good."

"Good. Are you OK with going against me today?"

"I mean, I could try, sure!"

"All right, then."

"You should get some food in your tummy first, hon." Said Barbara. "There's eggs, bacon and toast for both of you, still on the stove and counter."

Stephanie said, "Oh, did Faith not tell y'all that she prefers sausage?"

"Oh, you do? Well, sorry, hon, we'll get some for you, for tomorrow."

"I mean, I'll eat it," Said Faith. "But yeah, that'd be nice, thanks." She and Stephanie filled a plate for themselves and sat at the table, eating quietly.

"'Thought you said she's a chatterbox." Jason said, sweeping his gaze among Dick, Barbara and Tim.

"Oh, she is," Said Tim. "But she can be quiet. It's not always time to ramble." Jason hummed.

Faith said, "Yeah, sometimes I've just got no loud thoughts, which is weird, 'cause there usually is. My brain is usually screaming. I have good mornings and days, sometimes, and sometimes it feels like they're really rare."

Jason hummed again. "Barbara said you take medication."

"Yeah, 75 miligrams of Quetiapine, and 25 miligrams of Quetiapine XR."

"Ah, OK. Do you do anything else to help with your mental health?"

"That isn't a distraction? Yeah, sometimes I make crafts or go outside. But it's winter, so I can't, right now."

"Eh, that's fair."

"Spring never comes fast enough, in Canada."

"Oh, that's right, you're from up north. How are you liking America?"

"Well, I've been to Texas for Easter of 2008 or '9 to see my adoptive dad's family."

"Oh, OK."

"She also hasn't been outside to actually experience America." Dick said, chuckling.

"Right. Well, you'd be screwed if we just let you loose now, even as a civi."

"Yep." Said Faith. She and Stephanie finished eating, then joined the group.

Dick said, "So, you've got the basics of how to prepare your body for combat, and how to react defensively. We're going to practice that today too, but we're thinking of teaching you how to land a proper blow, with accomodations for your little arms and hyptonia until Bruce has your gear ready, if you're willing to be really sore by the end of the day."

"Sure, that sounds good."

Batman entered the Belfry, accompanied by Robin, Wonder Woman and Zatanna. As they approached the Batkids, they watched Faith moving around Jason at a decent pace, who batted away her arms and legs with his own limbs and hit her ribs and appendages from time to time. Batman thought, 'No, no no no.' "Stop." He said.

"What's she doing wrong?" Jason replied.

"She's struggling to keep her eyes open and on her target because she's in pain, so she isn't hitting you as hard as she could be, and she isn't moving around you in an optimal way."

"Bruce, this is only her second day." Said Dick.

"If she keeps this up, it's going to become a habit, and that's not what we should be looking for."

"We're working with her, not against her. She's also not wearing any armour, so of course she's moving slower because of pain. In two days, she's been caught thirty-nine times, and had twenty-four falls from her knees popping. She's used to two pops with a possible fall every week, just from walking around and doing her job."

"Ow!" Faith cried, her right knee rotating and her leg flailing with it, momentum she used to distance herself from Jason, landing on her right leg, making Faith give a stuttered whimper as she held her left arm out and her other in front of her chest. Jason grabbed her left arm and pulled her close, and Faith put weight on her legs to move with Jason and swing behind him. "Ow, ow, ow!"

'She's letting him pull her muscles just to be able to move a little, that's not good. She shouldn't be doing that.'

Faith couldn't pry her arm from Jason's grasp. "Your enemy would have broken your arm by now." Jason said.

"I know! And they wouldn't let go of it, so I have to either not go behind and possibly fruitlessly work the front or sides, or take the beating, and losing is not what I'm trying to do here!"

Batman said, "What are you trying to do?"

"Get him down! 'Cause if he's on the ground, and he's not going to move, then I've won, and I can move on to the next!"

"Yes, but you should be fighting in a way that preserves your body and energy."

Barbara said, "Bruce, we've gone over this with her. We talk about her options while miming for at least fifteen minutes before we actually get moving. The only issue is that she's fragile. If you want to help, then give her something to wear already! We're doing all we can, and so is she!" The others hummed, nodding. Jason let go of Faith's arm.

"Ow." Faith shook out her limb, and massaged her muscles.

"Sorry, Faith."

"You're good, mmph."

"She's not the problem, Bruce. Her disability is." Said Jason.

Bruce quietly sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I was thinking about her like she's physically able, even though I've known from the beginning that she's not. You've all been doing the right thing." He opened one of his belt pockets, and pulled one end of a tailor's measuring tape with his left hand, the rest of the tape in his other hand. Faith's cheeks rose in a smile. It spread to Batman, a little. "How about we take your measurements now, and then I'll get out of your way?"

"Oh, you're not in the way." Faith said, approaching Bruce. He began to measure her right arm. "I just don't think you've had a kid with a disability like mine, before."

"No, I haven't."

"Hi, by the way, Wonder Woman and Zatanna!"

"Hi, Faith." Said Wonder Woman, she and Zatanna stepping around a little to get into Faith's field of view and Jason retreating to the desk area. "Would you mind chatting with us about Thalassic Space?"

"Sure, what are you wondering about?"

"You're able to make it exist and not-exist based on your faith on it, aren't you? That's how you manifestated your Animus, and why it vanished, right?"

"Yeah. They're my toys, but it's not always appropriate to play with them, so I pretend to be normal, like when I'm at work, and other times I'm too depressed to play with my toys. Did you find out that Urania's Celestial Globe is a Stage Prop when my faith is low?" Faith said. Bruce moved on to measure Faith's shoulders, chest and torso.

"Well, not just that." Said Zatanna. "The obisidian and goshenite asteroid belts appeared when you entered our world, though the ones near our sun had no magic, and they disappeared around five o'clock, last evening."

"Oh, that's because our sun isn't a magic sun."

"Ah."

"And they disappeared when Dick urged me to make a change so Ra's couldn't abuse the loophole."

"You made a loophole?" Zatanna sounded concerned.

"So, because Ra's is a demon, Platonia, the Nero Spirits and the Umbrella Man left him alone. He was allowed to enter Platonia whenever he wanted. And that could have, no, sorry, would have led to him finding out everything about Red Storm Earth and me, and learning about the Invitation of Nerobzal."

"Yes, Urania informed us, after you burned part of the forest behind Wayne Manor." Said Wonder Woman.

"It's awfully grim." Zatanna said to Faith.

Faith sounded defeated. "Sorry, I thought it made sense as a way to tie demons and monsters in to the lore of Thalassic Space."

"Oh, it does. Don't remove it just because you were made aware that you shouldn't let happen here so easily, OK?"

"I just want to be a good writer, is all."

"I didn't mean to say you're bad at writing." Zatanna said. Bruce started to measure Faith's hips, legs and feet, accounting for her deformed right foot.

"She's had a rough life." Said Stephanie. "Writers do this sorta thing all the time."

"That's true. I'm sorry, Faith, I really didn't mean to offend."

Faith sounded a little more confident. "No, you're fine. Ra's can no longer access Thalassic Space or its knowledge. He'll just see me as a girl with dragon powers and etcetera, relating to my Relics and magic Costume. Dick made me aware of the loophole, and now Apopis is blocking Ra's for good. There's no punishment, it's just a ban order."

