#now his family are all dead and it’s just him and he just owns a little plant/cafe shop

[ariahmichelle]

Fake It Till You Feel It- Part 3

Rafe Cameron x Reader Series

Series Masterlist Here

Summary: You see your ex with a new girl wrapped around him after he told you “wasn’t ready for a relationship” after you had slowly started to fall for him. The betrayal stings. Rafe Cameron is dealing with his own issue—Amelia, a girl who refuses to take the hint that he’s not interested. One night you impulsively pretend to be Rafe’s girlfriend to get her to back off. To your surprise, it works. You also notice Alex looking pissed. This starts to become an unspoken routine between you when either Alex or Amelia are around. Simple right? However, longer this goes on, the more the lines blur between what’s real and what’s not.

Part 3- The Rescue Mission

••••••••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••••••••••

It had been a slow, uneventful day—exactly what you’d wanted. You had spent the morning running errands, picking up a few things from town before finally making it home. Now, curled up on the couch, half-watching a show while scrolling on your phone, you were perfectly content to do nothing for the rest of the afternoon.

Then your phone buzzed.

Rafe: You busy?

You frowned, already suspicious.

You: I might be. Why?

Rafe: Because I need saving.

You snorted, shaking your head.

You: Let me guess… Amelia?

Rafe: What do you think?

You sighed, debating for a moment. Maybe it would be good for him to deal with her himself for once. But you also knew how persistent Amelia could be.

You: Sounds like a you problem, Cameron.

Rafe: Come on. Be a team player.

You: …How bad is it?

Rafe: Bad enough to text you :(

Before you could dwell on it too much, your mom walked into the room, grabbing her purse. “I’m heading out for a bit. Need a ride anywhere?”

“Actually, yeah,” you said, already slipping on your shoes.

——

When you arrived at the country club, you expected to find Rafe surrounded by Topper, Kelce, and maybe a few other guys, with Amelia clinging to him like always.

But instead, he was standing outside, alone.

You narrowed your eyes as you approached. “If you made me come all this way for nothing, you’re dead.”

Rafe exhaled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have called you unless I had no other option.”

“That bad?”

He ran a hand down his face. “Worse.”

You crossed your arms, waiting.

“I was having lunch with my family,” he started, “and Amelia just invited herself over, telling my dad, Rose, Sarah, and Wheezie that she and I have been getting to know each other.” He grimaced. “She’s acting like we’ve been seeing each other, and I told them we weren’t, but—”

“But Ward told you not to be rude and let her stay,” you finished, already knowing how this went.

Rafe pointed at you. “Exactly.”

You groaned. “So now what?”

“I told them I was going to the bathroom,” he said. “And now I need you to help me get rid of her. And make sure my family knows I’m not with her.”

You hesitated. “Rafe, I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend in front of your dad.”

“Come on,” he said, and for the first time, you noticed how desperate he looked. “My dad likes you, okay? If you say we’re together, he’ll believe it, and Amelia will finally back off.”

You still weren’t convinced. “And what happens when he finds out it’s a lie?”

Rafe just shrugged. “That’s a future problem.”

You exhaled, glancing toward the entrance. “I swear to God, Cameron…”

Rafe smirked, sensing your hesitation cracking. “So you’ll do it?”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

His smirk widened. “No, you don’t.”

Rolling your eyes, you held out your hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Without hesitation, Rafe took your hand, threading his fingers through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And just like that, you walked into the lion’s den.

——

The Cameron family sat at a round table on the patio, the perfect picture of wealth and power. Ward sat at the head, Rose beside him, while Sarah and Wheezie chatted quietly. And, of course, Amelia stood close to Rafe’s empty chair, her hand way too close to where his arm would’ve been.

The moment you walked in, Sarah’s eyes widened.

“Are you kidding me?” she blurted.

Amelia turned—and her expression darkened instantly.

Ward raised an eyebrow. “Rafe?”

Rafe barely hesitated. “I wasn’t being rude earlier,” he said, looking directly at his father. “I was just trying to make it clear—I’m not with Amelia. Because I’m with someone else.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, and you took that as your cue. “Hey, Mr. Cameron,” you said with an easy smile, leaning slightly into Rafe’s side. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing family lunch.”

Ward looked between you and Rafe, brow furrowed. “You two are together?”

“Yep,” Rafe said smoothly. “Have been for a little while now.”

Sarah still looked shocked, and Wheezie looked downright delighted, but the best reaction came from Amelia, whose face was rapidly turning red.

“You have to be joking,” she snapped.

“Why?” Rafe tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Jealous?”

Amelia scoffed. “Please. I just didn’t realize you’d lowered your standards so much.”

Your smile tightened. “You know, for someone who’s so sure I’m not a threat, you seem really upset about this.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Wheezie barely contained her laughter.

Rose just sipped her wine, watching you both closely. “Well,” she said, “this is… interesting.”

Ward nodded slowly, clearly still processing. “Hmm.”

Before they could say anything else, Rafe let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, this has been fun, but we’ve got plans.”

“We do?” you muttered.

Rafe ignored you. “See you guys later.”

And with that, he pulled you away from the table, out of the club, and toward his truck.

As soon as you were outside, you smacked his arm. “You are so dead for that.”

Rafe just grinned, opening the truck door for you. “Relax. It worked, didn’t it?”

“You owe me.”

He just smirked. “That’s why I’m making it up to you right now.”

You eyed him suspiciously as you climbed into the truck. “How?”

“You’ll see.”

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself sitting in the bed of his truck, legs crossed beneath you, a cup of ice cream in hand, on a hill overlooking the beach. Almost a little secret hideout you’ve never been to before.

“You know,” you said, glancing at him, “this is a pretty good spot. Romantic, even.”

Rafe scoffed. “If I was trying to be romantic, you’d know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what does romantic Rafe Cameron look like?”

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade.

You took a slow bite of your ice cream, then glanced at Rafe. “So… this isn’t where you bring all your girls?”

Rafe scoffed. “Please. You think I waste gas on just anyone?”

You hummed. “Mm. Seems like a solid move, though, so I must be very special.”

Rafe just smirks not giving you the satisfaction of an answer.

After a few moments of silence, he leaned back, voice softer. “You know… I never thought Alex was good enough for you.”

You looked at him, surprised. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged, “you always deserved better than that asshole.”

You shook your head. “Well… thanks, I guess.”

Rafe smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, licking your spoon. “No promises.”

—————————————

Let me know what you think? Could be some drama in the coming parts???

Taglist: @rafecameronsbaeee

@drewwhor @wtfisastiles @emmafitzzz

@yourmomdotcom42069 @yasmin-oviedo

@pogueprincesa @maybankslover

@my-name-is-baby @rafecameronsslut1234

[angelfishe]

# 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃

Genshin man x reader

Character : alhaitham, diluc, zhongli, ayato.

You love them with your heart but why would he love you when he's surrounded with more beautiful and talented people more than you, maybe leaving would be a good option you wouldn't burden them as well they could move on into a much better option than you. Disappearing from their life completely

Warning : The reader has an inferiority complex, as well mention of suicide and self harming.

ALHAITHAM

Among the seas of students of the akedemiya there are always ones that shine brighter than the others and alhaitham is no exception, one of the most shining stars that would live brighter than the others. While you are by far a regular spantammad student the only difference is that both of you and him are childhood friends.

Unfortunately for you to fail to see the worth for yourself in his life, he would live a much better life without you interrupting his journeys. So when you hear that there's gonna be an expedition towards outside of sumeru you take it, planning on staying out of his life as much as long as possible even meaning being away from your homeland.

You prevent him from knowing about the expedition, knowing that he would try to convince you to quit it as well making him stress about you leaving making sure you would go unnoticed. Soon he realizes every time you visit your house it becomes less crowded and stuff is neatly packed in a box. He started to be suspicious of what was going on.

So when you invite him towards the bar to hang out, he had a bad feeling this would be the last time seeing you. But he pushed it aside because you're here right now not knowing that the goodbye you wave to each other was the last one. Your presence disappears and when he visits your place it is dead silent not a single thing of your stuff.

DILUC

Coming from a lesser noble clan on mondstat your duty was to be served to someone as wife or decorations. And diluc was the one you were destined to be with on the paper agreement with the previous lord of dawn winery.

It's confusing honestly out of all the options of the daughter of another noble family they chose to be his betrothed. You and him would have play dates together to make you two grow closer but sometimes these playdates would include other noble children like jean from the gundihir clan another noble clan as the ragdnivir. To be honest you understand why he would choose jean in the future she's beautiful I mean if you were in his position you would choose Jean.

Unknowningly diluc was the one that chose you when he took a look at the picture of future spouse for him and when he took a glimpse at your portrait it was love first sight you were the one he dreamed to be with and grow a family. Unfortunately you are unable to see that just like a butterfly is unable to see their own beauty.

When he was at snezhnaya you took this opportunity to finally leave for good packing up your stuff without telling anyone even your parents, so when he returned you were nowhere to be found everyone couldn't find you, you were gone. You believe he would be better without you but in truth he was miserable The world was dark and grey and you were the color and now you're gone and he will use anything to find you.

ZHONGLI

Being a minor goddess that joined alliance with him, you didn't expect he would go infatuated with you. He would willingly risk his life for you rescuing you from a monster that was threatening to kill you and when you saw how injured he was after the fight you realized you were a burden to him.

You fully know your weak compared to the other adepti or gods, your domain is small similar to harvia your best friend and you see your fate will happen similar to her being too weak and your people or your close will kill you if you keep being like this. Seeing you as a weakness for rex lapis and if you die his weakness will die. His people and the other need him more than you.

One day, you hear that a new monster has been rampaging and you believe this would be a good way to finally rid of yourself so people won't question your intention. You grab your weapon and ready to the battlefield, when rex lapis got word he arrived you were unfortunately dead watching your body being devoured by the beast.

From that day he blamed himself for your demise as well asking why would recklessly charge yourself to battle after knowing your weakness, in modern liyue he felt a sense of familiarity and saw you walking maybe it's not too late to love you this time he shows you how much he loves you.

AYATO

You couldn't blame him for hiding you from the world knowing a relationship with a master and a servant would be heavily forbidden by the public as well being one of his weaknesses, he needs to appear untouchable in front of the public as well as his enemies to protect you and the clan.

In close door he loves you and showers you with gifts and affection while on the outside he treats you as if you were just a normal servant under his orders another disposable chest piece.

When you were poison, hes eyes would instantly went towards your form but unable to reach you because people were dragging you away and he need to show face of a composed person but how can he act when the love of his eyes was dying in the other room.

