#though at this point i suspect i know a little too much to claim to be clueless
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rafedarling · 5 months ago
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𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬
requested by @gracerose68
pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader
summary: five years after outer banks ended, drew and you are enjoying life together, despite your ten-year age gap. loved by the entire cast, you are considered part of the “obs fam.” during a group vacation to ibiza, you starts feeling off and realizes you might be pregnant. caught between your fears of drew’s reaction and the unwavering support of your “siblings,” you discovers that love, family, and unexpected surprises can lead to beautiful new beginnings.
warning(s): english is not my native language. unplanned pregnancy, emotional vulnerability, fluff, humor, mild swearing, supportive friendships.
au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated.
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Your and the other actor of Outer Banks group chat was always filled with energy.
Chase: “Ibiza is happening! Flights booked. Who’s ready for sunburns and bad decisions?”
Rudy: “I call dibs on the best room. Drew, don’t fight me this time.”
JD: “This isn’t Outer Banks, Rudy. No treasure hunt to claim a room.”
Madelyn: “Can we focus? Who’s bringing sunscreen?”
Madison: “Y/N will bring it. She always has everything.”
You glanced up from your phone and smirked at Drew, who was scrolling through the same messages.
“They’re not wrong.”
“You’re like the group’s mom,” Drew teased, pulling you closer on the couch.
“Well, somebody has to keep you lot alive.” You poked his side, earning a soft laugh.
The trip to Ibiza had been a long time coming. Between work schedules and personal commitments, it had been years since the Outer Banks cast had been in the same place together. Despite not being a cast member, you were as much a part of the group as anyone else. Drew’s friends had embraced you with open arms, making you feel like family.
It wasn’t always easy being ten years younger than Drew. At 24, you were still navigating adulthood, while Drew, at 34, was more settled. But your love for each other made the age gap feel insignificant.
The first day in Ibiza was pure of laugh and every other things. About the villa, it was breathtaking, with whitewashed walls, infinity pools, and views of the sparkling Mediterranean. Everyone quickly settled into vacation mode, with plans for beach days, exploring the island, and late-night conversations by the firepit.
By the second day, though, you couldn’t shake the nagging exhaustion and nausea that had crept in. It wasn’t like you to feel so drained, especially when surrounded by people you loved.
As the group lounged on the beach, Drew noticed you sitting quietly under the shade of an umbrella.
“Hey,” he said softly, crouching beside you. “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”
You forced a smile, brushing off his concern.
“Just tired. I think the travel caught up with me.”
His brow furrowed, but he didn’t push.
“Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Always.”
Later that afternoon, a small girl wandered toward the group, her tear-streaked face melting everyone’s hearts.
“Where’s your mommy?” you asked gently, kneeling in the sand to meet her gaze.
The little girl sniffled and pointed toward the other end of the beach. Without hesitation, you held her hand, reassuring her until her mother arrived.
“You’re an angel,” the mother said gratefully before walking away.
“You’d make such a great mom,” Madison said, nudging Drew with a grin.
“She really would,” Drew agreed, his eyes soft as they met yours.
Your stomach flipped, but not in the good way. His words felt like confirmation of what you’d been suspecting but were too scared to admit.
That night, while everyone gathered in the living room for a movie, you excused yourself and retreated to the bathroom. With shaking hands, you retrieved the pregnancy test you’d packed.
The seconds felt like hours as you stared at the test, unable to bring yourself to flip it over.
A knock on the door startled you.
“It’s Madelyn. Are you okay?”
You quickly hid the test and opened the door, forcing a smile.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Madelyn’s sharp eyes darted to the trash can, where the box sat in plain view.
“Y/N…” she began, her voice a mix of curiosity and concern. “Are you pregnant?”
Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded.
“I think so. I haven’t looked yet.”
Without hesitation, Madelyn wrapped you in a hug.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise. Let’s look together.”
With trembling hands, you flipped the test over. Two pink lines. Positive.
“Oh my god,” you whispered, the weight of the realization crashing down.
Madelyn pulled you close as you started to cry.
“It’s okay. Drew loves you. He’s going to be so excited.”
“But what if he’s not?” you sobbed.
“We’ve never talked about kids. What if this ruins everything?”
Madelyn shook her head.
“Stop. Drew adores you. He’s not going anywhere.”
Madelyn helped you gather the girls for a “mandatory ladies’ meeting” in the bathroom.
“Are you dying?” Rudy called after you jokingly as the girls shuffled upstairs.
“Very funny,” Carlacia shot back before closing the door.
Once everyone was inside, you took a deep breath and shared your news. The girls gasped, their reactions quickly turning to excitement.
“You’re going to be such a good mom!” Kelsea squealed.
“If Drew so much as blinks wrong, we’ve got your back,” Madison added, earning a round of laughter.
The next day, the guys decided to go bungee jumping, leaving the girls at the villa.
“You’re seriously not going to tell him yet?” Madison asked as you lounged by the pool.
“I’m scared,” you admitted.
“You can’t keep this from him forever,” Carlacia said gently.
“I know. I’ll tell him tonight.”
When the guys returned, you greeted Drew with a tight hug. “I missed you.”
“I was gone for a few hours,” he laughed, kissing your forehead.
At dinner, panic set in again when the waiter asked what you’d like to drink. Thankfully, Madelyn saved you by whispering to the waiter to make your cocktail virgin.
After dinner, the group gathered by the firepit, and the girls urged you again to tell Drew.
“You’ll feel so much better once it’s out in the open,” Madison said.
With a deep breath, you pulled Drew aside, leading him down to the villa’s private pier.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his worry evident.
“I have something important to tell you,” you began, your voice shaking.
Drew’s brows furrowed. “You’re scaring me.”
“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, tears streaming down your face.
“I know we haven’t talked about this, and if you don’t want —” you continue.
“Wait,” Drew interrupted, his eyes wide. “You’re pregnant?”
You nodded, unable to meet his gaze.
Drew pulled you into his arms, his grip firm yet comforting.
“Y/N, this is amazing. I love you. I love us. We’re going to be fine. I mean much better than fine.”
His words brought a fresh wave of tears, but this time, they were tears of relief.
Back at the villa, Drew insisted on sharing the news with the group.
“We’re having a baby!” he announced, his grin infectious.
The group erupted in cheers, with the guys tackling Drew in a congratulatory hug while the girls swarmed you.
“You’re stuck with us forever now,” Chase joked.
“You’ve been family for a while,” Rudy added, “but this seals it.”
As the night wound down, Drew pulled you close, his hand resting protectively on your stomach.
“You’ve given me everything I didn’t know I wanted,” he said softly.
You smiled, your fears finally melting away. Surrounded by love, you knew this was the start of a beautiful new chapter.
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hairmetal666 · 1 month ago
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Scandal follows Eddie Munson wherever he goes. He doesn't mean for it to, it just does. And, like, sure, he should've known that cavorting with a bunch of topless models in a hot tub in a chalet in the Swiss Alps was a bad idea, but 1) he's gay and 2) even if he wasn't, does anyone really care if a rockstar has an orgy these days?
Well, it turns out that they do. They do so much, in fact, that he hasn't known a moment's peace since the photos leaked. Every time they go outside, they're mobbed. Their socials are a disaster zone.
Chrissy, Jeff, Gareth, and Freak are sick of his shit, worried that this will ruin the world tour, which doesn't make any sense. All publicity is good publicity, right?
Anyway, he's not surprised when he, Chrissy, and the rest of the band are whisked away in a fancy car with dark-tinted windows, thinks they're about to fly home for a break. And honestly? Good riddance to Europe.
Imagine his surprise when he exits the car mere feet away from the sun soaked Mediterranean.
"Oh no. No, no, no." He says, trying to force his way back into the sedan.
"Oh, yes." Chrissy links her arm with his. "You need to lay low for a few days and this was the best I could manage on short notice."
He glares. "You know I hate boats."
"You do not," Gareth accuses.
"You're just mad at facing consequences for your actions," Jeff adds.
"I didn't do anything!" He wails.
Freak pulls out his phone, reads, "Munson, 26, has always been open about being gay, out of the closet since Corroded Coffin's first gig. Now, though, his sexuality is in question. Multiple women have come forward to claim they slept with the rockstar. And, while many of the women in the photo have said that Munson was 'deeply uninterested' in them, the fact remains that his antics are more Motley Crue than Troye Sivan."
Eddie groans up at the sky. "Why would I be anything like Troye Sivan!? I'm in a heavy metal band! And he's around boobies all the time! Honestly, has no one been to a rave?"