"Good."

Faith sounded defeated, again, but her voice sounded child-like. "Are you here because you want me to end the story due to something bad happening elsewhere?"

"Oh no, is she about to age-regress?" Stephanie half-whispered to the other Batkids.

"I think so." Said Dick. Barbara nodded, she, Dick and Tim looking at Faith with pity.

"Oh, no. No, sweetheart." Zatanna said, holding Faith's wrists in her hands. "We need your faith! Otherwise, we can't observe the asteroid belts, and you won't be able to help us and the world, or yourself, in the future. We want you to succeed. And I know that your new friends in the Batfamily want you to be happy."

Faith's cheeks rose, but she looked sad. She said, monotonously, "I've never been happy before." Bruce paused, then resumed measuring Faith's left shin.

"Oh, that can't be true."

"All I remember is being alone," Faith began to cry. Zatanna moved her hands up to Faith's biceps. Her voice went full regression to that of a chlid's. "And my mom taking away my toys, like my dress-up lace fan that I was playing with one night that she broke in front of me, my Littlest Pet Shop collection that I apparently grew out of, like my Barbies, and I had Erica, and she's worth five hundred dollars now, and I'm sorry that I drew on her face, and then i had to throw away Mr. Bunny-hee-hee." Faith sobbed and lowered her head. Bruce stood, and put away the tailor's measuring tape.

"But that was because we'd just confirmed I was moving out, but I never got to take care of him, he hadn't been washed in years, and his neck was torn, but he was my favouri-ite, he was my friend and my roleplay buddy through all of the media I ever liked. When I put him in the garbage at the homestead, I," Faith pulled away from Zatanna and began to mime. "I laid down with him on my mattress on the floor in the cold room, 'cause I wasn't supposed to still be living with my parents, but I was so sad and scared of seeing Todd again and starving, and I knew I couldn't work a job because of my disability, wh-which I can, but it's really hard, and I," A pillow came flying from the bedroom upstairs into Faith's arms. "I kissed him and hugged him, I really hugged him." Faith did this to the pillow.

"And then I went out into the main room, I lifted up the lid, and I put him in the garbage. And my dad looked at me, I don't know what kinda, I-I think it was a face of concern, and then I went into my room to my laptop, and he opened the blanket that was the door for the cold room at the time, and he asked, "Are you OK, sweetie?", and I said, "Yeah, I'm OK. It's time." And he quietly told my mom, and she said, "Wow." And other things I didn't hear, but, but I just wi-hi-hi-hish!" Faith cowered to the floor, sitting on her knees. Zatanna and Bruce came down with her. Wonder Woman crouched as well, the next second.

"I wish I was allowed to take care of him! I wish Mom hadn't said that fourteen is too old for Barbie, and I wish she had told me why for all of the shit I did as a kid, 'cause I've always been better with more words, and now I'm just here! I'm here, with no Mr. Bunny, and no Dad, and even Milo is gone, my mom's Chihuahua is gone, and the trailer house we lived at is in shit condition, and I just wanna go home!" Faith wept loudly. Zatanna tsked and hugged Faith. Barbara wiped tears, Dick and Tim pouted and looked at each other, Stephanie sighed, staring at Faith's sad face, and Jason had a sympathetic expression as he looked at Faith.

"I'm sorry." Said Zatanna.

Tim said, "Mr. Bunny is new."

"Yep." Said Dick.

"I found a "Mr. Bunny" in one of the dumpsters outside." Jason said.

"Ew, Jason, no!" Barbara hissed.

Zatanna asked, "What did Mr. Bunny look like, Faith?"

Faith sounded normal. "Well, I tried finding him online, but I couldn't quite. I saved two pictures on my phone that, if put together, would be him, though." Stephanie picked up Faith's phone from the table and brought it over. Zatanna removed her hands from Faith's arms to let Faith unlock the phone, opened the Photos app, and go to Favourites as Batman and Wonder Woman stood behind Zatanna to look. She opened a picture of a blue and white floppy-eared 14" rabbit plush with black bead eyes, a pink nose, the framing of the toy implying a sewn smile, a pink bow with red stripes and a yellow border around its neck, white front paws, a white face and inner ears, and embroidered blue toe beans on its large hind feet.

"This one's got the toe beans Mr. Bunny had, and the inner ears, face, stomach and feet are all white, like his was." Faith swiped right. The next image was a pink and white floppy-eared 14" rabbit plush with the same black eyes, pink nose, white front paws and belly. The sewn smile was visible in this photo. The toy's hind paws were pink, the upper white area gathered into three toes, its inner ears were pink, and it had a pink ribbon bow around its neck. "But this one is the right colour, and has the right bow. But the bow was made of chifon, not silk."

"May we see too, Faith?" Said Barbara. Faith nodded and offered her phone to the air. Barbara came forward and took the phone, and looked at the photos with Dick. "Aw, I bet he was cute!"

"Yeah, cute." Dick said. Barbara gave the phone to Tim for him, Stephanie and Jason to look at.

"Huh, OK." Said Tim.

"Aw, I want a Mr. Bunny, too!" Stephanie said. Faith giggled.

"He looks cosy." Said Jason. Faith nodded, smiling softly. Tim locked Faith's phone and put it back on the table.

Faith looked at Batman , a tear falling from her left eye, and sobbingly said, "I miss him." Batman crouched with Faith, Zatanna and Wonder Woman joining a moment later. "But I can't find him, so I have to try and fill the space. No fictional person, no other toy is Mr. Bunny. He's why I love soft things. He's why I collect plushies. I have other friends, but I don't have him."

Batman hummed. "You had a very special friend."

Faith nodded, a tear falling from her right eye. "I did." Batman sighed and pulled Faith into his chest. Faith wailed. She cried for a whole minute.

'Zatanna? Wonder Woman?' Batman thought, as Faith cried.

'Yes, Batman?' Replied Wonder Woman.

'I think we've all seen, and from her stories gathered that Faith needs to cry badly.'

'Mhm.' Wonder Woman replied, she and Zatanna nodding.

'The two things she wants to cry about are her dad and Mr. Bunny. Because of the lectures she recieved from her adoptive mother, she feels that crying for herself is inappropriate, and considered a pity-party. She's only ever been able to cry alone.'

'Poor girl.' Zatanna thought.

'She likely knows that a therapist would understand and have the right thing to say, know the right actions to suggest. But she's been living this sad life for so long, with her body, that she can't believe in that advice, or begin on that path. That is, when she was alone, and had no friends.'

'Right.' Thought Wonder Woman. 'So, she's on the right track, now that she's got all of us.'

'Yes. We should go through with our plans for you to help her with her mystical arts,' Zatanna and Wonder Woman nodded. 'While my family helps her physical condition improve. We'll all do our part to help her mind and heart heal. Her visit to the group home only did so much. She came home to a family that loved her, yes, but they didn't talk to her, didn't ask questions that needed to be asked years ago, didn't apologise and amend for things that happened years ago.'

'It's time.' Thought Wonder Woman. Zatanna and Batman nodded. Faith sighed, panted twice, and burped.

"Better?" Batman inquired.

Faith nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Stephanie!"