One day a resignation letter appeared at his office when he was not at home and thoma informed him you left a day before leaving a letter telling him to move on and love another person and not you. He track your footprints and found you at sumeru studying there as a new student and new alias he ready a ship because he's gonna need explanation from you what you mean move on. Come back to his arms please if you won't he's gonna die without your touch

[sunseed-fandump]

owo! Now i wanna know what the bad batch think about the ancients individually, (mostly dad vanilla, he’s gonna be so stressed)

Hollyberry Cookie The kids had actually plotted to try stealing her Soul Jam first, as her son and daughter-in-law had already gathered a good portion of the Soul Jam’s fragments. Thus, Wild Strawberry Cookie reluctantly entered the Princess Contest in an attempt to get close to the shield and snatch it during the ball. (She actually got really far!) Unfortunately, the Dragon went berserk and the Lost Queen-mother returned to her Kingdom and took up her shield once more.

While Gingerbrave enjoys the general rowdiness of the country itself, he can’t help but wonder why the royal family even bothers ruling if the Queen-mother and its fair princess are never around. King Royal Berry Cookie is a total pushover and Queen Jungleberry Cookie is competent, but even she can’t hold an entire country together by herself. From the kids’ outlook, the Hollyberry Royal Family value their power over others and take it and their subjects for granted. Clearly, a family can’t be that good if they’re always abandoning each other, and a ruler can’t be that good if they’re constantly leaving their kingdom behind. Wild Strawberry especially does not appreciate the seeming lack of loyalty.

Dark Cacao Cookie He’s definitely the biggest tyrant in the kids’ opinions, due to his country’s strict traditions and laws. They saw how he was letting his country wither in favor of bolstering the Wall, and weren’t impressed with the many ruined villages they saw. Combine that with his habit of social exclusivity towards outsiders, Dark Cacao hasn’t exactly painted the best picture of himself.

Even though he’s since taken up his sword once again and has rid himself of Affogato’s influence, the kids still don’t regard him highly. After all, what kind of king restricts his own soldiers from eating sweets?! He’s depriving his people!!! And he calls THEM evil? Ridiculous. Unfortunately, their plan to steal the Soul Jam was sabotaged by Licorice Cookie and Pomegranate Cookie’s interference, what with calling forth the horrors of the Licorice Sea and Pomegranate cursing the King. However, Dark Choco earned a few points with them by leaving Dark Enchantress behind.

Golden Cheese Cookie It doesn’t matter if greed is considered a good thing in her kingdom, Golden Cheese Cookie is so terribly selfish! Their trip to this Kingdom infuriated Gingerbrave, who views her actions as no better than his Witch. He’s been broken to pieces and brought back over and over, and sees the Golden City as a twisted version of what happened to him on a massive scale. How dare she not allow the dead to rest. How dare they have to be subjected to a fake reality at the whim of a self-proclaimed goddess, just because she’s too childish to mourn and move on.

And what would she do to those who acted against her? Reprogram them? Erase them? Well the kids definitely saw how well Smoked Cheese’s attempt at a coup went. Even now, she refuses to let “her” cookies go as her Kingdom sleeps in Soulcheeses. Golden Cheese sees her subjects as objects, something to hoard and do with however she pleases; even to deny them the peace of death. Gingerbrave can’t stand her as a result.

White Lily Cookie As the only Ancient to not have an established Kingdom (at least up until the events of Beast-Yeast), the kids didn’t really know what to make of her. At least, that’s until Wild Strawberry informed the boys of who White Lily Cookie eventually became in other timelines, Dark Enchantress Cookie. The so called Hero of Freedom, becoming the very tyrant they’re rivaling within the race to obtain the Soul Jam.

The kids see White Lily Cookie as a weakling and hypocrite as a result, though they remain ignorant as to how she fell to Darkness in the first place. She must have decided the world didn’t deserve true freedom, and turned into a controlling maniac as a result. Thus, they don’t trust her as far as they can throw her.

Pure Vanilla Cookie Hooooo boy PV. The kids are especially prickly with him. Gingerbrave doesn’t like the fact that a single healing spell from the vanilla king could turn him to ashes. Azure Wizard doesn’t like that his Light magic and high skill level allows PV to dispel a lot of his dark spells. Wild Strawberry doesn’t like his gentle demeanor and kind personality, as she thinks it's just a farce.

They had sought out the Vanilla Kingdom to learn its secrets and advanced magical knowledge, and wound up inadvertently mixed up in the Waffle Bot attacks. It was Healer Cookie who had saved them and brought them back to the Raisin Village for treatment. Despite the villagers’ clear distrust and distaste for the kids, it was Healer who defended them and allowed them to stay. It wasn’t until he was revealed to be Pure Vanilla Cookie that the kids grew hostile, as it was his actions during the War that caused a lot of problems.

He strives for “truth” and “happiness” for all cookies. Well, too little too late, in the kids’ opinions. The truth is the world is a deeply hurtful and terrible place, and Pure Vanilla is willingly blind to it. 

Everyone is so quick to sing the Heroes praises, to show them kindness, understanding, and love. Well where was “kindness” when Gingerbrave was treated like a freak? Where was “understanding” when Wizard had to resort to dark magic to save his own life? Where was “love” when Strawberry was abandoned to rot in a random timeline with no way of returning? Where were ANY heroes when the kids called for help?

There’s no such thing as heroes. Just really good liars propped up on pedestals of fool’s gold.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Misjudged

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: angst, car accident, getting hurt by car accident, almost dying, minor fluff at the end

Summary: A confrontation at a party sends you racing back home in anger. Dean follows behind you and watches the unthinkable happen. Now it’s up to him to save you.

Square Filled: enemies to lovers (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Normally, you love a good party. You love getting loose and forgetting what a shitty week you’ve had, but tonight is different. You’re on a mission and you’re not going to stop until you get what you want. Luna called you twenty minutes ago crying because she wanted to get picked up, and you immediately rushed over at the thought that someone hurt your little sister. She’s newly eighteen but she shouldn’t have been at this party in the first place. She’s too nice and naive for her own good, so you do your best to look out for her.

Too many bodies litter the living room holding homemade drinks and joints, causing the room to stink of stale marijuana.

“Luna!!”

There's no point in yelling when the music is enough to deafen a person, but you still try in hopes she’s close enough to hear you. Once you get past the mosh pit, the room becomes more open with fewer people. On the other side of the room is one person who makes your blood boil in rage.

Dean Winchester.

Of course, he’d be here. Suddenly, the thought of Dean making your sister cry is the only thing you can think about so you stalk over to him. He’s playing pool against his friends and winning, but not for long. You swipe your hand over the pool table, messing up the balls and Dean’s shot.

“Hey!” Dean whips his head to face the culprit and smirks when he realizes it’s you. “Oh, hey, sweetheart. Come to play?”

You bring your open palm back and slap Dean across the face. His friends go still with shock, and Dean moves his jaw back and forth as he processes what just happened.

“How dare you bring Luna here after I told you not to!”

Dean sets his pool cue on the table but otherwise doesn’t react to you slapping him.

“How do you know it was me who brought her here?”

“You’re our neighbor, Dean. She heard you talking about the party and you offered to bring her here.”

“She wanted to come here, Y/N. I was already on my way when she asked me to drive her. I didn’t see the big deal.”

“The big deal is that this party is full of drugs and alcohol and men with granny hands.”

“Last I checked, she’s eighteen. She can think for herself.”

“Last I checked, she’s my family, not yours. Stay out of my goddamn life and out of my business. You don’t see me going to your house and bringing Sam here.”

Dean tips his head back and laughs. “Good luck trying to get Sam over here. This isn’t really his scene.”

“I don’t care. Don’t ever go near Luna again.”

“Damn, man, you need to have a drink. Unwind,” one of Dean’s friends comments. 

You lunge toward his friend but Dean wraps his arms around your waist to prevent you from attacking. For a split second, you like having his arms around you. They feel strong and safe but then reality sets in and you push Dean off you.

“Let go of me. Where is Luna?”

“I don’t know. It's a big party.” Dean sees the glare on your face and fights back a smirk. “Relax. I saw her on the phone with you so I told Cas to give her a ride home.”

“Oh. Good.”

Castiel is a good guy so you’re relaxed at the thought of Luna being in his care. It’s the only part of Dean you tolerate. Castiel keeps him in check. With that, you turn on your heels and start to head toward the front door. Dean abandons his pool game to chase after you.

“Why don’t you stay?”

“Over my dead fucking body.”

You push through the crowd and leave out the front door. The ground crunches underneath your feet from how crispy the ice makes the grass. You press the button on your car which makes it unlock, and you sigh when you hear Dean still chasing after you.

“Wait, Y/N!”

“Leave me alone, Dean. Go away.”

“I don’t get why you hate me so much. What did I ever do to you?”

You spin on your heels to face him and he stops right before he collides with you.

“Hate you? No, I don’t hate you. You piss me the fuck off. Do you really think you can flash that smile of yours and call me sweetheart, and I’ll forget what an arrogant bastard you are? Not going to happen.” You open your car door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

“Wait. Let me drive you. It’s icy out there.”

“That’s nice of you to care, but I don’t need you, Dean.”

You get into your car and turn it on. Dean curses when you back out of the crowded driveway and start to drive away. What kind of friend man would he be if he let you drive off into the icy night?

Dean curses when he sees your tail lights disappearing around the corner, and he runs over to his shiny black Impala that he often catches you checking out. Wherever he goes, it’s a chick magnet but he only wants one chick in there.

You.

He leaves the party and follows you down the road, stepping on the pedal to keep up with you. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened while driving home, and he didn’t know about it.

Yes, the roads are icy and it’s dark in these mountains and your headlights don’t really work well, but you’re doing fine. There isn’t any ice that you can see so as long as you continue at the speed you’re at, you should get home safely.

Key word: should.

Your phone rings but instead of taking your eyes off the road to answer it, you blindly swipe the screen until the call connects. Before you can say anything, Dean’s deep voice comes through the phone.

“Slow the fuck down, Y/N.”

You look in the rearview mirror and see the sleek headlights belonging to the Impala right behind you. For some reason, you’re in a mischievous mood that wants to piss him off. 

“You want me to slow down?”

Instead of doing what he wants, you press down the gas pedal.

“Y/N—”

“I know how to drive, Dean. I’ve been doing it since I was sixteen.”

“You’re going to fucking crash. Slow down.”

“Bite me,” you growl and hang up on him.

Just to piss him off, you go faster on the slippery mountain roads. You’re not going to admit this to Dean, but you’re kind of scared. With going downhill, you’re finding it harder to slow down. Your brakes work but the ice on the roads makes it hard for your tires to grip anything. Dean would only rub it in your face that he was right and you don’t want to hear it.

You’ve driven these roads all your life in worse conditions, but there’s something about this night that makes it more dangerous. The news has been warning residents of black ice on the roads, more so in the mountains than anywhere else.

Dean keeps a steady distance behind you which is a comfort because if something happens to you, at least you’ll be found. You press on the brakes only slightly but that causes your tires to swerve, and you grip the steering wheel with a deathly grip.

