#of course I don’t want him to get close to double death

[rainbow-beanie]

As someone who cares and wants the best for him, I’d like for alastor to be humbled by getting bested by some strong demon or unknown overlord in season two, have his pride broken a bit, if it hadn’t already been severely damaged after being taken down by Adam, some ego death, as harsh as it sounds, sounds the best for him character development wise.

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk!Danny pt.5

If Danny hadn’t thought about quitting and going to rehab before, he’s definitely going to do it now.

It had been one of those days. Danny had sluggishly managed to usher Jason to school- pulling himself together for their walk to the building, because he wasn’t stupid and this was still Gotham- before going home and relapsing. He knew, going into the first bottle, that he was going to regret it. But he still hadn’t felt the buzz, so he went out to get more.

“Just one. I can stop after, if I want to.”

Spoiler: he could not, actually, stop if he wanted to. Because he didn’t want to, which was the whole problem.

So, one bottle became two, two became three, three became six, and by the time the sun slipped below the horizon, Danny had a pile of bottles scattered around the couch and an intense look of self hatred set upon his brow. He was buzzed, but his stupid ghost biology refused to absorb anymore alcohol.

“Stop brooding, Danny. It’ll hurt your brain.” Jazz said, a hint of worry around her joking insult. “You’re forgetting something important.”

“Wha-?” He mumbled out back at the haze of her-hah- ghost.

The door clicked open. Danny whipped his head to wards the door, snarl on his face and ready to lunge at the intruder, when he came face to face with a scuffed up Jason.

They froze simultaneously, but before Danny could do anything, Jason’s hands tightened on the door knob. The kid’s eyes darted to the floor, where the bottles laid, and back up at Danny’s face. What he found there must not have been good, because he took a step back.

It was fear.

Danny felt his heart drop and his throat go dry. The self hatred doubled in size and weight, but he smacked it down in favor of scrambling for the words- anything- to fix the damage his stupidity and addiction caused.

“Jason.” He said, voice raspy. Had he been screaming again? Good start, good- nope. Never mind, Jason is using the door to shield himself now. Danny glanced outside and-

“Oh. I- I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” He turned back to Jason, who eyed him warily. “I- I forgot to pick you, didn’t I.”

“…I can walk back by myself.” The hesitant but full of bravado reply made Danny’s ghostly obsession to protect rear its head.

“Still. I’m… I’m sorry, Jason.”

Jason evaluated him, noticeably eyeing his open hands and purposefully lax posture, before stepping inside. He doesn’t close the door behind him- clearly leaving it as an option just in case he needed to bolt. Danny stood up slowly. Jason watched him, and his hands. His smaller hands- Ancients, Danny was scaring a kid- curled up into fists.

“What… how did you get hurt?”

“Got mugged.”

“Are you okay? No- wait,” Danny flooded his liver and blood stream with ectoplasm, and his head instantly cleared. Ah, the agony of being coherent.

Danny subtly shook his head to clear his thoughts. Focus.

“Of course you’re not.” Danny stepped away from the incriminating bottles, slowing to a stop once more as Jason shifted backwards like he was either going to spring at Danny or bolt out the door. “Why don’t we get you patched up? And you can tell me about your day. That I missed, when I forgot to pick you up and that I’m really really sorry for.”

Danny held his breath as Jason considered it. “Are ya drunk?” Jason asked, tilting his shoulder to slide his Wonder Woman backpack down, hand clutching at the opposite strap. A good bludgeoning weapon, even if Danny would rather be electro shocked to death again before he ever hurt Jason.

“No.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, scoffing as he looked down again. Danny recognized the motion, a bolt of heavy nostalgia slamming into his chest as he remembered another red-head doing the same thing when he tried to bullshit his way out of something.

“I was buzzed but… I’m a meta. Alcohol doesn’t exactly affect me. I had to drink a lot to even get buzzed, and it’s gone now.”

“Y’er a meta?” Jason straightened, not completely losing the vigilance, but less tense.

“Yes. I’m completely sober right now, I promise.”

Jason stared at him, inhaled, and relaxed. “You better be.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Whatever.”

——

Danny placed the bandages over Jason’s cuts.

“I am so, so sorry I didn’t pick you up.”

Jason shoved at his shoulder, grumbling “I c’n do it myself.”

“I know. You don’t have to, though.”

The kid looked away for a moment before softly admitting, “I was… worried. Cuz, I thought somethin’ happened.”

Danny swallowed the lump in his throat. Jason slipped more into his alley accent the more upset he got these days, having learned some of the local accents at his new school and regularly swapping those out instead of sticking with his alley accent.

“Thank you. For worrying about me. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

Point. From the mouth of babes came the painful truth, right?

“No. I’m not. But I will be. I’ll go to rehab, Jason. I don’t want to forget picking you up again.”

“Whatever.” Danny hid a smile as Jason ducked his head, looking endearingly like a grumpy duckling. Like, Jazz, when their parents made those blueberry ectoplasm pancakes she liked but thought they’d forgotten that she liked.

“And thank you, Jason, for coming back alive. I- I should have been there, but I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

“I want waffles and ice cream for dinner.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“Wow, you musta felt real bad if you’re letting me eat that for dinner.”

Danny grinned down at the head of black hair (with their red roots once more poking out) and ruffled Jason’s head. “I let you eat like five chili dogs in one go. This should not be surprising. But I’ll let you skip the veggies today too.”

“… No, I want the veggies too.”

Danny let out a bark of bright laughter.

Yeah, there’s no way he’s ever risking Jason looking at him like that again. The kid looked like he thought Danny would come swinging at him, despite their previous meetings where he had, perhaps and with plausible deniability, swung for Jason, but never against him.

That night, after he tucked Jason into bed, Danny signed up for rehab. As a matter of fact, Jazz’s words coming into mind, Danny also signed up for therapy. For him and Jason. Yeah.

——

Off camera, they talked about why Jason react to bottles and hands the way he does, and why he’s so scared whenever Danny slips back into his addiction. I’m just rlly too tired to write it.

——

Danny, who thought his addiction wasn’t that serious and that he could stop anytime because he stopped for Jason: I’m cured!

Also Danny: drinks as soon as Jason goes to school

Danny was one hundred percent using Jason as a crutch and when he felt like Jason was safe, he slipped back to his habits. The only reason Danny’s not dead- well, deader than he normally would be- is because ghost biology makes it so that alcohol is cycled through quicker. Like the Flash, but less fast? Anyways, he had enough to make him lose track of time and forget important things (Jason) and that’s what addiction can do to you, amongst other things.

Jason might seem calm but that’s actually a combo of his go to trauma response (fight) and his experience of 1) being on the streets and 2) living with a previous drunkard coming into play. Also, you might be like what kind of kid wants to eat veggies? And to that I answer: KIDS THAT NEVER HAD ENOUGH TO EAT. I would have killed for a veggie stir fry with a lot of chicken back as a kid lol

On a lighter note, the whole time they’re having this interaction, I kind of imagined it as two chickens just kind of dancing around each other.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

43 / 800 words / Nikto and honeypot reader (or a double agent a la red sparrow)

...

When Nikto comes home--appears in the kitchen doorway, duffel bag pitched over one shoulder and boots dripping mud--you’re not ready. You’re certain he can sense it with the way his eyes cut into you.

You straighten up and pull a grocery list nearby across the counter to cover your notebook without breaking eye contact. “You’re home early.”

“Short deployment.” His bag thuds to the floor. He walks to you with heavy footsteps. When he reaches you, he towers over you, cold eyes looking you up and down. Examining the state of his woman. “Perhaps you were hoping for a few more days away from me.”

You look up at him, plastering an overly saccharine, obviously fake smile on your face. "Perhaps I was."

Nikto chuckles. “A mouth like that will get you in trouble.” He grabs your face in one of his large hands as he looks you in the eye, forcing you to keep that fake smile trained on him. “You ought to close your mouth and keep that pretty smile on your face. It’s your best feature.” He's in a good mood, but that won't stop him from reminding you of your place.

Your fake smile turns sharp. "Anything for my darling husband."

He pulls you in by his grip on your jaw, bringing you close enough to smell the lingering gunpowder on his skin--the smell of blunt death that hangs on the edges of his clothes.

“Your attitude is making me want to do things to you that would be too rough for you to handle, doll,” he purrs, his large fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks.

"It'll have to wait if you want dinner."

“I can think of several other things you can do to prove your usefulness besides making my dinner.”

"After," you reply. You need to hear the details of his assignment, but he's always more pliant when he's spent. And it's easier to get him spent when he's full. Makes him docile.

Nikto can't help the grin that stretches across his scarred face at your words. His cold eyes smolder and he releases your face, his hands moving to your hips. “You are learning to be a good little wife for me. I’m impressed.” He leans in to kiss you. His hand slips down to your thigh and caresses the flesh underneath your skirt. “And how do I know you're not planning to ply me with food and liquor so I fall asleep before I have my way with you again?"

"Mm." You loosen the first button on your neckline, then the next, gratified when his eyes snap down to watch. You make sure he can see the lingerie you're wearing under your perfect housewife’s dress. "You’re never so early that I’m not ready to welcome you home, darling."

Nikto's eyes burn as he watches you pop open another button, drinking in the sight of you. A low groan rises in his chest at the barest, most teasing glimpse of the lacy number underneath. His fingers flex around your thigh. “You expect me to wait until bedtime before having you?”

"Of course. What kind of wife would I be to serve you dessert before dinner?"

“Make me wait too long and you’ll be sorry,” he says. “I haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. I expect you to spoil me rotten.”

"I intend to. Now, out of my kitchen." You smack his hand off you with your wooden spoon the way a teacher might smack a grabby student's hand with a ruler. "Out."

Nikto scoffs. He hates being teased and he hates being denied, but he likes your fire. And he can do as you ask if it means getting what he wants.

He grabs one of the cookies in the glass display dome on the counter and takes a bite. “Temper, doll,” he rumbles as he leaves the kitchen. “Don’t make me put you over my knee."

You watch him leave and return to your work, sliding the grocery list off your mission notebook along with the ingredients you need for dinner. You'll get the details you need for the dead drop tomorrow by giving your darling husband a full belly and as much sex as he needs to loosen his lips. As long as you pretend to be uninterested in his work and interested in his advances instead, you get what you need.

Still, you can't deny the way your heart beats faster in your chest when you remember the way he drank you in.

...

more kortac / masterlist

[letorip]

Lorraine Day Headcanons? :))

lorraine day headcanons

very fun to think about and heavily inspired by romeo and juliet, i know other people had also requested i do headcanons for lorraine but i was just gonna do the one, so if people want more lmk. you might be a bit crazy but whatever

sorry for the wait btw this was requested a looong time ago i believe

you and lorraine have been aware of each other since childhood, but you don’t ever interact or become something even close to friends because of a very simple reason: your parents absolutely despise each other, and have since you moved there

it doesn’t matter that both your family and the day family are farmers, or that the town is very small— it’s functionally split down the middle, in allegiances to each side that only worsen with time

you have your friends, lorraine has hers, and you both know to stay very far away from each other, even if you’ve never actually interacted much

though you don’t speak to one another, you have your minds made up about each other. lorraine day is condescendingly smart and ambitious, and all the time she spends silently under RJ’s arm is also spent judging you with her eyes. you, on the other hand, are overconfident and idiotic, and you spend any time you haven’t got your hand down a girl’s pants doing something stupid with your friends

of course, neither of you have actually spoken to the other long enough to actually see if you’re correct in your evaluation, but you also know speaking would be a minefield, what with cousins and friends who are just as passionate about the divide as your parents

you only actually meet properly for the first time at a high school party that’s getting busted by the local sheriff for getting too loud

immediately once the sirens go off, you’re running through the woods, chucking the half empty beer can over your shoulder and racing into the trees

you wind up hiding in one, well hidden up in the branches, easy to climb but not to see, and you wait in the dark as you watch police flashlights comb through the forest in the search of teens

you don’t know why you do it, but you can see the police closing in on lorraine, and though it can compromise your position, you reach down from the tree, whisper “up here,” and yank her into your hiding space

you’re definitely both extremely wary of each other in the spot. you keep glancing in the other’s direction like you think she’ll betray you or you’ll betray her but neither of you say anything for another hour until you’re sure they’re all gone

when she does get confident enough to speak, lorraine whispers “thank you…” softly in the night, and you do a double-take because you thought she would yell at you or something

you start talking, and go to help her down from the tree. you start walking back in the dark, towards the parking lot where a bunch of kids put their trucks, and the both of you are just chatting normally. about school, life, family stuff, anything

it definitely catches you both off balance because, well, neither of you seem unpleasant. you’re not stupid or hyper-sexual, and she’s not condescending or judgemental

the moment RJ finds you both, though, all hell breaks loose. he’s rushing over and tearing lorraine away from you, like you have the plague, shouting at you to “stay away from her!” and asking her if you did anything to her with your filthy (L/n) behaviour, and he has jackson and bobby-lynne there to back him up

it’s jarring to say the least, and you both stumble away from each other in a daze, to find your own friends watching lorraine suspiciously

both yours and lorraine’s parents are furious when they find out what happened (your best friend told yours and RJ told lorraine’s), and they warn you about each other, even after lorraine and you repeat over and over again that you were both nothing but pleasant and helpful

you see her again at school, but her friends are giving you death glares just as your friends are giving her death glares

you wind up talking under the bleachers, away from everyone, and you find you’re both just as pleasant as you were at the party

lorraine is intelligent and kind, along with incredibly introspective, and you’re funny and caring, and just a fun person to talk to. it’s refreshing and also a little strange, and you’re both trying to reconcile how the other isn’t some cruel monster your parents described them as

you sneak out back to the same woods as the party and talk to each other almost every night. she tells you about how she’s not entirely in love with RJ and hasn’t been for a long time, and you tell her about how you want to get out of your small Texas town and make something of your life. it’s like there’s a magnetism pulling you towards one another, and though it’s definitely star-crossed, considering your parents’ hostility, it also just feels right

lorraine is the one to kiss you. you say something silly about your car tire and how your idiot friend blew it out, and she’s just watching your lips as you talk until she can’t take it, and just reaches over and kisses you

you end up with your back to a tree and it definitely goes way past that lol

you hate having to hide your relationship from everyone else, so you decide, rather quickly, that you both want to run away together

you formulate a whole plan about how you guys will leave town suddenly, together, and leave a note for both your parents, saying you’re safe and in love

RJ tries to stop you after he finds it, saying you’ve done some sort of witchcraft on lorraine to brainwash her. he tries to attack you, but lorraine cracks him over the head with a baseball bat, and hops quickly into your car

you definitely drive off into the sunset, lol, surprising every person in town who sees you driving away together

after long enough, your parents reach out about wanting you to come home and that they want to make it all work between the families, as much as they hate each other

you live happily ever after? idk, maybe i’ll do a part 2 or make this a story

get ready cause i might be posting 2x tonight

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, Ch7 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

Word Count: around 7K

Warnings: non-con, somnophilia, handjobs, fingering, lactation kink, mommy kink (geto calls reader mamma)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59666119/chapters/153693205

It’s hard to look him in the eyes, but you know you don’t have a choice anymore. Bed time with Geto consists of him keeping you huddled close to you while he does some of his nightly reading. He looks so deceiving in these moments with you, ditching his traditional robe for casual clothes—an over-sized block cotton shirt and pants. He looks so normal. He looks like an everyday citizen who won the genetics lottery.

But you know that to be so far from the truth. You know the ugly that lies beneath the angelic features, and all those pretty lies he spews from those kissable lips of his. Beneath that mask lies a serpent prepared to strike its prey at any given time.

In another world, he may be anyone’s dream man but this is not that world for you.

Tonight he opts for rereading one of his epic fantasies that he adores to info dump to you. You don’t care to entertain him, wishing for it all to go in one ear and out the other, but it doesn’t matter. You’re here to fill some kind of void in his black heart—that is assuming he even has one anymore—and you’re not even sure if you’re fulfilling that role he’s forced you to play. He’s the one tugging at your strings, and while you can put up a bit of a fight, he’s quite the masterful puppeteer.

The punishment he’s inflicted upon you isn’t all that cruel, in retrospect, but you can’t feel much between your legs at all. You’re practically numb from the waist down. It’s the kindest he’s been since your captivity. After that ordeal, he’s still provided some semblance of aftercare—a little bit of a massage with some proper ointment, he’s even offered some chocolates if you had an appetite for them following something like that. After seeing him so disappointed with you when he’s just confessed to you that he’s found some kind of affection towards you.

You don’t find it flattering in the slightest, but if it means he’s going to show you a bit more mercy, you’re going to take advantage of it any way you can. 

“God, the protagonist in this book can certainly make questionable decisions,” Geto muses, wetting his thumb before flicking to the next page. “I can’t seem to make sense of it each time I get to this part of the series.”

You wish you could groan. You almost do, but that’s asking for immediate death.

Who fucking cares?

Instead of saying what you really think, though, you just hum, nuzzling your head into his shoulder, trying to appeal to him. Trying to make him happy because that’s what you’re here to do. That’s all you’re meant for now.

But you’re still going to find a way out or so help you….

“Getting sleepy?” Geto teases with a light laugh, but it doesn’t have that mocking tone to it. It’s….endearment. It’s sickening. You want to vomit. How can a man act like this when he’s just made you lose feeling in your lower body because he let his paranoia get the best of him (even if he’s kind of right)? “Rest, Mamma. I’m going to be up for a bit longer. Although…don’t be surprised if I help myself a little to you while you’re resting.”

Fucking psychopath. Of course you expect nothing less of him. This is all he does. He hasn’t stopped himself before!