"Yeah?"

"Chalk!"

"Oh, you wanna do that now?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"You want to get your Relics and Costume." Said Zatanna, as Stephanie picked up the box of chalk from the desk and made her way over. "That's a great idea." Faith nodded, standing to recieve the chalk. Batman, Wonder Woman and Zatanna rose to their feet, as well.

"Oh, wait. I'm too short to draw a door. It doesn't have to be fancy, just tall enough for us to walk through."

"May I?" Said Zatanna. Faith nodded, a smile on her cheeks. They went to the wall opposite of the Belfry's entrance, Wonder Woman and Stephanie close behind, Batman a little father but also following, Dick, Barbara and Tim walking over to watch, Damian and Jason staying where they were. Zatanna drew a door on the wall with the chalk. Faith extended her right hand, palm towards the floor, and a drawer of the kitchen rattled. "Wait!" Faith closed her hand. "You'll hurt yourself, and not in the way you mean to!"

"Yeah, that's a good way to stab yourself, or lose your hand, Faith." Said Dick. Barbara and Tim nodded, humming different tones of agreement.

"Here." Batman closed the distance, and pricked Faith's right index finger with a needle.

"Oh, thank you." Faith wrote in the door: Tot thoe Checkpotinat otut'si'de otph thoe Totmab otph thoe Gotsihoenaite Sitafrgafzer Drafgotna, Laittlae Paftho, Thoafla'si'ic Sipafce.

"To the Checkpoint outside of the Tomb of the Goshenite Stargazer Dragon, Little Path, Thalassic Space." Batman read aloud.

"Yep! We're playing Skyrim, baby!" Faith laugh.

"Skyrim, baby!" Stephanie echoed, she, Barbara, Dick, Zatanna and Wonder Woman laughing with Faith. Faith knocked on the wall eight times. The chalk outline became a portal, oulined in white-blue light, to a snowy hill overlooking a hole in which scoffolding led down to a pair of Nordic iron doors.

"Behold! Saarthal, but it's different inside!" Said Faith. "No need to worry about the portal, this area of Little Path is deserted, except for wildlife. The only thing that'll maybe come through are rabbits, foxes and Pixies. This hill has no hostile enemies." Batman heard the doors opening again, and two pairs of footsteps.

"OK." Said Zatanna. "Let's go, then." Faith nodded, and led Zatanna, Stephanie, Wonder Woman, Batman, Dick, Barbara and Tim inside. They walked the scaffolding, and Faith opened the doors. They crossed the first half of the excavation via the remnants of stone bridges of the pillars and the wooden ramps that had been built to access the second chambers with connected passageways.

"Wow, this is literally Saarthal." Said Tim.

"Yes, it's exactly Saarthal, until the last room." Faith said.

"Garf!" "Grr-arf!" Said the four large, amorphous, earthen masses of brown slime shuffling about below.

"What are those?" Asked Jason.

"Slicks. SCP-999, but they eat waste, and they're made from dirt, sand and clay."

"Ha! Nice." Said Tim.

"Depending on what you feed them, they give things back, or make fireworks, gemstones or copper, silver or gold coins, which are called Gore, Grief and Guilt. Left-wing things."

"Right." Said Wonder Woman.

"They're commonly placed in dumpsters and outhouses, and are used by organic-favouring mages and alchemists as vacuum cleaners. Their natural habitats are sewage lines and landfills."

"So you've got both helpful and harmful creatures, OK." Said Zatanna.

"Yeah! Like, there's also Wicks, which are furnace slimes, often used by blacksmiths and also used to keep houses warm." Faith entered the passageways with scattered alchemy ingredients. "Even poor families are allowed one, so no stories of people freezing to death happen unless the Wick has been eaten by a Wyrm, spelled with a y. Wingless dragons with long tails. They're exactly the ones from The Lord of the Rings Online."

"Ah, OK. So you really have put a bunch of things that you liked from other stories into your own. I like that."

Stephanie said, "Yeah, isn't it cool?" Zatanna nodded, humming.

"Aw, thank you. Um, there's also Shifts, which are literally danger brooms." Faith pressed her hand to the wall where the Amulet of Saarthal would have been, a Double Eight in its place. It hummed and shone at her touched, and the way forward opened.

"Danger brooms?" Wonder Woman chuckled.

"Yeah! Imagine a stickman, but covered in sharp bristles. And they shake like nuts, and they pierce through anything weaker than chainmail." Faith said, reaching the lever and opening the gate into a circular room with ten vertical coffins. "Oh, and don't worry about the draugr. They can smell me, so they're assuming you're with me until I call for help." She led the others inside and around the right side of the room. "Shifts are technically insect demons. You know those really spiky caterpillars?"

"Ohhh."

"Yeah, they're inspired by those, weird colours and all." Faith stopped at the door to Saarthal proper. "Uh, and those are like, the basic four monsters of Thalassic Space. Most of the rest are literally or inspired by mythology, or some kind of animal that's been mutated." Wonder Woman hummed. Faith pulled the chains to open the door, and led the group into the antechamber.

They passed the draugr, and Faith crouched and touched the fire rune trap at the first turn, causing it to break with the sound of falling ashes. They walked on to the iron door, strode past the burial niches, and Faith walked the north wall, touching each stone pillar as she went to display Eagle, Snake and Whale. "Tim, do you have the pillars along the south wall?"

"Yep." Tim replied, turning the other three pillars to show Whale, Eagle and Eagle. The group stepped past the puzzle gate and down the stairs into a large room. Faith waved her right hand in front of the cobwebbed doorway, and the webs disappeared. She crouched to deal with a shock rune trap along the way, and another at the entrance to the next room, which had four pillars and a lever in the middle. The heroes noticed three feline people lounging on a dark blue chaise and a matching long sofa in front of a fireplace in the next room.

Faith said as she walked, "Southeast." She touched the pillar. The felines looked at each other, and began to cry.

"Northeast." Tim touched this pillar. The grey tabby feline rose from the chaise, where a calico feline sat. The other, a white feline, was seated on the couch.

"Southwest."

"And northwest. Who wants to pull the lever?"

"May I?" Said Barbara.

"Sure!" Said Faith. Barbara pulled the switch. The gate forward opened. "Woo hoo!"

"Faith?" An alto voiced grey tabby feline gingerly said, approaching the doorway. She was 5'7" tall.

Faith moved her eyes and head from Barbara to the feline, and sounded like she was going to cry. "Wysherah." She whimpered, stimulating her little forearms with excited shakes, and hurried into the arms of the cat as the other felines rose and came over.

Wysherah hugged Faith kindly, purring into the girl's head. "Yes, hello, Starwriter. Welcome back."

"Phafitho." The tenor voiced calico said, his voice distorted by the strain in his throat. He was 6" tall.

"Dohannar." Faith was smoothly released from Wysherah into Dohannar. His hug was firm, and he desperately nuzzled his neck over Faith's head, and his face over hers.

"Mayl thoird qutafrter, mayl siutna."

"What's he saying?" Stephanie quietly asked.

"'My third quarter, my sun.'" Batman translated.