"Not since the 90's." Chrissy smiles brightly, continues up the dock.
"I'm never forgiving any of you for this."
"It's a luxury yacht, Eddie. You'll survive," Gareth says.
He very bravely does not point out that he's wearing black jeans and an over-sized black hoodie and black platform Doc Martens, so obviously he's not the type of person equipped for any kind of boat.
The conversation ends but only because, when they get up to the main deck and the crew waiting for them, he sees the most beautiful man in the world. Artfully messy sun-bronzed hair, strong jaw, classic nose, skin dotted with freckles. Aviators hide his eyes, but even the sunglasses look good on him. Not to mention the little white uniform that shows off all of his many many muscles.
Eddie stares at him, blatantly, unabashedly, totally missing the introduction to the rest of the crew.
As soon as he's left to his own devices, he locks himself in his cabin. Not even the chance to gawk at that hot guy can draw him out of his pout. They can force him onto a boat, but they can't make him enjoy it.
He lasts until afternoon the next day, when Jeff barges in, surprising him enough that the throws his phone with a very un-rockstar yelp.
"You have to come out." Jeff's arms are crossed over his chest.
"Nope." Eddie relaxes back into his pillows. "Not until this is over."
"So, you're going to stay in your room for a week?"
"Guess so."
"Orr, you could come out and enjoy yourself instead of pouting over what your own actions caused."
"My actions!" He shrieks. "My actions! I stumbled on a bunch of topless French models in a hot tub, and I'm at fault?"
"No, you being drunk enough to get in with them was the problem."
"I wasn't even that drunk! I just thought it was funny. They did too!"
Jeff sighs. "You get yourself into a situation more than any person I've ever met."
"See? It's not my fault."
"I mean. It kind of is. I suspect any other guy would learn how to avoid this."
"I'm not leaving."
"Man, Chrissy isn't going to let you stay in here."
"Too bad."
"She told me to carry you out, if I had to."
"You wouldn't."
"If you come out, you can chat up the cute bosun."
"The bos-what?"
"Bosun. The guy you were ogling when we boarded. His name is Steve. He's really nice. He--"
"I was not ogling him."
"Eddie. You looked like you wanted to eat him for dinner."
"I'm not leaving the room." He sing-songs.
Look, would he have fought so hard if he'd known that Jeff was strong enough to toss him over his shoulders and fireman-carry him out of the room and up the stairs? He would not.
Instead, he screams the whole way from his cabin to the deck, where he's unceremoniously deposited into a lounge chair next to Chrissy. She's in a hot pink bikini, sipping a cocktail.
"Good to see you." She deadpans.
He glares. "Et tu, Chrissy?"
From behind him, a rich voice calls out, "Glad you could join us." It is, of course, the hot bosun. He waves when he catches Eddie looking in his direction.
Eddie sinks down in the lounger, Chrissy stifling giggles against her elbow.
---
The thing is, Steve is nice. He's nice and he's funny and he's hardworking. He's good with the other deckhands, Dustin, Max, and Lucas; strict but fair and good at keeping everyone on task. The stewards, Nancy, Robin, and El, all love him. Sometimes, he'll be down on all fours scrubbing the deck, and his t-shirt will bunch up, reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his taunt stomach that makes Eddie feel like a feral dog.
He's out on the top deck reading a copy of The Hobbit that Dustin loaned him, when Steve comes around the corner.
"Oh! Eddie, hey." Steve smiles. "Didn't realize there were any guests still up here."
"Do you need me to move?" He asks. He swings his feet over the side of the lounger.
"Not at all. Just wasn't expecting you." Steve's puttering around, picking up the detritus of the day. "I'm glad we've been able to overcome your expectations of boats."
His squeak is indignant. "It wasn't about the boat! I was brought here against my will!"
Steve smiles at him, eyes glittering. "Yeah, what a horrible punishment, boarding a luxury yacht for a Mediterranean cruise."
Eddie grabs at his chest, mimes being shot in the heart. "Stevie, how could you? All this time I thought you were on my side."
"Eh," he shrugs. "You were kind of being a baby."
He falls off the lounger at this. "The killing blow," he wails.
Laughing, Steve extends a hand, helps him to his feet. Their eyes meet and Eddie's struck, once again, by the way the hazel shines so gold, even at twilight.
"I'm being punished," he says, looking away.
"Again, getting on a chartered yacht for a week is not much of a punishment."
"I have a tendency to find myself involved in shenanigans."
"The topless women," Steve says.
Eddie groans. "You know about that?"
Steve does a real bitchy thing with his eyebrows that makes Eddie very warm in places it shouldn't. "Everyone knows about it."
"Okay. I'll have you know those boobs meant nothing to me, which is why it was fine! We had fun! Also, I am very, very gay. Like. The gayest."
"Oh, I know." Steve grins.
He doesn't know what to do with that. Changes the subject instead. "I hadn't clocked you for someone who listened to our stuff."
"I don't. Or well. Not really. No offense. The kids love you guys. And Robin. It's just--it's really loud? Not really my thing. Some good lyrics, though."
"No, I get it." He nods, licks his lips. "I write most of our songs." He's not sure why he says it, what he hopes to get from it.
"I know," Steve says.
"Oh." Eddie smiles down at his hands, The Hobbit. Before he can say more, Chrissy calls him down for dinner.
---
It's no secret that the Corroded Coffin boys are diehard dnd fans. They've done interviews about it, posted video of their sessions on YouTube and TikTok. Everyone knows they play, everyone knows Eddie DMs, so, he supposes, it's only a matter of time before Dustin and Lucas asks if he would DM for them.
The band, Chrissy, Lucas, Dustin, Max, Nancy, El, and Robin all agree to play. When asked, Captain Hopper snorts, doesn't take his eyes off the horizon, and Steve tells Dustin, "You know nothing in the world will make me play that game, kid. I'll try to stop by, though."
Eddie is totally in his element, everyone is having a blast, even Captain Hopper stops by. And Steve--he shows up after fifteen minutes, stays the whole time, can't keep his eyes off Eddie. He's not sure if it spurs him on, makes him more wild and dramatic, but the game is electric, the mood high.
It's an amazing night, one of the best of Eddie's life, and that's really saying something. They go late, well into the morning, but he's too hyped to sleep. He's pacing across the deck when Steve appears.
"You were great tonight." He says.
Eddie feels like he's effervescing. "You should think about playing sometime."
"Nah." Steve ducks his head a little. "Wouldn't be the same without you leading."
There's not a ton of space separating them, but he closes the distance anyway. "That could be arranged," he says, voice low.
"Yeah?" Steve meets his eyes, doesn't look away.
"If you want."
The air between them goes heavy, tightens, the silence lengthens.
"I can't," Steve breathes. "I'm working."
"No, yeah," Eddie nods. He steps back, runs his hand through his hair. He's never said no to something like this, never to someone like Steve. "I'm avoiding--"
"Situations." Steve finishes.
"Oh, but, Stevie, you're a situation I want very much."
"Take me on a date tomorrow."
"It would be my pleasure," he says.
He should leave but--he does love an occurrence, so he lets the impulsivity fly-- leans forward, places a soft kiss at the corner of Steve's mouth.
"Tomorrow, sweetheart."
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ssour-apathyy · 3 months ago
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. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ signed, with love
hockey player!vi x basketball player!caitlyn x cheerleader!reader, fluff, secret love messages, pining, reader is lowk a dumbass, use of y/n
word count; 1,899
summary; as valentines day approaches, you start to receive anonymous declarations of love, only to find out they're sent by the last people you'd suspect
a/n; happy valentines day!! this is my little gift to you all, and i hope you enjoy. i'm gonna go ahead and claim that it's a bit awkward because they're high-schoolers and NOT because i don't know how to write stuff like this jdhfsjhfdj
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It was the week before Valentine's Day at Piltover High, and the excitement buzzing through the air was almost palpable. The annual holiday event was in full force, where students were able to send love themed cards to each other, be it anonymous or not.
The hallways were abuzz with giggles and murmurs as students speculated who had sent them cards, who might send them cards, and the reactions of those they had sent them to. Everybody seemed to be deep in the tradition, well, everybody except for you.
You weren't insanely popular, but you weren't not popular. A nice middle ground, some may say. You had been on the cheer squad for a year now, which naturally meant you were higher up on the pyramid of social status compared to the rest of the student body. This wasn't the problem, the problem was that you just weren't interested in anybody.