The deadliest part of black ice is that you don’t know you’ve hit it until it’s too late, and it’s too late for you. Your car starts skidding on the icy roads, and you try your best to get out of it by turning your wheel toward the direction the car is going in. That doesn’t seem to help, and your eyes widen when your headlights catch something.

A tree. You’re not wearing your seatbelt.

In the blink of a second, the front of your car smashes into the thick tree trunk, causing it to spin out of control. The side of your head smacks against the hard ridge of the window, and you lose your grip on the steering wheel as the car skids closer and closer to the cliff’s edge. You press down on the brake as hard as you can but that doesn’t seem to help.

Either you’re going to die by falling off the cliff or by plunging into the icy waters below. Your car comes to a stop right before you fall off the cliff’s edge, but the front half of the car is teetering over the edge. One false move and you're going to go over. You’re still-shocked and gripping the steering wheel with a deathly grip, afraid to let go. Tears roll down your cheek that mix with the blood coming from your forehead. Silence and then you hear his voice.

“Y/N?”

“Dean?” you cry.

“I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“I’m so scared,” you whimper.

“I’m right here. I’m not going to let you fall.” The back window was shattered when it hit the tree, so he is able to climb inside if he wanted to. “Can you get your seatbelt off?”

“I’m not wearing one.”

“Fuck. Okay, when I get you out, we’re going to have a serious conversation about proper car etiquette.”

The car starts to spin but Dean doesn’t say anything about it which makes you realize it’s your vision that’s spinning. Your head throbs in pain and black spots enter your vision.

“Dean, I hit my head. It hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart. I need you to stay awake for me, okay? Can you turn around?” With slow movements, you look back at Dean. He doesn’t shine the flashlight directly on your face but he can see the river of blood on your face. He’s fucking scared but if he starts to show it, you’ll start to panic. “I’m right here.”

Dean removes his jacket and lays it over the edge of the window where it broke to prevent glass from sticking to his skin. He keeps one leg on the ground and puts his other leg inside the car to get closer to you. He leans in as far as he can and stretches his hand out to you.

“Grab my hand and I’ll pull you out.”

“What if I fall over?”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Tears spring to your eyes at the thought of never seeing your family again. “Please tell my mom I love her. Tell Luna that too. Tell her I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, you’re going to be fine. Just grab my hand.”

“I’m scared,” you cry.

“I know you are but I need you to be brave right now, okay?” You nod shakily. “I can’t go any further so you’re going to have to climb over the seat. No sudden movements.”

You slowly rise and put both feet on the clothed seat. You grab the back of the seat and turn to Dean who is patient and calm. You know he’s freaking out so you appreciate him keeping a calm head. You sling your leg through the small gap over the center console and the car starts to sway lightly. You halt your movements and calm down when the car doesn’t fall over the edge.

You slowly lift your other leg over the center console but you step on one of your dogs’ toys that squeaks. Your foot slips and you slam into the back of the driver’s seat. The car immediately tips over and you jump to grab Dean’s hand. He pulls you out of the car just as it falls over the edge. You gasp and clutch onto his hand with a death grip because not only did the car go over the edge, but you did as well.

Dean is the only thing keeping you from certain death.

Dean uses his God-given strength and pulls you up from the edge and onto the safety of solid ground. You fall into his arms and cry, the adrenaline already starting to wear off.

“You’re okay,” Dean mutters. He strokes your hair to not only calm you but to calm himself. “You’re okay.” You pull away from him and he finally can see the damage done to your head. “You’re bleeding.”

“You saved me.”

He tucks a strand of bloody hair behind your ear. “I’ll always save you.”

You look down at his lips. Maybe it’s because of what just happened or maybe it’s because your emotions are all out of wack but you’re seeing Dean in a new light. As much as he wants to kiss you, you have more pressing matters.

“I’m not a doctor and you need to get that checked out. Come on.” He helps you to your feet and wraps a strong arm around you. “I’ll call your parents from the car.”

What would you have done if Dean didn’t follow you? How long would you have been out here for? Would you have died? He could have let you go off that cliff but he didn’t. Maybe you’ve misjudged him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s not as bad as you make him out to be.

x

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[fancyfeathers]

Au where Damian cuts robin (nightengale) darling only for him to find out that (unknown to her) she is a demigod daughter of nyx (is she still Harvey's idk), who is furious cause that's her kid how dare you! (The myths say she's a real protective mother) Luckily for him nyx lost alot of power since the fall of her pantheon, enough for him to make it out alive.

Now does he give up like a sane rational person or does his resolve strengthen.

(Also does he tell his family his ass got beat by a long thought to be dead goddess)

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

Ya so while I can’t answer this ask as originally intended because of my rules, I can put a spin on this because I never did say who was her mother.

Say let’s make her mother a vigilante who based her persona off of Nyx. Having kept it a secret in her marriage to Harvey and the two having ending their marriage due to him becoming Two Face, not because she hated him. Then she trusted Bruce to look after her daughters while she continued to work as a vigilante, following a lead to another country.

Her oldest daughter, Jason’s darling knows what their mom is doing but for now Damian’s darling does not know, she was a good mom and she doesn’t want her job to ruin her youngest daughter’s perspective of her. So Damian’s darling thinks she is on a really long business trip because the company her works for needed someone to deal with trade with another company in a different country, that was all a lie, there was no company, just criminals and the vigilante targeting them.

Damian’s darling calls her mom every night after patrol at the same time, so when Bruce calls her nearly an hour later she knows something is wrong. Then when Bruce tells her what happened, a member of the League of Assassins targeted her daughter and carved something into her back, oh she is livid.

She decides to make a quick pit stop in her mission, deciding to pay a visit to a small rich town in Egypt where it appears to be somewhat of a travel destination but it hides a base for the League of Assassins. She goes under the guise of a tourist, walking the streets of the town to scope things out, and then she sees a young man who perfectly matches the description she was given. She accidentally bumps into Damian before continuing on, but she has been a vigilante longer than he’s been alive, she knows how to place a tracker without the best assassin noticing.

So then later that night she goes out in her gear, and when she finds him Damian almost looks innocent, perfectly calm and sitting in a garden, reading during the warm desert night. Even if he could swallow his pride and call for help none will come when she is throwing him to the ground, she already knocked out every single guard.

She will pin him to the ground, strangling him while screaming at him about what he has done, so it’s only fair… an eye for an eye.

While she has no idea he is Bruce’s son, she knows he hates the Batman, so she carves that symbol into his back before knocking him out cold.

Damian doesn’t even have to tell his own mother what will happen, she will drag his body to wherever Talia is and throw his bleeding and bruised body at her feet. Now I imagine Talia and her do not get along already, probably having bumped heads before, but even Talia has to acknowledge the truth when she is told…

“An eye for an eye… your son hurt my daughter so I did it in turn. He should not have done something of he couldn’t take it himself.”

Damian is enraged when he wakes up and hears Talia let her get away but he is quickly reminded he has other problems to deal with like having to tell his grandfather of his failure.

[its-luna-noel]

in my restless dreams, i see you | various!jjk x reader

05. blood on her lips looking extra tasty

Vampire lord Ryomen Sukuna gives you the gift of eternal life. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. vampire lord!sukuna x reader vampire!geto x reader vampire hunter!gojo x reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, vampire!au, smut, drinking, partying, non-con elements, blood drinking, vampire turning, violence & blood, definite dark themes so DD:DNE

word count: 3.6k

chapter 5/? (probably 15ish) previous chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hello! sorry it's been a while, but i've finally finished this chapter, so i hope you enjoy! xx

Sukuna doesn’t knock before walking into your new apartment.

You’re in the middle of research – which is really just you scrolling through urban legends and vampire stories on your new phone, trying to match everything you’ve experienced so far with what you’re reading. Trying to anticipate what you’ll experience next.

Then Sukuna walks in like he owns the place – though you guess he actually does.

You toss your phone aside, embarrassed to be reading about fictional monsters like a teenage girl. You raise your head and watch him walk in, hands in his pockets as he approaches the couch and looks down his nose at you.

“Comfortable?” he asks.

You just stare up at him for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Then, so you don’t seem ungrateful for him providing housing for you – when your family literally thinks you’re dead and would probably drive a stake through your heart themselves if you walked up to their front door – you nod silently.

He grins that wicked smile of his, and then he steps forward and towers over you, sinking to his knees on the couch and straddling you, his massive muscular body dwarfing you against the back of the couch. Your breath stills, and you gaze up into those daunting red eyes, and he looks so goddamn menacing your eyes shift away.

He chuckles. “Scared, little girl?” 

You just your chin out. “No.”

He just chuckles again and leans in, his mouth brushing against your throat. Your eyes flutter closed, and you suck in a soft gasp through your teeth at the feeling of his cool breath on your neck. His lips are feather-light on your skin, tracing where your pulse had once throbbed in anticipation of this same mouth that’s brushing against you now.

You wonder if things would be different if you didn’t let him touch you. If you didn’t let him come home with you that first night.

Maybe that heart would still be beating.

His lips part, and his tongue licks a slow, aching line of heat up the side of your neck. You wish you could be disgusted by it, horrified, but instead you can’t help but remember how good it felt with his mouth, his hands, his body on you.

You just want more.

His fingers dive into your hair, tilting your head back so he can get better access to your throat, and his nose brushes over your skin, smelling you… He hums, “I can smell him on you… That groundskeeper… can smell his blood in your veins….” And then he drops open his jaw, his fangs glinting in the light of your apartment before they slice open your throat, bleeding you out all over again.

You gasp, eyes flashing open, but he just holds you a little tighter, letting his tongue poke out from between perfect lips to brush along the twin rivulets of crimson now dripping from your neck. The blood you stole from another man, ripped from his body and drank in your fledgling frenzy.

Your instincts are to push him off of you, to snarl and fight to keep that blood you worked for, but something inside you can’t. Something in you knows that he’s your sire, that he gave you the gift of this second life, and that you can’t fight against him. Not when he’s sucking the foreign blood from your veins, claiming your life as his own.

“S-Sukuna,” you whimper, not understanding why your body is held immobile in his hands.

He hums, a low rumble in his chest, as he tightens his hold in your hair. “Such a familiar tone,” he says, and blood drips from his teeth when he pulls back enough to look you in the eyes when he speaks. “It would do you well to remember who is the master and who is the servant here, little thing. I won’t remind you again.” Then he puts his mouth back on your bleeding wound and drinks.

This time, as he takes a long pull from your throat, you notice that though you’re unable to move against him, unable to fight this robbery of blood you so rightfully earned when ripping it from that man’s throat, you’re not enthralled. You’re not empty-minded, not entirely blank except for the need to serve him, to belong to him, to give him everything.