Wysherah said, "I am his first, his faith in Vishnu is his second, she is his third, and our daughter," She looked to the third cat, who was 5'1" tall. "Ashanti, is his fourth. Ashanti would not have been born again after my murder if Faith, as Faina, had not found my kitten as she laid alone, in the Ninth Circle's Perimeter, when Faina was hiding from Nero Dionysus, as he was chased by the Demon Hunters." Dohannar stopped nuzzling all over Faith, and held her as he purred.

"Mothers and children are precious to all worthy gods, and so when I and Ashanti died, we were to be reborn. But because Nerobzal was in Yahweh's mind, we could not reach our bardo, and our karmas were pulled through space. Eighty-three years passed before Dohannar was freed from enslavement to Nero Ba'al Berith by Canon Michael, and then he summmoned Faina, and that led to Ashanti's and my freedom." Wysherah said. Dohannar ended the hug, gently playing with Faith's hair starting from her scalp, Faith giggling.

"But I was scared to be pregnant with Ashanti again, as Kaleido was still active. Dohannar and I gave our memories of Ashanti, when she was in my womb," Dohannar removed his hand from Faith's head, and the two stood and listened to Wysherah. "And her soul to Faina, who I am sure you know is the third incarnation of the O-type star's spirit, and a Soul Fragment of Faith representing autumn, a season of harvest, cool weather, and festivities regarding thanks for Gaia before Old Man Winter comes to cover the cold lands with his white robe. As I was days away from my due date, so was Faina, when Dohannar laid with her using the Cult of Asherah ritual Faina had found in the Deep Sea City of Yotutrnaeyl, one of the secrets Nero Dionysus had been hiding and using to abuse the merfolk of Yotutrnaeyl. Ashanit's birth led to Nerobzal's defeat, and Faina, and through her, Faith, overcame her fear of pregnancy and childbirth. Ashanti, and the idea of her, is a promised child with great love, kindness and courage, born at last with the power of trust, friendship, and the divine grace of Asherah, a life born to remember who Yahweh is supposed to be to men, women and children."

"Wow." Said Barbara.

"Faith wrote that, too?" Said Stephanie.

"Yes." Said Wysherah.

"Damn, that's fire!" Stephanie said. Wysherah chuckled with Barbara, Dick, Tim, Batman, Wonder Woman and Zatanna.

"I think it's easy to surmise that you're named after Asherah and the word 'wish'." Said Wonder Woman.

"Yes, but wish is spelled with a y." Wysherah made eye contact with Faith. "You're here to retrieve your birthrights and recieve the sermon to officiate yourself as Ulia-Ønske, yes?"

"Yes, and return my tooth, as my powers are awake now, so it can be where it belongs until I die again and am reborn or resurrected." Faith summoned the tooth out of the air into her right hand.

"Very good. Let's go together. Guests: when we arrive at the island, please do not pass the golden tiles in front of the double-coffin and altar, unless you want to fight the Dragon Priests." Wysherah walked through the next room, Dohannar and Faith behind her. Ashanti meowed and lunged into a hug, Dohannar holding Faith steady as Faith laughed and hugged Ashanti.

"Hi, baby girl." Said Faith.

"Hi, Mama!" Said Ashanti, a soprano-range teenager. Faith walked with Ashanti attached to her, Dohannar just behind to Faith's right. The heroes noted several chests with treasure, near the door to the puzzle, three dressers and wardrobes and two beds, a queen and a double, to the upper left, the lounge area to the lower left, a table set with four chairs to the upper right, and an empty space with a beautiful purple, blue and magenta carpet to the lower left.

"This is room much bigger and different than the one in-game." Said Tim.

Faith said, "I had to make a little home for my cats, my," She looked at Dohannar, redness in her cheeks. "My wish family." Dohannar smiled softly, and caressed her right cheek with his left paw-hand. As they approached the door, Wysherah pushed it open.

"Holy mega structures. This room is three times as big, as in Skyrim." Said Tim. Before them was a very long arching bridge surrounded by water, and at its end an island of stone with ten standing sarcophagi and an open coffin made for two, and a stone altar. The stone walls were given depth and colour by the gold painted vines, some parts unpainted as moss and mushrooms had grown with the flowers.

"This bridge is 287 paces." Batman thought aloud.

"Wow!"

"Correct." Said Wysherah.

The first thirty paces was built with smooth grey stone that became clay bricks with unique rocks, held together by wet dirt and coloured by yellow sand. Along its railings were many candles, some melted and the wick folded into the wax, others close to nothing and the wick barely alight, more halfway burned and more yet seemingly new and tall. There were flowers, perennials and annuals, and wooden vines painted gold strewn about the stone floor and draped over the railing. Pages with children's drawings of a golden tree read 'At'fman Lawbzal' and sometimes also 'Farewell and warm wishes for the next life of the Last Son of Bartholomew, Argophael, Animus of the Lost Daughter, Ulia-Ønske, Ego of that Animus and First Life of the Great Little Starwriter, who shall both rest here until Ulia-Ønske is reborn by the grace of the pantheons as Faith Lawson', written by older children or adults. Other pages had letters to Argophael and-or Ulia-Ønske, the golden tree drawn somewhere. Gemstones and polished rocks scattered about the pages, sometimes buried in the wax. Dirt, sand, and clay gave natural texture to the bridge from the thirty-first pace until the 287th.

Batman said, "Slicks and Wicks are made from dirt, sand and clay. They made the bridge longer, as the years went on."

Wysherah said, "Yes. They come here to die, sometimes. They live for two years, if they do not return to planet Grace for a week every other month. Grace is where their mother, Darisela, a canine earth elemental, lives. Their father is Decelep, a sea and sky serpent, and the only son of Mother Mermaid, who needs no man to procreate, and who terraformed planet Grace after the O-type star collided with the M- and G-type stars. The magic of the Slicks and Wicks ensures that this bridge, and all of the notes and flowers, do not weather, and allowed the bridge to expand as the pantheons and their children, and their followers, told the story of Argophael and Ulia-Ønske to Thalassic Space. The planet we occupy now, Little Path, is where Father Dragon lives with the Dragon Kin, away from the blades and cruel magic of Kaleido, before Kitsch was corrupteed to be so, and after it was reclaimed as Kirei."

"Italian vampires to Japanese vampires." Said Dick.

"Yes. Little Path and its moon, the Realm of Tree Peoples, were created by Father Dragon. While you now have context about who sculpted Grace, it might interest you to know that Bafsina was molded by the Tree Peoples, who travelled to the planet when they bulit spaceships, twenty-one years after they had spawned from the departed of Earth in the early 1600's. Bafsina is mostly water with islands, Plains and small continents, of course, and because of this is more of a water planet than Grace is, with two large continents and numerous islands and Plains, but not as many as Bafsina hosts."

"Huh." Said Dick. "So who terraformed planet Sia and Judge?"

"May I suggest you reverse the order, when listing them in the future, as sia means six?"

"Oh, yeah sure, sorry."

"It's not a worrysome thing, just a note. Judge was terraformed by the earliest citizens and lucid dreamers who visited the Dream World on Paper. That's why Krampus took hold of it so easily."

"Oh, Krampus did more than slaughter the Snow Elves and Astral Elves?"