You told yourself it was a mixture of nobody being interesting enough, and just not having enough time to pursue anybody. If you weren't doing anything cheer related, you were studying. If you weren't doing either of those things, you were spending time with Caitlyn and Vi.
Caitlyn- easily the most popular person at school. Captain of the basketball team, tall and beautiful, and just so nice. Not that fake, only doing this to keep up appearances, nice either, like actually nice. And then there's Vi- breakout star of the hockey team, a little rough around the edges, but so fucking hot. Together, they were the very top of the food chain, everybody's favourite couple, and absolutely unstoppable.
You had been friends with them for a few months now, when you had cheered at one of Caitlyn's games and she couldn't help but watch you the entire time. She just had to talk to you after the game was done, and Vi was on board immediately. All it took was one conversation and it was like you three had been friends for years, and suddenly were inseparable.
The three of you had lunch together every day. Vi would walk you to classes, Caitlyn would walk you to cheer practice, any spare time you had outside of school was almost always spent with them. People had tried to joke about you being their third wheel, but the look that Vi had sent their way had them promptly shutting their mouths. You didn't mind, though. Never at any point did you feel uncomfortable or left out, and you were happy to see your best friends so in love.
What you didn't know, however, is that both Caitlyn and Vi were absolutely smitten with you. Their feelings were small at first, like a small sprout popping up in Spring. That was until you had gone on a week vacation and they realised how much they missed you, and THEN you just had to go and bring them both home a gift- a basketball keyring for Caitlyn and a hockey stick one for Vi- and suddenly the small sprout was a grand oak tree and they just couldn't keep lying to themselves anymore.
They had a long talk between themselves, discovered that they were both on the same page, and started to plan how they would approach the subject. They cared too much to risk jeopardising your friendship by just springing it on you, so they knew that it had to be perfect.
── ⟢
Your eyebrows furrowed as the small card slipped out of your open locker door, fluttering to the ground in front of you. You slipped your textbooks into the locker before kneeling down to pick it up, turning it over in your hands as you stood back up. It was cute, a little doodle of a steaming coffee cup with 'Words cannot espresso how much you mean' written underneath. No name. You let out a soft chuckle and a little shake of your head as you slipped the card into your bag, and didn't think much of it. Probably just one of the girls on the cheer squad sending them to the team.
And then there was another.
'If I could start my life over again, I would find you sooner so that I could love you longer ♡'
"What the fuck.." you mumbled, looking around you to the other students filling the hallway, trying to see if anybody was looking suspicious. Nobody had ever shown an interest in you, not really, so to start suddenly getting valentine's cards was surprising to say the least.
Every day up until the 14th, there was a new card waiting for you. Every day they seemed to get more and more personal, and there was no doubt in your mind that they were meant for you and you alone. The girls on the cheer squad had no idea about it, but they were fawning over the cards that you had gotten, studying each one carefully. When you tried to ask Caitlyn and Vi, they had played it beyond cool.
"Wow, seems you've got yourself a secret admirer, huh? You sure you've not been out there flirting up a storm when we're not around?" Vi had teased you, causing your cheeks to burn as you snatched the card from her with a scoff.
"You don't recognise the handwriting?" Caitlyn had queried, even though it was no use. The messages in anonymous cards were written by the students handing them out for this very reason.
You got the final card on Valentine's day, and although it was the most simple and, well, least romantic, it still caused your stomach to do flips.
'Gym, after school today.'
── ⟢
Being on school grounds after hours was always slightly uneasy. The hallways were silent, your own footsteps echoing along the empty expanse of the building. You stood in front of the doors to the gym, heart racing as you wiped your palms on your jeans and shook the shake out of your hands. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, and pushed the doors open.
The lights were off, the only source of light in the open room was coming from multiple candles scattered around the floor. In the middle of them was a picnic blanket with a hamper sat neatly on it, a couple of plastic cups tucked beside it. Both Vi and Caitlyn were sat on the bleachers behind, chatting away to each other before the sound of the door closing behind you caught their attention.
"Oh... uh, hi guys" you drawled, voice laced with confusion as you quickly checked over your shoulder before taking a few tentative steps towards them. "Sorry... I didn't mean to interrupt."
Caitlyn stood up, her varsity jacket hanging off her shoulders as she hopped off the bleachers to approach you. "You're not interrupting, don't worry. You're right on time, actually."
That increased your confusion tenfold, and it must have shown perfectly on your face as you watched Caitlyn busy herself with pouring drinks, because Vi's soft laughter was suddenly reverberating through the empty hall.
"Y'know, for somebody with your grades, you aren't all that smart sometimes" she teased, coming up to rest a hand on your shoulder as Caitlyn passes you both a cup of soda.
"Wha- but I don't-"
Your fingers wrap tightly around the plastic cup in your hand as the realisation hits you, and your eyes bounce between the two girls. Vi has a cocky smirk on her face as she sees the gears in your head turning, whereas Caitlyn looks a little nervous as she sips her drink, arms crossed over her chest.
"You sent those cards?"
"We did" Vi affirms, her hand squeezing your shoulder lightly. "Cait said the puns were too cheesy, but I think you liked them anyway, hm?"
You watched as Caitlyn rolled her eyes, even though a hint of a smile was ghosting on her lips. "We had been thinking of how to approach the subject with you for a while, and well, this seemed like the perfect opportunity."
You nodded, eyes flitting down to the picnic blanket on the floor. "And... you did all this.. for me?" you asked quietly, your voice hesitant and still coated with disbelief. Caitlyn took your free hand in hers and gently guided you to the blanket, sitting you down on top of one of the pillows as she sat in front of you, Vi doing the same to your side.
"Of course we did. You're special, Y/n. We care about you a lot, and-" she cuts herself off, playing with your fingers that she's still holding in her hand. "We were hoping you'd feel the same."
Vi clears her throat and shuffled a little closer, lifting a finger to your chin so she can turn your head to look at her. "What Cait is trying to say, is that we like you as more than a friend. This is our way of showing you that, and asking if you want to be something more."
Your heart stopped in your chest, and a warmth had spread across your face as you let everything sink in. It was like being doused in ice-water, the realisation that you did, in fact, feel the same way about them. Your lack of a love life wasn't because you were busy, or because nobody interested you. It's because they had already filled that hole in you, you just hadn't thought about it long enough to see it.
"Wow, I- honestly had no idea" you breathed out, your words coated in an airy laugh. "I mean, looking back at it, of course it seems obvious this is where it headed."
The three of you shared a laugh at that, and you lifted your free hand away from Caitlyn's to rub the back of your neck sheepishly.
"I don't want it to change anything though, not really. I mean, yeah, obviously things will change-" You blush at the thought of kissing them. "-but it won't get like.. weird or anything right?"
The two girls shared a look and set down their drinks, Vi gently taking yours out of your hand too, shuffling closer to you so they were sat on either side.
"Nah, not weird at all" Vi murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
"We won't do anything you don't want to, love. We'll take it at the pace you want" Caitlyn affirms, her voice soft yet strong.
They both lean forward and press a soft kiss to your cheeks, and you let your eyes flutter closed as the feeling of being sandwiched between them. For the first time in a long time, you had never felt as at peace.
"Okay then" you whisper into the space in front of you. "I feel the same way, so.. I think we should give it a shot."
"Yeah, sweetheart? Wanna be our girlfriend?" Vi questions in that teasing tone that you love to hate, her lips grazing against your cheek as she speaks. You just nod in response, both girls crushing you in a bone tight hug as relief washes over them.
"Now then" Caitlyn starts after a moment of the three of you basking in each other. She pulls away only to flip the lid of the basket, pulling out various different snack items. "I prepared this specially, and we have a valentine's picnic to dig into."
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strangersteddierthings · 5 months ago
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Made With Love
It takes one bite for Eddie to suspect he's done something wrong. A second bite confirms it. He's fucked up somehow and cannot for the life of him remember what it was.
Did he miss an important date of some sort? It couldn't have been their anniversary because that's August 13th (Eddie's new favorite day of the year, for obvious reasons). He absolutely didn't miss Steve's birthday. Not with how long he and Robin had spent planning the damn thing. (Eddie is never throwing another surprise party in his life; the stress of secret keeping was too much to bear.)
... Did he miss Robin's birthday?
No. That can't be. Steve would never let him miss that.
It could be one of the Party's birthdays, but Eddie doesn't think that's a transgression that would warrant this.
This, of course, being his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
"What, your peanut butter's gone bad?"