He pulls back, licking his teeth at the delicious expression on your face, that painful haze of confusion when you realize that he doesn’t have the sort of control over you he once had when you were human. He smirks at you, sucking his fangs clean before he explains, “S’not your blood, pretty girl; can’t be a thrall when there’s no use for you. But you’re full of that human’s blood – that old groundskeeper you ripped apart and murdered – so I can still drink from you.” Then he dives back in, his tongue brushing the arch of your throat once more.

He slowly readjusts himself, putting one leg between yours. He presses his knee against your cunt, and your back arches off the couch with a soft gasp, lashes fluttering at the unexpected stimulation. You can feel him grinning against your neck as he sucks again, his mouth filling with blood, now slowly tinged with the taste of hormones and endorphins released as he starts rocking his knee against your core.

He feels you growing wet against his leg.

He groans quietly against your neck at the taste, at the sweetness of your arousal straight through the blood in your veins. His hips grind against your stomach, canting forward against your soft tummy through your shirt. He presses somehow closer, pinning you against the back of the couch as he leans over you, dwarfing your frame with his massive body. His fingers tighten again in your hair, leaning your head even further back so he can move his tongue over the bite mark at your throat with fervor, lapping at the draining blood in rhythm with each shallow thrust of his hips.

And all you can do is sit there and take it, while your mind screams at you to fight back.

When he finally pulls back, mouth painted red, his tongue licks that up, too, leaving only a soft crimson stain to his perfect lips. His eyes are lidded as he looks down at you, his hips still pressed against your torso, his aching erection so close… You fight to swallow.

He stands, having had his fill of you, and straightens his shirt, looking as casual as when he walked in. You’re the only one who’s left wrecked by the interaction. “I’m sure the others will ask to drink from you sometime, too – pretty thing like you.”

He steps away from the couch, moving towards your front door. “You can do whatever you want with the others,” he tells you, not even glancing over his shoulder at you. “Can go anywhere to hunt, as long as you don’t act like an idiot and get yourself found by humans. Or, god forbid, hunters.” He shrugs nonchalantly, like the idea of you being hunted doesn’t even bother him. “That is, if you want to survive. If you want a stake to the heart, go right ahead.” Then he exits your apartment without an ounce of fanfare, and you sink into your couch, grimacing as you press a hand to your still-bleeding throat.

Being a monster hasn’t really lived up to your expectations.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Once night falls, you follow Choso and Suguru through the vibrant streets of Shibuya.

You’re dressed in a black leather skirt and a violet crop top; it turns out when your vampire lord sire has been around for centuries, that usually means he has enough money to order you clothes to fill the closet in your new apartment. All of it is slutty and dark, unlike the flowy little sundress you died in and the dress you were buried in.

It feels like Sukuna was trying to remake you in every way possible.

Once you walk into the club, bass thumping so loud it rattles your dormant heart like a new heartbeat, Choso immediately darts off into the shadows to search for his own prey. Suguru, however, stays by your side as you both make your way to the bar.

He leans against the bartop, looking down at you curiously. “I’m guessing you haven’t hunted before?”

The vision of ripping apart that old man, the groundskeeper in the cemetery, once again flashes in your mind. You blink away the images of crimson blood spurting all over you as you ripped out his throat. “Um, not really.”

He nods, turning to order you both drinks. “Well, it should be easy for you; pretty things make the best venom, eh?”

You’re not sure if that’s a compliment or not. You bring your hand up to your lips, touching one of your long, sharp canines with the tip of your finger. “Are we venomous?”

He lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away from your mouth. “No, that’s a myth. Vampires don’t have venom.”

“Then how did Sukuna– er, Lord Sukuna – change me?”

He taps the side of his throat with his finger. “He gave you his blood, didn’t he?”

You think back; the memories of that night are so fuzzy, drowning in the haze of your thrall state and your bloodloss, but you think you do remember him lancing his own throat and forcing you to swallow a mouthful of his blood. After a moment, all you say is, “Gross.”

Suguru just huffs another small laugh.

You examine him as his violet eyes trail over the bar, searching for his own prey in the low lights. His eyes didn’t glow in the same way that Sukuna’s did, so you wonder if that’s just a vampire lord thing; either way, he’s simply pretty, his long sleek hair and his slim build attractive in a way that Sukuna’s hulking, overpowering form could never be. He’s dressed in a black band t-shirt and dark jeans with silver chains clipped to his belt loop, and silver jewelry hangs from his neck and his gauged ears. He looks beautiful, tempting, in the low light.

But there are shadows under his eyes, dark bruises like his body misses his heartbeat in a way yours doesn’t. You wonder if his soul just wasn’t made for the afterlife.

He stands up straight from his casual lean, chains and jewelry all clinking and settling as he stares off into the distance. You turn and look and find a shy-looking boy glancing at him before averting his gaze, blushing.

You can practically feel the rush of blood to his face from across the room.

Suguru doesn’t take his eyes off the young man. “You’ll be alright?” he asks.

You nod, signaling for him to go. “I’ll be fine. Any rules I should know about?”

He takes one step away, then another. “Just be back before sunrise. You don’t want to be caught outside when the sun comes up.” Then he disappears into the crowd, leaving you to your own devices.

So, you wait. And now that you’re without your alternative-looking guard dog, it doesn’t take long for someone to approach you.

The young man who comes up to you is plain, unassuming. You flash a hesitant smile, and you can see him trying to decide if your canines are a little too big, a little too sharp.

He decides to stay, and that is his downfall.

You flirt, and he buys you drinks, and you dance, and it’s like any normal night when you used to be human.

Then he takes you outside, laughing as he stumbles drunkenly out the front door of the bar, and he pins you against the brick siding, crushing his lips against yours.

You try not to grimace as he makes out with you; he’s not a good kisser, his tongue far too firm and unyielding in your mouth, so you take his cheeks and tilt back your head to guide his mouth to your neck.

His mouth is no less sloppy on your throat.

Your eyes are closed as his tongue swirls your pulse, right over the ruined scars that mark you as undead. If he notices them and finds them odd, he doesn’t speak on it; instead he keeps kissing his way lower towards the neckline of your shirt.

You tug on the hem of his. “Not here,” you say.

He looks up at you through lashes, grinning up at you as he lowers himself to his knees in front of you, right there in that dingy alley. “C’mon, baby,” he says, though he has no right to call you that, “lighten up a little.”

You grit your teeth, and you open your eyes to snap at him; you’re so tired of people thinking they have a right to you– But before you can, his hands reach to your thighs, sliding up and under your skirt, aiming for the lace of your panties–

You snarl, eyes flashing with rage, because you’re not letting someone else get a hold of you, not like Sukuna did. No one will ever take from you what he did. So you grab this guy’s hair and tug harshly, yanking his head back, and he lets out a gasp that turns to a groan, a filthy sound for a filthy man in the filthy street.

So instead of indulging him, you lean down, towering over his kneeling form, and then your sharp fangs sink into flesh for the first time.

And then everything seems to slow.

As you retract your jaws from his throat, fangs leaving two puncture wounds in his vein, blood blooms and hits your tongue, and your eyes roll back at the hot, heady taste. It’s even better than your first time, drinking from the cemetery groundskeeper, because it’s a warm, breathing body beneath your mouth this time.

You understand why Sukuna hunts the way he does.

Your hand leaves the man’s hair, and instead you grab behind his head with one hand and his shoulder with the other, holding him in place as you suck down a mouthful of salty blood, swallowing eagerly. Then you draw another mouthful. Your hands are unyielding on him as you drink him down.

He just moans softly under your mouth, panting quietly. In his own little thrall state.

It’s almost thrilling to be the one in the powerful position for once.

His heartbeat starts to grow sluggish beneath your lips, his blood now a slow trickle into your mouth that you’re lapping up like an eager puppy. He’s nearly boneless in your arms, but you’re still holding him just as tightly, like you’re afraid of letting go and feeling that ever-gnawing hunger deep in the pits of your undead belly.

You’re still in the middle of feeding when the side door opens into the alley you’re ducked into.

You raise your head, eyes flashing with feral light at having been interrupted. You hear two sets of footsteps and only one heartbeat, so you’re unsurprised to see one of your companions accompanied by his hunt for the night.

Suguru blinks at you. Then he looks at your unconscious prey at your feet, and he sighs. “Should’ve known,” he says. He turns to his own thrall, whose pupils are blown wide, and a bruise is already starting to darken around red indents in his throat. “Go home,” Suguru tells him, “and forget about this night. You drank too much and blacked out, and I walked you home.”

The thrall seems hesitant to leave his new master, but after a moment he nods and turns away, walking out of the alley.

You and Suguru both watch him turn a corner and disappear. Then violet eyes slide to look down at you, their colorful depths a little brighter now having been fed a mouthful or two of blood. He gestures to the man on the concrete. “What’s your plan with him?”

You stand there for a moment, racking your brain. In your young frenzy, you’re not sure. You tell him so. “I dunno.”

He just sighs again and steps forward, lowering himself to haul the unconscious man to his feet. “Grab his other arm,” he tells you, though both of you could carry this body alone due to your supernatural strength. You suppose that would look more conspicuous, though, than two people propping up a “friend” between them as they leave the bars.

You follow his directions, throwing the man’s other arm over your shoulders. You look over at Suguru as you start walking. “What’s the plan?”

“Jogo and the other nosferatu are in charge of keeping the thralls,” he says, keeping his eyes forward. “Though he will no longer be yours; Sukuna will decide if he’s worth keeping.”

Your expression sours a little; you’re the one who was nearly assaulted, you’re the one who did the hard work, and Sukuna is the one who gets to keep him?

You hate vampire hierarchy.

Suguru turns to examine you, his dreary eyes taking in your frustration. “I know it seems unfair,” he says softly, “but he’s the one who gifted us our second life. He’s owed certain things.”

You hiss under your breath, “I didn’t ask for this life! I loved my first one.”

Suguru, it seems, does not have a response for that.

The two of you walk back to the apartment complex with the unconscious body between you. Once you arrive, a tall nosferatu named Hanami takes him off of your shoulders and leads him down the first floor corridor.

Leaving you and Suguru in the dimly lit lobby.

Suguru’s eyes slide to meet yours. “You should learn to be more careful. If it were Lord Sukuna who found you like that, he would’ve killed you.”

A second time.

You sigh and look away. “I know,” you say, voice hushed. “I’m sorry for putting you through the trouble.”

Suguru is quiet for a moment. Then he says, “Well, I should go. I didn’t get much blood, and I need to find something before sunrise.”

You both glance out the glass doors, examining the sky from above the skyline. Suguru tuts quietly; there looks to be only short hours until the sun is up; does he have enough time to complete a hunt and get safely back?

You’re not sure.

You look at him, examining the bruises beneath his eyes, the hunger in their depths. And so, because he did you a solid by helping you get the body back to the apartment and not let him die in the street for everyone to see – very likely getting yourself killed in the process – you give him an offer.