"Yes. Judge is the place he occupied, afterwards. And no one was brave and foolish enough to challenge him until Bafsina was united after the Palette Civil War, and now Krampus lives in Platonia with his father, Nerobzal, and so does Bartholomew, who brought evil to both Grace and Yotutrnaeyl, as the transgender pirate captain Arles led the sea efforts to damage the Naglfar enough that the dead spilled into the ocean and were devoured by the corrupted merfolk that the Cloud Casters had lured from the Deep Sea City of Yotutrnaeyl, where Nero Dionysus had used his powers of debauchery to control Canon Poseidon. This feast upon the dead cancelled out the evil that Nero Dionysus had bloomed in the Five Mortal Qualities of the merfolk, who were immediately called to action by the Mermaid Mage Celia Nacre from planet Grace, and together, with the pirate ships and the natural winds, rain and dangerous tides of the squall, the Naglfar sunk into the ocean of Thalassic Space until it reached the space of Thalassic Space, to be there and be impossible to reach or summon ever again."

"Wow. That's really good stuff, Faith."

"Thank you!"

"As for Sia: it's a planet of dark forests, treacherous mountains and ravines, and rivers and lakes of dark magic coloured waters sculpted by the Passerine Sisters, Nero Spirits so powerful that they were declared as demons by Canon Lucifer and the Flytower Gods. Their Bird Personas, seen by the Oracles in dreams, were fated to be the houses of Cedillo Imagination Magic Academy, and the behaviours of each bird inspired the personality and life of each sister and the kind of student that the school phoenix, Illumine, would assign to each house. The Lightless Realm and Lightful Realm are Sia's moons, but are only visible when traversing Platonia."

"How did the room itself expand?" Asked Tim.

"Dohannar and I did the work. The candles melt, as they do naturally, and are replaced if the worshipper who placed it still lives. This bridge was only fifty paces, when Argophael and Ulia-Ønske, died. 687 years have passed, as you for sure know."

"Wow." Said Barbara, breathily. "This is all so much more than you described to us, Faith."

"Well, I was trying to be brief." Faith replied.

"True."

Wysherah said, "Were you told that the waters are from Pierian Spring?"

"Yeah." Said Barbara.

"Did Faith, or perhaps a visiting Urania, mention to anyone that they have healing properties?"

"Yes," Said Wonder Woman. "Frejya and Freyr brought Ønske to the spring, after she was severely wounded by a beast."

"Yes, that's right." Wysherah said. The group eventually came to the island. Everyone but the cats and Faith stopped in front of the golden tiles. Faith paused and glanced left, at the open coffin. It was made of stone, and the left side was lined with blue satin, the other side with white satin.

"What does he look like, Faith?" Stephanie asked. Dohannar and Wysherah proceeded to the altar, Dohannar standing in front and opening the closed tome bound in white and blue dyed leather, and Wysherah standing at the left side of the altar.

"Nero from Devil May Cry." Faith said.

Stephanie failed to not laugh, stifling it in her throat. "Sorry."

"No no, you're fine. Him, but cuter. With my round face, and my nice, round cheeks, and big, round eyes, but with Nero's jawline, white hair and blue eyes."

"Ah."

"I thought that, if I could be a boy, I would want to look like that."

"Aw, that's nice."

"Thank you. Flashing lights and eye-strain warning, by the way." Faith said. She continued, and stopped at the altar, in front of which stood Dohannar, Wysherah to the left. Ashanti broke away from Faith and stood to the right of the altar. Faith knelt in front of Dohannar with both knees, her head bowed and her hands flat on her stomach, left hand over her right.

"If you would all please kneel, on one knee or both, in respect to the pantheons and the O-type star's spirit that is within Faith, and Argophael, who is resting yet shall also contribute to the ritual in that he is her Animus." Said Wysherah. Stephanie, Barbara knelt with both knees, Dick, Tim, Wonder Woman and Zatanna knelt with one knee, all readily. Batman did with one knee, the next second, and several seconds later, so did Jason, also with one knee. "Thank you. Batman, since you seem to understand Neofom, you are welcome to translate Dohannar's sermon, which has Four Declarations." Batman nodded. Wysherah and Ashanti raised their arms to the ceiling and began to chant At'fman Lawbzal repeatedly with two seconds between each repetition.

Dohannar removed the white ebony dagger and scallop seashell necklace from the altar, where there was also a closed tome. As he spoke, he placed the necklace over Faith's head for her to wear, and cut a shallow cross with the dagger on her upper chest, Faith's closed eyes wincing. Dohannar placed the dagger in front of Faith, on the floor. He said, "Utnaresitinag eylesi otph thoe pafnathoeotna, wae cotma'afnad ylotut tot lot'k aft thoisi waotma'na, afnad remaemaber thoaft sihoe wa'si Ulia-Ønske, dafutghoter otph Víðarr afnad Skuld, photsitered byl Frejya afnad Freyr, maenatotred byl Urania afnad Uriel, afnad thoaft sihoe isi thoe otnoe afnad otnalayl vesi'ela afnad ma'naiphesitaftiotna otph thoe Ot-tylpe sitafr'si sipirit, phorever afnad ever, ina eafcho laiphe, ina eacho yleafr, afnad ina eafch gafla'xyl afnad utnaiversie."

As Dohannar spoke, Batman translated. "Unresting eyes of the pantheon, we command you to look at this woman, and remember that she was Ulia-Ønske, daughter of Víðarr and Skuld, fostered by Frejya and Freyr, mentored by Urania and Uriel, and that she is the one and only vessel and manifestation of the O-type star's spirit, forever and ever, in each life, in each year, and in each galaxy and universe."

Dohannar paused after the First Declaration, and Wysherah and Ashanti pumped their arms in the air, saying. "At'fman Lawbzal!" With a little more volume, not quite a shout.

Dohannar said with a kind tone, "Utnaresitinag hoafnads otph thoe pafnatheotna, wae cotma'nad ylotut tot blaesi thoe Phive Maotrtafla Quaflaitiesi otph thoisi waotma'na, afnad waho'la'yl maerge thoema waitho tho'sie otph Ulia-Ønske siot thoaft sihoe ma'y' phulafphila' hoer Rotlae afsi Pla'ywarighot otph thoe Rotnadot Thoeaftre afnad Greaft Laittlae Sitafrwariter, waitho afla' otph hoer Persiotna'si: thoe Gotsihenoite Sitafrgafzer Drafgotna, Skinne, si'red byl Skjør afnad birthoed afnad besitotwaed byl Frodig; Solas thoe Phafiryl Persiotna' afsi besitotwaed byl Duna; Ønske thoe Maerma'id Persiotna' afsi besitotwaed byl Urania; afnad hoer Nerot Persiotna', Odeya." Faith suddenly shone bright white-blue. "Ma'yl thoesie potwaersi prot'ect hoer afnad phrienads photr thoe got'd otph laiphe afnad af'terlaiphe, phorever afnad ever, ina eafcho laiphe, ina eafch yleafr, afnad ina eafch gafla'xy' afnad utnaiversie."