Eddie lifts his eyes from the proof of Steve's anger at him to his coworker, Charlie, sitting across the table from him in the closet that Thatcher claims is the break room. "No. It's much worse than that, I'm afraid."
"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Charlie deadpans.
"This sandwich wasn't made with love," Eddie whines, looking back at the sandwich with as much sorrow as he can muster. He sets the sandwich down on the baggy he had pulled it out of so that he can frown down at it without having to touch the offending creation.
"Ah shit," Charlie says, voice filled with empathy. This is why he's Eddie's favorite coworker. He gets it. Possibly because he's the only person who's tasted the difference for himself, back when Eddie'd just started at Thatcher Tires. "What'd'ya do?"
"I don't know!" Eddie wails. "Everything was fine when I left this morning, or I thought it was anyway."
"Ain't your misses pretty good at lettin' you know you done fucked up?" Charlie, like the best coworker that he is, looks surprised that Eddie doesn't know what he's done. He's right, too. Steve is the goddamn king of petty, and Eddie has never struggled to know when Steve's mad at him. The struggle usually comes from Eddie refusing to be in the wrong.
(That's not to say that Eddie is always in the wrong. He's not. Sure, a good percent of their arguments Eddie is the one at fault and he's mature enough to admit so once the argument is over, but it's not always his fault.)
Anyway, the point is, regardless of who's at fault, Steve is angry at him about something and for the first time in months Eddie doesn't know what for. They'd promised each other, after their first very big fight that almost ended in a breakup and was over a misunderstanding, that they would tell each other why they're mad or upset or feeling some type of way. So for Eddie to not know...
He thinks he might have fucked up big time.
"I know!" Eddie cries, shoving the sandwich away from him to make room to drop his forehead onto the table, then turns to smoosh his cheek against the table so he can look at Charlie. "Charlie. Charlie what do I do?"
Charlie blows out a long breath, thinking, before he gives a decisive nod and says, "you gotta beg forgiveness."
Eddie knows Charlie's right. He doesn't know what he did but he's going to beg forgiveness anyway.
Which is how he now finds himself in the small floral section of the grocery store looking over the sad, wilted bouquets after work. His arms are already full with Steve's favorite ice cream, candies, an over-priced little blue teddy bear that's holding an 'It's A Boy!' card that Eddie plans to rip off, and a blank card with a painting of sunflowers on it that he plans to wax poetry about Steve inside.
The final part of his groveling is, of course, the flowers. It's the wrong season for sunflowers, so Eddie was going to settle for roses. It's just that these roses are all sad looking. They don't really scream 'I Love You More Than Anything Else In The World, Please Forgive Me For What I've Done' though.
Let it never be said that Eddie doesn't know how to beg forgiveness.
He ends up picking the least wilted looking bouquet, one with white and yellow flowers he can't name.
The cashier is an older lady who takes quick catalogue of his items and asks, "is it your anniversary, darling? Or, oh!" She picks up the blue bear and Eddie feels his ear heating with embarrassment as she coos, "are you expecting? How exciting!"
"Err, no, not, uh, no. It's just blue is hi-her favorite color, so I was planning to just cut off the little card," Eddie stutters out the lie. Blue isn't Steve's favorite color but Eddie's used to making up many little lies when talking to strangers. Being hate-crimed is not a passion of Eddie's. "I, uh, messed up. And I don't know what I did, but I'm going to make it right."
The lady smiles at him and gives him a firm nod as she scans the items. "Smart boy. I'm sure she'll forgive you."
Eddie gives her a smile he hopes isn't as tight-lipped as it feels on his face.
Back in the safety of his van, Eddie roots around until he finds a pen and gets to writing all the things he loves about Steve in the card and all the things he hopes they'll get to have in the future. Nothing they haven't spoken about before, but it still makes Eddie a little emotional writing it all down.
Once he's done writing, he pulls his pocket knife out and cuts off the 'It's A Boy' card from the bear, crumpling it up and tossing it in the back of the van to be forgotten. He shoves the sunflower card in it's place. His card is a bit wider than the previous one here so it stays in place, albeit precariously. He'll be careful handing it over to Steve.
He knows that Steve is at home already. Steve's always home first because he's off work at four compared to Eddie getting off work around five.
Well. Closer to five-thirty today with his stop at the grocery store. He really hopes that whatever has Steve mad at him isn't time related. Being late home without calling might earn him no favors if it's a time-based blunder.
Steve is in the kitchen, back to the door since he's facing the stove, as Eddie expected he might be. Which means that Eddie doesn't get to lay out all his Items of Forgiveness across the counter like he had hoped but that's okay. If the love of his life has chosen to forgive him, he knows Steve will be just as overjoyed to rifling through a bag of goodies as he would to pick them off the counter.
"Hi sweetheart," Eddie says, words oozing with adoration and sweetness.
"Hi baby," Steve's tone matches Eddie's, like an instinct to match Eddie's energy has written itself into Steve's DNA. And it might have. Eddie knows the reverse is true.
Steve turns from the stove, then, and his face lights up with delight and surprise. "What's all this?"
"Your favorite things, because I love you," Eddie says, raising his arms a bit. The grocery bag is looped over his wrist with flowers in one hand and the bear in the other.
Steve looks positively smitten.
Eddie is nailing this apology that isn't an apology. And let it be known; he cannot say he's sorry. It'll ruin everything. Because Steve, his wonderful, beautiful, kind and loving Stevie, will cock one perfect little caterpillar eyebrow and ask if Eddie knows what he's apologizing for, and Eddie will have to say he doesn't know and that isn't something he's willing to do. Especially not when it's looking like whatever Steve was mad about has completely slipped Steve's mind, too.
"I got your favorite ice cream, too, so we might want to get that into the freezer," Eddie says, passing the bear and card to Steve and shimmying around him to get to the freezer.
He lays the flowers on the counter and sets to emptying the bag. Ice cream in the freezer and goodies on the counter, while Steve reads the card silently behind him.
He knows he's successfully made up for whatever it was he had done, because Steve crowds him against the fridge shortly after setting the card down and turning the stove burner off, kissing him breathless.
Eddie even gets desert before dinner, with Steve all but dragging him to their bedroom.
-
The reddit post that inspired this -
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bunni-v1 · 2 months ago
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Ohhh wait what if in the pv/smc/ oc relationship the beginnings of it form from pv’s existence as truthless recluse? Like curiosity on the partners part or maybe a bit of insecure jealousy because smc has a new toy. One that can understand him better than they ever could. Maybe doubt for the first time enters their heart, not about their own feelings. No no no, but doubting the sincerity of shadow milk cookies. For all his bluster about lies and deceit his actions towards them at this point would paint him as surprisingly sincere. But in the game even candy apple and black sapphire cookie saw how different smc was around pv/truthless recluse. I can see the partner seeking out truthless recluse because what’s so goddamn special about this cookie? (Am I not special enough?) but then meeting him and going oh Oh, he’s just like shadow milk cookie. Not the same, but similar, opposite. They seek them out and try to extend some kindness to him, initially out of pity maybe? Imagining that looking at pv is the same as seeing smc before his fall from grace. And smc probably wouldn’t be happy with this development, I wonder how he’d react. Thoughts?
So I know what I said about waiting for the poly hcs, but I’m a notorious liar when it comes to what I get done when sooooooo… hi pookie 🫶
Anyway there’s a lot to unpack here and I’m typing this on my phone, so please excuse any typos or weird formatting lol.
Starting off with SMC and Truthless Recluse, I can definitely see Shadow Milk unintentionally neglecting you for his new toy. Truthless isn’t a replacement, Shadow Milk wouldn’t dream of replacing his dearly beloved partner, but it certainly comes off that way.
It starts as a little nagging feeling, a biting sensation in the back of your neck that irritates you just a little. You brush it off easily, though, it’s not like you never see Shadow Milk anymore. He still dotes on you and cares for you like he always does, albeit it you see him less than you normally might. He doesn’t want you around Truthless for whatever reason, so whenever he is with the new cookie you are alone with your thoughts.
It’s not until you feel his glee and excitement that you suspect something. That godforsaken bite becomes a constant reminder of just how happy he is to have this special new cookie around. This cookie that is not you. It makes your chest ache, and everyone can see how your mood sours.
The puppets are sweeter to you, Candy Apple a little less disgruntled when she’s with you, and Black Sapphire looks at you with a pity that just makes you sick. Everyone knows, everyone cares, everyone but Shadow Milk it seems.