But, you don’t protest, you know better than to do something like that now. You do something worse. You squeeze your eyes shut. You lift your head off of his shoulder. You pucker your lips, expecting a kiss good night, and he accepts your invitation, smiling against your lips as he hums in delight. You’re about to pull away but he catches your lips again, moving his languidly against yours, soft, fervent, desperate. Faint rustling of him setting aside his large red leather book as his hands cup your face, thumbs brushing against your soft, buttery, supple skin. Geto almost seems to marvel at you, the way a follower may a God. He breaks the kiss barely moments later, lips barely centimeters apart as his forehead rests against yours, his violet eyes boring into yours as they soften the longer they stare. They shine so brilliantly that it might as well serve as the only source of light in the bedroom then, apart from the soft amber light emitting from the side table lamps on either side of the master bed.

“I adore you,” he whispers in a reverent tone, making your breath catch in your throat. In the worst way possible. “I don’t expect you to feel the same.”

Because you never are going to feel the same. He knows that well, all too well.

You don’t respond, turning away. His fingers slip away from your face and he doesn’t react as you rest on your side facing away from him. But you do feel him staring as you will yourself to sleep, clamping your eyes shut, desperate for the comfort of darkness to consume you. It doesn’t matter what he helps himself to while you’re in a blissful state of sleep.

Your body tenses as the pads of his fingers ghost up your arm, as he bites back a longing sigh. A part of you almost wants to pity him, but how can you pity a man as pathetic and lowly as him? Your mind can’t even register him as a man the way he can’t register the majority of humanity as worthy.

For someone as prideful as him, that must penetrate like a wasp’s stinger.

It does make your heart swell with a bit of pride, but it’s not enough. You need to deal a stronger blow; you need something that will really, really eat at him. What might that be?

He draws his body closer to you; you feel his lips ghosting the nape of your neck before he slides all the way down until he’s caught between your legs. You try to sleep, but a moan escapes your lips when his mouth closes over your folds, suckling on them with need.

“Suguru….”

“Rest,” he grunts, between desperate sucks and kittenish licks. You can already feel the slick beginning to build. “Mamma, I got it from here.”

You cling the covers to your chest, your fingers digging into the plush velvety smooth fabric as he suckles on your clit particularly hard. You try not to focus on the sensations. You try to sleep. You try to listen. He’s going to take what he wants regardless whether you’re awake for it or not.

Eventually, you’re lulled to sleep by the light squelching noises of his tongue sweeping along your folds.

Yet another visit from Tweedledum, never mind the numerous protests from Tweedledee.

It’s not like anyone can control what a grown adult does. These two beg to differ when it comes to you, but to them, you’re not an adult with agency. You’re just something for them to bend and to shape to their will and nothing more. Perhaps in Geto’s mind, you’re something beyond that. Perhaps something beyond a pretty pet, a gorgeous trophy, but you refuse to entertain the idea. Men like them, who believe they’re above humanity, above morality, even…is there any use trying to understand the world in which they hail from?

“Princess?” Gojo calls, patting the seat next to him on that plush velvet sofa. You can’t even hide the wince as you amble over to join him there, but keep a slight distance. Giving a displeased sound—it’s a terrible sound—he hooks his arm around your waist, digging his nails into your skin and scoots you in closer until your bodies are flush against each other.

“We don’t have to do anything all that scandalous today,” he says with a cheeky grin, his tone cheery as if he hopes that might lift your spirits a bit. He can tell something’s amiss with you, something other than the usual. He knows you don’t want to be here in the first place, that you’re already unhappy, but there’s something else he’s caught onto because Tweedledum’s smarter than you ever dare to give him credit for.

A shadow crosses his face when he doesn’t find your reciprocating like you normally do—especially since Geto isn’t in the dungeon presently. Still attending to some matters with his family so he’s going to be late. “It’s just going to be a nice, relaxing movie night, yeah? Lots of sweets to chow on, though you’re the sweetest of them all as always!”

“That’s nice of you to say, Satoru,” you manage to reply through clenched teeth. But you don’t do anything more. You don’t try to snuggle into him; you don’t try to kiss him or feel him up which he usually enjoys. Those blinding sky blue eyes of his glimmer with concern as the tip of his finger glides down the side of your cheek.

“Why the long face, gorgeous?” he whispers, tone solemn for once. It’s out of character…he seems almost…shaken.

That’s a new one. In another world, you might have been elated that you can get that kind of reaction, but after the other night… you don’t know whether you should wade through these murky waters.

“It’s nothing, Satoru,” you speak, your lips twitching into a forced smile.

“It’s Suguru, isn’t it?” Satoru growls, shaking his head. “What’d he do?”

“He was upset at something I did. That’s all,” you explain, “H-he thought I went against his orders.”

“Oh.” His lips purse. “He’s not supposed to hurt you. He can hurt any other non-sorcerers for all that I care, I can’t control what he does since he’s a grown man, but you’re supposed to be out of that equation. We agreed on that. I can talk to him, you know.”

“He didn’t hurt me. Not…not physically,” you say, a half-lie of sorts, averting your gaze to the television screen. Looks like it’s a Lord of the Rings night again and he’s just about to reach the middle of the third film, where Pippin climbs that tower in Minas Tirith and lights that fire. One of your exes has made you watch these movies as well as The Hobbit trilogy numerous times, so you know the scenes by heart. You can practically recite them line by line. You can do that with Star Trek and Star Wars too.

Satoru leans in, his weight dipping next to you.

“What did he do?” he growls into your ear again. When your eyes land on his, they’ seem to emit a glow. “We agreed—no harm is going to come to you. You’re supposed to help him.”

“I…” You gulp. “Satoru, it’s not important.”

“Yes it is,” he grumbles, gripping your knee, squeezing reassuringly. “You’re important to us.”

Oh, how you wish you can believe that. Gojo leans in to kiss you on your cheek, and then on your temple. They’re soft, fleeting, gentle, like he actually loves you as much as he claims to love you, much like Geto claims to love you.

But how can people who claim to love someone do things like this and expect things to just blow over?

Why do you think you have a right to be upset? You don’t have rights here. Not anymore.

“H-he just, um,” you stammer, hugging your chest. “He…he…um…”

“It’s okay,” he sighs in clear defeat. “I think I get what you’re trying to tell me. I’ll talk with him when he gets back down here. Okay?”

He kisses the crown of your head and you utter a low whimper. He glances at you with another concerned look on his face. You hate it.

As if this is going to solve anything…

“Satoru, I, um…” you begin, tentatively resting your hand on his lap, fingers brushing over his pelvis which makes his breath hitch. His sharp eyes darken in anticipation.

Should you do something to thank him? In case Geto does something?

“Can, I, um…” you gulp, sporting on your best determined look. You have to be a good pet, right? You can do that. You can definitely do that. No matter how much it permanently stains your pride. “Can I…touch you…?”

Gojo inhales sharply as he pulls out his cock, guiding your hand to it.

“Of course you can, Princess,” he coos while flashing you a toothy grin, stroking himself to hardness. You’re not surprised he was already half-mast when he pulled himself out. He’s just getting himself nice and ready for you. “You know I won’t say no, but you don’t have to, okay?”

“I-it’s fine,” you breathe, grasping his cock at its base. “I…I want to.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, raking his fingers through your hair. “You really are the perfect girl.”

“U-um,” you can’t believe it, you’re being shy, but he probably can’t blame you because you haven’t been forced into sucking dick since the first time with him. You don’t really know what to do, so instead of diving right into it, you lick a line up his shaft, which earns an eager whimper out of him. That encourages you to continue, to just pepper soft little kisses around along the skin, ignoring the salty tang hitting your tongue each time. You’ve come to find you’re not a fan of it, but maybe it’s because you’re not attracted to him in the slightest. Being attracted to him might help in this regard but this feels more like a duty as their pretty pet.

But you know the more you can please them, the more they’re willing to do for you. At least, that’s more true for Gojo than for Geto, regardless of what he says about his ‘affections’ toward you.

“I-is this okay? I don’t really, um, know what I’m doing,” you admit, laving your tongue around the leaking head of his cock. He bites back a little whine, jumping in his place.

“It—it’s fine. You’re doing great. Better than great, Princess,” he praises, lips parted slightly as he reclines a little bit into the couch. He’s not even focused on the movie anymore and all of his attention is on you. You kind of like that you can take control every now and then here. Even if Geto is off taking care of his own business, if he’s here, you have no real agency because he’s the one monitoring everything you’re doing with Satoru.

“I guess Suguru hasn’t done this with you much. He’s always been more of a giver in this regard,” he chuckles, eyes twinkling in fondness at the thought. “I should know.”

You don’t comment on that, suckling experimentally on his tip as more precum leaks out. He jolts in his spot again.

“Fuck, baby. That feels so good. You could just use your hands too, you know,” he suggests, much like a teacher.

Well, he does mentor students at wherever he works, so that makes sense, you suppose. But in this context, that feels rather odd.

“Oh…..um. How?” Gosh, you really are playing up the naiveté there, huh? As long as he believes it…

Gojo laughs, his shoulders shaking with mirth as he motions his own hand in a ‘jerking’ motion.

“Like you would a pump. Just pump me with your hand,” he tells you, grinning wide. “You don’t have to use your mouth, though it would be nice.”

You respond with another little suckle over his tip while using a hand to ‘pump’ him like he instructed. He throws his head back, groaning low, his hand reaching over to smack your ass in approval.

“Fuck yeah. Good girl,” he purrs, fondling your ass a bit too roughly which makes you squeak. He laughs.

Faint footsteps descend down the stairs, and you don’t have to look up. You feel Geto gawking a bit at the sight, a little disappointed that you’ve started without him but he probably expected nothing less, either. You don’t stop pumping your hand up and down his length, amazed at how silky and smooth it feels even this hard and swollen looking it is. Your fingers lightly squeeze his shaft, eyebrows furrowing at the texture. You feel like you’re doing a science experiment, but the results are more pleased groans erupting from deep in Gojo’s throat that are soon cut off when Geto twists his head and kisses him.

“It seems she’s becoming more comfortable with you, Satoru,” he murmurs into his lips. “Don’t take that lightly.”

“You know I’m not,” he breathes, his face flushed. “She’s a quick learner, you know. Her hands feel so soft.”

Gojo’s hand that swatted your ass earlier pulls the fabric of your panties aside, his finger teasing the tight ring of muscle of your ass.

“You must need a little attention too, Princess,” he grunts out, biting his lip as he glances down at you with a dangerous look in those sharp blue eyes.

“Suguru,” he drawls his lover’s name lazily, jerking his head to a direction. He gives your ass another playful squeeze and you let out another yelp. “No reason to hold back, right? I mean, she’s primarily yours. I’m just part of the package deal here.”

“I wonder if she’s ready for us both,” Suguru muses out loud with a raised eyebrow.

You feel your muscles tense, but you don’t stop attending to Gojo.

“Actually,” Suguru—thank God—retracts that idea immediately, likely upon seeing your reaction as if he gives a damn about your feelings, as if you matter to him, as he joins the two of you on the edge of the sofa, prying your ass cheeks apart to get a good view of either of your holes. You whimper as he spits into your asshole, his lips twitching into a devious grin as he dips two thumbs into the tight ring to stretch it. “It might be too soon for that. She needs a little more preparation. She still struggles to take my size when it’s just me and her. You might be a little easier to take, though.”

“You are definitely right there. Your dick is way too thick for her,” Gojo concedes with a hum, moaning as you glide your tongue around his length again. His dick twitches; he’s so close already. “We could just use more dildos or something. Get her used to it a little more.”

“True,” Geto replies, but something’s amiss in that tone of his. It’s softer. Affectionate, even. You don’t want to admit it, but it is. It’s missing that hidden layer of greed, of ulterior motives because a part of you still believes he can’t have any real feelings—not even toward Gojo.

You don’t like it for some reason. However subtle the change in Geto is. Sometimes you much rather he be cruel than considerate, because his kindness feels far too comical. Unnerving.

But maybe, once upon a time, he really may have been a considerate, kind, compassionate man. You don’t know anything about these two or what they do or what they’re capable of doing or why they have ended up the way they are.

You don’t really care to dig into that rabbit hole. It’s not of your concern. They say so themselves.

You suppress the confusing thoughts swirling in your mind like a vortex. It’s not something you should be focusing on, anyway, instead focusing on bringing Gojo to a climax, which, it already seems like he’s nearly there. You give a few more pumps, wincing at the wet noises the skin makes before shyly closing your mouth over his tip.

“Fuuuuck. That’s it, baby. You know just what to do. Don’t doubt yourself like that, alright?” he praises as seeds of his orgasm shoots onto your tongue. You wince again. You find it all far from arousing, but that doesn’t matter.

You keep suckling on his tip as he shoots more of his seed into your mouth, panting as he comes down from that electrifying hot high. His gaze flits to Geto who’s watching him with amusement twinkling in his darkened violet eyes but he’s still hovering between your legs, far from finished with you. Your body once again tenses; you do not like that he’s actually refrained from touching or playing with you the entire time you focused on pleasing Gojo.

Like he’s…being considerate, giving you breathing room.

It’s so unlike him.

You jolt in place as a sharp hand comes down to smack your pussy. You immediately pull away from Gojo’s cock, ignoring the light pop and the line of spit still connecting your lips to the tip of his cock which you break off with a swipe of your tongue as you meet his eyes.

He smiles down at you, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Your eyebrows flash in confusion. That’s a smile that doesn’t reek of deception or otherwise.

“We can stop here for today,” he suggests, “Besides, Satoru has other duties he should be attending to right now.” That gentle smile immediately melds into something a bit firmer, stricter, as he gazes at Gojo. “You do have to get back to Jujutsu Tech grounds before Yaga realizes you’ve been gone longer than you should have been, right?”

Whoever the heck Yaga is. His boss or something? That’s all you can infer from that.

“It’s not like it’s surprising to them if I show up late,” Gojo quips, “Besides, I want to stay longer with you, Suguru. We have to talk.”

Geto’s eyebrows furrow at that and you gulp.

You glance up at Gojo, eyes shimmering in concern. He doesn’t acknowledge you, keeping his eyes locked on Geto’s.

Uh oh.

Trouble in paradise, indeed.

Geto sends you off under Miguel’s watch, catering to the twins while he remains behind with Gojo elsewhere in the underground area beneath the temple. There’s another section you haven’t entered yet. This is not how he’s hoped to spend his quality time with the love of his life; he’s hoped for something more intimate and far less serious than this, but Gojo often did choose the worst times to be serious about something and apparently that something involves your well-being.

Which, of course, Geto has come to care about as well.

“Well talk,” Geto ushers, folding his arms over his chest as he stares Gojo down, his nostrils flaring. “We could be doing something else, but I’m forgoing our original plan to hear you out.”

“Something we should have done years ago,” Gojo mumbles, shaking his head. “Which is talk it out. You wont let me in. I just want to get why. But before that, we have to talk about her. She shouldn’t be afraid of you. I mean, she shouldn’t disobey you, but she should feel like, she’s, you know…”

“Part of the family,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know.”

“So what the fuck, Suguru? I don’t care what else you do, but she’s supposed to help you sort your own shit when I’m not around. And I know once Yaga gets a hold of me I’m not going to be able to come back around as much anymore. I want to keep being your rock, Suguru, but to do that, you have to let me in.”

“So then,” Suguru scoffs, twisting around with his back facing Gojo for a moment. “If that’s true, then why did you vent to her about me first?”

Gojo’s eyes flashes. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Geto’s gaze flits back to him, assessing his features. He can’t stay mad at a face like his—even when he’s angry, he looks like a lost puppy who’s been mishandled. Geto ignores the way his chest burns at the sight. He hates hurting Satoru. Whether or not it’s unintentional is irrelevant.

“Why didn’t you trust me enough?” Geto demands, softening his tone as the muscles on his face relaxes. “If you had been so upset with me, why didn’t you just bring this up sooner?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Gojo claps back, glowering at him. Geto winces; that’s likely deserved, all things considered. Well…it’s obviously deserved. He has massacred hundreds to make a political statement and half for the sheer fun of it. “I wanted you to open up to me but when I tried you just told me it was ‘the summer heat.’ Summer heat my fucking balls.”

“So you did sense something, even that long ago,” Geto sighs, more and more guilt pooling into his stomach. How foolish he is to not give credit for Satoru where credit is due. It’s his fault for shutting everyone out, even Shoko; he has to admit to that fault of his.

“Of course I did! Obviously I just didn’t expect something like that,” Gojo replies, his shoulders sagging a bit. Geto takes a step closer, a hand reaching out to him. Gojo shuts his Infinity completely off during these moments but he doesn’t appear receptive to touch right then. Geto bites back a sigh. He doesn’t like to hurt those he loves, truly loves, and Satoru stands above everyone in his life. Now you are in the same plane as Satoru’s existence and he’s doing something wrong in trying to get you to lean on him, to trust him.

“What are you trying to say?” Geto replies, eyes downcast as his arm falls to his side.

“I’m trying to say why didn’t you just come to me in the first place?” Gojo answers, but his tone isn’t accusatory. He never has been with Geto. He’s always tried to understand. Even back then, he’s tried, but it’s Geto who pushed him away. “We could have worked it out then.”

“Now we’re going in circles,” Geto scoffs, gritting his teeth. His expression melds back into a softer one as he approaches Satoru, cupping his face. Satoru doesn’t pull away; he can’t, even if he wishes to, and Suguru should have seen that sooner.“It’s because of her, isn’t it? Perhaps we need to set the record with her. I already punished her once, but now she’s making you think you’ve done something wrong.”

“That wasn’t her doing,” Gojo counters hastily, “All she did was actually listen. Which, you know, I could do that too! If you let me listen. And like I already told you, she’s not supposed to be afraid of you, remember? This doesn’t warrant punishment. In fact, she should be rewarded because now we’re actually talking.”

“Satoru,” Geto starts, brushing his cheeks. “It’s not that simple.”

“It isn’t,” Gojo concedes, “But we can figure it out. Like we always do. Remember? And please, for fuck’s sake, go easy on her. She…really isn’t happy.”

“She isn’t?” Geto snarks, a little sharper than intended. He deflates when he notices how Gojo winces. “No, of course she isn’t. It’s foolish to think otherwise, but it’s not like I wish to bite. I don’t know why I do. I’m not an angry dog, you know.”