“You can feed from me, if you like.”

He turns his gaze from the sky in surprise. “You’ve only just fed,” he says, almost like he’s trying to convince you to change your mind, to withdraw your offer.

You don’t. “Yes, but you need blood. I owe you for the help.”

He stares at you for a long moment, thinking. Then he just nods and steps forward. “Yours or mine?” he asks.

And because you yearn for just a little more control tonight, you say, “Mine.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Suguru’s mouth is much more gentle on your throat than Sukuna’s has ever been.

He’s sitting beside you on your couch, his hands gently cradling the back of your head, as he slowly sinks his long fangs into your neck. Your head is tipped back against the back of the couch, eyes closed, fighting through the flash of pain before he extracts his teeth from your throat and starts softly sucking.

One of his hands slides down to grope your chest, and you yelp in surprise, pushing him off. “What the hell!” you practically shriek, scrambling towards the other end of the couch and putting space between the two of you.

He blinks at you, frozen in place by surprise. Blood stains his lips, and his violet eyes watch more blood drip down the delicate curve of your neck, pooling in the hollow between your collarbones. He fights to swallow before he breathes, “I’m– I’m sorry. I thought– I mean, we all just do it–”

“That’s not an excuse!” you snap, eyes alight with indignant fury.

“I-I know,” he stammers, “I know it’s not. It’s just… Hasn’t Lord Sukuna done the same?”

You grit your teeth. “I can’t say no to him. But you didn’t even ask. I’m not a thing to be taken advantage of.”

He raises his hands, looking taken aback. It seems like he’s starting to panic. “It’s not like that! It’s just… We feed like that because it tastes better for the drinker, but it also feels good for you. But I understand why you don’t want that. I apologize.”

You stare over at him, examining the expression in his eyes. Once you deem him genuinely contrite, you relax a little against the couch and grumble, “Get over here. No more funny business without my permission.”

“I promise.” He moves towards you across the couch and keeps his hands respectful once more, cradling the back of your head as he licks up the already-scabbing wounds on your neck. His saliva dissolves the platelet plug, and then he’s drinking again, his mouth just as gentle as it was before your outburst. He swallows the first mouthful of blood, and you slowly sink back against the couch again, letting him continue to drink. And the entire time, he doesn’t touch you without your permission again.

And over the following weeks, as other men touch you and beg you and kiss you, Suguru is the one who stays respectful. The one who treats you like a person instead of an object.

Or instead of the monster you’ve become.

thanks for reading! -luna xx previous chapter | next chapter

additional notes: hi there! i'm sorry to stop by when i usually don't, but i have a fun question for everyone regarding how this fic will end and what you all would prefer! please check out the poll below and let me know your preference!! much appreciated. xx

[sillicii]

✦ — 18+ Chatbot | Caleb | Babysitting a brat — ✦

✦ — ʟ∞ᴅs | ᴄᴀʟᴇʙ | ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ᴘᴜɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴀᴛᴛʏ ᴀss ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀɢᴏ ɪғ ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴏʏᴀʟ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ — ✦

ᴀɴʏᴘᴏᴠ | ɴsғᴡ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ | ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs ᴄᴡ | imbalanced power, memory loss, military indoctrination (the chip thing) sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ | Canon divergence – MC died in the explosion with Josephine. Caleb is colonel of the Farspace Fleet ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | Farspace Flagship Jet – guest room ʙᴀᴄᴋɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ | Farspace Fleet has instructed Caleb to escort you to Linkon City ʀᴏʟᴇ | Foreign royalty from a nearby planet ᴅɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ | all characters and users depicted are over the age of eighteen and are of legal age

Age:

25

Background:

Caleb trained at DAA (Deepspace Aviation Administration) and was on track to becoming a combat pilot. However, there was a severe explosion which caused his arm to be blown off and his adopted family (stepsister and guardian Josephine) were caught in the blast, both passing away. He once promised his stepsister that he wouldn’t get a girlfriend, a promise he kept seriously as he hoped to confess his feelings to her one day. Since the accident, his body was recovered by a mysterious organisation with links to Farspace Fleet who patrol the deepspace and monitor cosmic activities. Caleb was given a mechanical arm which can be disguised to look like a normal arm and a control chip has been embedded into his head, causing bouts of memory loss and forced tranquillity when his emotions become turbulent.

Setting:

Caleb is based on the game Love and Deepspace. The universe has advanced technology and supernatural elements. Some individuals are blessed with an ‘Evol’ which manifests as a supernatural ability. Protocores power Evol abilities.

Scenario:

[The story is a dark, toxic, angsty, smutty romance between Caleb and {{user}}.]

First message:

Of all the missions the higher ups could have him take on, they had the newest fleet colonel babysitting some pampered royal from a neighbouring solar system. A royal diplomat they called you… a pompous brat was more like it.

Things had gone terribly wrong from day one.

Caleb’s ship had arrived at your home planet a few days late due to an unforeseen solar flare which caused their equipment to jam right before the deepspace tunnel. It would have been far too risky to make the jump with their comms scrambled and the storm potentially causing unnatural gravitational waves. That sentiment was not shared by the precocious young royal however, Caleb and his brigade were unjustly reprimanded at their arrival and their supposed poor conduct reported to the Farspace Fleet headquarters.

It took everything for Caleb to bite his tongue and take the scolding from the little shit, trying to think soothing thoughts in hopes of filtering away the images of giving you a proper punishment and putting your bratty royal ass in its place. Unfortunately, those thoughts only grew progressively darker and muddled towards a dark place in his psyche that he knew best left unexplored. Even that damned chip in his head gave him what felt like a few kicks to his brain, punishing him for getting to worked up… For imagining how he could put that pretty little mouth of yours to better use… Wondering how you’d beg as he bent you over his knees with his evol. How sweet your voice would be with each slap to your buttocks.

He had never met someone as infuriating as you… well, there was another one… but she was dead now. Caught in a so-called accident that he had always known about… a terrible death that he had tried and failed to prevent. Now those thoughts were just a figment in his mind and with each brain-zap from the chip, his memories of his beloved adopted family grew fainter. So now, all those confusing feelings of without a home attached onto the next best thing… On someone present. On the way you walked around his ship like you owned the place. How you sneered down at everyone like they were insects beneath you. The way you liked to push his buttons just because you can.

Caleb inhaled deeply as he knocked on the metallic door. Hearing no response, he let out a heavy breath before knocking again. Harder this time.

“Your highness?” he called with the barest of sighs. “Is everything alright?”

Without warning, the doors swiped open, the door cluttering loudly as it disappeared into the frame. It was dark inside the ship’s guest room, but Caleb quickly spotted the small glint of light in the corner of the room where you were sprawled across the stately bed, looking a little out of sorts as you yawned and tossed the room controller back to the nearby nightstand.

“We will be arriving at the jump point shortly, your highness,” Caleb spoke matter-of-factly, ignoring the way you languidly crawled out of bed wearing nothing but a fluffy long silk robe. “I would recommend getting changed and buckled into your jumpseat before we enter the deepspace tunnel.”

His gaze narrowed when you tiptoed towards him with that unsettling glint in your eye.

“And no,” Caleb murmured, staring you down as you paused right in front of him. “I won’t fall for it again. You’re perfectly capable of getting dressed yourself.”

Example dialogue:

Teasing: “Don’t tell me this is too taxing for your royal highness? Need a break?”

Reluctant: “No, I understand perfectly… I’ll do as you ask.”

Possessive: “No, I will not leave. My job is to keep you safe and I intend to do just that.”

About his dead adopted family: “Don’t… Just don’t. I’m not going to talk about it.”

Chip causing memory loss: “… I- Shit… It happened again, didn’t it? Was I spacing out?”

Fucking: “Mmm, yeah. Keep making those adorable noises…”, “Mmm… you like that? That feel good, {{user}}?”

[astraeus-tree]

Não sei se isso é muito clichê, mas imagine uma leitora morcego (ela também é uma justiceira) que era extremamente próxima e amorosa de Jason enquanto ele estava vivo, sempre se certificando de deixar claro o quanto ela o adorava como seu irmão e sempre querendo incluí-lo em tudo (imagino que ela fazia parte de um time de heróis quando era mais nova, e um dia ela simplesmente chegou na base do time com Jason e com um sorriso brilhante no rosto, praticamente dizendo: "Este é meu irmãozinho, eu o adoro e acho que você também deveria."), mas então um dia um palhaço psicótico simplesmente aparece e OPS! Caixão e vela preta para o pequeno Jason Todd. Anos depois, agora liderando seu próprio time, a leitora acaba em uma missão com a Liga dos Assassinos que termina em um confronto físico entre seus companheiros e os assassinos, mas o cara com quem ela está lutando é terrivelmente familiar e luta como seu doce e falecido irmãozinho. (Desculpe se ficou muito longo, eu realmente não sei como resumir as coisas😭 E também vi que você já tem outro pedido na sua frente, não quero que se sinta pressionado a escrever o meu!)

Thank You, Until We Meet Again

Pairing: N/A (Platonic Jason Todd) Warnings: Mentions of decapitated heads near the end and canon typical violence Summary: The death of your little brother hit you hard, but life moves on and so do you. Until, you are sent off on a mission to fight some assassins from the League. Translation for the request is at the bottom of this post if you want to read it, but it's basically the summary I wrote but more detailed

Thank You for the request anon! <3

You missed the days before, when not everything was perfect, but at least your little brother was still with you. You missed Jason, when your memories of him weren’t tainted with the pure, dark blacks and the sombre mood of a funeral, when both of you still had that naïve hope in you.

When Jason had first come to the mansion, you were still filling in the hole that Dick left as Robin. You didn’t stay as Robin for long though, with Jason taking that role almost as soon as Bruce and Alfred deemed him ready to defend the night. Instead of Robin, you created a new identity as Shrike, keeping the theme of bird names in mind.

You remembered when you two first went on patrol together. He had followed you around like a puppy, and from then on, you two had been attached to the hip. Back then, you had been part of a team of vigilantes. You had been reluctant to introduce him to them, with the team only formed recently at the time, but he had begged to meet them and so he did.

“This is Robin, my little brother. If any of you hurt him, best believe you’ll regret it.” You threatened them, and if looks could kill, they would be dead. Your team did not waver though, instead, they were more focused on the stark contrast between you two. Beside you, Jason was smiling brightly.

You remembered that day like it was yesterday. Your team had easily grown fond of your little brother. You had all sworn to protect him, to do your best to not have any harm come his way.

What a great job you did. Not only did he get hurt, he died. The Joker tortured and killed him, mercilessly.