He seems to act like nothing is different, happy to return to you and have you. Though when he is with you, you see that his mind is elsewhere. And you know he’s aware of it, you know he can feel the way your heart aches, he just doesn’t seem to care.
You rationalize it in your head. It’s his souljam, his other half, of course he’s excited. You can’t be angry at him when this is all he’s been talking about, all he’s been working for this whole time.
The dam finally breaks when you see it with your own two eyes. The way he giggles and floats around the new cookie like an excited child. The poking and prodding and borderline flirting! Witches above, it’s too much for your heart to handle.
You can’t help but feel the burn of jealousy in your gut, the ugliness of betrayal crawling through your mind. What was so special about him? What was so amazing that Shadow Milk felt the need to neglect you for some… some… some wannabe god? The very cookie Shadow Milk claims to loathe is standing there basking in the attention that was meant to be yours! It was so unfair.
You curl up in a quiet part of the spire, one that most of the cookies there didn’t bother to visit. It was secluded and comforting, a place to cry your feelings away until you felt better. For once you couldn’t feel those eyes watching you.
You’re not sure how long you’re curled up there before someone finds you. Your surprised to see Truthless Recluse himself there, but he’s who you find. You wanted to scream and shout and take your anger out on him, but with him in front of you… you couldn’t muster it. His eyes held something in them that made it impossible to stay angry.
He sits next to you, surprising you yet again. He seemed like a loner, but when he casts his eyes on you again there’s a kindness in them. Perhaps… Pure Vanilla was still there… just hidden.
“Is there something you need,” You break the silence between you, “I’m sure Shadow Milk would be more than happy to accommodate you.”
He doesn’t answer you, shifting the conversation elsewhere, “It’s quiet here.”
You uncurl a little, sitting up with your back to the wall now, “It is. I like it, I can think clearly here.”
He hums, closing his eyes as if to take in the feeling himself. You take the time to gaze at him and realize he’s very pretty. His features are soft despite how tired he looks, and there is a wiseness about him that you hadn’t felt from another cookie in such a long time. The quiet contemplation only highlighted the insecurities burning in your dough.
No wonder Shadow Milk Cookie was so enamored with him, he was pleasant. He was warm and inviting, and the sweet scent of vanilla was comforting. He felt… he felt like home. Before you knew it you were crying again, surprising the cookie next to you.
“…Did I upset you…?” He asks almost unsure of himself.
“No,” you sniffle, “No, I’m just… hah… I’m just being silly is all.”
His gaze falls from you to the floor, then to the milky way sky, “Being silly isn’t something to cry over… it’s a good thing to be silly. Better than being nothing at all.”
You laugh, “I suppose you’re right… Say, I don’t think we’ve properly met, what’s your name strange cookie?”
That begins your tentative relationship with the Cookie. You don’t get too much time with him before Shadow Milk starts to get upset, but from what you see you come to understand a few things. Truthless— No, Pure Vanilla is a lot like Shadow Milk. He’s insecure and aching for connection, but greatly powerful and incredibly intelligent. You find yourself liking his company, reminded of your dearest when he lays his eyes on you.
Now, Shadow Milk Cookie watches the development happen from the sides. Initially he’s happy that you’re getting along with Truthless Recluse so well, positively tickled! You love him so much you can get along well with any incarnation of him, how very sweet! Then he notices you look at Truthless Recluse with… longing. Your gaze is too soft, too sweet, something that should only be reserved for him.
Of course he can’t help but get in the way. Regardless of Truthless’ progress toward deceit, he can’t have the cookie thinking you’re something free for the taking. He certainly can’t have you thinking you can just look at any other cookie with so much affection, either.
He gets clingy, worse than before Pure Vanilla showed up. He doesn’t like you leaving his side, and he especially doesn’t like you spending time alone with Truthless Recluse. No, no no no! You are his little dolly, no one else’s! If he has to remind you of that fact, he will! Since he’s just so sweet and considerate~
If you bring up the way he made you feel, he shakes his head and tuts at you. It was part of the plan, of course, your jealousy was made in a controlled environment by him. He needed you to use your silly little head and come to your senses on your own! He loves you, you know that, you just had to remember on your own.
Besides, as exciting as Truthless Recluse is, you’ll always be by his side. So as much as your heart ached (and boy did he feel that, it was difficult to ignore you calling for him through that bite), now you know to trust him.
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batchilla · 6 months ago
Text
False Accusations (You know I KNOW right? Chapter Two)
Let me first say thank you for all the kind reception part one received. It was … a surprise, and a welcome one.
Also, a massive thank you to @sunnie-angel for beta reading. If you haven’t read their work… Do yourself a favor and check out their masterlist!
This Chapter takes place over a few days in two mini stories., and I would appreciate being told if at any point this causes confusion. Currently how I’ve done it is as tilted segments. Content warning: this chapter has themes of sexual harassment in the workplace up to the point of groping (from an OC), and corruption. Proceed with caution. Be safe.
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The morning after. You are going to murder your partner, Grayson. Perhaps with a gun. Maybe your own two hands. Or maybe you just need coffee.
It's probably the coffee thing. Coffee, then you’ll decide if you're going to kill him and how. As you sit at your table, surrounded by notes you’d made at 4am, the urge to throttle Grayson slowly subsides. You hadn’t slept a wink. You’d had a weird night. But if you were going to do this, help him find this killer… you’d need a plan for if it all goes to hell. A diversion. A plan so that if you’re made, maybe the killer will think you’re on the wrong track. A dummy investigation. But simultaneously one that you won’t overthink, so that you can devote your time and brainpower to the truth. Luckily for you, you have the perfect person to pretend to accuse. After all, your partner, Grayson, is an incredibly weird guy. 8:55 am finds you walking into the station sipping your third coffee of the morning, only to find Grayson sat at his desk. Shirt pressed, tie perfect, hair shampoo commercial glamourous yet slightly messy. The urge to murder your partner returns, just a little. How dare he be so… normal? So unaffected? How dare this man fight crime by night, and be smiling at you as he is now, chipper and bright and perfect, before 9am? The nerve. Maybe you could hit him with a patrol car and claim it was an accident. “Morning detective… Long night?”
Oh.. This fucker. Your partner, Grayson, is the most annoying man alive. You hate how badly you have to fight the urge to grin at the sheer audacity.
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She looks exhausted, the poor thing. Dick remembered the feeling, but at some point he’d adapted to running on less sleep than was by any means reasonable. He hoped she wouldn’t need to. That this would be over in a few weeks and she’d be back to getting a full eight hours. “Morning Detective… Long night?” She glares at him like he’s caused personal offence. He raises an eyebrow at her to prompt a response. Inside though, he panics. Had he done something wrong? Could she suspect? No. no of course not. But whatever she said next would surely be important. It was a test of sorts. What would she say she’d spent the night doing? Would she betray his alter ego? Could she sell the lie if she didn’t? “Just had a night in, had a little too much to drink,” she shrugs, opening her bag and removing a notebook. Casual, calm, partially true and nearly impossible to disprove short of a blood test or breathalyser, and even then there was deniability. Dick nods, and looks back down to his computer to hide the grin that splits his face in half. He knows he can’t dwell on it, knows he can’t act on it, but it’s completely unfair that she was that smooth. That helpful. She’d agreed to help him - as Nightwing - instantly. Her words about how Blud owed him a debt had played in his mind on loop for the rest of his patrol. He knew what it felt like to fly. To flip through the air at dizzying heights, gravity a mere afterthought. It was cruel, frankly, that he’d found someone who made him feel even better than that, only for her to be someone he couldn’t be with out of principle and professionalism. It wasn’t that he objected to her as a partner - short of his family, she was possibly the best he’d ever met. Frankly, if she was transferred to Gotham, the bat signal would be turned on far less frequently. And he didn’t object to rules about dating fellow officers, especially one’s partner. Objectively it made sense. But it didn’t change the fact that her smile was the best part of his day. That on the rare times she laughed he could swear he heard an angel just straight up quit its position in the heavenly chorus out of pure envy. That when she’d said she’d help he’d wanted nothing more than to grab her face and kiss her till she was breathless. But he can’t. Or at least Dick Grayson can’t. A new voice breaks him from his spiralling thoughts. “Detective Grayson.” The man standing behind his partner's desk has a hand on the back of her seat, preventing her from swivelling around. 