“You’re not,” Gojo agrees, resting a hand over one of Suguru’s. “You’re a cowardly dog. You bite because you’re scared. Just try wooing her a little, you know? You should have just taken the normie route and asked her out on a real date instead of dragging her into this.”

“That’s not my style,” Geto huffs. Gojo laughs, but it’s hollow.

“Proper communication? Yeah, I am well aware,” Gojo quips, grinning a little.

Geto glares at him.

“Satoru…” he warns.

“You know,” we don’t have to be arguing,” Gojo remarks, “I want to fix what happened. The charges may not be able to be lifted, but we can still…work around it. You know?”

“I know,” Geto relents, pulling Gojo in closer, so close he can inhale his expensive Prada cologne that he doesn’t find as nauseating and overpowering as his other scents. “But it’s too late to make amends for that.”

“No, it isn’t,” Gojo insists, practically on his way to getting on his knees for Geto, at this point. He may as well if it makes a statement. ““I can find a way around it. The only person who can execute you is me, but I can postpone that, obviously.”

“Postpone as in never allow it?” Geto interjects in a sullen, yet knowing, even teasing, tone.

“Exactly,” he exclaims, “Just think about it! You could just become a Sensei, with me. And you don’t have to worry about getting executed. Not with me on your side.”

Geto considers the options for a moment.

“No.”

Gojo’s confidence over his solution completely falters.

“The hell do you mean no?” he jabs, “No one else can actually kill you but me you know! And I obviously don’t want to, so there!”

“It won’t be on my terms,” he answers simply.

Gojo goes silent. His mouth hangs open for a moment, as if to counter with something, but then he shuts his mouth again as he ponders over what else he can say to convince Geto. There’s not much more to this, isn’t there? Geto doesn’t want to be a puppet; he’s made that abundantly clear. Gojo might find his resolve admirable if not for the lengths he went to just to prove his point.

“So is that what this is about?” Gojo mutters, sulking. “I guess I kind of get it. You don’t want them to pull the strings and you want to forge your own path. I gotta say, this was not the wisest decision, babe, but…I understand why. Kind of?”

“Precisely,” he affirms, “Let them think whatever they like about me, Satoru. I want no business with them anymore.”

“But…” he starts, but Suguru cuts him off with a chaste kiss. Satoru melts into it before Geto pulls away.

“Satoru, you shouldn’t play into their shit either. But you know exactly why I didn’t want you to follow me.”

“I know,” he replies with a frown. “But…”

“You shouldn’t have to be a puppet either, Satoru. You shouldn’t be a weapon to them.”

“No,” he agrees, “But for some reason, I find comfort in it.”

“Everyone—sorcerer or human—clings to what they find familiar,” Geto murmurs with a little grin.

“You know, regardless of being a sorcerer, you still are human, baby,” Satoru teases while matching his grin.

Suguru responds with a dark laugh, kissing him again.

“Don’t make me kill you,” he murmurs seductively into his lips.

You’re back in the bedroom when evening falls and Geto finds you splayed over the bed, flipping through one of his books sittig on the nightstand on your side of the bed. He beams at the sight, perhaps misconstruing it as a sign that you’re making yourself more at home here if you’re making more use of his belongings. He treasures his books like he does his adopted girls.

“Have you read that book before?” he asks as he shuts the door behind him, disrobing and setting the material aside. You don’t look up from the page you’re skimming, mostly because you’re not interested in seeing his pasty face but also because you’re actually quite invested in the mystery.

“Only heard about it,” you admit, “I understand why people are frustrated with the main character. She’s so obviously getting played by that guy.”

He chuckles, “It’s a frustrating thing to watch unfold, indeed. She doesn’t seem to pick up on that even when others have warned her.”

You shrug, stopping at the chapter you’re on to glance up at him as he settles onto his side of the bed.

“Love makes you blind, I guess,” you comment, gazing up at his face. “What did you and Satoru talk about, darling?”

“I should apologize,” he starts, frowning. “I’ve been harsh on you when I shouldn’t have been. I was wrong for that. I don’t expect you to forgive me so easily, but—”

“—it’s fine,” you reply a little too quickly, but you’re trying to stay in his good graces for a reason. You have only gotten a hint of what his ‘bad side’ looks like. You don’t want a repeat of it. “I’ve already forgiven you. I-I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

“No, you weren’t,” he replies, “You did a good thing. You did what I should have done. You did nothing wrong, Mamma. I did.”

“O-okay,” you whisper, a little pathetic because a part of you is still frightened he can switch gears at the drop of a hat. And he definitely can and has. “I understand.”

A silence falls over the two of you for a few moments. Those few moments feel agonizingly long, drawn out like a scroll rolling across a table. But some rustling beside you breaks the silence as he loops an arm over your frame and snuggles you close until you’re nestled into him.

His finger fiddles with the gold chain around your neck, a fond smile playing at his lips. Yeah. Of course. You’re his pretty little thing, after all. Just his pet. A little appendage to his messy bond with Satoru.

His eyes dip lower, and that smile only widens. You’re bare all over; you’ve forgone clothes the moment you enter the room now as opposed to just stripping to your undergarments. Of course he’s pleased with the change; it just means it’s another way he’s going to misconstrue as you becoming more comfortable with being here, under his ‘care.’

He trails kisses along your milky collarbone, suckling on your softer, tender spots, and you clench your fists, grunting a bit. You have only just begun to gain some feeling back in your bottom  half from his punishment last night, and now he’s intent on making you lose feeling in your legs again if this goes any further tonight. And you know it will. That’s how it always is.

Just an appendage. Just a pet.

He doesn’t love you, no matter what he says, and it doesn’t matter that he tries to find other ways to accommodate you. He still takes what he wants in the end. One way or another.

He pulls away briefly, his tongue darting between his lips as his eyes trail down between your breasts.

He kisses the area just above them, and you freeze, feeling your blood run cold. You feel like you could crash right then and there; you can’t take another minute of this but you know you don’t have much of a say. It depends entirely on Suguru, whether he’s truly in good spirits or not and you can’t even tell half the time.

“Suguru, I…” you sharply inhale as he kisses lower, lower… humming to himself as if he can’t help it, marveling at you. You try not to sound too audacious when you decline this. “I-I can’t. I…”

“You’re afraid of me,” he remarks, lifting his head to stare at you, his forehead creasing as he frowns.

Your eyes widen.

“No!” you exclaim, but he only raises an eyebrow and you try not to deflate. “No, Suguru, no… nothing like… that…”

“I don’t want you to be,” he mutters, resting his face into your lap like a child, like a beggar, even, is more appropriate. Your eyes triple in size at this. Geto has never behaved this way before. He takes your hands into his own, running his thumb along your knuckles.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he goes on, resting his forehead against your hands. “Mamma, you are in my world now. I want you to feel like you belong here. The twins adore you like a mother. I adore you already. I wouldn't take that lightly. Satoru has come to find some kind of affection for you too, but the man is too damn prideful to really say anything to your face about that.”

You don’t have anything to say to that. (Not that you really give a damn, but as long as you stay in their good graces, can you really complain? It makes things less Hellish for you, ultimately.)

“Moreover,” You try not to groan, so he isn’t finished babbling then; he clears his throat. “He told me you were unhappy. Which is expected, given the circumstances. Unfortunately I don’t think anything will have gone differently if I had done things normally. While I can’t change the past, I can only hope you’re willing to let me make things a little easier for you here.”

This feels too easy.

You can’t anger him.

“Suguru,” you start, bringing your hand to his cheek and tilting his head. His eyebrows flash as he tries to understand what you’re doing, but he can piece together a situation very quickly as you present one of your stiff nipples near his face. His face flushes a little, eyes half-mast as he glances at you with pure adoration before slurping hard onto your nipple, making a gasp leave your lips.

He hasn’t used this in a while, so he must have really needed it today. As long as it means he doesn’t try to hurt you, because you don’t have to make this as bad as it is.

A hand finds your waist, steadying himself as he suckles hard on your nipple with more need, and your lips part, breathy, broken whines filling the room and seeming to encourage him. Because he chuckles against your skin, grinning.

“Does Mamma enjoy taking care of me?” he growls before closing his mouth over your nipple again with a long, lewd suck.

It’s like the typical routine now. Once he finishes with that bud, he pops off and latches onto your other one, milking you for all that you’re worth until he feels like he can carry the world on his shoulders again. Whatever these supposed burdens of his are, you don’t care, it doesn’t concern you.

“Suguru…” you utter softly, a bit embarrassed by your lack of real reaction, and his pupils roll upward to observe your face. You don’t realize how flushed and debauched you are, and he might’ve made a comment if not for how occupied he is sucking on your tit like his life depended on it like he usually did. But again, this has been the first time in a few weeks since he’s taken advantage of this. He’s been keeping distance, respecting your space, up until the moment where you crossed an ‘unknown’ boundary between he and Gojo.

The hand resting on the dip of your waist snakes lower to the fleshy, meaty part of your thigh, his rough callouses brushing against your soft skin. He hums against your little bud, nibbling slightly on it as he adjusts you, sliding you into his lap and groaning as your cunt brushes against the growing tent in his pants. He bucks upward, growling from the delicious friction and making you gasp, and he grins before pulling on your nipple with his teeth as he moves away. A little playful twinkle in his eyes as he does before he finally releases the oversensitive bud, licking off the leftover droplets of milk coating the corners of his lips, a bit dribbling on his chin.

He buries his face between your tits again, kissing the skin between them, biting and licking the marks he leaves behind as his other hand moves to play with your folds, already lightly soaked. He hums, obviously tickled pink at the discovery and you can’t find yourself to be more embarrassed by your physiological reactions. Two dexterous fingers slide easily into your slicked entrance and you breathe sharply through your nose, hiding your face into his neck which makes him chuckle.

“Don’t be so shy with me, Mamma,” he teases as he adjusts his position, kissing into your neck as his fingers twist and curl inside of you, making you jolt in your place. “You haven’t been whenever Satoru’s been around.”

The dark tone in his quip catches you off-guard. It shouldn’t, and yet fearful eyes meet his. Is he…?

There’s a deep scowl now in place of his malicious grin. You don’t know which is worse. Stone cold violet eyes bore into yours, and you feel yourself shrinking more from fear.

Hasn’t he just told you he doesn’t want you to be afraid? That he wants you to feel like you’re home?

Perhaps that’s still true, but…

“Regardless of you doing the right thing for us or not,” he grunts, plunging those two slender fingers of his deep into your spongy walls, making you wriggle in place but he secures his hold on you. Your walls are clenching around them. He doesn’t relent that agonizing pace, seeking your release. “Satoru isn’t supposed to be benefitting from this arrangement more than I, Mamma. Understand this- you belong to me. First and foremost. Satoru is part of the deal with me, yes, but that doesn’t mean he gets to toy with you whenever he wants to. Most of all you shouldn’t initiate anything with him—I’ve seen you. You mustn’t question my authority when it comes to this relationship.”

But it isn’t a relationship for you. It’s an obligation.

Between Satoru and Suguru? Sure, that’s a relationship. A weird one. The weirdest one you have probably ever seen in your life, but that’s still a relationship between them.

“I-I’m not questioning your authority over m-me, Suguru—!” You come in a hot flash, clenching tight around his fingers and at least that frightening scowl of his twitches into a satisfied, toothy grin as he fucks his fingers into your cunt for a few moments longer before sliding them out. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he groans as he sucks on your intimate juices; You can’t look. So you don’t. But then you hear the little whisper of clothes as he yanks his pants down, pulling out his fully stiff cock and patting the head against your slick cunt.

“Good,” he hisses as the head breaches your hole. “Then we’re on the same page. You’re mine, Mamma. Just mine. Satoru is out of the question.”

You answer with a pathetic whine as he plunges deep inside you. He laughs darkly, huddling you close, whispering disgusting little words to you as he continues to take everything from you.

[sasheneskywalker]

dc poly ships fic recs

Under Your Nose by withthekeyisking Dick and Kori have been together for years now, and it's been a recent habit of theirs to double-date with Jason and Roy. The four of them have a really good time together, that's all. Dick definitely doesn't have any desire to kiss Roy or Jason. And he definitely doesn't accidentally do that when drunk.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd

the pact of our youth by bramgreenfeld Bernard didn’t realize that Tim was dead until three weeks after it happened.

[Timberkon meets Reverse!Robins.]

T | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake, Bernard Dowd/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne

the halfway home for washed-up sidekicks by moth_tille “You wouldn’t last an hour in Crime Alley,” Jason said, completely ignoring his partner. “Oh yeah?” Kyle replied. “Wanna bet?” “Sure. Why don’t you come on patrols with us for a month and then see if you still think Gotham is easy?” “Sure. The hardest part is gonna be putting up with you for a month.”

in which Kyle Rayner stays in Gotham longer than he'd intended with two vigilantes who are definitely not what he expected. Chaos ensues.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Roy Harper/Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd, Roy Harper/Kyle Rayner, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd

the old makes way to new by poppiesandsunflowers It's a new timeline, and in the process of fixing up the hiccups, Dick Grayson desperately tries to stop himself from becoming a homewrecker.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Wally West, Linda Park/Wally West, Dick Grayson/Linda Park/Wally West, Dick Grayson & Linda Park

live fast, die young by poppiesandsunflowers Barry Allen experiences the worst day of his life. Somehow, things end up getting better for him.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death | Barry Allen & Wally West, Barry Allen/Iris West, Barry Allen/Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Barry Allen/Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)/Iris West

space is just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get close (I want proof of what you're feeling) by lostandlonelybirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK) “Luv, what the hell are you doin’ here?” John Constantine asks from the rooftop below him, cigarette glowing in his hand. Zatanna waves at him, flashing a quick smile that feels like a punch to the gut. Right. Of course. Magic. Fucking Bruce.

Dick flips off his convenient gargoyle and lands in a crouch, silently as always. No sign of movement from probably evil witch, so Dick thinks he can hazard a conversation with the couple. Duo. Romantic partners. Fuck he’s pathetic.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | John Constantine/Dick Grayson, John Constantine/Zatanna Zatara, Dick Grayson/Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine/Dick Grayson/Zatanna Zatara, Past Dick Grayson/Koriand'r

problematic by proxy by lostandlonelybirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK) “Why are you lying to me?” “I’m not,” Dick says, and there’s a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t see him like that. He’s like Tim, just older, and with a bumpier history.” “You don’t stare at Tim’s ass, though.” “I don’t stare at Jason’s!” Donna gives him the most unimpressed look she can muster. “You sure about that one, chief?”

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Donna Troy, Dick Grayson/Donna Troy, Jason Todd/Donna Troy, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room? by maruyaaya Donna Troy is definitely flirting with him.

Which, for the record, Jason thinks is fucking insane because that’s Donna Troy. Donna Troy, the girl who’s sitting on Jason’s right while her boyfriend is sitting on Jason’s left.

What the fuck is going on?

or;

jason todd [9:00 am] once at a party i kissed someones girlfriend and to make sure he wasn't mad about it i kissed him too… i blacked out and woke up in a groupchat with both of them that said "did you make it home safe baby <3"

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd/Donna Troy, Jason Todd/Donna Troy, Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd, Kyle Rayner/Donna Troy

like real people do by maruyaaya “Don’t think this means anything. I just like to cook. That’s all this is.”

“I wasn’t assuming otherwise.” Donna shrugs and Kyle stays silent.

“Good.” Jason nods.

“Good,” Donna responds.

“Good,” Kyle adds, mostly because he feels left out.

or;

kyle, jason, and donna are friends with benefits and also emotionally inept. chaos ensues.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd/Donna Troy, Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd, Kyle Rayner/Donna Troy, Jason Todd/Donna Troy

a little bit of persuasion (it goes a long way) by kuro49 Jason's rehabilitation comes in the form of taking over Clark and Slade's couch. It works wonders.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Clark Kent/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Clark Kent/Slade Wilson, Clark Kent/Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

we all fall down by vlrnlr Turns out there is a statute of limitations on saying the things you’re not supposed to say. / Pre-Flashpoint. Ollie, Hal, Dinah, and everything in between.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Hal Jordan/Dinah Lance/Oliver Queen, Hal Jordan/Dinah Lance, Dinah Lance/Oliver Queen, Hal Jordan/Oliver Queen

[eternal-love]

Lover, you’re on your own

Pairings: Austin Butler x Female!Reader

Summary: After years of your divorce, Austin and you get in each other’s way again. Catch up, know what happened in last few years.

Author’s note: I don’t even know what this plot is but I kinda liked the idea of Austin and Reader finding themselves again. I kinda liked it, idk.

Warning: mentions of divorce, unhealthy relationships, children loss, spousal death, the reader’s been through a shit ton of divorces.

You were inside a café in New York City, enjoying being in your own for a while. After another hectic divorce, the choice of going to a bar wasn’t even on your mind anymore.

You started to wonder if you were cursed, you didn’t even care to count how many divorces you’ve had in the last thirteen years. Were you really never good enough to be a long time wife? Or did faith have something else for you in store? Whatever it was, life treated you like trash.

You drank your coffee quietly as she scrolled through your phone, you heard the door of the café open and close. You were very perceptive of who came in, who left, who coughed, who laughed. And once you saw who came in, you had to do a double take.

You knew that guy— man. He wasn’t a young guy anymore but a man. Austin. All those years ago and you still remembered him. Of course you had seen his rapid success these last years, he was everywhere. But you were in his past and you understood it. You didn’t expect anything but you wouldn’t lie if you said you didn’t want him to at least recognize you, wave at you or at least smile and nod his head.

You focused on your overpriced coffee and muffin, stealing gentle glances towards him. Until one time, you both made eye contact, he was going to turn back to his phone but immediately turned back again to see you. Oh, he recognized you!

“Hey.” His deep voice spoke as he reached your small table. You looked up.

“Austin. Wow. Hi!” You said, as if you had just seen him. “Oh my goodness, it’s been so long.” You stood up, greeting him with a hug.