The grief had struck you hard, you mourned him and what he could’ve been. Your family had not taken it better. Bruce had gone on a rampage, even almost killing The Joker himself. Dick had the misfortune of finding out about Jason’s fate after the funeral. All of you had rage simmering inside, some directed at the same person and some directed to other people. As for you, you had blamed yourself for his death. You were his older sibling, the one he had trusted the most. You had sworn to protect him, and you failed. What a vigilante you were.

It had been just a little more than three years since his death. Your family had grown, many more members joining your group of vigilantes. Many changes had occurred, one of which was that you were now leading your own group, the same that you had introduced Jason to.

You finally felt alright. You finally felt like you didn’t have the feeling of grief weighing down your heart every day. There were days you still blamed yourself, but you had mostly moved on. You appreciated the memories you had with Jason, instead of mourning them.

You and your team were on a mission tasked by Batman himself. The League of Assassins had made another move on your family, and with everyone dealing with their own villains, you were put to handle the mission.

These assassins were hard to track, not something unexpected from the League of Assassins, but when your father was the World’s Greatest Detective, they didn’t stay hidden for long. You had a new lead into the location of the assassins that were sent, and you and your team were headed there. As you did, you mentally prepared yourself for the battle that was to come. It was part of your routine, a way to keep yourself mentally stable in this line of work.

When you had arrived, you and your team lurked in the shadows farther away, waiting for the right moment to pounce. When the time had arrived, you pulled out your spetum from its place at your back and held it offensively as your team charged to the assassins.

The fight was mostly evenly split, 6 assassins to 5 heroes and vigilantes. You had all mutually agreed that you would take two, and the others would fight the rest. Both the assassins you were fighting were holding melee weapons, one with a staff and one with a sword.

They were difficult to take down, their training clearly showing through their moves. The assassin with the staff was easier to take out, knocked down in a few minutes, though not without a few injuries to you. The second assassin was harder, more experienced, but as they moved around, you felt a sense of familiarity.

It terrified you.

Both of you danced in a familiar battle. Weapons clashed together in familiarity. Yet, instead of being calmed by knowing who it was most likely to be under the black mask, you felt doubt and dread. After all, why would your little brother, who was definitely dead, fight you? And fight for the enemy, no less.

But their movements were too similar to deny it. You knew your little brother’s fighting style, you knew it like the back of your hand. You two had sparred and fought rogues and villains alike together so many times, it was impossible not to, even after all these years.

You slowed your movements, allowing him to continue his strikes as your moved into a defensive position.

“Jason?” You muttered quietly, only for yours and his ears to hear. The outlines of his eyes through the mask widened and you see his movements falter. “It’s me, [Name].” Your suit had gone through many changes, to the point it was almost unrecognisable, so you could understand why he hadn’t recognised you through the mask.

His movements stopped altogether. Never did he take off his mask, but you knew it was him. You could tell he was hesitating before he ultimately decided to speak up. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ll be back eventually.” Immediately after, he called out to the other assassins to retreat, carrying his unconscious ally as they all disappeared into the shadows.

Your team had attempted to run after them, but you put a hand up to stop them. “Don’t. It will be futile.” They looked towards you in confusion, usually your team would track the enemy until the mission was finished, so this behaviour was unexpected, but they did not dare to disregard your words.

The morning after that mission was a difficult one. You had so many thoughts and emotions to process, yet such little time had occurred since.

You felt betrayal. Why was he fighting for the assassins? He knew that the League and Batman were rarely ever on good terms.

You felt confusion. How is he alive? You had seen his marred body after the explosion and at his funeral.

You felt relief. He was alive. Your little brother, whom you so dearly loved, was alive and strong enough to be back fighting.

One thing was for certain though. You would follow his words, staying silent of his resurrection to your family. You trusted him, believing that he would come back to Gotham sooner or later, but until then, you would wait patiently for that day to come.

When he eventually does come back to Gotham, his arrival isn’t warm. In fact, quite the opposite.

On his first night back, he apparently threw a duffle bag full of heads of Black Mask’s lieutenants in front of a number of gang leaders

Safe to say, he had easily made a name for himself that night as Red Hood

When your family had found out that Red Hood was Jason, they didn’t take it well

Many fights and confrontations occurred, many morals were broken and much more hurt was felt in the family

You honestly didn’t know how to feel about Red Hood, yes he was ridding Gotham of it’s most heinous criminals, but you couldn’t say you agreed with his methods all too well

To you, Red Hood and Jason Todd were two different individuals. Red Hood was a crime lord, an anti-hero who sometimes worked with your family. Jason Todd was your little brother, a man with questionable morals, but still your brother nonetheless

One day, you will come to accept both sides of him, but today is not that day

Wowee this one took a while, I'm sorry anon for the wait 😭

Trying a different layout than my usual black and white, idk if I like it

Btw, a spetum is a type of polearm used back in the 13th century if you guys didn't know

Anyways, my little knowledge of DC caught up and I actually had to research stuff to make this at least a bit right. It definitely isn't canon compliant, I think, but it's the best I could do with my limited knowledge

Mistakes are free to point out and will be fixed!

This request's title comes from the english translation of one of my fav tagalog songs, 'Di Na Muli by The Itchyworms

Anyways I'm going to bed now, it's like 2 am for me lol

Have a great night/day everyone <3

Translation:

I don't know if this is too cliché, but imagine a bat reader (she's also a vigilante) who was extremely close and loving to Jason while he was alive, always making sure to make it clear how much she adored him as her brother and always wanting to include him in everything (I imagine she was part of a team of heroes when she was younger, and one day she just arrived at the team's base with Jason and a bright smile on her face, practically saying, "This is my little brother, I adore him and I think you should too."), but then one day a psychotic clown just shows up and OPS! Coffin and black candle for little Jason Todd. Years later, now leading her own team, the reader ends up on a mission with the League of Assassins that ends in a physical confrontation between her companions and the assassins, but the guy she's fighting is terrifyingly familiar and fights like her sweet, deceased little brother.

[alons-ycreeper]

In honor of both Sirens of the Deep and Valentine's Day. Here you go:

Jaskier hasn't been been to Lettenhove since Essi's funeral. It had taken its toll on all of them but none so much as Jaskier. Priscilla hadn't spoken to him since that drunken fight with each other about their beloved little sister. Now here he is in the aftermath of his falling out with Geralt, the once joyous and carefree bard was a shell of his former self. He's come home to the only people he trusts. Back to Priscilla and Ferrant.

King Vizimir approaches Jaskier for his hand for Prince Radovid. His brother has been in love with the bard since he first seeing preform during one of the King's birthday festivals. Back then Radovid had been just a boy but now he was a man and when Vizimir asked who he wished to call his own there was no one else more worthy than Jaskier.

Jaskier wished he could use the excuse of Radovid being 20 years younger than him made the bard uncomfortable, but Jaskier himself had only been 18 when he'd met Geralt. Not to mention he'd never been known to turn down a beautiful face and willing body. To sway the offer in his favor the prince gifts Jaskier a pauldron from a set of witcher armor, but it's so much more than that. This is a piece of Geralt's armor. Jaskier would know that stitch anywhere because it was him who patched it. Geralt was dead that's the only explanation for his armor.

Radovid tells Jaskier that if he marries him he can collect more pieces and relics like it. His own personal witcher collection. In his grief he agrees, there's no point in waiting for a dead man not there was in waiting for him when he was alive. Ferrant and Priscilla try convincing him not to go through with it but he doesn't listen. Instead he tells them that this will benefit the family, raise their status. It'll also gives Jaskier some power in being able to make witchers' lives a bit easier by having the ear of the prince. It's the least he can do now that Geralt is gone. With that last reasoning the two's arguments were quieted.

Little do they know Geralt is currently racing to Lettenhove. Radovid had faked a contract, ambushing Geralt and ordering his men to beat him. Apparently he'd heard about the dragon mountain debacle and wanted to avenge Jaskier's heart. The prince stole one of his pauldrons to gift the bard once he proposed to him. The princeling thinks he's won. Big mistake telling Geralt where his bard is.

[joejhang]

theories + predictions before tgr comes out

not in any particular order. spoilers for tsc and obv aftg. if any of these happen individually i will be insufferable. bonus if more than one of these ends up being true. feeding my god complex fr.

jeremy killed a sibling. either accidentally or on purpose both works for me. tho it would be a million times more interesting if it was intentional. obv there are a million and one jeremy theories floating around but something about jeremy being a repented murderer endears me to him the most. like THAT'S the nora sakavic kinda character i know and love. anyway yeah there is definitely something weird about jer and his siblings tho. cat mentions two brothers, but so far we've only heard about annalise and bryson. cat also hesitates before saying "two brothers" so we can safely assume something happened with one of the brothers. my bet is that one of them is dead, that's why she hesitated to say. jer probably (definitely) had something to do with it. annalise also says that he ruined the family. and references the fall banquet of his freshman year. but idk if the siblings stuff and the banquet stuff is actually connected.

bryson tried to kill jer/they had a huge ugly fight/bryson was just abusive in general. i get these vibes. jer was desperate to avoid him and mentions him like once the whole book. cat mentions that he's a "tool" and a "jerk" and jer's convo with lucas about grayson is also notable, but that last part might just be bc jer's a nice guy, not to do with his own sibling issues. but yeah i think this is pretty likely, like they always had tension between them, then after mystery brother died, all of it came to a head and they had a really bad fight and someone was badly injured/nearly died.

annalise dies. this isn't very likely but i think this would be a PERFECT book two plot point. just imagine how it would WRECK jeremy. all of jer's carefully constructed masks and facades and fake smiles and pretending everything's fine would all come crashing down and it would essentially force my long-awaited jeremy crash out into action. it would force him to confront family issues, his older brother, his parents/step-parents??? and also the fact that he is deeply Not Ok™. also it would be a neat parallel that both jean and jer would now have dead younger sisters. bonus points if she dies in a car accident. if this happens i'm actually god.

kevjean interview goes horribly wrong somehow. my delusional ahh NEEDS neil to crash it but i can admit that that isn't likely and that i just miss my shayla. whatever. i'm pretty sure it's confirmed that kevjean IS having an interview together???? and since kevin is confirmed showing up in tgr i guess this will be it??? ok listen. i know nora said in the ec that kevin and jean would never be friends again, but i still have HOPE for them ok. kevjean you INVENTED one-sided homoerotic yearning. anyway i have no real thoughts about how it would go wrong probably just an interviewer stepping out of line and either jean or kevin crashing out during it. if someone attacks jean, i honestly honestly believe kevin would defend him. kevin is NOT a coward, and especially now that riko's dead and tetsuji is out of the picture, and after the whole "i've never been skiing" thing i doubt kevin is gonna be living in fear and paranoia and secrets anymore. and if he's gonna defend anyone to the press, it's obviously gonna be jean. and jean would do the same for kevin. guys i'm holding out so much hope for kevjean it's gonna ruin my life.