“We haven’t met yet, I’m Sergeant James McElroy. Seems you spent most of my first day back stuck on a stakeout.” “Pleasure.” he responds, with all the charm he’s learnt to use at galas and parties, forcing down the venom incurred by the way his partner had seemed to lose a gallon of blood at the sound of his voice, and the way she had seemed not to breath since the name was spoken.
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He's not touching you. Of course not. He knows better than to do anything so blatant. It's how he’d gotten away with it for so long last time. He doesn’t touch you, or say the things he was so clearly thinking. He would masterfully walk the line between making you feel unsafe, alone, and naked, while never crossing over into anything actionable. Till one day he had. It had been in a crowded lift where he’d used the crush as an excuse to grab and to feel, whispering something vile in your ear. 
He’d figured he’d gotten away with it when you tried to tell your captain and he’d asked if you had a witness. You’d thought he’d gotten away with it too. Till a uniformed officer, Janet Rodwell, had stepped up to have your back. You should have known, really. For the second time in 24 hours you feel like a fool. But while the first time it had been accompanied with a dizzying realisation of love, this time the realisation is dark and chilling to your core. You’d thought you’d won, that it was over. But he’s back and he’s not touching you, but you feel the ghost of his hands all over. You can’t win. He’d been sent away and you thought you were safe again, but he’s back and he’s a sergeant now. Because Bludhaven, as it is, rewards men like him. You can’t bring yourself to look over your shoulder at him, so you look straight ahead, across your desk and to your partner’s adjoining one.
It's not Dick Grayson’s eyes you meet though. They aren’t cheerful, carefree and beautiful. Well, they are beautiful. But they are angry, intelligent, and fierce. You meet Nightwings gaze, and you feel the claws around your lungs relax, even if they do not recede. 
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His partner did not rattle easily. Did not panic unnecessarily. 
Pinned down by the Penguin’s smugglers, he’d thought their goose had been cooked unless he could work at his true capacity, so he had shot out the lights and gotten to work. He’d taken out nine, but been unable to find the tenth, until he’d heard the struggle. 
She’d taken him down blind, without drawing her gun. When he’d asked her why she hadn’t, she’d told him she’d lost sight of him in the chaos, and was unwilling to risk it. He wished he hadn’t shot the light out so he could have seen it. 
Still, he had been oblivious. It had hit him like a batarang to the face last night, in that moment where she agreed without hesitation to help him find a serial killer. He’d known she was beautiful, and brilliant. That he had a crush. 
He’d realised last night he was in far, far deeper trouble than that. So, if she was frightened and upset by the presence of this man, then Dick would take his looming over her as a serious threat. He trusted her gut. “You haven’t introduced yourself to my partner, Detective—-” He’s cut off with a dismissive wave that boils his blood. “Oh we’ve met. In fact, she was my partner first. Until the misunderstanding.” There are many ways to snap someone out of a panic. He’s seen sheer rage do it many times. As it does now. “There was no misunderstanding,” she says, her voice firm, her teeth gritted. “Well. I want you to know-” he moves from directly behind her, to her side, leaning down over her, invading her space. Dick wanted to hit him. “I understand that what I did could have been seen as invasive, and you may have felt that I overstepped. I have completed a course, as demanded by HR, and will attempt not to cause you to feel that I have been inappropriate again.”
She takes a deep breath. He can practically hear her count in his head. He stands, moving around the desk to stand beside her, not quite a barrier but a comforting presence, or at least he hoped. “Well. Whatever occurred, we have work to be getting on with, if you don’t mind.” It takes a great deal of the restraint his training has given not to add the words ‘you bastard’, or something far more creative. “But of course. Detective. Detective.”  
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Your hands shake as you sit back down in your seat. Your partner, Grayson, returns to his own, his gaze - Richard’s gaze, never leaving your face, crumpled in concern. “I don’t want to overstep… but are you alright? What … did he do?” “I…” you want to tell him, in part. Or maybe you don’t, and you want him to know without having to go through the ordeal of rehashing it all. Maybe by consulting whatever ‘oracle’ he used as nightwing. But you can’t right now. So you don’t. “I… need some air.” Your partner just gives you a comforting smile, a nod, and lets you leave without question. Wingding in the window 
It's five days later, on his patrol, when he notices it. The wingding left in her window. He stops on the roof of the building adjacent to her. As far as city roofs go, this one’s relatively nice. Someone’s placed some potted plants around, in an eclectic attempt at a rooftop garden. Some of these pots contain small pebbles as cover for the soil from the wind. Grinning to himself, he takes a handful. 
Was this a good idea? No. 
Was it deceptive? Well, no more than anything else he did as Nightwing… well, maybe a little more. 
But it hurt, holding her at arm's length, when a part of his soul he tried to ignore yearned to be as close as she would allow. He knows it’s not good. He knows it’s a violation of the utter trust she seems to hold in Nightwing. Really, it would only make things even more messy for his chances as Dick. But he wants to make her smile. Blush, even. He knows she finds him attractive, and in both contexts, but he wants more than that. Over the last week he’s realised just how much he wants to have with her, and it terrifies him. 
If it was simple lust he could deal with it.  But it wasn’t, and so here he was, about to attempt the cheesiest move known to hallmark films, just to see if it would make her laugh at him again. 
He’d managed to be professional while surrounded by highly capable, badass women in skintight clothes for most of his life. He’d had crushes before and gotten over them. He wanted everything with her. And that was not something he knew how to handle, given the mess of their situation. Dick shakes his head, snapping himself out of his doom spiral. He had a detective to meet, and a serial killer to find.
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Bap. Bap. Bap. You look up from your book. You’d been getting ready for sleep, wearing your cosy pyjamas, curled up in bed with a book and a hot chocolate. You go still, listening. Bap. Bap. A pause. Then, the rap of knuckles on glass. “I ran out of rocks”
You know that voice. “With you in a moment.” You pull on a dressing gown, and take a moment to curse the fact that your slippers are rabbits before pulling the curtains aside. Nightwing is crouched on your windowsill. You lift it, stepping back as he enters through the window with all the grace of a cat. You know that you shouldn’t be embarrassed to be in your pyjamas, it's late, you had no means of knowing when he’d arrive. But he looked divine in that suit. An adonis. And you're in your old bathrobe and bunny slippers. Truely, you must have done terrible things in a past life. “Nice footwear.” Nightwing says with a smirk. Curse him. Curse his cheekbones and the way his lips look so damn inviting. “You picked up what, five rocks?” you sass right back. Nightwing makes a noise you suspect was supposed to be a scoff, but is more of a squeak. “Do you see a lot of pocket space on this?” 
“Fair.” you say, leading him out of your bedroom and into your living room. He sits on your couch, one leg spread wide, the other’s ankle resting on its thigh, as you open a drawer on your coffee table and produce your masterpiece. Nearly five metres of red string. Names, photos, dates, all studded with pins so pressed so tightly in they haven’t a prayer of accidental removal. You prop it up on the coffee table. 
Maybe your friends were right. Maybe you did need to touch grass. A line of thought for later. You look at Nightwing, who’s no longer relaxed and laying back on your sofa like he owned the place. 
Its years of maintaining a poker face in interrogations and more recently, dealing with his shenanigans that prevents you from grinning. 
He's as pale as you’ve ever managed to see him, and leaning forward now, elbow on knee and chin in hand. “Well, this is… impressive.” He sounded like he’d inhaled helium. “Shall we start with Sergeant McElroy?” you offer, smiling your best ‘there’s nothing wrong’ smile, enjoying making him squirm. “You seem to have … a significant amount of evidence against Detective Richard Grerson?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you take a ruler, poking your picture of him between the eyes. You hadn’t planned to do him first, you’d hoped to discuss evidence that would actually lead somewhere. 
This was still going to be fun though. You take a deep breath, and pause for a suitable level of dramatic effect, and begin your game. 
“Detective Richard Grayson. He’s my partner. He’s an excellent detective, and a good man. You might have heard of the charity he founded.” Nightwing makes a noncommittal humming noise. “But is it all too good to be true?” you ask, moving to your first notecard. “Exhibit one. He asked about the file. On its own, innocuous. But then, exhibits two through four. He’s prone to frequent disappearances on cases. He often knows a little too much about the criminal underside of Blud. Things that I have triple checked are not in any police database.”