“Look at you. You’re all grown up now.” He smiled at you. Whistling a little.

“I could say the same about you.” You said, sitting down again. Thank God he recognized you.

“Wow. I just can’t believe it. It’s been what… ten years?”

“Thirteen.” You corrected him. His eyes widened.

“Thirteen years? Damn, that long? He chuckled. “What are you doing in New York anyways. You used to tell me how much you hated the city.”

“A girl can change. And I find that bars here serve much better drinks.” You chuckled with him, then there was a calm silence before he spoke up.

“I heard you got married. Who’s the lucky guy?”

You sighed, showing him your empty right hand. Oh, so divorced already?

“How long?” He asked.

“Two years married. It was just a disagreement between us. We weren’t looking for the same shit in the long run anyways.” You sighed. It was better to say that than to reveal that your last husband left you for a barely legal girl.

“Two years. Damn.” Austin pressed his lips together, he looked away as he brought the cup to his lips.

“I heard you’re dating a model. Cindy Crawford’s daughter. That’s nice, it give you some… it factor.” You said, you were being half sarcastic and half truthful.

“Ah. Yes, Kaia.” He said, he really didn’t sound enthusiastic. “Everything is going just fucking peachy.” He said, a smirk on his lips.

You nod. The whole tired voice went over your head. He was dating a model, what else could a man wish for? If not a model with long limbs.

“Listen. I’m filming a movie right not but— I surely can make time to see you again. You said you drink, right?”

Your eyes immediately lit up, of course you could make time for him. Well, you wanted to catch up. That’s all.

“Sure. Yeah, what day?”

It was a cold night. But inside the bar it was cozy. You both had ordered, he ordered an Old-Fashioned and you ordered a Cosmopolitan.

You started drinking the night away, you weren’t outright tipsy, but the alcohol was getting to your head.

“I really, really wanted to ask. What’s the true reason behind your divorce?” He asked as he held his glass on his big hands.

You sighed. You were already here. You had known him forever. Yes, you two might have not seen each other in more than a decade, but beforehand you were husband and wife. You shouldn’t be honest at least.

“He cheated on me. With the neighbor.” You confessed, he gasped softly, his hand going to his mouth. “Yeah. She was nineteen, now he’s dating her.”

“What a motherfucker…” Austin said, rubbing his chin.

“I’m starting to believe I curse every guy that gives me a ring. Seriously, five failed marriages. I must be cursed.” You sighed, his eyes widened even more.

“Five you say?” His voice was incredulous. Five. Five marriages. He was your first, of course. “What about the other three? If you don’t mind me asking…”

“My second husband, Tyler, we weren’t a match made in heaven. I guess he scared me a lot. He would drink his paycheck away. We divorced because his incompetent ass went to rehab.” You sighed as you played with the napkins.

“Then there was Eric, he was boring. He spent more time on his office than he did with me. He wasn’t so bad, he was just distant, very. He loved his job more than he ever loved me. He didn’t even talk to me, he just left the divorce papers in the kitchen. He had left a day prior.”

“Then there was… Nate.” You sighed, looking down again at the napkin you’ve been ripping apart. “He wasn’t perfect. Indeed he could be very moody and he yelled all the time. But I cared for him. I didn’t expect him to be taken from me. No wife does. By I learned to accept it. Now I remember him from time to time. I take flowers to his grave whenever I can.”

Austin’s eyes softened as he reached out his hand and placed it upon your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze. My goodness, where did you find those bastards to marry?

“Got any kids?” He asked you. Softly. Threading carefully.

“I tried. After we lost our boy, I really tried to get pregnant again. I wasn’t able to.” You said softly, you had at least wanted a baby. Not because you thought it would fulfill you. That was crap. But you wanted a kid so that you wouldn’t be so alone. “But I’m also grateful I never had a kid. It wouldn’t have been healthy if I had the kid calling three men daddy.”

“That’s true.” Austin said, taking a sip from his glass and nodding his head. “Listen. I know that you might think that I’ve forgotten about our baby. I haven’t. I visit the grave whenever I can. It’s just hard for me. Still. To believe he would have been thirteen this year.”

Austin looked down again. Taking your hand in his, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

Your baby boy would have been thirteen this year. How time flies.

You and Austin had been eighteen when you had a shotgun wedding because he knocked you up. He had been nervous but so happy. I mean, a tiny baby? He adored tiny babies. It was a happy married albeit you two didn’t know what to do.

But then, it happened, you delivered a beautiful baby boy. A tiny black-haired beauty, he had been a fighter, he had tried to beat the heat stroke that took him. You cried for days, he was there by your side, but he was young too and he was battling with his own demons, he quite literally filled for divorce out of nowhere, when you needed him the most.

You never saw each other again until now.

“I sometimes wonder, how different my life would be if he had lived.” Austin said softly, looking at you.

“Me too.” You wanted to cry, but you held back. You already cried a lot to your first child. You cried in private, like a prayer.

“Maybe we should’ve stayed married.” Austin said, almost with a hint of hopelessness. You stared up at him, a small smile on your lips.

“You were the best of them all.” You said, a smile on your lips. For all his faults, back then he was a kid too, and he mourned in whatever way he found fit.

“What a terrifying thought,” he finished his Old-Fashioned and laughed once again, shaking his head as he licked his lips. “Jesus Christ, don’t say that.”

You laughed together again, as you had done when you were younger. As you used to do late at night. And for some hours, you were happy by his side. He took this as an opportunity to talk about him now.

“You know, my girlfriend and I are having problems. Last thing I knew was that she fucked this comedian guy, from SNL…”

As you waited for a taxi, you smoked together. Maybe this could be the last time you two saw each other. Your lives were the total opposite now. He was a successful actor with a girlfriend and you were an office worker, who spent all her time working or outside.

But you couldn’t deny that when he talked, you stared at his lips, he stared at yours. The way he smoked, the way he held the cigarette.

“Aren’t you lonely now? I mean, you’re all alone.” Austin asked as he threw the ash on the floor.

“I’m trying to learn how to be alone. It will be my next year’s resolution. Stay away from dating.” You chuckled, you then took a drag from your cigarette. “But yes. I can’t get lonely from time to time. I have been someone’s wife for too long, being and living with someone changed the way you feel once they’re gone.”

“I can relate. Kaia and I— we never even got to live together before everything went south. All just because of her stupid parents and her stupid pap walks. It’s exhausting, really.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with this empty hand. “And now that I finally put my limits. She’s all mad at me, with her team sending these ridiculous articles, making me the bad guy.”

“Hey, it’ll get better.” You said, patting his shoulder. “That’s what you get for dating a twenty-something year old.” You patted his shoulder a bit more playfully.

You two started playing with one another, pushing each other playfully, the cigarettes on the floor already. Until he cornered you in the brick wall.

He leaned in and kissed you, you followed the kiss, at first it started slow but it escalated quickly. His tongue entered your mouth, both your tongues danced with one another, his hand went to your neck, pressing it softly. You both could taste the cigarette and liquor on your lips and mouths.

You hadn’t kissed someone in so long, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t. No. Not like this. No, you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t say anymore.

So after a while, you pushed him off you gently. He was out of breath, he kicked his lips, his hand going to the side of your head, he leaned down.

“You could survive another man…” He basically purred out, his lips on a smirk.

“It wouldn’t work between us.” You said. Looking into his eyes.

“Why not?” He asked, his eyes only showed confusion.

He would forget you, and you would forget him. For the love of God, never once in thirteen years did he try to contact you, and viceversa. You both would remember your baby boy, but not one another. You two would disappear into each other’s memory until you were old and wrinkly, telling your grandchildren or whatever young person asked about your youth. Talking about how you had a shotgun wedding. Of how you two lost your baby. About how you two continued each other’s lives like strangers.

“We’re too different now.” You said, it was all you could mutter.

Not all the bottled up pain you had from when he just left you, grieving and alone. Nothing. You just couldn’t even talk about it anymore.

He stared at you and nodded. You know what? He understood. He understood where you came from. He was a dick back then. And he couldn’t expect you to jump into his arms after all the men you went through, after what you went through with him.

“It’s alright.” He said, pulling away from you. “I guess I should go back to my apartment, it’s late.” He cleared his throat and came closer to hug you. “It was great seeing you again. I hope we see each other walking by or something. Goodbye.”

He knew he was lying. He was pleased to see you, but every time he looked at you, he saw your younger self. He saw the baby. He saw all the bad things. He loved you once. Not anymore. He had a special place for you in his memory.

But it would be the last time you two saw each other.

As you watched him walk away, you took deep breaths. That was it. You were alone once again. As you had been before he walked into the café. You had no one to turn to tomorrow.

As a taxi pulled to the side, you got in and told the driver the address of the hotel you were staying at.

You were all on your own.

I won’t have any free time from now on so… I’ll try to really write whenever I have time.

[faithisyours]

Just a Dream

Azriel x Fem!reader

Summary: after a long day you come home to the house of wind to find Azriel having a nightmare.

Warnings: fluff, comfort, talk of nightmares, mentions of family and friend death, not too detailed, though, not proof read

Word count: 2.1k

a/n: Hello, God? It’s me again. I’m here on both knees to offer you some bbg Azriel content. This man is tormented, just the way I like them. First Azriel fic, and first ACOTAR fic in general, so please don’t kill me if I get any of the lore wrong (I read these books a while ago and barely remember the plot😅). This came to me in a dream. I’m just kidding. I’m gonna quit my yapping and go now. Minors please go away. Enjoy :)

It had been a long day. Your mission had taken longer than you had expected. Rhys, your High Lord, had sent you to do a routine check on the southern border, but of course, since it was your turn to do this check, a fight had broken out, one that you had to break up, and smooth over, and make sure wouldn’t happen again, and file a report for. By the time you were done, it was already dark out.

You double checked you had completed everything you needed to do, as well as make sure you had filled out that report correctly. Gods forbid you forgot to fill in one pesky section. Rhys would be on your ass about it for weeks. Finally, when you had double checked everything and grown too tired to care if you had forgotten something, you winnowed back to the house of wind, your home.

It was quiet, not even the noise of the house settling could be heard. You tip-toed your way to the kitchen for a little something to eat, your long and busy day allowing no time for dinner. You made yourself a plate, stacking crackers, cheese, meats, and fruits atop one another. The house provided a glass of cold water for you, and you took it, thanking the house silently.

You made your way up to your room. You didn’t want to stay in the kitchen for fear you would make too much noise. So you padded up the steps and down the hallway, but before you could make it to your room, you heard muffled noises coming from inside the Shadowsinger’s chambers. At first you thought it was the noises of a well spent night, but as you grew closer, something you had no choice in doing since to get to your room you had to pass Azriel’s door, the muffled noises were that of distress.

“No, no please! Don’t!” you heard the Shadowsinger call out. He must be having a nightmare, you thought. You did not know what possessed you to open his door and walk right in, but you did. You saw the Illarian sprawled out on his massive bed, blankets tangled around his legs and damp from sweat. His bare chest heaved and glistened with a sheen of cold perspiration.

You put your plate of food and glass of water down on the dresser, then slowly closed the door behind you. You did not want anyone to find you in here, but you also did not want Azriel's nightmare to wake the whole house. You were all aware he had them, everyone in this house had them, and occasionally one would be bad enough to wake the whole floor. The fact that everyone had them made the embarrassment more manageable, but it was embarrassing nonetheless. And you did not want Azriel to be embarrassed.

You took a moment to consider how best to wake him. He was thrashing slightly, his movements becoming more rapid, and he was crying out louder now. You needed to pull him from this dream, and soon. You chose to call his name quietly, in hopes that would pull him out of his torment, but your efforts were futile. You decided you were going to have to touch him.

You made your way to the side of his bed and sat. You turned to face him, so that your right leg was on the bed, bent at the knee, body facing the headboard. You gently took his hand in yours, then slowly began tracing circles on the top of it. This seemed to stir him just a little, but not enough. He was still squirming, eyelids twitching, still calling out in distress.

“Please, don’t! Take me instead. I deserve…” he trailed off. You began calling his name, starting quiet but getting louder. You were sliding your free hand up and down his arm soothingly, the other held tight in Azriel’s scarred hand. But your efforts were still not working.

You shifted your body fully onto the bed now, kneeling next to him, making sure you weren’t pinning his wings. “Azriel, it’s just a dream. Wake up. You’re safe,” you cooed. With your free hand, you cupped his cheek, trying to stop his shaking. “Az, wake up! Please!” Your pleading was getting louder, and you were scared you were going to be the one to wake the whole floor. “It’s just a dream. You are safe. It’s just a dream.”

In an instant Azriel sat up and frantically grabbed onto you. He was disoriented, upset, and panicky, but your words calmed him. “Azriel, you were dreaming. You’re alright. It was just a dream,” you told him. You smoothed away the hair that was stuck to his forehead with sweat. Cupping his cheek, you forced his eyes to meet yours. You searched those hazel depths, trying to gauge his understanding of the situation. “It was just a dream, Az,” you repeated, and did not break eye contact until he nodded that he understood. When he started to calm down you removed your hand from his cheek, dropping it down to the hand clasped in your other one. “Just a dream,” he murmured, nodding slightly.

You suddenly became very aware that you were in a half-dressed Illarian male’s bed. Azriel was one of your dearest friends, but that didn’t make the situation any less awkward. It’s not like you’ve never been in his room, or seen him without a shirt, it was just never both at the same time. Trying not to dwell on it, you asked, “Do you want to talk about it,” for which he promptly shook his head. “Would you like some food?” you offered, remembering the plate of food that still sat on his dresser. He looked up at you questioningly, so you slid off the bed, walked over and grabbed the plate of food, then walked back, presenting it to him with a half-grin on your face.

“Why?” he simply asked, growing increasingly confused.

“I just got back from my mission and didn’t get the chance to eat dinner, so I was gonna take this to my room so that I wouldn't wake anyone up but I heard you, so…” you trailed off. He nodded in understanding.

“So this is your dinner?” he asked, trying not to dwell on the last part of your sentence, the fact that he was talking and you heard him. It was your turn to nod.

“Ya, but I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach. You can have some,” you reassured, grabbing a grape and popping it into your mouth. You lowered the plate onto the bed next to him, then sat. Az took a cube of cheese and a cracker, then slid them into his mouth in one fell swoop. He chewed slowly, then swallowed. He was sitting up now, his sheets still tangled in his legs, but he seemed to be calming down a great deal.

“There was a fight that broke out at the border today,” you offered, trying to distract him further from what remained of his dream. “Right when I was almost done, too! I had to stay an extra two hours to smooth everything over. Ridiculous!” you exclaimed. Az breathed out a huff of amusement, a small smile making its way onto his lips. “Oh, you think it's funny?” you teased with an incredulous tone. His smile was starting to part his lips, and you couldn’t resist yourself, you smiled back.

“Thank you,” he said, picking up a strawberry and raising it to you in thanks.

“No problem,” you replied. You were about to stand up and leave, but he stopped you with a hand over yours.

“What did… what was I saying?” he asked you shyly.

“Oh um…” you were startled by his question slightly. You didn’t want to bring up a sore subject, but he was the one asking, so you guessed it was alright. “Ya know just the usual “no, please don’t”’s and the “take me instead”’s. Very chivalrous of you, might I add.” You wanted to lighten the mood a bit, but it didn’t seem to be working. There was a line between the Shadowsinger’s eyebrows, and his eyes were downcast. “You also said you deserved to go instead, but that part was a little unclear.” You didn’t mean to pry, but you were curious. And if Azriel thought he deserved to die instead of someone else because he deserved it, well you were going to have to fix that opinion real quick.

Az simply nodded. It did not seem like he wanted to elaborate on that last part, so you offered up one of your most common nightmares in hopes it would comfort him. “I often dream about my family being killed in front of me. That I am restrained or incapacitated in some way that prevents me from helping. And I always seem to offer myself in exchange for their lives. It never works, though.” His eyes were on you now, sorrow-filled hazel that glittered in the moonlight streaming through the windows. His fingers had taken up tracing lines on the hand of yours that was clasped in his.

“That's not your fault,” he whispered. You both sat there for a long minute. “I was…” he started, but seemed to think better of it. You placed your free hand over his, encouraging him to continue. He took a deep breath. “In my dream, Cassian was in trouble. He’s my brother, my closest friend, I couldn’t just do nothing. I offered myself as an alternative. Cass is so good, so much better than me. I guess I just thought… he deserves to live,” he paused, “more than I do.” he finished, and it took everything in you not to break down right in front of him.

“Azriel,” your tone was firm. “You are good. So good. You are amazing, and so so loved. And I know it was just a dream… but our thoughts influence them, and they influence us. Please believe me when I say you do not deserve to die in the place of someone else because it would be better, or because you are not good enough. You are.” Tears were threatening to pool in your eyes. Azriel was one of your closest friends, and your life would be incomplete without him in it. You lifted your hand to caress his cheek, pouring comfort and reassurance through your touch.

He nodded. “Thank you,” he said again. “For waking me up, and for your words. And for the food,” he added after a small pause. You gave him a small smile, and he returned it. You got up to leave, wanting to take a hot bath and change, but he stopped you. “Can you…can you stay, maybe?” he asked. You grinned, how could you not? You loved his awkwardness.

“Yes. But under conditions.” He waited for you to continue. “I stink, so I’m going to take a bath. And then I’ll come back in, okay? Give me thirty minutes.” he nodded once again.

You made your way to your room, plate of food and glass of water in hand. You quickly bathed, and ate, then changed into your sleeping clothes. You weren't going to lie to yourself, either. You were glad Az asked you to stay in his room. Both of you calmed each other down in a way no one else could. This was not the first time you had slept in each other's beds, either. Your relationship was strictly platonic, but Azriel’s cuddles were unmatched, and you always seemed to sleep better in his presence, the same going for him.