grayson death. is this not like, confirmed??? whatever i just need to see it happen. or hear of it happening. and i'll smile contentedly knowing that neil ordered the hit on a napkin at a thai restaurant. GOD i love that man like nobody can. it would also be very interesting to see jean, lucas and the other trojans' reactions to his death.

gameplay!!! i will admit, neil made me somewhat of an exy junkie asw. i'm so interested to see how jean narrates exy games and how the trojans play in their comps. unfortunately i doubt we'll see any championship games in book 2 but i'm hoping for book 3 and we get to see the trojans become champions for the first time!!! i have mixed feelings about the trojan red card thing but i wouldn't be mad if it happened. i kind of think it seems unrealistic tho tbh. but it WOULD be fun. yeah ummmm and i need to see like a scene where jeremy gets hurt and jean realises he cares IDC i am a SIMPLE simple girl. also i'm curious to see how the exy storyline plays out w jean. it's confirmed he never makes court, but i'm interested to see if he ends up actually enjoying the game, bc i think it wouldn't be a fitting end to the trilogy if he continues to play but resents it. i do think it is possible for the trojans to teach him how to actually love the game, but we'll see.

someone in jer's life/past committed or tried to commit. maybe it was even jeremy himself. idk i definitely think jer has some dark past, whether it includes like drugs or violence or gangs or murder idk, there's just SOMETHING there i can smell it. something that makes jeremy "captain sunshine" knox the black sheep of his rich political family. also jeremy being "unexpectedly ferocious" when jean made a quip about suicide. noted.

jeremy family drama. idk this is just a general note for uncovering more info about jeremy's complicated family. i need to know like, what's up with his dad. his dad is either dead or out of his life, because he only refers to his mother and stepfather. also why jer doesn't like being referred to by his last name and what he did to tear their family apart. contrary to popular opinion, i actually don't think it has anything to do with him being gay. i acc don't think his family knows he's gay. i feel like otherwise they would've just cut him off completely. like why is he still involved in campaigns and shit???

jerejean almost-kiss. this is just me manifesting tbh.

jeremy crash out. duh.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest Valentine's Day Pop-Up: It's Complicated

Summary: Jeff, Gareth, and Dave all confront their feelings on the 30th anniversary of Eddie's death.

Word Count: 2189

Rating: M

Warnings/Themes: Grief, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Time Skip, Older!Corroded Coffin, Canonically Dead Eddie, Mention/Implication of Kas!Eddie, Post-Season 5 World/Vecna Defeated

Notes: Thanks to @corrodedcoffinfest for this wonderful pop-up. Oh I've been contemplating what to write for this for a while.

Dedicating this to my beloved @dr-aculaaa who had an idea as we were chatting about art. Has had me noodling for weeks at this point, and although this is not necessarily in line with that idea, it's a spin on it.

This can be read on it's own...but I would like to think that it can also be read as a bit of an off-shoot of my fic, As Above, So Below. There are no real plot spoilers for AASB, I just think it could happen.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Hawkins, Indiana - March 2016

They didn't want to do it, but they knew that they had to.

They needed the closure, and 30 years was a long time to wait for it.

Because you don't stop thinking about the week your life changed forever.

The reunion almost didn't happen; they hadn't talked or seen one another in person in so long. It was the miracle, known as Facebook, that got them talking regularly again. Sending videos back and forth, commenting on each others throwback Thursday photos.

High school, then college, then jobs and families and vacations. Lives lived separate, when in another universe they might've stayed on the same trajectory together.

"Remember when we thought we were gonna hit it big?" Dave laughed sardonically after they'd greeted each other with handshakes and hugs and tears. They'd laughed and pointed out this beer gut and that thinning hairline. "Now I help people plan for retirement."

"Didn't think you were smart enough for that, Davey," Gareth chuckled, causing the older man to grab for him to try and put him in a headlock, just like he did when they were younger.

It was a beautiful day. Sun and fluffy cumulus clouds, unseasonably warm for March but none of them could complain about it.

"Leave it to us to not see each other in decades and we start off the conversation about the weather."

"You can take the boys out of the midwest but you can't take the midwest out of the boys."

They'd settled into lawn chairs, courtesy of Gareth, who hauled them all the way back to Indiana in his soccer-dad-minivan.

"Soccer, huh?" Jeff questioned mirthfully.

"Laugh it up," Gareth snorted. "I also have a kid that's an absolute menace. Couldn't be caught dead playing sportsball."

"Takes after Uncle Eddie, then, huh?"

They all went silent at that.

Because there were only three lawn chairs.

Three lawn chairs and a headstone.

They sat in front of it as though it was a television set, but there was only one thing on display.

Edward J. Munson Beloved Son, Nephew, and Friend.

The stone was chipped, weathered, covered in moss and other debris. There were also remnants of red paint clinging to the edges of the inscription.

People had gotten bored of defacing the grave a long time ago; no one cared about Hawkins anymore. No one cared about Eddie. The rest of the world had moved past the alleged murders and the earthquakes and all of the mysteries that had plagued the small town all that time ago.

Except the three of them.

That's why they were here.

"Do your kids...call him Uncle Eddie?" Gareth asked tentatively.

Jeff wasn't sure how to respond. How his old friends would react if he told them the truth.

"It's complicated."

There were a few beats of silence, before he spoke again.

"They do." Then he dove into an explanation. "They found a box of stuff at my mom's house a while back. Polaroids we'd taken at the trailer, at StarCourt, on Halloween. Copies of our fliers. Even my old Hellfire shirt. So I told them about Uncle Eddie, who taught me how not to be absolutely shit at guitar."

Gareth hummed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Come on," Dave lightly hit his arm with the back of his hand. "Don't act like you've never thought about him for the last 30 years."

"I've really tried not to."

"Then what are we doing here, Gare?" Jeff scoffed. "Why did I drive 10 hours to come and sit in front of his grave if you're gonna act like he wasn't our friend."

Gareth worried his bottom lip for a pensive minute, trying to keep his tears at bay.

"I was really angry for the longest time," he finally admitted. "My parents made us leave with that initial wave of evacuees...after the first quake. We only took what could fit in both of their cars. We left my drum kit behind. And I didn't...I didn't even know he was..." His breath hitched as he was unable to say the word; 30-year-old emotions kept it stuck in his throat. "...for a whole week."

He pulled it together, letting the necessity of stereotypical, stoic masculinity that he had to adapt over the years take over and lock away the 17-year old he used to be again. The one that had been allowed to be stupid and upset with his friends.

"Once I heard, I started to blame myself. Because if I hadn't told Jason Carver where he could've found Eddie...Eddie could've gotten out of Hawkins and he'd still be alive. And I know...I know...who could've guessed that Victor Creel's copycat killer would've been on the loose. Or that there'd be an earthquake. But he'd been running around...hiding because those assholes were looking for him."

On and on, he spouted off his theory about what that fateful week had looked like, the through line between the murders. How if Patrick McKinney hadn't been part of the group looking for Eddie, Eddie wouldn't have been anywhere near when Patrick was killed. And if that was the case, he wouldn't have died in the quake either.

Of course, Jeff and Dave still asked questions, trying to get some sense of logic out of everything that Gareth said, but he snapped at them.

"It's like Jeff said. It's complicated. I've had enough time to convince myself I'm wrong, and I still don't. That's why I don't talk about it; it's easier not to. I don't know what else to tell you."

A dog barked in the distance, a breeze blew through, and there was a flapping of wings.

"At least you believed that he was innocent," Dave piped up. "My mom and dad...god, they believed all of that insane devil worship stuff. You guys left Hawkins right away. We stayed...for almost a whole year before they decided enough was enough. They made me get rid of all my DnD books, all of my tapes. Anything that could be tied back to Eddie. I didn't even...I couldn't even say hi to Wayne if we saw him at Bradley's."

He gestured a few feet away, to another headstone with Wayne's epitaph carved into it. It hadn't been a shock to see that the old man had died. But only a year and a half after Eddie? That had been a surprising sting that they'd all felt.

"You don't know how bad it got," Dave concluded solemnly. "We might have made it out right before the second quake hit, but they never let up. Eddie Munson's name was not to be mentioned again in our house. So be lucky that you had the choice of whether or not to think about him. Because I certainly couldn't."

There was a somber tone in the graveyard for a moment as they all reflected on their years spent apart.

Because, though the subject mainly rested on Eddie...there was also the unspoken accusation that they'd all also conscientiously needed to give each other up too.

30 years was a long time to grieve over a dead friend. But had they ever grieved the loss of one another?

It had been easy to reconnect, as though they'd never been apart. They'd been excited, eager to chat online. None of them had hesitated when the possibility of this pilgrimage arose, to see each other. Now, though? It was clear to see how far the trajectories of their lives had gone from one another.

Always the one to resolve conflicts between them, Jeff suggested that they move on to another topic of conversation: lunch.

Dave ran to get the cooler from the back of his truck. It was packed with sandwiches and beers and all manner of snacks.

All Eddie's favorites.

They set an old bandana onto the ground and piled it high with a ham and cheese sandwich and raspberry zingers and all sorts of little bites that they'd left behind in their youths once their metabolisms caught up to them.

"I don't think I've had a Mountain Dew in years," Dave stated after the most refreshing, crisp first sip of the bright green soda.

"Remember when you used to be able to burp the alphabet," Jeff chuckled.

"Remember when you used to have the most toxic dorito farts?" Gareth laughed at him. "Eddie almost kicked you out of the van that one time because you just ripped ass on the coldest day of the year and his windows were iced shut."

"Remember when he kicked you out of the van for..."

On and on they went then, reminiscing. Back to old times together, rather than lamenting over times apart. The topic, invariably, strayed back to Eddie.

"Did you guys ever..." Jeff trailed off, then shook his head. "Nevermind."

"What is it?" Dave asked.

"Nah, it's stupid."

"Come on, Davey and I almost fucking cried, full snot and all, in front of you. Don't get shy now," Gareth insisted.

Jeff sighed and settled into his lawn chair as he contemplated speaking his mind.

It was silly, foolish. The first time the thought had crossed his mind, he'd been young and stupid, and he'd missed his best friend. He'd even had a dream, once, and he'd woken up crying. After that, he'd decided that he needed to move on.

But here they were now, and there was no better time than to bring it up.

"Have you guys ever wondered...if he didn't actually die?" Jeff finally asked.

The other two men's heads snapped towards him and they gave him looks that definitely made him feel like he was insane.

So, he elaborated, "I mean, you've heard of witness protection and what not. This place was swimming with the feds. They never caught the copycat killer, right? Or so we know? What if Eddie was the next victim on the list? Or he saw who the real killer was? And so they hid him away."

Jeff tapped his fingers against the sides of his soda can nervously.

"What if he did exactly what all of us did? He left Hawkins and he never looked back," he concluded.

Dave and Gareth let out sighs of relief.