"Unresting hands of the pantheon, we command you to bless the Five Mortal Qualities of this woman, and wholly merge them with those of Ulia-Ønske so that she may fulfill her Role as Playwright of the Rondo Theatre and Great Little Starwriter, with her Personas: the Goshenite Stargazer Dragon, Skinne, sired by Skjør and birthed and bestowed by Frodig; Solas the Fairy Persona as bestowed by Duna; Ønske the Mermaid Persona as bestowed by Urania; and her Nero Persona, Odeya. May these powers protect her and friends for the good of life and afterlife, forever and ever, in each life, in each year, and in each galaxy and universe."

Dohannar paused again, and Wysherah and Ashanti pumped their arms again, saying, "At'fman Lawbzal!" At a controlled shout.

Dohannar raised his voice, but did not shout. "Utnaresitinag voticesi otph thoe pafnathoeotna, wae cotma'nad ylotut tot si'nag," Feminine and masculine voices began to fill the air with beautiful sounds. "Wae cotma'nad ylotut tot siho'ut," Voices joined that shouted with courage and pain. "Wae cotma'nad ylotut tot cryl," Voices sobbed, calling for Ulia, Ønske, Argophael, and others the heroes didn't recognise, but soon realised were the names of loved ones. "Photr thoisi waotma'na hoafsi retutrnaed tot hoer ho'mae afmaotnagsit ylotut, afnad wae cotma'nad ylotut tot laofve hoer totdafyl afsi sihoe wa'si laofved ina thoe pafsit byl ylotut afnad ylotutr peotplae," A truly massive stargazer lily, pink, yellow and white, suddenly bloomed from the center of the ceiling, releasing delicate golden sparkles that showered the cat anthros and people below. Jaws were dropped and smiles were shown by the Batkids, and Wonder Woman and Zatanna smiled and chuckled. The two heroines looked at Batman and saw a little smile on his face as he looked down from the big flower at Faith. "Afnad byl thoe peofplae thoaft thoe Ot-tylpe sitafr birthoed afnad givesi ho'mae, lfighot afnad ma'gic tot, afnad ylotutr bafrdsi afnad Pla'ywarighotsi, ylotutr choiladrena afnad thoeir photla'otwaersi, enatertafinamaenat afnad cotma'utnaityl, lotversi afnad phrienadsi, maeafnainag ina laiphe afnad ina afphterlaiphe."

"Unresting voices of the pantheon, we command you to sing, we command you to shout, we command you to cry, for this woman has returned to her home amongst you, and we command you to love her today as she was loved in the past by you and your people, and by the people that the O-type star birthed and gives home, light and magic to, and your bards and Playwrights, your children and their followers, entertainment and community, lovers and friends, meaning in life and in afterlife."

Dohannar stopped, and Wysherah and Ashanti repeated their motion and shouted louder, "At'fman Lawbzal!"

Dohannar shouted loudly, "Utnaresitinag Phlayltotwaer! Cotmae! Cotmae afnad siee thoisi choilad, cotmae afnad siee thoisi waotma'na!" The ceiling opened up to space as Dohannar called for the Flytower to come and see, and many eyes of different colours and shapes attached to different faces took the place of each star. "Cotmae afnad grafnat hoer afla' thoaft sihoe hoafsi ma'de," Seven magic circles, familiar to Batman and Tim, appeared over seven particular pairs of eyes, identifying each deity. "Afnad afla' thoaft sihoe cafna ma'ke, afnad laet ylotutr pafsitsi afnad phut'utresi ina pafrt be expresi'ed thorotutgho hoer breaftho afnad afrt," Three pieces of construction paper, blue, purple and pink, appeared and flew around Faith. "Thorotutgho hoer botdyl afnad ma'gic," The white-blue shine around Faith merged with her body.

"Unresting Flytower! Come! Come and see this child, come and see this woman! Come and grant her all that she has made, and all that she can make, and let your pasts and futures in part be expressed through her breath and art, through her body and magic,"

"Afnad laet it be reyoticed afnad resipected byl everyl bafrd afnad Pla'ylwarighot,"

"And let it be rejoiced and respected by every bard and Playwright,"

The sky shouted, "HOORAH!"

"Byl afla' choiladrena afnad photla'otwaersi,"

"By all children and followers,"

"HOORAH!"

"Photr enatertafinamaeant afnad cotma'utnaityl,"

"For entertainment and community,"

"HOORAH!"

"Afnad photr laotversi afnad phrienadsi, tot deiscribe maeafnaiang ina laiphe afnad afphterlaiphe!"

"And for lovers and friends, to describe meaning in life and afterlife!"

"HOORAH!"

"AT'FMAN LAWBZAL!" Wysherah and Ashanti screamed, beams of white light bursting from their hands and phasing into space, and collecting every eye, magic circle and voice above until the ceiling had returned, and, with shouts of great endeavour, released all of the light, space, divine eyes, sounds and colours into Faith, who flashed the colours of the magic circles eight times, Batman counted. Faith sighed and opened her eyes, her hot breath white-blue. Dohannar applauded, an proud smile on his feline features, and Faith stood, meeting Dohannar's gaze with love. Wysherah and Ashanti lowered their arms and applauded with adoring smiles too, and Faith looked at them lovingly as well.

"You may applaud too, if you would like." Said Wysherah.

"You may now also stand." Ashanti quickly said.

"Faith has now fully become a demigoddess!"

"Woo hoo!" Said Stephanie and Barbara, immediately clapping along and getting to their feet, as did Tim, Dick, Wonder Woman and Zatanna, Batman standing and clapping a second later, Jason barely a second afterwards. Damian did not applaud, but he did stand.

"Yay!" Said Tim.

"Yay, Faith!" Dick said.

"Congrats." Jason said.

"My eyes hurt, but that was sort of cool." Said Damian.

"Damian." Said Batman.

"Sorry. It was... it was pretty freaking cool." Damian clapped along, Batman noting that it was with normal energy, which made him thankful. "Very fancy. I imagine this entire scene has increased the word count by seventy-five percent."

"Yeah, that's about right!" Said Faith, bending down to pick up the dagger. Dohannar draped leather satchelbag with a white leather sheath over Faith's right shoulder. "Thank you." Faith said, sheathing the dagger.

"Thank you, Damian." Batman said. The applause ended.

"Thanks for even coming through the portal, Damian." Faith said, looking at the boy. "You didn't have to. Thanks to you too, Jason. I know you don't like magic."

"Well, it's not every day you get to see, well, this." Jason said. He pointed at the ceiling. "That," He spung his finger around. "Was really impressive. I really wanna read how you described it."

"Thank you. It is on Tumblr. My account is @starwriterulia. He he."

Stephanie giggled. "Self-shout out!"

"Shameless plug!" Faith and Stephanie laughed. Barbara, Wonder Woman and Zatanna giggled, and Dick and Tim chuckled.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"How big is that flower?" Tim pointed with his left hand.

"8.26 m, or 27 ft 11⁄4 in."

Faith said, "I looked up 'world's biggest dump truck' and was given Belaz 75710. That's it's height."

"Mhm." Batman nodded to confirm.

"Holy Gigas Liliaceae, that's a big flower!" Dick exclaimed. Faith laughed, joined by the other Batkids, Jason nodding and chuckling, Damian rolling his eyes but sort of nodding, Batman nodding with a hum in the cursive way a parent would say, 'Yes, what a distinguished specimen!'. Wonder Woman and Zatanna laughed. too.