You run a hand through your hair. “He’s a highly trained combatant. I once saw him take down nine men armed with guns, in the dark. They don’t teach that at the police academy.” “No? No.” Nightwing says, clearing his throat. “I mean yes. That is… suspicious.” “Incredibly. Which brings me to exhibit five. Now I’m no behavioural analyst or shrink. But I know my basics. Childhood trauma and instability can have… lingering impacts. I… don’t feel the need to dredge up his past, but I did look into it… and it’s grim. He was then taken in by Bruce Wayne. His relationship to his father, whatever it is, is something he’s even tighter lipped about then… everything else honestly. It’s not on the board because it’s circumstantial at best… but he has this skill of being able to hold long conversations and yet you come away not having learnt anything deeper about him.” 
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He was pretty sure he’d been nodding for a good thirty seconds at this point.  
It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much. 
The worst part was that it was all well reasoned. Practical. He had done everything she accused him of. She had just drawn a far more down to earth conclusion, that he was a corrupt cop, rather than Nightwing. 
It made sense. Too much sense. How could he shut this down without seeming invested in his own innocence? 
That isn’t what causes his lungs to burn though. No. The root of that was that even if he’d forced himself to maintain a professional - if friendly - distance from her, he would have hoped that she trusted him. 
But in this moment, looking at the evidence, looking at her holding that ruler to his photo’s face like a judge's gavel ready to condemn… he knows. He knows that she will never look at Dick the way she does as Nightwing, happy to see him, believing in his mission, ready to help as soon as he’d asked. Even if he clears himself of this crime, she would surely suspect him of others. 
He’d known it, at least on one level, ever since he’d first met her. He knows it now all the deeper, and he wants to scream. Dick Grayson will never get to tell her how truly wonderful she is.
How highly he regards her. 
How she is one of the reasons he keeps fighting for Bludhaven. 
Dick Grayson will never get to tell her that he loves her. 
But… perhaps Nightwing could have something. Because if she was his north star, then the way he’d felt when she agreed to help him had been like being engulfed by a supernova. 
If she was water, then seeing her cosy and ready for bed and smiling as she let him in through the window had been an oasis in the Sahara. 
If music was the food of love, her attempts not to laugh and stifled giggles over his peeps popcorn had been a symphony orchestra. 
But he’d never have her as himself. Not at all. Nightwing though? She at least found him attractive. Aligned with his ideology. No, he’d never feel that warmth of 10,000 stars directed at the real him. 
No, he’d never be able to be quenched by her life saving presence. 
No, he’d never feel her laughter shaking his bones as if in a musical crescendo.
But even the dimmest and most distant star gave off some light.
Even the last drop in an empty water skin was better than nothing.
Even the memory of a melody could be sweet. True, he would only ever have scraps of her affection. True, he could flirt, and perhaps go even further… but he’d never truly be with her. 
But who was a starving man to deny scraps of sustenance? He’d take what he could have and try to ignore the lingering hunger. 
“Perhaps we should discuss… another suspect?” he prompts, realising how long he’s been silent. How long she had been too, watching him with a strange, concerned look.
She nods, and moves on to their Captain.
Dick is almost relieved when some ten minutes later Oracle calls in a robbery downtown. “Well - sorry Sherlock.” He takes a picture of her board for further study. “I’ll be around next week to continue this discussion, and look over this in my own time till then. Duty calls.” “Be safe,” She says softly, as he’s halfway through the window He looks over his shoulder. “As you wish.”
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If you would request to be added to my taglist, please reblog the fic. Honestly please just reblog it anyway? I worked hard on this. Nothing more demotivating than a fic getting only likes. If you want part three, reblog part two. 
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queers-gambit · 7 months ago
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Match Made in Grey Haven
prompt: ( requested ) you find yourself in what feels like a distant relationship through penned letters. overcome with shyness during his visits, you avoid Herald Elrond - until your grandfather (and co.) steps in as matchmaker.
pairing: Elrond x shy!female!reader
fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power
word count: 2.9k+
note: it's not much, i'm so sorry.
warnings: takes place BEFORE the events of TROP, abrupt ending, small hurt mostly comfort, feelings are hard, author is very abrasive and isn't sure this is conveyed fully as "shy" so i'm sorry, anxiety, unedited, wonky brain goes wonky, fluff, small drama, lost + healthy family relationships, romance, friends-to-lovers.
part two: The Risk
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"You appear ill at-ease," Círdan mentioned as he casually strolled from the shadows of his workshop, the last of the day lingering in a warm glow, "which I am not accustomed to seeing on a face such as yours."
Elrond, busy at work carving one of the perfect ships his old master was crafting a fleet of, barely slowed down but did glance up in acknowledgment. He sniffled hastily, looking back at the pliable wood under his hands.
"Merely focused, my Lord, nothing more."
"Hm," Círdan hummed, pacing around slowly, hands clasped behind his back, chin up, shoulders back, grey locks glistening in familiar waves, "interesting choice of words."
"How so?" Elrond paused to pet the curve of the wood, trying in vain to hide his true bubbling feelings. He went straight back to work, aware Círdan watched him closely.
"Y/N said the exact same." This made the High King's Herald pause in full, Círdan smirking, "Ah, just as I suspected."
"I do not think - "
"You fool nobody but yourself," Círdan chuckled, waving off Elrond's words and stepping closer to admire the boat carving. "She cares for you, too, you know?"
"With respect, my Lord... But you are mistaken," Elrond deflected. "Your granddaughter and I, we are merely friends - if that. We only exchange letters - "
"And feelings," Círdan pointed out, watching Elrond flush under his interrogation. Just outside the doors, you approached, thinking you would fetch your grandfather for supper; slowing when the older, wiser Elf tisked, "Ah, come now, Elrond, do not look so forlorn, there are worst fates than that of emotional - "
"With respect," Elrond repeated, cutting Círdan off, your hand hovering over the door handle, "there are no emotions involved when it comes to your granddaughter."
You froze.
"Yet I will not believe that," Círdan shot back.
"There is little to be said that might sway you, my Lord, but it is true. We are..." You listened as Elrond took a sharp inhale, "We are friends, nothing more. Our foundation lays in companionship, we exchange letters - share our thoughts, ideas, and feelings. There's nothing more."
Círdan hummed in amusement, "That so? Then... Why, in the past 6 months, have you come here - what is it? Six? Seven times?"
"Eight," Elrond corrected automatically, wincing when your grandfather chuckled and you lowered your hand. Yet you did not walk away yet.
"You claim business with the High King brings you to us so frequently," Círdan continued, "yet, the matters discussed can be solved through letters alone. Nothing that deems an emissary. So, tell me in truth... Why?"
"My Lord?"
"Why do you come? I know it is not for Gil-Galad alone, so, tell me in truth, why the frequent trips?"
You could hear Elrond resume his wood carving and you became acutely aware of your position. Backing away, you fled the scene, petrified over the idea of being caught; yet your mind was stuffed full with what you heard. It'd been years since you first met Elrond, the young, fresh, baby-faced Herald of the High King; and while initially fascinatingly attracted to him, you were detrimentally shy.
Like, so shy, it makes you mute - to an extent.
He wasn't a Herald yet, though, and came to apprentice under your grandfather. Elrond became a constant presence around the Grey Havens - a talented, shining star of a student who studied diligently. You admired his work from afar at first, then, Círdan asked you to row one of Elrond ships around the harbor.
It was well known you were the apple of Círdan's eye; his favorite thing in the material world, the reason he refused to give himself over to the Valar yet. He was supposed to sail... But his daughter was soon to give birth, so he waited; and thankfully, because plague claimed your father and mother from complications of your birth. So, Círdan raised you.
Elrond panicked at Círdan's request, stepping into your pathway without thought and gasping, "No!" You shied back into your grandfather's side, the dark haired Elf amending swiftly, "I apologize, I-I did not mean to be so - so abrupt. But... Let me work a few more days, ensure it is to perfection."
You smiled gently and nodded, Círdan smirking and leading you away - the start of a formal friendship. After testing Elrond's boat (when ready), you sent him a note that expressed your impression and complimenting his woodworking skills, even saying you looked forward to his future creations.
His first letter back to you was one of thousands, and the start of his Heraldry.
Yet now, in present day, you wondered if these letters weren't enough and if he thought you untruthful in your declaration of affection. While your companionship had now lasted decades, you were still insecure enough that you lose wit, cheek, and tongue when he's around. And now, the past half a year, you've seen him eight times and couldn't muster your courage, and perhaps, it wasn't enough for Elrond anymore.
You just expressed yourself better in words! And you didn't leave Círdan's side; you did not venture around Middle-earth, never left your sanctuary. You adored Elrond's accounts of adventures and travels and work, it was your only time to "live", even if vicariously.