Once you were done bathing and changing, you made your way back to the Shadowsinger’s room. He had changed the sheets of his bed, and was now wearing a shirt. He sat propped against his headboard reading a book. You made sure to close the door behind you, then made your way over to his bed. You pulled the blankets back and crawled in, snuggling right into the side of him. He dog-eared his page in the book (an act that almost made you get back up and leave) and set it on his night stand. He sank down into his bed and wrapped his arms around you. And there you both slept, peacefully, dreaming of absolutely nothing.

[natliyy]

drdt 16 spoilers

I need to spitball my thoughts on charwhit. this reads like I know where I’m going but there’s probably going to be very little connections and cohesion and I am NOT good at analysis pls forgive me. my first actual post of course it’s about it drdt LMAOO

A lot of people have noticed how focused whit was on charles in the latest episode, me included. And now I’m thinking.

and I want YOU to think about it too. whit’s go-to for grieving is to not acknowledge it. everything that happened in ep 16, ace about to die, broken monotv, teruko almost dying, levi getting shot and on the brink of death, so many gorey things. it’s all too much to process, so many unexpected things rapidly happening one after another, and you pile that on top of whits grieving method. he needs to laser-focus in on charles, because there’s a lot of blood, and judging by how min’s execution was, there should probably be more soon. it gives him something to do.

and now this is the part where I Get Confused. And a little Concerned. And things start Falling Apart. triple whammy.

teruko has a machine gun aimed at her. she’s saying what might possibly be her last words, and everyone’s telling her GET OUT OF THE WAY??? HIDE?? (even ARTURO. sounded thoroughly panicked. this isn’t about him but I have thoughts on him too) and you know the weird part? whit likes teruko. he wants to see her smile. he apologizes, and jokes, and knows she doesn’t have to close off her heart the way charles did. but did he say anything to teruko during her execution?

NO?? ABSOLUTELY DID NOT? he says “Charles, stop talking and cover your eyes!” which. Sure. Okay. charles has a pretty strong attachment to teruko. he genuinely likes her. that machine gun would’ve reduced her to bloody mass. he’s gonna be borderline hysterical. like I get it? but dude teruko is about to DIE. you want her to be your friend. I hold some acknowledgement towards mm whit theory but I really think it’s too early for me to believe in that, yet at the same time, if he didn’t call out, didn’t say a word to her, did he like… know she wouldn’t have died? already known how her luck works? I don’t know…

and now we cut to levi getting shot. And this is the part where things start getting more insane with me for no damn reason. there’s blood everywhere, and charles is starting to break down. and you know what whit says?

Hey, dude? What the HELL???

The smell of blood is really strong. Even though I told him not to look, he still…

the choice of words is really messing me up. “Even though I told him.” whit telling charles to cover his eyes was lowk the most forceful we’ve heard him so far. I really can’t decipher this, but I will rewind a little to convey why this line made my skin crawl so much.

in trial 1, whit was pretty damn convincing to the audience. “He’s my friend, of course I’ll argue for his sake!” and telling people to lay off of charles… it was really sweet. very considerate and compassionate.

except in chapter 2, he doubles down. in ep 2, he says something along the lines of, “Oh, I did say he was my friend, didn’t I? Well, that was a total lie! I only said it to make people believe me! But I think he took it to heart, or thinks he owes me…? So, yeah, I’ve decided we’re friends.”

…………. okay my thoughts r falling apart it’s 4 am let me try to think of connecting this somehow

whit seems to know charles is dependant on him. whit also has a history of avoidance and ignoring things that bother him. and let me make it clear, I don’t think these two r some ultra toxic relationship at all. I’m trying to pinpoint their flaws and predict where their relationship will go.

it’s kind of funny? imagine the ultimate matchmaker with commitment issues. though it’s not too far, considering how isolated his childhood probably was.

anyways, I feel like this is all setting up for a shift in dynamic in chapter 3. which is where I get to the part I really want to say: if charwhit’s relationship deteriorates due to Charles’ dependance and Whit staying subtlety dismissive and avoidant, I will be amazed. What seems to be the most sturdy relationship in the series crumbling due to the killing game wearing down on their compatibility is a writing choice that would send me to cloud nine, I think. we know DRDTdev has been subverting troupes since chapter 1. the “tragedy” of this relationship being them growing more unhealthy due to their problems, rather than one of them dying would be so. How can I even articulate it?

although, if whit’s prediction of “Charles Cuevas, dead at 3” comes true, I will simply reach into the screen and strangle him. anyways, that’s all I got. enjoy my braindump maybe

[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do - Part 9

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts. wc: 2920

Jason hated Danny, a little. The other had really (accidentally) downplayed the effect the ectoshot would have. Flu like symptoms his ass, Jason felt like his insides were trying to crawl their way to the outside. Danny had apologized profusely and frequently, and Jason had forgiven him. Still, he hated Danny a little for doing this to him. Danny earned a lot of points back, though, by acting as Jason’s personal ice pack through the worst of the fever. Jason spent a lot of hours with his head or chest pressed against Danny’s cold back as he lay, miserable, on the couch with Danny sat on the floor in front of it. It was even nicer when Danny would absently run cold fingers through Jason’s hair and scratch lightly at his scalp. Jason tried not to think about how good that felt. How easy it was to let Danny touch him. He was determined to just blame the fever and ignore how his very bones seemed to hum in pleasure at the contact. Or maybe it was Danny humming. Purring? Fuck this fever, seriously.

So Jason sat close to Danny and Danny spent most of the time doing homework on a laptop that looked one step from death. “Summer classes,” he explained when Jason asked. “I’m trying to get all my gen eds done so that I can double major. Maybe even triple? I don’t know if I want to have spend the time on the language classes a Math major needs.” Jason hummed in response, trying to tuck the information away in his sick ailed brain. He couldn’t decided if he hoped Danny and Tim never met (con, they were both too damn smart), or if he desperately wanted them to meet (pro, Tim would replace all of Danny’s failing tech in a pique of disgust). Maybe the scholarship already came with a new laptop? That sounded like it would be a Tim thing to do, but Jason wasn’t sure how involved Tim was in the scholarships. “Math sucks,” he settled on. | “Sure it does, book boy. I bet you were an English major.” Danny had found Jason’s pile of books early on the second day  and made fun of him. But Danny had also found both ‘Pride and Prejudice’ movies to download and had put them on for Jason to watch. They had spend all day trying to make it through the Colin Firth one as Danny kept pausing it whenever Jason dozed off due to the fever. “Nah. Never even finished high school. Too busy being dead,” Jason mumbled and tried to press closer to the cold. Danny must have done something because the chill increased. Jason let out a content sigh. He was almost asleep when Danny spoke. “You’re not just dead any more. You can still have a life.” “Don’t know if I deserve one.” “Of course you do,” Danny said. Danny didn’t know what Jason had done, the Pit groaned in response. Jason let himself slip asleep rather than deal with either of them.

-

The next time Jason drifted towards consciousness, there was a hand on his forehead. It wasn’t right though. It was familiar, but it wasn’t right. “Too warm.” “You sure are Jaybird. You’re burning up.” Jason jolted up and almost fell right back over as the world swam around him. When it solidified, it settled into a very different pair of worried blue eyes than he was expecting. “Big bird?” But if Dick was here, where was Danny? There was no sign of the other now; no laptop or textbooks or scribbled equations. Too many takeout boxes stacked too messily were the only clue, but Jason figured that could be excused by his sick state. Jason knew that Danny hadn’t been with him the whole time he’d been sick. The other clearly came and went at least a few times to pick up food, his school work, and other supplies. What Jason didn’t know if the timing was just lucky or if Danny had managed to disappear before Dick had made it past all the safeguards. He hoped Danny wasn’t stuck hiding in a closet or something. “What?” Jason asked. Dick had been saying something to him, but Jason hasn’t caught a word of it. He rubbed at his eyes to try and focus. “Did you get dosed?” “Does? No. Just the stupid flu or something,” Jason lied. “Why are you here?” “Because you didn’t show up for patrol for a few days in a row, little bird,” Dick said softly. He brushed Jason’s sweat soaked hair off his forehead. Jason swayed into the touch. Not even two days of finally being touched apparently was all it took to lose his self control. At least Dick wasn’t shying away from him right then. Not like he normally did. Right, his brother had said something. “That made you break into my place? You know that was fucking stupid. What if I’d been…” Jason trailed off and motioned to his eyes. What if he’d been in a Pit rage. “You don’t drop off from everything like this when you are. We were worried,” Dick said. He sounded worried, but Jason didn’t feel like he could figure out if it was real right then, not with his head so full of cotton. Maybe it was. This was Dick, he seemed to care. Of course, then Dick had to go and add, “You should have checked in.” Jason snorted at that. “Not for patrol reasons,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. “So that we didn’t worry, little bird. And so that I could have brought some soup from Alfred.” “Mmm… yeah, would have been worth it for the soup,” Jason decided after a moment. “Most things are worth Alfred’s soup,” Dick agreed with a chuckle. “But no, you had to be stubborn and not let us know you were sick so there’s no soup for you.” “Shut up,” Jason grumbled with no real heat. He tried to let himself fall back onto the couch but was stopped by Dick pulling him forward. “Nu-uh. We’re going to get you up and into the shower. You’ll feel better in clean clothes and I can change the blankets on the couch and get these through the wash.” “No.” “Yes,” Dick said in a sing-song voice that made Jason want to punch him. Instead he let Dick help him off the couch. Now that it had been mentioned, a shower really did sound good. He was left propped up against the door frame of the bathroom while Dick got the shower started. The sound of the water was almost soothing, and Jason eyes drifted closed. Normally the Pit would be snarling at him to stay alert— to stay focused and on guard— even (especially) in the presence of his family, but it seemed as drained by the ectoshot as he was and stayed quiet. “Jay?” “Hum?” “Do I need to get you to a hospital?” Jason pried his eyes open to glare at his brother. When had Dick gotten so close? He hovered just in front of Jason like if he wanted to reach out and pull Jason close. Shit, Dick really was worried, wasn’t he? “It’s just the stupid flu or something.” “I don’t know, you’re really out of it, Jay. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you with your guard like this.” “’S fine,” Jason said and let his eyes close again. “You’re here. I’m safe.” “Okay little bird,” Dick said softly and started to help Jason out of his sweat soaked shirt. “Let me take care of you.”

-

Dick helped peel off Jason’s shirt and tossed it on the floor. This wasn’t his first time undressing and shoving one of his family members into the shower. Being a vigilante left no room for modesty between the mortal wounds, medical procedures, and decontamination processes. It was easy to be clinical about it at this point. Besides, his mind was too busy reeling over Jason’s words. Jason felt safe with him. Jason, who even when he was sitting right next to them, still held them at arm’s length. Who Dick wasn’t sure would even show up at the few family meals he did attended if it weren’t for Alfred’s cooking. Who struggled to share any details about a case. Who didn’t ask for help when he was this sick… … felt safe with him. Dick had to bite his lip to keep the tears from welling up. He hadn’t thought Jason would ever trust him again, not really. He hadn’t been sure if he’d ever really have his brother back. He didn’t even need— want— Jason back in a creepy ‘just like he was before’ sort of way. Dick knew that was impossible. Jason dying had changed them all. Him coming back had changed them again. Jason had talked to Dick about it once, just a little. They had both been drunk— Jason more than Dick— and Jason had talked. He had talked like the words were spilling out of him, bleeding out of him; a soft steady flow of horror. There in the dim light of Dick’s apartment Jason had talked, just a little, about what it was like to live with the Pit rage in him. How it was like a rabid dog on a leash that was barking, barking barking. Dick didn’t know how someone even thought over that noise, but he was so damn proud of Jason for managing. He was so damn proud of Jason for clawing his way back to life— out of his grave and out of his madness and out of his rage. He didn’t want the old Jason back. He just wanted a chance to get to be a brother to this Jason. He was so damn proud of the man he’d become. His eyes ran over the horrible autopsy scars that crossed Jason’s chest. The stark reminder of exactly why Dick hadn’t been sure they’d ever really have Jason back. Jason, when he had to change around them, always did it as quickly as possible. But right then the scars were on full display. Because Jason was trusting Dick to see them. Dick tried hard not to think too much about it. Jason needed his help right then. He could deal with the mental fallout later. With some wrangling, Dick got Jason into the shower. After getting fresh clothing, he took a seat on the closed toilet, flicking through his phone from somewhere to order food from. He wanted to be close by in case Jason lost his balance in the shower. “Is Ben’s good for pizza?” “What?” At least Jason was sounding a little more clear headed. “Ben’s. I’m ordering food.” “Yeah. Get a supreme. The chicken bbq one is good too.” “Got it.” Dick selected the pizzas, added maybe too much garlic bread to the order, and submitted it. Then he pulled up the family chat. The one that Jason still refused to be part of. Dick: So Jason’s running a pretty bad fever. He thinks it’s the flu. Oracle: He’s actually staying home and not patrolling when he’s sick? Tim: Shit. It’s that bad? Dick: He’s pretty out of it. Shower seems to be helping and I’m ordering food. I’m going to stay the night here unless you need me on patrol. Bruce: We’ll rearrange patrols. Keep an eye on him. Dick: Will do. He wasn’t going to let Jason down again.

-

When Jason woke on day four, he felt good. He wasn’t perfect, he knew that. Danny had said it would take at least a few infusions— maybe several if his core took to it badly. He might never be without lingering effects. But even with just the one shot of ectoplasm Jason felt better than he had in years. Jason let himself linger in bed for a bit, slowly stretching out his sore muscles, before sounds from his kitchen made him stir. The press of otherness was back, so Jason assume that Danny was back. His arrival still made Jason shudder with a chill of cold. It wasn’t as overwhelming as it used to be, but there was never any doubt when Danny was around. Yesterday Dick had hardly left his He’d convinced Dick that he would be fine for the day and that he should go to work. Dick had still insisted on waking Jason up in the morning before he headed out, but Jason had rolled over and went back to sleep. And now Danny was back. The sound of something clattering, followed by cursing, had Jason finally rolling out of bed and heading to the kitchen. He half debated at least pulling on a shirt over his sleep pants, but the cursing had turned rather fevered. Besides, he didn’t think that Danny would be bothered by his scarring. He had to stop in the doorway to the kitchen and just stare. Smoke hung in the air. Danny was right in the middle of it— holding an ice covered frying pan out at arms length. Jason was pretty sure the tips of Danny’s bangs were singed. Jason was smirking. He knew he was. He really couldn’t help it. “I can see why you always bought food these last few days.” Danny whirled to face him, blue eyes wide. He made a cut off little noise and flushed bright red. Chuckling, Jason stepped into to the space— the kitchen was hardly big enough for two people— and reached around Danny to turn the burner off. Danny’s arm was cold as he brushed against it. When Jason pulled back and Danny was still just staring at him and had grown redder. “You good there, fish?” “Um, what? Oh!” Danny finally blinked. The blush went right to the tips of his ears. “Right, yeah? But, um, I don’t think that the eggs are okay.” “Don’t know if my frying pan is either,” Jason said, eying the frozen hunk of metal. “Sorry,” Danny said with a wince and dumped it in the sink. He waved his hand and let the ice melt. Scorched eggs washed down the sink. “How did you burn them so badly?" Jason asked. He was actually a little impressed. “I never learned to cook, okay? We didn’t really cook at my house so I’m having to pick up all of it now,” Danny said with a little shrug. “It’s, ah, not going so well.” “Neither of your parents chefs?” “Too much ambient ectoplasm,” Danny said as he tried to scrub at the charred pan. Jason didn’t think it would do any good. “When the casserole tries to eat you back one too many times you sort of give up on eating at home.” “What.” “Reanimated food. They’re always bastards. I have scars from the hot dogs still,” Danny said and also gave up on the pan and turned around to lean against the counter. “…I have so many questions and I don’t know if I want answers.” Danny shrugged again. He picked at the ends of the hoodie he was wearing, unraveling the ragged edge further. “You probably don’t. So, um, I was in the right to leave the other night, right?” “Yeah. It was my brother checking up on me. I don’t think I’m ready to explain all of this,” Jason said, giving a little wave of his hand to indicated everything as he leaned against the counter next to Danny. Danny glanced at him, his eyes flickering over the chest scars and back up. “They do know you died, right?” “Sorta hard to miss,” Jason said, crossing his arms. “But they think the Pits brought me back. We all did. Not that…” “It’s different, knowing you’re still dead,” Danny filled in where Jason trailed off. “Yeah. I’ll tell them later, maybe, but I want things to settle more. Shit, wait, am I going to get powers like you have? Then I’ll have to, I guess. It would hard to hide magical ice.” “Oh, you probably wont get ice. There are lots of difference cores. There’s all the elemental ones, fire and electricity and things, but also like, technology and shadow and a the Ancients can have really unique ones like time and hope. We won’t know what yours is until we get rid of the corrupted goop and you have enough ectoplasm.” “Huh,” Jason said with a frown. “So more ectoshots?” “More ectoshots. But we’ll give you a few weeks in between so you can recover. I’ve got to get myself moved to Gotham anyways, and I don’t really think you should take any of it if I’m not around, just in case your powers do develop.” “Yeah, alright,” Jason said, brain already working on how to hide all of this from the Bats. He was just starting to get things back to better with them. He didn’t want to throw ‘hey, turns out I’m still a little dead’ into the mix. He didn’t want to see the looks on their faces at that news. He didn’t want to break anyone’s heart again. He didn’t want to lose them again. Jason cleared his throat. “Well, guess I better give you my number then. Not that I don’t know when you’re around, but would be shit of you to have to come all this way just to check on me. How do you keep  getting back and forth, anyways?” “Oh, sometimes I use a portal but mostly I just fly.” “You what?”

-----

AN: So this chapter was originally a single scene, but it decided it really needed more time. Then Dick decided to show up. I’ve gone back and forth about showing a POV other than Jason or Danny, but Jason is such an unreliable narrator about himself and Danny doesn’t know how Jason used to be, and I wanted to be able to show that. So Dick will show up a few times! He’s mostly here to have feelings.

And yes, Danny was totally bluescrened by shirtless Jason there at the end! I debated the POV for that, but thought it was funner that Jason has no clue why Danny is blushing like a tomato.