"I like Stargazer Lilies!" Faith said, during the laughter.

"Well, you may all now return to, uh Earth Prime, is it?" Wysherah looked at Dohannar, who nodded. "Yes, Earth Prime. You are welcome to visit again using the chalk door portal Faith undoubtedly drew in a trusted location, which, I will clarify, may only be used by people who either Faith trusts, or who any of you trust."

"How do we close it?" Asked Barbara.

"You knock eight times on the portal without your hand passing through. You may simply wash away the chalk door with water. Ah, but to enter this place and not only leave the draugr asleep but to walk with the Great Little Starwriter is a blessing."

"We are blessed to have her in the family." Said Batman. Faith blushed and turned her head down, diagonally, as the other Batkids nodded, humming different tones of agreement.

"Thank you." Faith said, meekly. Then, confidently, "Let's go." The group walked back over the bridge. As the group moved to leave the house chambers, Dohannar gently took hold of Faith's right bicep, and gave a mew. Faith instantly looked Dohannar in the eye. "What is it, my quarter?"

"Si'nace ylotut afre naotwa si'blainagsi afnad dafutghoter tot thoe peotplae ylotut waotutlad hoafve warittena ylotutrsielaph tot hoafve siex waitho," Faith's face became bright red, and she hid her face with her left hand connected to her forehead. Tim's jaw dropped as he looked at Batman, who looked at Faith with his head tilted forward and a burning frown, then Tim stared at Faith. "Except phor thoe ylotutnagesit,"

"Mhm." Faith tone was very embarassed.

"Faith, what the hell?!" Said Tim.

"Waotutlad ylotut laike tot sitafyl thoe naighot afnad ma'ke laotve tot mae?"

"What did he say?" Said Dick, a brief pause between his words. The Batkids had paused in the mouth of the previous area, Batman at the doorway, Wonder Woman and Zatanna to the left of Faith. Wysherah and Ashanti sat down on the couch, Ashanti resting her head on her mother's lap, and they watched.

Tim said, "I've got this one, Dad. He said, um," Tim cleared his throat. "'Since you are now siblings and daughter to the people you would have written yourself to have sex with',"

"OH GOD!" Barbara and Dick exclaimed, and turned to face the floor and the wall, Dick pressing himself to the left wall and Barbara to the other.

"Faith!" Barbara scolded.

"Faith, what the heck?!" Dick commented. Jason had furrowed his brow and bowed his head, making a subtle noise of fury. Damian tried to keep walking. Dick grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Oh. Oh, so Ra's messed with that too, huh?" Said Stephanie. She had not moved, when Tim translated.

"'Except for the youngest'," Tim continued.

Damian said, "Oh, well, thanks for not being a pedophile, but still insinuating that you would participate in incest, or force it upon others."

"It technically wouldn't be, if Ra's hadn't brought her into Bruce's house, and etcetera." Barbara said. Batman hummed, nodding twice.

"Yes," Wonder Woman said. "If he had, say, just brought her home, she could have been intercepted by someone else, such as the League as a whole."

"I'm- still- not go-ing to, by- the way." Faith said, clearly afraid.

"GOOD." Said Dick and Barbara.

"Thanks for adding nothing to your excuse." Said Jason.

"Oh yeah, we get it, Faith, totally." Said Stephanie. "You think you're cool, y-you think you're OK for that."

Tim said, "I hope that half of Tumblr who insta-blocks Batcest blocks you, after you post this." Faith frowned, moving her eyes from Tim to the floor.

Batman sighed, looking from his children to Faith he stood at the doorway, where he had been when Tim started translating. "Is this true? Would, would you have agreed to, or tried to convince all of them but Damian to have sex with you, if things had gone differently?"

"If we got along and there was consent, yes." Faith said. Barbara sighed loudly, into a growl, gripping Dick's right arm and pulling him along and away. Dick gave no resistance. Damian turned and left, fast enough to pass Barbara and Dick. Tim shook his head, and also left.

Jason stared Faith down. She looked scared. He looked pissed, as he should have been. "Get your fucking bag and get out of the Belfry. And then, get out of Gotham. If we see you again, you won't just get an earful, you hear?"

"Ye-s, I h- ear y- ou." Faith stuttered, trying not to be quiet and clearly about to cry, quiet overall out of terror. Jason shook his head and turned, leaving.

Batman stood himself directly in front of Faith. "The rest of what Dohannar asked you, that Tim didn't translate: 'Would you like to stay the night and make love to me?'. Would you have done that?"

"Yes. Because I knew that, as soon as Ra's brought me into your house, I had to control myself. And I was going to. Not just out of circumstance. But because it was right."

"Right for who? Right because of why?"

"Right for everyone. For you and the others, because that's what's morally right and respectful, it's what normal families do. For the Internet, because you know I'm still on Earth-33, and that's why I brought up Tumblr, and etcetera, how Damian reacted. I don't want people to hate me. I want to write stories that people like, not to be a people-pleaser, but to make good stories, and to be a better artist, and know what to-do and not to-do. And for me, so I can be a better person."

"You have a niece, right?"

"You have a niece?" Said Wonder Woman and Zatanna.

"Faith, you have a niece!" Said Wonder Woman. "And is that a younger brother or sister, or an older sibling?"

"Younger brother."

"Oh my God." Wonder Woman turned herself away, pinching her nose with the fingers of her right hand as she held the elbow of that arm with her other hand.

"I only told the story to Stephanie, and Barbara heard 'cause she was outside with dessert, and I assumed she told it to Dick and Tim."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Batman asked. "Were you going to assume the others would share this with Jason, Damian and I, and it would just blow over, and be fine?"

"No, I expected to be confronted about it more than Barbara did."

"What did she tell you?"

"She told me it was in the past, and that my brain remembering it the way it does is my reminder of why it's wrong. And yes, I thought they would have shared the story already, but I would have shared it with you three, too. That's the only story I've been hiding out of shame."

"Did you force your brother to have sex with you?"

"No." Faith said, firmly. "We only took off our clothes. Mom heard us, asked what we were doing, shocked, and I got the most spankings. My nightmares remind me of this. But it's twisted, and I hate that nightmare."

"Your nightmare makes it so that your brother starts it."

Tears began to form in Faith's eyes. "So that he wants it. And he's a teenager instead of ten, and I'm an adult instead of twelve."

"And what is that to your morals? What is that to your desires?"

"It's all wrong, kh," Faith choked on her breath, trying not to cry, but the tears fell anyways. "I'm sorry, it's all wrong, and I wish that I had at least asked my mom about it and she had taken my 3Ds away before I went in his room. I wish I had gotten myself in trouble one minute sooner. It would all be fine. I would have learned without having my subconscious beating my ass because I remember my childhood too much. I'm sorry. I'll leave as you all want because I've betrayed your trust, and I'm genuinely sorry."

Batman was silent for a few seconds. He inhaled and said, "I already made my decision when Dohannar said what he did. Your confession just now has made no difference. But it sure explains why you let Stephanie hit on you, outside of queer reasoning." Faith lowered her eyes.