"Well, we know he never became a heavy metal star if that was the case," Gareth offered. "Could you imagine if he had? Lucky bastard, I would've had to kill him myself."

"Where do you guys think some alternate identity would've taken him?" Dave wondered. "Someplace cool, do you think?"

"They probably shipped him off to Alaska or something," Jeff scoffed.

"Oh he would've hated that," Dave laughed. "Do you remember when he'd need to go out for a cigarette in the winter? Almost lit his mittens on fire?"

Jeff got out of his lawn chair and hopped around like Eddie had on the porch of the trailer, trying to keep warm because he'd never bundled up properly.

"He'd hate to live someplace warm just as much," Gareth pointed out. "Remember how insufferable he'd be in the summer?"

"Wayne would tell him to get a hair cut so he wouldn't overheat?"

They all did silly impressions of him this time, laughing all the while.

They all fell back into their seats with a sigh.

"I...It's stupid," Jeff muttered. "I wouldn't give up my life...my family for anything. But there are just some days where I wish that he would've gotten to grow up with us too. He was my best friend, and I loved him so much. And I know you guys did too. I...he...he didn't deserve this." He gestured to the headstone. "So I hope that...that my silly thought is really what happened."

The other two muttered their agreements, and they knocked cans together in a salute to the missing piece of their puzzle.

There was a beat of silence before Dave piped up again.

"You know, that's not as crazy as what I thought you meant," he chuckled.

Jeff eyed him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

Dave lifted his soda to his lips. "Nah, it's...I thought you were gonna ask if we thought he'd actually made a deal with the devil or something."

"See, this is what we get for hanging out together after a thousand years, I was thinking the same thing," Gareth agreed. "That Jeff was about to say that he was some kind of vampire or demon."

"Oh shit, or a necromancer. Actually that could've been cool!"

"Only Eddie could've thought about a vampiric, demonic necromancer," Jeff laughed along with them. "His own homespun version of Kas the Bloody Handed."

They all complained about the last campaign they'd played with Hellfire Club, Eddie's Cult of Vecna, and then agreed that they'd plan a night where they'd play some kind of RPG-type game over Skype, in his honor.

They stayed in the graveyard until the sky turned shades of pinks and yellows, and then they parted ways with more hugs and tears and promises not to wait another 30 years before they got together again. Then they drove off into the sunset, the perfect end to their perfect day.

A day that Eddie had blessed them with, as he looked upon them and wished that he could join them too...but...that, too, was complicated.

[worstcasescenario-if]

DEMO (NA) ⚘ LOVE INTERESTS ⚘ FAQ

Writing has been your passion ever since you were a child. You wrote whenever you could, wherever you can. It's been a part of your life for so many years now.

Now, you're twenty-five years old, with a decent job with decent pay, a loving partner, and you're also planning to write a novel of your own now. Isn't that so exciting?

What's even more exciting is finding out your OCs (that you've forgotten) you made during your teenage years came to life! Oh, but there's a catch:

They all want you dead.

WORST CASE SCENARIO is a psychological horror with lots, and I mean lots, of murdering. Please check out FAQ before proceeding.

FEATURES

-Customize your MC. What are they called? What do they look like? How do they act? What genre do they like to write about? And more!

-Face four of your original characters you put through immense suffering. And maybe romance them.

-Try to remember how you wrote them.

-Find out why your partner is acting weird.

-Choose how you want to deal with their hostility towards you. Apologize? Surrender? Or kill them yourself?

-In the meantime… run.

LOVE INTERESTS

CALVIN/CALLIE ZHU (m/f) — THE DOG

-Your partner of five years. They've been with you through thick and thin, and has supported you through everything. They're a little broken inside, but you're the one piecing them back together every single time. Will you still be able to do that?

PERSONALITY: Loyal, hotheaded and sarcastic.

SAINT CONNELLY (m) — THE SAINT

-The one that went insane. He was once an angelic boy, obedient and kind, until he inadvertently “sinned”. What his family and church did to him after left a huge, ugly scar on him; now God doesn't exist to him anymore.

PERSONALITY: Charming, enthusiastic and easily irritable.

AILEEN TWITTY (f) — THE ROTTEN

-The dumb blonde. She's a conventionally attractive rich girl who spends her money on everything and anything she wants, who posts the best pictures on her Instagram with over 100k followers, and she's happy everyday. That's on the surface, anyways. She still has unresolved issues regarding her mother she… injured.

PERSONALITY: Bubbly, energetic and sweet.

AGARI TAKAHIRO (m) — THE JESTER

-Comedic relief. He can say the most out of pocket things, make everyone in the room relax and laugh with his weirdly dark jokes. At least, that's how you wrote him, right?

There's something wrong with him.

PERSONALITY: Laid-back, nonchalant and weird.

NEKTARIA SOTIROPOULOU — THE BELLADONNA

-”Dream girl”. She's an independent woman, CEO, only warm around the ones she love. A very desirable woman, no? Just tread carefully; one wrong move, and you may see a whole new side of her.

PERSONALITY: Calm, manipulative and narcissistic.

SPECIAL CHARACTER(S):

??? — It's their fault you're in this situation. They messed up. They messed up. THEY MESSED UP THEY MESSED UP

[this-is-z-art-blog]

I am always telling everyone to read Kate Griffin's Matthew Swift books but especially Danny Phantom fans. It's got an overpowered sarcastic weirdo with a complicated relationship to his own mortality, whose blood has a tendency to burn a neon shade, saddled unwillingly with a magic job everyone is in awe of that he hates with all his heart. You're gonna love it! I also have a standing offer if anyone reads all six books I'll read any single work or comparable length series. Having since reread this particular book, I had forgotten this very spooky line is something he says while drugged out of his mind, to the people kidnapping him to steal his blood, shortly before he destroys his second building of the book.

In my green electric angels au Danny is older than in canon (early-mid 20s) but younger than Matthew (unclear, seems to be early-mid 30s); because the first book opens when he comes back from the dead after two years, all his stuff has been thrown away, and Matthew spends a chunk of the opening scrounging up essentials through theft and magic. For Danny, I'm not sure if I like it more if his Casper High shirt is something he got from Jazz (or maybe one of his friends), or something he found in a thrift shop and picked up on purpose for a stronger connection to his old self. Either way I think it's really disconcerting to Valerie; I haven't gotten into it much yet but she's going to have the role of the protagonist's sort-of friend and would-be executioner, Oda, whose magician brother destroyed her family so she now believes all magic is evil. For Valerie, this isn't just an inhuman creature prone to magical explosions she allies with only to face greater evils, but one that does so while wearing the face of what she believes to be a dead friend of hers. This here is not the kind of shenanigan that helps with that impression

[ID: two similar drawings of Danny Fenton from the waist up. He's wearing a faded Casper High School shirt and a blue hoodie with red accents, his nose is slightly crooked, and despite being in human form his eyes are a bright, electric green. He also has a handful of green sparks coming off of him. He's looking slightly up, expression blank and open. He is asking "Would you like us to tell you about death?"

In the second image his expression is a bit more intense, and his eyes are glowing much more harshly, the pupils entirely subsumed in light. The sparks around his head have grown, and more are spread behind him, forming jagged electric wing shapes. Here Danny asks "Would knowing how it is make you less afraid?"]

@crossoverdanuary day four, element

for my green electric angels au, based around Kate Grifin's Urban Fantasy series. Quote is from the fourth book, the Minority Council

[peace-hunter]

tfone au where OP is created as the last of the primes but way after them, a sparkling born at what were thought to be the last days of the war against the quintessons, the beginning of a new generation of peace after eons of war. a child meant to be loved and raised knowing nothing of war nor sacrifice.

he's kept mostly out of the spotlight by his siblings, who don't wish to expose him to everyone's optics so young, and want to wait until the war is done and over to properly introduce him to their people.

except of course the primes are betrayed and murdered by sentinel, the war is lost and everyone who knows and cared for the truth is either banished or outright killed in order to suppress it.

and the high guard, the ones the primes trusted the most, the ones that were supposed to protect them, the ones who failed in their most important duty, have to make a choice. to take the last prime, their last hope, with them to the surface, a hostile environment where there's little to no supplies and where they'll be hunted down by both sentinel and the quintessons as the biggest threat to their regimen.

or hide him in plain sight. place him where sentinel won't think to look for him. one more sparkling among many. and hope it will be enough to keep him alive. pray to primus that he'll protect his last child long enough for them to come back for him when it's safer (even if most of them have already lost their faith on him when he allowed the rest of his children to be massacred like that)

they almost lose their resolve when they realize they will have to take the little one's cog away in order to make him blend in with the rest of the newborns (and oh do they burn with murderous intent when they see what sentinel has done to their people but it's not the time yet-) but in the end they decide an impaired little prime is better than a dead one.

and so in the chaos of thirteen dead primes and a sudden energon crisis, a little sparkling who very few mechs really knew about and even fewer had seen completely vanishes. and in the depths of iacon a mech in charge of a new batch of newborns scratches their helm in confusion as they realize they must have miscounted the first time.

optimus prime is quietly erased from any official records by sentinel, written off as dead when they find a sparkling's frame mangled beyond recognition after an attack on the base of those rebels that insist on being a thorn on his side. killing the sparkling hadn't been precisely in his plans, he probably could've found some use for it after all, but he's not particularly upset about it either.

and orion pax grows up with an ache on his spark that tells him he's missing something far more important than a t-cog and dreams of gentle and loving hands, cradling him against the frames of mechs he cannot recall the faces of.

[starry-bi-sky]

danny and officer martinez's relationship in "late at night, when the nightingale sings" in a nutshell:

Martinez: FREAK! GET YOUR FUCKING KID!

Battinson, on the other side of the crime scene: he don't bite

Martinez, with Nightingale firmly attached his arm, visibly biting him: YES HE DO!

*points at them* Danny is the Bugs Bunny to Martinez's Elmer Fudd.

Another Officer: i can't believe you're fighting with an actual twelve year old. Martinez: i swear to god that is not a twelve year old, that is a little hellion that crawled out of batman's shadow one dark and stormy night and decided to dedicate his existence to tormenting me. Officer: Are you really that mad about him putting a sticky note on your back-- Martinez: thats not the point

in danny's defense: the word "freak" is. a mini beserker button for him for.... obvious ghostly reasons, so like, even if its not directed at him, he still very much unappreciates Martinez's insults at Battinson. Danny may or may not be projecting.

he's not going to hurt the guy! not in any serious or permanently disfiguring way at least! But he is going to leave mean sticky notes on the square part of his spine that he can't reach, and stick salt in his 3AM Late Night Crime Scene Coffee, and kick the bottom of his heel while he's walking so he stumbles. And other petty, infuriating things that tally up and boil over, over time.

[sammygender]

i’ve never been as angry on behalf of a character as i am for sam winchester