This is rough in places, I know, but my focus has been shot by pain. Besides, cleaning it up is what rewrites are for! Speaking of, rewrite of chapter 3 will be up on ao3 Thursday! Thank you all always for your wonderful response to this and stay delightful, darlings!

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[louloulemons-posts]

Cinderella and Warm Milk

Eddie Munson x SingleMom!Reader

Part One : Margot

Part Three : Cuddles and Stew

Summary : Eddies first night looking after Margot.

Word Count : 1.8k

Warnings : FLUFF. Pure family fluff. Girl dad Eddie. Minor mention of Chrissys death. Little bit of sad baby Margot. A whole lot of cuteness.

Authors note : I just wanted to say a huge thank you for all of the support on my recent fics, it’s so kind of you all. I hope you enjoy this addition to Margot, Eddie and the reader 🤍

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Hello?” A familiar voice spoke.

“Hey Wayne, is Eddie there?” you asked.

“Uh yeah he is, let me just get him for you Sweetheart.” You heard a muffled shout, “Eddie.” Wayne clearly covering the phone with his hand to save your ear.

“Hey gorgeous,” he spoke, you could hear his grin. “Hiya Eds. I’m really sorry to ask, but could you do me a huge favour?”

“Sure baby, what’s up?”

“Me and Maeve have accidentally double booked something. She’s going on a date with Annie that I refuse to let her cancel,” he hummed understanding why.

“But I can’t get out of my shift. Would you be okay to watch Margot?” Eddie went quiet on the other end. “You know what I know it’s a big ask, I’ll figure it all out-” he cut you off.

“You trust me to do that?” You laughed at that.

“Of course I do. And she loves you so much, so do I. So could you?”

“Sure I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

There was a knock on the door. “Eddie Eddie Eddie!” Margot squealed running towards it.

Chuckling, you picked up the girl, sliding the latch and pulling the door open. There he was. “Eddie!” Margot leaned forward holding out her arms to him.

“Hey Sweetheart,” he smiled, taking her from you and hugging her close. “And hello you,” he said before pecking your lips. “I can’t say thank you enough for this.”

“It’s no big deal, we’re gonna have fun right?” he asked Margot, who nuzzled into his neck and smiled.

“Well she’s had dinner, and her jammies are on the couch for her. You know where her nappies and everything are right?” you asked, to which he nodded. “Great, her bedtime is 7:30. If she doesn’t settle, warm milk and Cinderella. Her bottles are in the cupboard by the glasses. And if you need me just call-”

“Baby breath. We’ve got this. Don’t worry we will be perfectly fine. We’re gonna get into our jammies and play for a while and then, get tucked into bed. Go to work,” he pecked your lips.

“Okay okay. Margot baby, you be good for Eddie, I’ll see you in the morning,” you took her back from Eddie, cuddling her. It was the first time you’d left her with someone who wasn’t Maeve and you had to be honest you were nervous. But it was Eddie. Your Eddie. The Eddie who loved you and Margot.

“Mm’kay Mama,” she smiled, giving you a slobbery kiss to the cheek. “Okay I’ve got to run,” you gave Margot and Eddie final kisses and were on your way. “Bye Mama,” Margot waved. “Bye My Love.”

“Okay kid, jammies?” he asked, holding his hand out to the small girl. She nodded and took it. It was almost 6:30 so she must have been getting tired. He smiled seeing that you’d left her a pair of pink pyjamas with small white bunnies on, a fresh diaper, wipes and baby powder.

“You want to use the potty before we get you dressed?” She made an affirmative noise, so the pair headed to the bathroom. “You need help?” Eddie asked her.

“Pick up.” He lifted her on to her toilet seat and turned around, giving her some privacy.

“Done!” she said a few moments later. After the pair cleaned their hands they went back to the couch. Once her diaper was in place and she was comfy, he helped her step into her pyjamas pants, and slid her shirt over her head.

“There you go, nice and snug.”

“Eddie jammies?” she tilted her head slightly.

“Okay I’ll get mine on.” He paused, did he just leave her here? Did he take her with him? Was that weird? Should he stress over this? Probably not, but here he was.

She looked at him with her big eyes. “Drink pwease,” she said. Okay there’s a plan, he lifted her up and placed her into her high chair making sure she was secure. “What do you want to drink kid?”

“Juice!”

Moments later she had juice in hand, wiggling in her seat happily. “Okay Eddies just gonna get changed, you sit tight okay?”

“‘kay!” she copied.

“Okay,” he huffed, running to the bathroom, changing as fast as he could to sprint back to her.

“Jammies Eddie!” she squealed.

“Yeah kiddo,” he smiled, picking her up out of her seat. He wore a simple black tee with a pair of grey flannel pants, tying his hair back in a low ponytail. He read 7:00 on the clock. “So kid what do you want to do for the next half an hour?”

“Story!”

“Okay let’s go pick a story.”

They went over to the bookshelf in the living room, the lowest shelf full of her books. “Which one do you want?” Eddie asked, placing her on the floor. “Not these! Eddie story!” she exclaimed, as if it’s something he should have known.

“Eddies story?” she hummed and smiled up at him. “Eddie story book!” Oh! He knew what she meant now, she’d seen him reading the Hobbit in bed the last time he stayed over.

He grabbed his bag and pulled out his worn copy that Wayne had brought him not long after he moved in with him. “Come on then Kid, let me educate you on Hobbits.” She laughed at that. “What’s so funny?” he asked, unable to keep a straight face as she cackled. “Hobbits’ what’s a hobbits’?” she laughed.

“Well I’ll tell you all about them, but we have to get nice and comfy. So let’s get bunny and your dummy and have a cuddle okay?”

“‘kay,” she said still giggling a bit.

Sat comfy by Eddies side, he opened the book and began to read. “In a hole in the ground lived a hobbit.” Margot let out another laugh.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Half an hour later, Eddie closed the book and looked down at the small snoring girl next to him. Gently moving himself, he picked her up, placing her head on his shoulder, and grabbing her bunny.

Climbing the stairs, his heart melted as she snuggled into him. Laying her down carefully he clicked on her nightlight and place her bunny in her arms. “Goodnight kid, I love you.”

“Wove you Da,” she mumbled back. That had become a common thing when she was tired, she’d called him Da, or Daddy. But he was mostly still Eddie. He didn’t mind, he’d love her no matter what.

He kissed her head and left the room, heading back downstairs to see what needed to be done for you. The house was mainly clean, just some washing up that needed putting away, which he did with ease.

He closed the blinds and curtains, turning on a few lamps here and there. Settling down to continue his magical adventure.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Mama! Mommy!” Eddie jumped awake to the sound of a familiar shout. Margot. Running up the stairs he saw the small girl walking out of her mothers room. “Mama,” she cried, extremely upset.

“Hey kiddo,” he said gently, not wanting to scare her. “Daddy!” she cried, running to him. She wrapped her little arms around his neck and cried harder. “Hey kiddo, it’s okay.” She sobbed. “It’s okay baby, Daddy’s got you,” he rocked her gently in his arms, shushing her.

He did take your advice and took her downstairs, placing her on the sofa and turning on Cinderella. Once he was sure she would be alright he headed to the kitchen to warm some milk for the pair.

Checking it wasn’t too hot, he handed her bottle over, which seemed to comfort her straight away. Watching the beautiful princess on the screen and giggling at Gus Gus she seemed more like herself.

“You feeling better baby?” he asked brushing her curls. “Mhm. Cuddle?” she titled her head.

He nodded, taking her bottle and placing it by his empty glass. He lifted the girl and lay down, putting her on his chest. Her head rested in his neck and she snuggled in, placing her dummy back in and grabbing her bunny tightly.

Eddie pulled a blanket over the pair of them and rubbed her back, gently playing with her curls every now and again. 10:56 the clock read.

The movie finished. Margot had been asleep for a while, since Cinderella went to the ball actually, but he didn’t want to risk moving her. He sat up carefully, placing her on the couch, making sure she was snuggled up.

Placing the glass and bottle in the sink, he began to turn off the lamps, minus the one in the front hall so you got in safe. He walked back to see Margot still snoozing and couldn’t help but smile.

He never thought he’d get this, he knew he wasn’t her biological dad, but his heart melted that she saw him as that. That she loved him as that. That you loved him. He thought after what happened with Chrissy he’d be alone forever.

He shook his head to remove the thought, he had you and Margot, Wayne and Maeve. He had his friends too, who also adored Margot, thinking she was the cutest thing.

Carefully picking her up, he draped the blanket over the back of the couch. Grabbing his book and her bunny in one hand, holding her with the other.

When he placed Margot down on her bed she whined, pulling his back down to her. “Stay,” she mumbled, half asleep still. Bringing her too him again, he turned off her nightlight and carried her to your room.

Placing the book on the bedside table, he tucked both of them in. Margot snoozed up against his chest, he kissed her head. “Goodnight baby, Daddy loves you.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

3:30am. Walking into the house, you slipped off your shoes and sighed. That had been a hell of a shift, but the tips were great. Your home was silent, the lamp in the hall left on which you smiled at, knowing it was a gesture of Eddies love.

Hanging your bag on the hook, you headed up the stairs. Popping your head into Margots room you became confused. She wasn’t there.

Trying not to panic, you almost jogged to your own room. Heart melting at the sight that greeted you. Eddie and Margot cuddled up together.

Changing into your own pyjamas, you climbed in next to them, cuddling in. Eddie kissed your forehead, still very much asleep, pulling you closer, but leaving enough room for Margot not to be squished.

This was the most loved you’d felt in so long. You, Eddie and your girl, Margot. Your little family.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

hi mo! i want to wish you a HUGE congrats on your milestone (: you deserve every single follow and like and reblog! your writing is so, so good and it brings me sm comfort if youre still taking requests, can i pls request alfie + “how long has it been since someone hugged you?”

Oh Noni this was so sweet! You are so so kind. It brings me immense joy that my writing brings you comfort. That is the greatest compliment I could ever receive. I’m sending all my love to you darling, I hope you enjoy this.

Guys this is the last request from our 100 Follower Celebration!!! This was so fun and I am so in love with the community we have built here together!!! I’m currently working on our final installment of Interviews for New Beginnings!!! Anyway I love y’all so much, have an amazing day my loves!! - Mo

100 Follower Celebration: Always

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing

“Mr. Solomons. I know you don’t want to hear this… or anything I’ve said the past 10 years I’ve been your physician… but you really need to watch your stress levels sir. It may very well kill you one day.”

Dr. Young had been treating Alfie Solomons exclusively for 10 years. Every stab wound, bullet hole, and influenza season had been watched over diligently by the good doctor. But every month his largest concern was Alfie Solomons’ blood pressure and tension headaches. Unfortunately for Dr. Young… Alfie Solomons was the worst patient he ever had.

Alfie ripped the stethoscope off his burly chest and threw it back at his doctor, “Bah fuck off. Respectfully of course. I’m fine. I’m going to live longer than you mark my words. Stress is good for the body.”

Dr. Young shrugged, there was no use fighting with Alfie. Usually Alfie would see reason and silently beckon and repent right before death came knocking, “If you believe Mr. Solomons. Anyway I want you to keep counting your pulse and recording it. Not that you’ll do it I wager. But I’ll be back same time next week.”

“Yeah, right. See Ollie gives you your fee. And double check with my secretary that your window is still open.”

Dr. Young smiles, “I’ll be sure to let her know that I gave you a task so that she keeps you accountable as well.”

As he walked out, leaning heavily on his wooden cane to offset his heavy medical bag, Alfie hollered after him, “You will do no such thing damn you! Ask her the schedule and nothing else!”

Alfie hears the slight chuckle of his ancient physician behind the closed door. Alfie finally lets out the sigh of relief he had been holding tightly all morning. His head falls into his calloused hands. The slow and rhythmic push and rush of his palms against his eyes and temple soothe the panging and banging in his head. An ache that has been ever present for the past few days. One that hasn’t been aided at all by the lack of water in his day to day.

The past few days have been Alfie’s own personal hell. The Americans’ prohibition on spirits has added another layer of problems to the business. New men had been hired and were not all bright, causing more mistakes than their bodies were worth. Cops were getting greedy, and were needing more to smooth their hands and seal their lips. Usually, a boss would have been able to hand off problems to lower levels. Not Alfie. Never Alfie. Alfie doesn’t get to give jobs to anyone else. No one wants to help Alfie. Alfie is to solve every problem. By himself. If he doesn’t do it, it will not get done. If he doesn’t fix it, everything will fall. But it’s always been like this. Ever since his father passed away, he’s been the man. He’s been the fixer. The protector. The boss. The leader. He alone can do it. He alone does it. He alone. He is alone.

Through the barricade of his stress and rage and sweat and stiff muscles, he hears his door click open, and the soft tap of your feet across the floor boards. Your sweet bell voice tingles his nerves, “Alright Alfie I set up Dr. Young’s appointment next week so you are all settled. This afternoon you have two more meetings. Mr. Yusef and Mr. Edmonds. Also you will need to look over the shipping particulars for the shipment to New York in three we- Alfie are you alright?”

You pause looking at his face. He’s always looked rather scruffy and wild but this was different. His face was gaunt and ashen. His usually ruddy cheeks were pale and covered in a thin sheen of sick sweat. Those bright blue and sparkling eyes looked glossy. If you didn’t know better… they could almost be tears.

You don’t even let him try and explain away his symptoms.

“We’re cancelling the rest of your meetings today. No arguements.”

Screaming. Shouting. Bellowing. The glass in the window panes shake. The wood of the desks bang like the sound of gunshots and canons. “VILE WOMAN YOU TOUCH THAT CALENDAR YOU ARE FIRED DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU BRING YOURSELF BACK HERE NOW!”

You ignore him, calling the other secretaries, having to shout over the bellows and cries of your melodramatic yet beloved boss. The excuse you concocted didn’t matter. You wouldn’t care to remember the story you told. You would deal with it later. What mattered was clearing the calendar to make sure that Alfie could be released from his bindings that he so tightly wound around himself cutting the circulation and breath of peace.

You set the cornflower blue and cream colored tea pot on the little stove in the corner. Gingerly stoking the flame, coaxing warmth and light into a sweet roar. You call for hearty treats from the bakery next door, a good array to settle the spirit of your war laden boss. Soon the tea is ready and the soulful remedies are set. The roaring of the animal in the office has settled into rumbles. It was safe to enter.

Upon entering Alfie is again shouting, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve treacle. I am your boss. I am your superior officer. I pay your paycheck. And you have the absolute fucking audacity to…”

You let the hot words wash over you like a summer storm. You place your tools of healing on Alfie’s desk, swiftly and quietly. You take your spot in your chair across from him, grabbing his worry worn wooden pipe and filling it with his tobacco. Like a dance you’ve done a thousand times, he gingerly takes that pipe from you as he’s still yelling and scolding, pausing briefly to light it and suck in that air like it’s his last meal.

You smile as he blusters on like a thunder cloud. There was no true threat. You would never really be fired. Even if he was cross with you. There was a certain comfort in the noise. Like the storm cloud the noise signified that there was still life and that a calm would soon follow. But there was still the tightness in his shoulders. There was still that look you saw before he started to storm and blow. In a feat of courage you cocked your head to the side, “When was the last time someone hugged you?”

Immediate silence.

“What. What the fuck did you just ask me?”

“When’s the last time someone hugged you? You look like you need one sir.”

His index finger might as well have been a loaded pistol the way he pointed at you, “Men do not hug. I have never been hugged nor will I ever hug do you hear me? Hugged?! It’s even a ridiculous word. I mean… hugged?! No! I don’t want one I don’t need one that is completely and utterly ridiculous!”

You smile, knowing that he would say something like that. As if approaching a wild dog you put your hand out, offering yourself to him. Offering your vulnerability to him. Alfie stared down as thought it held an invisible gun, unsure what it was you held. Carefully and out of practice, he slowly slipped his hand in yours. Cool and smooth fingertips against is hot rough hands. Your hands so easily slips around his, finally finding its home. To Alfie’s absolute shock, he watches as your perfect thumb runs patterns and circles around his scarred knuckles and ornate rings. He watches the way your lashes flutter and soft smile blooms on your face. In a gentle caress to his ears you say, “You know you don’t have to keep it all inside. You can ask for help.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. But doesn’t move his hand away, “I don’t need help.”

You laugh, and he feels his heart skip, “Oh I’m sure you don’t. I’m sure you could run this entire thing by yourself.”

“I could.”

“I know.”

Alfie hums, satisfied that he’s won enough. You sit in silence, the muffled sounds of the distillery and street below being the only signs that you’re still on Earth. Alfie never moved his hand, never responding to your ministrations beyond a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you… for… being here.” Alfie finally breaks the silence. He can’t help the blush that rises to his ears and cheeks. He can’t look away from the smile on your perfect lips.

You nod at him, squeezing his hand and shaking it. “Always.”

[rainbowchaox]

Purgatory Pissa Masterpost Part 1:

Look guys Missa hasn’t streamed again since day 1 of the event! So I was thinking to make it easier for artists and fic writers to remember canon moments. And I am HAVING thoughts. And feeling the need to yet again be “normal” about my favorite cubitos.

Let’s be honest. Philza was so happy to see Missa was online it was adorable. In Philza POV he practically started the zooming into Missa from the top of the wall. HUSBAND SPOTTED! And the amount of joy between them seeing each other again! THEY MISSED EACH OTHER SO MUCH!!!

Then Missa! Finally got a little brave and practically demanded Philza to give him a HUG. And guys I squealed watching it live. And philza immediately GAVE his husband a hug. And then tubbo immediately was like “are you guys gonna kiss and shit?” And PHILZA broke. Like HMMM why you hesitating why the confusion. Like DO YOU WANNA KISS HIM YOU REPRESSED CROW-

Then we also have to talk about THAT scene. The scene where quite frankly Missa just stared at his husband pecs as Philza canonically flexed- causing Philza to quickly get shy. Missa is so down bad that even I was like “MISSA PLEASE!”. This is the same man in the same stream where he legit called a painting of Philza “papacito” which I learned is like the Spanish version of “daddy”. Which Missa was very judged by his own chat for. It was hilarious. Cubito Missa was a different breed of simping and yearning this stream. I wish I made all of this up, but nope IT HAPPENED CANONICALLY. AND THEY EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL?!?