"Look at me." He said, angrily. Faith lowered her shoulders and looked Batman in the eyes. He noted her trembling lower lip, her firm gaze. "Right now, your body is telling me that you're angry at yourself, and scared of what people think of you. You like attention, we all know that. You tried to get help, but even you know that you have to help yourself, first by admitting your wrong, which, yes, you have done, but second by doing better. But you haven't done that, even when you were offered help in the past, and when you were offered help by the kindest, most forgiving and understanding kids in all of Gotham, and me, Faith."

"You've kicked us all in the shins, 'cause you can't reach our asses, and now you're sitting on the floor because you can't aim worth a damn. You're not a bad person, but you're not a good person, either." Batman turned his head and eyes to Wonder Woman and Zatanna. "Take her wherever, I don't care." He meant that, in the anger of his heart. He looked back at Faith, saw that she had lost all the colour from her face, her lips parted, and she wobbled, leaning forward and to the left. Zatanna and Wonder Woman were frozen, knowing not to attend Faith until Batman was gone.

"Attend to you." Batman mumbled, as he moved his eyes from the heroines to Faith. He raised his voice so that Faith could hear. "You want people to attend to you, like the spoiled little princess you've been since your foster parents first hooked you on sugar and junk food, and didn't give a damn about you afterwards." Faith exhaled, her body leaning forwards more, and her feet stumbled, her legs buckled, her hands found the floor, the end of her right shoulder and the crook of her neck, her head coiled into her body as she vocally trembled and whimpered.

"You can go, you can just go now, yes, please go, please, please go." Faith rapidly sputtered. Batman stepped over her, his cape taking the light of every candle and leaving darkness as he moved through the passageways. "Per- fect." Faith murmured, staring into the black.

Martian Manhunter sighed into Wonder Woman and Zatanna's comms. "Bring her here."

Zatanna hummed, thoughtfully. "I have another idea."

"Me too." Wonder Woman said.

"Very well. I shall trust your judgements. My offer still stands."

"Thank you, J'onn." Wonder Woman said. She put her right arm under Faith's left armpit and lifted her to her feet, straightening Faith's neck so she wouldn't be sore. Zatanna removed Faith's seashell necklace and gave it to Dohannar, who shook his head.

Wysherah said, "Place it in her satchel. Those are her birthrights, regardless of her words and actions. Their effectiveness, however, depends on her faith."

"Thank you." Said Wonder Woman. Dohannar went to sit on the chaise as the women walked Faith through the darkness. She whimpered and panicked as they went, shedding tears.

"Jeff, an', an'... an' Freddy, an'... m-me, Odey-Odeya, aaaa!" She spoke gibberish, escalating into yelps of "No!" and "Aaaa!". Wonder Woman and Zatanna said nothing. They didn't look at Faith. Only forwards.

When they left the Dragon Tomb, the portal was still there. They crossed into the Belfry, and Tim was waiting there. He knocked eight times, and the portal closed. Dick threw a bucket of water on the wall to wash away the chalk. Barbara dumped a different bucket of dirty water onto Faith's head, Zatanna gasping. Faith cringed her face.

"Dishwater. From the pan I cooked that bacon you were so picky about eating. With extra soup, for your disgusting mouth." Barbara hissed. As Faith was walked to the exit, they passed Stephanie, who spat on her face.

'That's not going to be all they're going to do to her, is it?' Zatanna said to Wonder Woman, who shook her head while making eye contact with Zatanna.

Jason handed Faith a horribly damaged 12" white rabbit plush with floppy ears, covered in black chewing tobacco, yellow cat piss stains, and brown shit stains that smelled like dog shit. "Here. Found your Mr. Bunny." He said, using his tone in just the right way that he knew would remind Faith of her mom. And it did, and she didn't let go of the rabbit because of her fear of Jason and her mom.

'Oh, tch, really?' Zatanna thought.

'That affected her, a lot.' Wonder Woman commented.

Dick had come up behind, and he whispered in Faith's right ear, "Oh, and you're blocked from the group chat." Faith curled her bottom lip up and looked at the ceiling, and Dick stopped following, marching back to the computer area, where Barbara, Stephanie, Tim and Jason had quickly gathered.

'Yes, that makes sense.' Wonder Woman thought. She and Zatanna gasped as they stopped in front of Damian.

"Eyes here." Damian said. As Faith looked up from the floor at him, she saw Damian had drawn his sword. She had to tear her eyes away from it to meet his eyes.

"Damian, no." Batman said. "Just use your words."

"Well, I was going to carve a frown on your stupid face. I figured you'd have liked that, psycho. You try to be cool, you try to do something, to be someone, but you're a failure. And that's why you're unhappy, along with all the other trash you've got. I hope your trauma heals as ugly as it has been." Damian sheathed his sword, and stomped towards his siblings as the heroines continued with Faith, eyes on the floor again. Damian jumped into Dick's arms and sat on his lap, panting in anger as he watched Faith with the others near the computer as Dick combed his fingers through Damian's hair untli Damian's breathing slowed.

Batman handed Zatanna Faith's dufflebag as they came to the door. It was already opened. Faith saw Batman's boots and tried to look up, but it hurt. Batman noticed and raised a hand. The heroines stopped.

"I hope you improve, Faith." Batman said. Faith nodded, stiffly. The heroines came outside with Faith. The door slammed shut before Wonder Woman and Zatanna had forced Faith to take her first step after they had already taken theirs. They walked to the sidewalk, and then stopped.

"So." Wonder Woman said, in a mother's voice, keeping Faith afraid, but Faith painfully raising her eyes to look into Wonder Woman's. "Do you want us to leave you at a homeless shelter, or do you want help?"

"H..." Faith was stuck on the sound for three more times. "Help." It was said clear enough, afraid but trying to be light-hearted.

'Bear with me a second, Diana.' Zatanna quickly communicated.

'Of course.'

"From who?" Said Zatanna, in a softer mother's voice, but still in a scolding tone. Faith blinked, moving her eyes away from Zatanna to the street and buildings ahead.

"I... I don't know who would... be willing to take... someone who has always, and keeps betraying people that... she sets out to have the trust of, and... wants to have in her life."

Wonder Woman sighed, Zatanna as well, but quieter. "That's why you're always alone, Faith." Wonder Woman said, Zatanna nodding. Faith nodded too, tiredly. "We know where to take you, if you'll trust us."

Faith lifted her head to look at Wonder Woman and mumbled, "Ow." She smiled, a little, with her cheeks. "I trust you."

"Thank you."

Zatanna asked, "Have you ever been in the air, Faith?"

"Only once. Airplane to Vancouver for a foot specialist, who couldn't do anything."

"Well. Now will be your first with superheroes."

"Are we going across the country?"

"Yes, to Washington."

"Oh, I know who you want me to talk to."

"Are you OK with talking to Ollie and Dinah?"

Faith nodded, then suddenly cried, "Oh Go-hod, it's only 8 A-M!" She whimpered, her whole body shaking. She laughed for a moment, then sobbed, full volume. Zatanna sighed, looking from Faith to Wonder Woman.

"Let's go." Said Wonder Woman. Zatanna nodded. Faith did too, with limited movement. The women lifted themselves with Faith into the air, eastward.

Click emoji to navigate to next chapter. ⏭️

14 notes · View notes