But what everyone should focus on the most is when cucurocho said quesadilla island was a paradise. Mr Simpfonia himself immediately agreed because and I quote “Philza is here”. THIS IS BIG! Because EVEN Missa knows the island is horrible. Chayanne is gone for Void Sakes. BUT ITS PARADISE TO MISSA BECAUSE HE LOVES PHILZA- I’m so normal about this dudes. Because even spiderbit can’t say the island is paradise because they met each other on the island, but Missa casually says it like it didn’t rewrite pissa warriors brain chemistry. Something something Philza is comfort and safety to Missa. He loves Philza so much. Truly a bleeding heart with loyalty so strong it’s titanium.

And can we all talk about how Philza when they were separated waved goodbye to Missa when Missa back was turned? Philza doesn’t show affection through words. But by actions. Something something he is already missing Missa. The tsundere crow. JUST ADMIT YOU LOVE HIM-

Also Missa before all of this showing off his aquarium apartment. And casually says “The point is so Philza doesn’t notice so we can stay close to him” BITCH ITS PHILZA AND MISSA FOR A REASON! Did you forget the double bed?!?!!!? Pissa love each other so much it’s slowly becoming a obsession. Not to mention mISSA in general hauntings Philza thoughts (dude checked the map to see Missa when he died-) we get it Philza you love him and are sad you got spilt up. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE YOU NEVER GET TO SEE YOU HUSBAND AND MISS HIM-

Another great moment is when Missa heard his own team mates saw Philza and immediately was possessive and protective DESPITE THEM ACTUALLY BEING ON ENEMY SIDES was like “No don’t hurt my man”. Missa wants his husband to be safe. And nice to know his possessive streak is healthy as ever. Philza is HIS man. I swear Missa we get it- YOU LOVE HIM. THEY MAKE ME CRAZY. And guys it was a experience watching Missa POV. Because he was ignoring all the death and chaos in the chat BUT the moment when Missa saw Philza die his whole face changed expressions. Philza was the only death he reacted too I ain’t lying.

Now for the best part of the stream, Missa causally entered the VC of red team. And I quote “I’m not part of your team but I wanna tell you I love you guys”. PHILZA IMMEDIATELY SAID I LOVE YOU BACK. Of course everyone else was suspicious of Missa being so nice and called him a manipulator while Philza immediately was like “No he wouldn’t do that”. PHILZA TRUSTS MISSA SO MUCH-

LIKE WE UNDERSTAND! You guys are always on each other minds. We were fed so much! And I can’t wait to see what other cute pissa moments we get in the future- I hope you enjoyed my rambling essay. I feel like there should be a masterpost of pissa moments in case anyone needed a refresher! Will make Part 2 once we get more cute pissa moments!

[candycandy00]

Pick Me Up - A Gojo x Reader x Geto Halloween Fanfic Part 1

Gojo and Geto are two serial killers who enjoy seducing their victims before killing them. Every year on Halloween they have a friendly competition, and this year the target they both choose is you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The first two parts will be fairly short and just serve to set up the way these two operate. The third part starts the “main part”. Any feedback or comments are greatly appreciated! Divider by @violetbudd

Smut. 18+. Fem Readers. Implied death/blood/gore (“offscreen” for now). Consensual sex. Gojo and Geto are both bisexual. First part is Gojo x Reader only. Geto will be the focus of part 2.

Unbelievable. You left your house with nearly a full tank of gas. Now, just thirty minutes later, your car is running on fumes on the darkest, loneliest highway in the area. You even double checked when you stopped at that gas station just outside of town to grab snacks. 

You’re on your way to one of several Halloween parties taking place this weekend in the days leading up to the actual holiday. This one was supposed to be one of the best, out on the old Johnson farm. 

But now you find yourself forced to pull over on the side of the road because your stupid car is out of gas. Must be a leak, you figure as you cut the engine and grab your phone from the passenger seat. You groan when you realize there’s no service. Of course not. You’re out in the boonies. 

With an annoyed sigh you climb out of your car and hold your phone in the air, trying to catch a bar or two. No luck. Glancing at your car, you wonder if you could actually see gas leaking from the bottom if you look. But you don’t want to ruin your sexy Little Red Riding Hood costume. The skirt is so short and so tight that you don’t think it’s physically possible to squat down in it. 

You walk a few steps away, still holding your phone up, still hoping for a signal. This is the last place you want to be stranded. Over the past two weeks, four different women close to your age have been found murdered along this road. Their deaths were gruesome, violent, and bloody. Two of them had their guts ripped completely out. The other two had apparently been skinned alive. Someone leaked a crime scene photo online and you saw it without meaning to. You couldn’t eat for two days after that. 

So when you hear the sound of an approaching vehicle slowing down, you feel a mix of fear and relief. It could be someone who could help you. It could be a crazed serial killer. 

You turn to look back toward your car, and your heart feels like it freezes in place when you see the rusty white van with blacked out windows pulling over. It might as well have had a huge sign on the side that said “Axe Murderer Inside!”

The thought crosses your mind to just run. But then you remember you’re wearing stiletto heels and an outfit that would be practically impossible to run in. Plus, whoever this is obviously saw you and are in a working vehicle. Running would do you absolutely no good. 

You walk slowly back to your car, and as you start to pass by the van, the window rolls down on the passenger side. You nervously glance inside. Leaning across from the driver’s seat is a man wearing dark sunglasses. His hair is snowy white, styled in that way that looks slightly messy but was clearly done on purpose. He has a young, incredibly handsome face, and when he pulls his sunglasses down to look at you, he has the most breathtaking blue eyes you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

You can’t help blushing a little as you notice those gorgeous eyes moving up and down your figure. Your skimpy costume covers very little, and definitely enhances what it does cover. 

“I ran out of gas,” you tell him. “I think I have a leak.”

“Want me to take a look?” he asks, a friendly smile on his face. 

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

He cuts the van’s engine and gets out. When he walks around to your side of the van and you get a full view of him, you feel yourself clamping your thighs together. 

Oh fuck, he’s hot. Like, really really hot. 

He’s tall enough to tower over you, and his loose black jacket does little to conceal how his toned body moves under his clothes. When he steps closer, you can smell expensive cologne, and when he squats down beside your car, his thighs spreading apart, you have to fight the urge to insert yourself right between his legs. 

The man bends his head down and looks under your car, holding his shades in his hand. “I don’t see anything. Are you sure you didn’t forget to gas up?”

“I’m sure,” you tell him. 

He stands back up and comes to stand right in front of you, his height dwarfing yours. “I can give you a lift. Where are you headed?”

“Oh, could I just borrow your phone?” you ask with a smile. “I can get a friend to pick me up.” 

“No service out here, sweetheart, but I’d be happy to take you wherever you want.”

You stare at him, weighing your options. You know it’s dangerous to get in a vehicle with a strange man at night. Especially one in a van like this, on a road where women are turning up murdered. But hot damn he’s gorgeous! The thought of being in an enclosed space with him is soaking your tiny thong panties. 

Fuck it. I’m taking my chances. 

“Do you know where the old Johnson farm is?” you ask him. 

He grins. “Sure do. Hop in.”

He opens the passenger side door for you and even helps you climb in. Like a gentleman. You wonder if this gentleman knows how badly you want to suck his dick as you slide into the seat. 

As the two of you drive toward the Johnson farm, your mind races for ideas on how you could get him to join you at the party. Your friends will be so jealous if you show up with a snack like him on your arm. You watch him as he drives, admiring his large but elegant looking hands on the steering wheel, imagining them grabbing your ass. 

He glances sideways at you. “So what’s going on at the farm tonight?”

“A Halloween party,” you answer. 

“That explains the outfit then,” he says with a laugh, his eyes roaming over you again. 

You cross and uncross your legs, trying to draw attention to your bare thighs. “You can come too if you want. It’s open invitation.”

He gives you a look that makes you melt, a knowing look, as if he can read your mind. “I’ll think about it,” he says, his eyes torn between the road and your legs. 

You settle into the seat, subtly letting your legs spread slightly apart. There’s enough room for him to put his hand up your skirt. You hope he’s thinking about that. 

The night outside the van window zips past you, and as you look out, you realize he’s missed the turn off to get to the farm. “Hey,” you say suddenly, “you missed the turn.”

He doesn’t slow down at all, but glances at you and asks, “I did? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it was back there on the right.”

He doesn’t reply to you. Instead, he pulls off the road and drives down a dirt path, lined on either side with trees. You feel your heart pounding when he stops the van in a dark and empty place. 

He gives you a sultry sidelong look, his beautiful eyes seeming to glow in the darkness of the van. “Do you really wanna go to some stupid Halloween party?” he asks. “Or do you wanna get fucked in the back of my van?”

The brief spike of fear you felt when he parked instantly vanishes. You suddenly lean forward and kiss him, practically crawling across the seat. He kisses you back, his lips soft but crushing, his tongue in your mouth, the taste of him sweet. 

After a moment he pulls away and looks you in the eyes. “Want me to rearrange your insides?”

“Fuck, yes, please!” you breathe out. “I want you inside me!”

He runs his tongue across your lips and grins. “Oh I’ll be inside you alright.”

Minutes later, you’re in the back of his van, your micro mini skirt hiked up around your waist and your corset style top untied halfway down, allowing your breasts to spill out. The back of the van is big enough for you to stand up straight, but the insanely sexy stranger has to hunker down a bit to fit. 

You watch with almost unbearable anticipation as he opens his black pants and pulls his cock out. It’s rock hard, and fucking enormous. You’ve had plenty of dick in your life, but this one might be a challenge. 

A challenge you’re excited to accept. 

Soon enough he has you pinned underneath him, the two of you on the floor of the van, his mouth on your neck, one hand in your hair and the other bracing himself as he thrusts into you with wild abandon. 

He’s good. Almost too good. You’ve never been fucked so hard or so deep in your life, and you wonder how the hell you’re supposed to be satisfied with any other guy from now on. 

You don’t even know this man’s name, but you think you’re in love. 

He draws back to sit up on his knees, pulling your hips into his lap and fucking you from a slightly different angle, one that lets him go even deeper. You moan loudly, arching your back as his thumb strokes your clit. You’ve never felt more incredible than you do right now, cumming on a stranger’s massive cock in the back of a van. 

A few more thrusts later, you feel his grip on your hips tighten as his cock twitches inside you. 

You look up at him sharply. “Hey, don’t cum inside-“

“Too late,” he says as you feel him shoot a huge load directly into you. It feels fucking fantastic, but you’re not looking to get pregnant, and you wish he would have asked first. Oh well. What’s done is done. 

He slowly pulls out, and you lie back, catching your breath and giving him a perfect view of his cum leaking out of your pussy. Guys love that sort of thing, or so you’ve heard. You raise your head slightly to look a him, and those crystal blue eyes are indeed staring at your body. But there’s a strange look on his face. It’s not the expected desire or lust, but something else. Something frightening. 

He turns and begins rummaging through a box near the back. When he faces you again, he’s holding a rough-looking rope in one hand and a large shiny knife in the other. 

He grins at you. “I satisfied your hunger. Now you can satisfy mine.”

You start to get up, even though your legs are numb, but he quickly jumps down and uses his knees to press you to the floor. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you scream, struggling against his weight. 

He’s already wrapping the rope around your wrists, pulled above your head. “We’re gonna have fun all night long, Little Red Riding Hood,” he says with a devious, slightly unhinged smile. “The big bad wolf is here to gobble you up!”

The knife in his hand glints in the dim interior light of the van as he brings it closer to your body, then uses it to cut away the clothing that had bunched up around your waist. His hand rubs over your stomach, pressing slightly into the soft flesh. 

“I’m gonna dig around a bit in here,” he says, and all you can do is scream incoherently as he begins his grisly work. 

Tag List:

@loyal-to-my-dilf @unearthlydream @noodlejitsu @itzmeme 

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, please comment to let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged!

[simplydannie]

Velvet has made choices that now have her, her brother, and their new ally, Apollo, facing death at the outer ridge of Under Rageous called the Edge….

….that is until a certain someone comes in… and sacrifices himself for the twins…

(Not canon events but interesting AU to my AU lol)

��LET US GO!”

Velvet kicked and screamed as the Under Rageons held her captive. They had driven them to the Edge…. The edge of Under Rageous where a large fault lay, it fell forever into an eternal void, and eternal abyss…. No one knew what lay at the bottom… just a black void.

The Under Rageons pulled Velvet out of the car first. Followed by her brother, then the Strobe, Apollo…. The traitor.

“Déjame ir, cabron!” The Strobe muttered in Spanish. All three had their hands tied behind their back as they lead them close and closer to the edge of the fault.

“You don’t have the right to say anything anymore, puto.” A Strobe grasped Apollo by his hair and pushed him forward, causing him to stumble to the ground, “You failed. You said you were gonna bring the brats to us… but what did you decide to do…. Side with them instead. Do some flirting am I right.” He winked at Apollo, glancing towards the young female Succubi.

“Leave him alone!” Velvet cried out.

“Yeah. Yeah. We’ll leave him alone alright. Along with all you three… at the bottom of the Edge. Move it.” Pointing their guns the guided the three closer and closer. Veneer stood his ground in between the guns and his sister…

“Why are you punishing her? She did what you wanted. She got to you the resources. Let her go!” He stared down the Under Rageons surrounding them…. He hoped they couldn’t see him buckling at his knees… he was terrified, but having Velvet walk out of here alive was his one and only goal.

“Yeah. She did. Then she double crossed. Which in the line of the cartel…. Is a sin that needs to be punished.” The Rageon clicked his gun.

“Cool it! I’m the one who betrayed you. Not her. And not him. Deal with me.” Apollos spoke up standing in front of Veneer and Velvet.

“…. What…. No.” Velvet murmured.

“Oh don’t worry, we’ll make sure to make you pay. Now stand in a line. NOW!”

“LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE! BASTARD!” Veneer flared as the yanked Velvet away from him.

“Oh, little puppy has a bark guys!” They all laughed.

They pushed and pulled them standing in a row at the edge of the fault. They faced the Edge, looking down at the dark void that awaited them at the bottom…. This was there end. Veneer looked at his sister…

“…Run…” He whispered to her, “Run once you get the chance, okay, Vels. I’ll give you time.”

She shot a glare at him, “What? And leave you behind?! No.” He could see the tears beginning to sting her eyes, “This….This is my fault…”

“…No it’s not, carina.” She heard Apollo say, “….We all screwed up…Especially me. You two run. I can hold them off long enough I think.” He winked at Velvet.

“No!….I’m not leaving you either…” She murmured.

“…Vels, please…” Veneer begged…They could hear the gun click as the Under Rageons prepared to fire, “…Please run…”

“ENOUGH!” A loud familiar, deep voice emerged from behind them. They all turned…the twins heart sank: it was their dad. “….Let them go. Let them all go.”

Vaughn demanded. All the Under Rageons around were the ones with guns, Vaughn was not armed, yet, they all trembled at his presence…

“Let. Them. Go.” He demanded again.

“No, no, no. That’s an option, mi amigo.” Another voice emerged. Making his way down through his goons was Eros, the Strobe mafia leader… Vaughns rival… no one hated Vaughn more than him, and Mistress of course. “Your daughter double crossed my cartel. That’s a big no no. So, she has to pay. Along with the rest of her little gang.”

Vaughn turned to face his daughter, “Dad…. I’m…. I’m sorry okay. I just…. I was desperate… so wanted to be my own person, prove I can make my own choices…. I didn’t…. I didn’t mean for any of this… especially bringing Veneer into this…. I’m….. I’m sorry.” Tears strolled down her cheeks as she looked her father in the eyes. What did she right now? A hug…. She wants to run into her father’s like she had so many times, and finally just embrace him.

“You’re willing to kill your own son?” Vaughn turned back to Eros.

“Not much of a son really. Double crossed me in order to help your brats.” Eros spat, “Now if you excuse me. I have some death wishes to grant.” He singled for his men to prepare to fire. Hesitantly they brought up their guns as they carefully eyed Vaughn.

Veneer took his place in front of his sister again, hoping he’d take most of the hits… Apollo stood his ground next to him as well.

“You got balls, amigo.” He smiled at Veneer.

“Thanks? I think?”

“It’s a compliment. Hermano to hermano .”

“Oh! Well, thanks!” Veneer beamed at the Strobe.

The guns clicked, but Vaughn spoke again, “…. Appeal.”

“Wait!” Eros stopped, “what did you say?” An evil grin coming to his face.

“Appeal. You know what that means. You know the code.”

“Oh I do! You not trying to play tricks are you, take me for a fool?”

“No. I came here alone, unarmed….I appeal.” Vaughn swallowed the lump in his throat. Eros smirked. With a single gesture of his hand his guards removed the three Rageons from the ledge.

“What? What does that mean? Dad, what does that mean?” Veneer demanded as he struggled against their grasped, “what does that mean?!”

One guard went over to Vaughn, afraid to touch him, he simply gestured for Vaughn to move closer to the edge, “…. Hey! Hey what gives!? Dad!? What gives?” Veneer called out again, tears falling down his face.

“….Im sorry…. It’s the only way I can protect you. Both of you…. You’re survivors… I know you got this.” He looked at both his children with the most sincere look…. The look of a father.

“…..Daddy….” Velvet murmured, a pitch coming to her voice as she tried to fight back the tears, “I’m sorry. We’ll figure this out okay. Just come away from the ledge. We’ll figure it out.” She spoke, her voice shaking as she began to cry.

“…. Look away sweetheart.”

“No! Daddy please! Please! Please no!” She cried, trying to pull herself free to run to her father, “Daddy please!”

“….. I love you….. both of you… so much…”

BANG!

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the fault… within moments their father was gone…. His body being sent down to the abyss.

“NO!” They both cried as they ran to the ledge. Apollo was quick at their heels. He grasped Veneer by the wrist as he fell to his knees, reaching over the ledge, crying out for his father. He was able to grasp Velvet by her arm.

“Let go! Let go!” She cried clawing at his hands

“I’m sorry…. I’m so, so sorry…” The Strobe murmured, tears forming in his own eyes.

“Let go!!! I need to get him!” She cried at the tops of her lungs.

“We need to make sure he’s okay! Let go!” Veneer began pulling his wrist away.

“…. He’s gone…. I’m so sorry….. but he’s gone…” Apollo closed his eyes as the twins let out the most gut wrenching cries he’d ever hear. Velvet fell into his arms, Veneer fell to his own knees.

Laughter approached. Eros went over to peak over the ledge. He spat at the abyss below, “If I knew this is what it would take for him to surrender so calmly I would’ve done this along time ago!!! Finally, the unde city is mine! Mine!!” He turned to his goons, “I just killed Vaughn Montegue once and for all!…. Get their asses tied up and back in the car!”

They went over to the three Rageons. The twins struggled against them still crying, still yelling for their father at the top of their lungs…..

Behind the thicket near the edge, small eyes watched as everything unraveled…

The small gasps and cries.

“…. Oh my god….” Poppy’s voice murmured.

“….. they….. they killed their dad…. Right in front of them.” Branches small voice echoed out. Her turned to face his brother next to him, “He knew…. He knew this would happen, wouldn’t he….”

Floyd stood silent. His head hung low….

“Take care of them for me. Be the father they always deserved….” Vaughns voice echoed through his skull. Yes…. The older Rageon knew what was to happen… to save his children… he sacrificed himself…Floyd wiped the tear that fell from his eye… his heart shattering into two.

“…. He’s with his wife now…. And my promise to both of them…. Take care of their children.” He looked at Branch and Poppy, “Let’s go save them.”

[shini--chan]

Hey, could I request yandere Allies punishing dear reader, only to realize afterwards that the Allies themselves misplased the knife ect? And thank you for the amazing writing you do!

The pleasure is mine, dear. And please people, don’t read this during, or after eating - this especially refers to the France part of this post. Rated mature for reasons. 

Trigger warnings: Attempted murder, temporary death, body horror, gore, domestic violence, animal death

Yandere Allies - Oversight

America

Now that had been unexpected, it occured to Alfred while he was in limbo. Limbo generally was a weird place, and it was best to focus on the internal going ons, than the external happenings. The alien geometries and starburst fractals and the unliving creatures haunting the semi-shadows would only make the aroma of his own death linger longer in his mouth should he inspect them. No need to pass over to the other side yet, either - he wasn't at the end of his life either. 

You were going to be in so much trouble when he got back. All that blood on his desk, it really wouldn't do. Perhaps he should force you to clean it up. Couldn't you have opted for a less bloody option, than slitting his throat? For all that you claimed to be kinder and fairer than him, with your modus operandi you had demonstrated that you were anything but that. And you called him a hypocrite. 

All of this because of your damn attitude problems and a misplaced knife. Hormone imbalance, mayhaps? He should have you take a blood test, just to make sure that a thyroid dysfunction wasn't on the table. 

Slowly the connection to his physical body started to reestablish itself and he felt the chill of death creep in his bones. Thankfully, due to his superpower status, his time in the limbo was relatively short and his body was therefore not too cold when he returned to it. Though, the dead time had been increasing as of late, and that was worrying all on its own. Something he would have to look at another time, though. 

Air entered his lungs and his heart gradually started pumping again. His throat felt like shit, but thankfully was closed. By the feel of it, you had covered it after you had murdered him. Speaking of you, he felt your hands rummaging in his jacket pockets. Rude. 

With some effort, he cracked his eyes open and observed you through his half-closed eyelids. He was on the floor, spread-eagle. Even through the postmortem blurr, he could recognise that you were pale beyond belief and you were shaking. The hands searching his person were frantic and your breathing was erratic. As his sense of smell kicked in, he caught the sharp sting of bile floating from his waste paper basket. 

Double Rude. If you had to kill someone, best not be a pussy about it and not vomit after doing the deed. Blazes, what was wrong with you that you couldn't even murder somebody probably? Maybe he'd have you kill one of those rats that once had vyed for your attention. Good riddance and a lesson all in one, that would be fantastic. 

Now, just to get your attention.

A hand wrapped around one of your ankles, and with his sight becoming clearer, he could see how your eyes went wide. Hands froze, and you turned your head to look down in that slow, comical fashion that was so typical of horror movie protagonists. When you screamed, he yanked your leg out from underneath you, causing the scream to morph into a yelp. 

Now this was funny

Given how distracted Alfred can get, he'll probably overlook where he placed the knife and will only realise what happened when it is too late. The best course of action would be to book it. If you want further time then you'd have to put Alfred even further out of commision, so that more time is spent healing.

When he does get you again, he'll be borderline manic and you can be assured that whatever punishment shall commence will be worse than the one that allowed you to obtain the knife in the first place.

Canada

"I do hope you just have the knife 'cause you wanna cook something", he remarked. Matthew didn't even look up from where he was plucking his eyebrows, just kept staring intently in the small beautician mirror he had before him. There were more important things than you waving a knife around as if you knew how to use it. You couldn't even chop vegetables properly.

"And what if I don't?", you asked snidely. Slippers scraped against the floorboards as you approached him. Turning the mirror just so, he saw you over his shoulder, with a knife held high. Was your pallor and trembling due to the blood loss, fear, or both?

"You wouldn't dare to kill me. We both know that."

"How can you be so sure? After everything you've done to me, why shouldn't I?", you asked in return. Your voice wasn't even - it cracked and faltered at the end of some words and he had to strain his hearing to make out the others.

The personification turned around slowly, intent on being dramatic. He jad seen Alfred and his Lord Father do so often enough for him to be able to imitate them perfectly. 

There you were standing, holding the never some knife he had used to cut paper fine cuts in your back, a tally of all the spanks he had inflicted on you. You had been so upset, the humiliation and pain forcing tears from your eyes. Not surprising that you were having a tantrum, therefore.

Matthew was taller than you and therefore it was so easy to look down on you. 

"You've never hurt somebody. You wouldn't even dare cut a bunny's throat and then skin it, even if your life depends on it. Everytime somebody talks about organs and blood for more than five minutes, you become green. Do you really think it is believable when you say you want to injure me? Or even go further than that and kill me? 

So stop lying to yourself. You don't have the guts to kill me, 'cause that would mean staining your ledger with red", he explained, and with each other word, took a step closer to you. Eventually, you had to tilt your head back to look him in the eye.

 Trembling like a frightened rabbit, you clutched the blade even tighter to make sure it didn't fall out of your hand. No further words were said, but there was no need, for when he met no resistance when he pried the implement out of your grasp, he knew his words had hit home. 

It would come as no surprise to Canada should you approach him with a knife and malicious intent. Judging from your past reactions to punishments, it would be a given that you would act out more than usual, should you get your hands on a weapon

He would be willing to let it slide, as a way of showing just how inconsequential you arming yourself is to him. It is not like you can gain the upper hand over him or something of the sort, so why should he punish you for that? Besides, he is more angry with himself for making such a mistake. He is supposed to set a standard, to have a certain image in your mind. How can he have that if he is constantly slipping up?

China

The steel felt cold against your skin. This whole thing was rather silly, even petty. It wasn't like that you didn't have unrestricted access to a whole assortment of knives. Heavens, it would take little convincing for Yao to let you take up fencing, and with historical swords for that. With a little work, you could then turn a blunted long sword into a sharp blade. This was more about the principal than the outcome.

Yao was enjoying a book on the couch, as was typical for a workday evening. There was even a cup of tea … no, herbal infusion on the table beside him and every now and then he would reach over and take a few sips. 

You just had to get your timing correct. 

After a few minutes of waiting, he finally reached over again and that was the moment you chose to strike. Quickly, you lunged in order to cross the space in the blink of an eye and rammed the knife downward.

The ugly screech of metal being embedded in wood filled the room, and the steel glinted crimson with droplets of blood. Yao hadn't even let go of the tea cup, now lifted slightly off the table surface. What he had done was spill some tea. 

There wasn't even a change in expression when he fixed his eyes on you. The cup exchanged hands and your partner lifted his hand to his mouth and sucked the blood away that was seeping out of the shallow cut in his hand.

"That was planned?", he finally inquired, his hand falling down to the table. He pushed himself upright and set the cup back down. 

It was kind of strange, now. You were kneeling at his feet and he was sitting above you, like you were some child begging for leniency from the patriarch of the family. 

"Yes."

"Don't tell me you are still upset about me eating the last of your chocolates."

"That is what you think this is about. No, it is about the dress."

"Really? That is even worse than the chocolate argument."

"Excuse you, but not everybody takes it well when you cut a dress from their body and burn it in the fireplace. It was new!"

Thin eyebrows shot up and he gave you a nasty sneer as he recalled the incident that had occured last weekend. Oh, he had made it so apparent that he hated seeing that piece on you. 

"Why would you insist on clothing your body with that filth gifted to you by that mutt? He wasn't doing it to be a friend, he was doing it because he wanted you in his bed."

Scoffing, you rose to your feet and brushed the dirt of the trousers you were wearing. 

"Don't you think I noticed? He was being rather obvious about it. And before you accuse me of wanting to sleep with him - no, just no. But I wasn't going to say no to that expensive dress.

Since China wouldn't use the knife itself to directly harm you, he'll quickly brush this all off as an overreaction. Due to such an incident occurring rather early in the relationship, it would be easy to make you see your own actions as being unreasonable. Will do his best to make you feel guilty about the whole thing.

Would treat you like a brat afterwards. You better think of something good to make up to him. This treatment would go on for a while until you "prove" to him that you are mature. Yao will use this incident to his advantage in the future - such as making you turn two blind eyes to his red flags so that you can't be accused of overreacting. 

England

Arthur had his features drawn together in a pinched expression. Muscles in his cheeks jumped as he visibly kept his anger in check. Stretch a hand out to you. 

"Now, now darling. Be good and give me the knife", he said, with that soft, light tone that was more fitting when talking to a child than with you. It made your skin crawl. It made you grip the knife in your hand ever tighter. 

"No."

"Don't draw this out longer than it has to be. Give me the knife, and then you can go curl up on the couch 'till I'm finished tending to the fire.”

He was trying so hard to reason with you, to persuade you into complying with his will. But you know, that if you do, he’ll be no more lenient with you, than if you hadn’t. That is the part of the inherent cruelty of Arthur Kirkland. He is a callous and selfish man, who parades his supposed virtues not out of the pureness of his heart, but because they are fashionable. With you, there are enough times when he forgoes keeping up appearances, because it is not like you can leave him. 

And so the sheathed blades are unsheathed, and if you step out of line, a world of pain awaits you, both in the metaphorical and the literal sense. Arthur has an ideal that he wants you to live up to, and he doesn’t take it well when you break the mould. 

He took a step forward, and you one back. This couldn’t go on. Constantly he goaded you on being weak-willed and therefore needing him to make major decisions in your life - this was the opportunity to make him eat his words. 

All factors weren’t considered when you charged forwards, blade thrusted forward and aimed at the heart. The next few seconds passed in a blur, but afterwards, looking back on it, you knew what happened: 

The fire poker was pointed downwards and used to push the kitchen knife to the side. With the momentum you had put in the move, you weren’t able to take a step back and redeploy. His right arm wound itself around your outstretched one, fastening you to his side. The poker moved swiftly, swinging over the outer side of your elbow and the tip found its home at your jugular. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted to be subdued by me. You know how aroused I get when I get to tame you. So tell me, did you want this all along?”, he asked coyly. 

A wild spark danced in his eyes, not akin to one that you had ever seen before. A hunter that only went after the biggest, most dangerous quarry and delighted in the fight itself. The scent of blood and sweat, the screams of the dying - you had feared Arthur before, but this was a different story. There had been to much ease with how simply he turned the tables. Perhaps fears of him being a berserker at heart were well founded. 

You tried to wind out of the lock, and subsequently bent your arm. Thankfully, the poker was no longer a few milimetres from penetrating your neck, but now it was pressing you down by the elbow. The strength behind the move forced you to give in and follow the course that Arthur was directing you to. Being led around like that, you were forced to make an arc around him. The fire poker pressed your elbow towards him, giving you no choice but to flop down on your back. 

Hand and metal implement vanished and you breathed deeply. Arthur was still standing in front of the fireplace, the fire shining behind him. That, and with him standing over you, made him look like some angel about to punish you for your sins. 

“If you have to attack, then never do so half heartedly or when full of rage. I can tell you this, because either way, you never stand a chance of winning against me.”

Arthur would be very irritated in this whole matter. But if you are so insistent, then he’ll gladly play teacher to his new, so willing pupil and give you a lesson that you wouldn’t forget so fast. With all the years of combat experience and practice in swordsmanship under his belt, his victory would be a given. He would even go so far as to say he would be able to defeat you with a cooking spoon. 

Would make a whole game out of it. It has been so long since he has had a decent sparring partner that he might as well train you up to par. That way, he could easily demonstrate his superiority on a regular basis, he would have the perfect conditions to bully you, and you would get to release all those pesky emotions of yours that otherwise make you so disagreeable. Win-win, right?

France

You glowered at France. The bastard was sitting across from you, arms crossed in front of him and with a disgustingly smug grin on his obnoxious face. It was sickening really, the whole thing was sickening, and he was acting as if justice had been served. 

So far, you had managed to avoid eating the meat part of the dish, and had wasted a lot of time pushing around the chips and carrots before consuming them. The piece of meat was covered with cheese, something that you had decided on so that you wouldn't have to see it, that you wouldn't have to smell it.

Cooking your beloved pet had been bad enough as it was. The scent of blood still lingered in your nose, and even now that last panicked scream echoed in your ears. 

Now it would be time to start eating it; there was nothing else left on your plate.

You wanted to puke. 

Grabbing sideways, you managed to get the knife in your grasp. You didn't even look as to where the offending thing went exactly. Eyes were just focused on his face, and the time went in that general direction. He even had to duck.

The next moments didn't register by you, as you buried your face in your hands and sobbed loudly. All of this just because of one man's jealousy. With a sweeping motion, you sent the plate crashing to the floor, not caring that the results of you resisting your punishment. 

You just wanted this whole nightmare to be over. 

France wouldn't really be the sort to resort to physical violence, except if very specific circumstances apply, like war, colonialism or dealing with treason to the nation. Since that can't really be expected, the knife would be an instrument in your psycological torture. In the case described above, that would take the form of forcing you to kill, process and eat a pet that he is jealous of. 

In his eyes, you should be his lover and not share your love with somebody or something that isn't him or his. If you would not let him bask in your love and attention, then drastic measures shall be needed. And what is more valuable than a life? 

Russia

With a nauseating squelch, the knife buried itself in the meat of his shoulder. Blood sprayed upwards and some of it immediately seeped out of the wound. A loud grunt broke the silence as your victim was torn from his sleep through the violence. 

You wanted to wrench the blade out while you still had the chance, but it was harder to pull out than you thought. Perhaps the force behind the blow had been enough to lodge the knife in the bone. It apparently wasn't sharp enough to effortlessly slide out of it. 

On top of that, Ivan scooted out of the bed before you could dislodge the blade, fast despite the injury and the sleep weariness. Your captor stood a good few metres away, the twilight of the room making him look like some giant beast. The heavy panting and the knife handle sticking out of his shoulder only added to that image. 

"Are you insane?", he hissed. 

One large hand reached up and pulled. Now the blade came out in a fluid motion, and drops of blood sprayed forward. Due to the very loose nightshirt that he was wearing, you hadn't managed to emesh the fabric with the wound - the metal had only penetrated human tissue. 

Ivan hadn't even let out a single grunt of pain. Even now, when blood was running down his chest, then disappearing down the hemline of the shirt, staining it red, he seemed unfazed.

"You're one to talk", you snapped back. "Did it never occur to you that I might get fed up with the way you treat me and decide to retaliate?" 

He scoffed and stepped closer to you. The knife was tossed to the side, and he glowered. 

"And did it ever occur to you that I don't punish you because I find it fun, but because you need to learn that your actions have consequences? You are not some child, so you should know better than to think I'll simply let you do as you please. Though, from the stunt you've pulled now, I'm actually inclined to reassess my thoughts about your maturity", he stated. 

With each word, he took a step closer until his toes were touching yours. A strange crawling motion could be seen in the area of the wound, like it didn't want to accept the parting. 

"Oh, and weren't you of that same opinion when you put me over your knee and gave me a hiding with the flat side of that blade?", you challenged him. Oh the terror had quickly morphed into humiliation once you had realised what was going on. 

"Perhaps you should stop behaving like a sugar-addled brat then."

The skin and meat knitted itself together, a grotesk acceleration and bastardisation of the natural heal process. Ivan signed in relief and took his attention off of you and inspected the scarless skin, rolling his shoulder and flexing his muscles. 

Your heart dropped and your thoughts slowed to a standstill in shock. You had severely underestimated him.

"And also not turn to being a traitor. You know very well what I do with those."

Ivan would take your actions against him as treason and if there is something that he can't tolerate, it is a traitor. Gone are all the privileges and outings and affection. If you aren't quick to make up to him and express your remorse and see the error of your ways, you're going to have a long road ahead of you. You'll have to work hard to get back into his good graces; even just getting him to treat you with human decency would take a while. 

In his eyes, if you choose such disproportionate retaliation in response to his actions, then you either have an attitude problem or something went wrong in your upbringing. He'll be happy to correct that. It'll range from what you are allowed to eat, to the media you consume, to your bedtime. Imagine a strict headmistress or matron. 

A/N: The move I described is actually a real technique used with one handed sword. It was a cool day learning that one. 

France was hard to write, so I decided to keep it short.