Now, worriment set in; anxious that you weren't enough.
"Ah," Círdan hummed as he and Elrond entered your humble home for supper, "it smells divine in here, sweet girl."
"Thank you," you whispered, setting the table for the meal as Elrond was the one who would not meet your eye.
"I'll be a moment, I need to wash up," he excused himself, always presentable; forever perfect.
You just sighed as he slipped from the room; a typical guest in your home, especially with his...recent increased business from the High King. "You seem pensive," Círdan noted, taking the bowl of salad to the table for you. "Is there anything on your mind you wish to discuss?"
"Nothing of note."
"Then speak to me of something not of note."
"If it is of no note, Grandfather, why give it voice?"
"Because it still takes up room, be it in your head and heart - which gives it validation to speak of."
You paused at the table, finding him grinning, offering an unamused glare. "I told you not to do that," you reprimanded softly.
"Do what?"
"Your - little - your pearls wisdom!" You groaned childishly, collapsing into a chair. "You can let me stew and figure things out for myself, we do not always have to speak of matters. It is an unfair advantage that I am inundated with your pearls and others toil for direction!"
Círdan chuckled, folding his hands before his dinner plate. "To complain of such an advantage is - "
"I know."
"Then why do it?"
"Because..."
"You are frustrated with your own emotion that you refuse to give life to?"
With a huff, you nodded, "Exactly."
"What is the matter?"
Your head shook in deflection, "Perhaps, I am just overwhelmed. I think I'll take a walk - "
"But supper - "
"I'll eat later," you promised, reaching out to lay your hand on his and smile, "I just need a few moments to breathe. Eat, enjoy, I'll find you later."
You left before another word could be spoken. When Elrond reentered the kitchen, he only found Círdan and wondered, "Where's Y/N?"
"She seemed distraught, saddened by something. She decided to go for a walk, clear her head a bit."
"Right," Elrond nodded, feeling awkward just standing there.
"Come, sit, eat," Círdan invited with a small smirk, "she's probably gone off to the workshop, she likes to write there. Says it's more inspiring than the library. Come, Elrond... She'll be awhile."
Elrond frowned and looked to the door, Círdan knowing his words were replaying in the half-Elf's mind. "Perhaps I should check on her?" He asked his old Master. "It would be wrong to eat without the chef, would it not?"
"I was thinking the same," the older, greying Elf nodded, "though you waste your time, that girl is stubborn - trapped in her mind too often."
"How do you mean?"
"It's why she writes," Círdan explained, "at least, why she writes you, I imagine. She often loses her voice, feels as if she is not entitled to it's very being - so, she writes, uses her words... And seemingly, you understand them best - relate to her, in a way. So," he took a breath, "go, if you wish, but know, she's unlikely to speak."
Elrond was out the door before Círdan could uncork the bottle of wine left on the table. He smirked to himself, musing, "Oh, these kids..."
You had left your home and made a beeline for your grandfather's workshop, shutting the doors with a great big breath of relief before groaning in emotional frustration. "Oh, how silly!" You snipped to yourself, "This is all so silly, it makes no sense! I mean, the way I just shut down? It's so silly! Losing my voice? Over a man? Oh, just rubbish!" Your hands shook out violently. "I just need to say it, you know? I just need to say it - then he knows, he'll know and I can get rid of this silly feeling. He deserves to hear me say it, else he might think he's unwelcome, he might not want to visit..." You were unaware of Elrond approaching the door, opening it as you groaned once more, "OH! He's just a lad! He's just like you, you silly lass! Well, not entirely just like me - but he's just - he's just Elrond! What is there to fear!?"
"Is there someone else here I should address?" Elrond smirked gently as he stepped forward to make himself known, "Or do you often speak of me, to yourself?"
You squeaked and came to a halt, dress twirling around your ankles when you spun to face him. Hands came together, instantly threading your fingers and wringing them together nervously as your visitor smiled gently and slowly (so slowly) stepped forward. With a deep breath, you greeted, "Lord Elrond."
"Oh, please," he sighed, "are we not past formalities?"
"Far beyond," you agreed, shaking your head and facing the open wall that showcased the harbor and horizon; the last of the sunlight streaking the sky with water-painted color.
"It felt wrong to indulge on such a gorgeous creature without the architect being there to experience it first," he told you, coming to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with respectable distance still between you. "Yet you fled before..."
"I'm sorry," you blurted out, feeling suffocated briefly, "I could not linger."
"Is there a reason to feel unwelcome in your own home?"
You took a breath, "Well, um, it's just - it's you... You are the reason..."
Elrond startled, "What? I-I'm sorry, what have I done? What did I do?"
"You're you," you turned to him, "and that's not your fault, but you're you, and it drives me to insanity."
"I don't think I follow? I thought - in our letters, I thought we had a connection. That we understood one another...? And now that I'm here, you shy away from me, have I truly offended you so gravely?"
"No, Elrond, you have not offended me - it's the opposite," you risked your own comfort and reached out for his bicep first; which, in turn, made him step closer. "You are not betrayed, nor are you mistaken. There's a connection, of course there is. I do not know anyone who could fake such affection for such an extended period of time," you scoffed.
"Perhaps Sauron - "
"But you nor I are he."
"No," Elrond smiled gently, shifting his arms downward to hold your elbows and caress you into his chest as your hands were rearranged to his chest, "we are not, thank the Valar."
"I do not deceive you. The affection I hold for you, it's authentic and genuine. It's real, Elrond, it's real..."
"It is?" He asked, lifting a hand to hold your jaw; thumb caressing the apple of your cheek.
"It is. I was just... You disarm me. You make me small again, you make me tongue-tied, confused, excited - like everything is new again. And it both scares and invigorates me that I do not know what to do in those moments, so I hide from you. In your letters, I can plan my words; but when you're here, in front of me, under my hands," you cooed, petting his velvet tunic, "I lose my nerve. My senses..."
Elrond chuckled, hands drifting down to hold you by the base of your ribcage, "This... This is a relief to hear. I worried I offended you, that I had upset you in some way. That I ruined this before it had a chance to take shape."
"Hardly," you mused. "I lose my nerve around you, I feel so silly - so young and green to love..."
"'Love'?" He repeated.
"Oh, I just - I only meant - "
"Take comfort in the fact that the feeling is mutual, my sweet." Elrond chuckled, caressing your cheek lovingly, "I fear the High King may grow tired of me asking to personally deliver Círdan his letters."
"Perhaps I will have to find reason to visit you?"
"I would like that, perhaps more than I should admit," he whispered, slowly lowering his lips onto yours for a much awaited kiss - giving you every opportunity to back out, but it's not like you ever would. Not when you've waited for this for so long. His hand now cupped your jaw, sliding sweetly towards the back of your neck. Kissing Elrond was everything you thought: soft, gentle, evenly-paced, commandeering, all encompassing, and mind-numbing; you never wanted this to end, you never wanted to stop kissing him.
However, your moment was cut short by a loud crunching; pulling back as Elrond did, both turning to the main doors to spy your grandfather, Círdan, standing there smugly. He was holding a bowl made of bamboo, eating a crisp salad, barely holding back his grin. Upon seeing his mirthful expression, you deflated into Elrond's chest; his arm coiling around your waist to keep you anchored in place while the other dropped to open his stance - proving he didn't feel defensive.
"Grandfather?" You questioned softly.
"Mh," he swallowed his bite, "don't mind me, just appreciating the fruits of my labor."
"I beg your pardon?" You laughed.
Círdan shrugged, "You are both young and intelligent. Wise. Insightful," he listed, "yet you are so naïve to think this union was yours alone."
Elrond glanced down at you in confusion, brows furrowed, asking, "What do you mean, my Lord?"
"Grandfather, it was Elrond and I who penned letters for decades - "
"Indeed," Círdan agreed, "but why do you think the High King has sent Lord Elrond to us so often these past few months?"
You were both stunned into silence, Elrond asking, "You? You asked him to...to send me?"
"I did," Círdan nodded, "it is disheartening to see my granddaughter, whom I love so utterly and dearly, driven into isolation because emotions can be so complicated and difficult. It was time for you two to finally confront your emotions, and after three months, we both knew we had to up our efforts..."
"The High King was in on this!?" You squeaked, feeling embarrassment seize your heart.
"You know, despite being High King, Gil-Galad is still fun," Círdan defended with a smirk. "So, he devised new engagements to send Elrond here for - giving the two of you longer days together between my responses. He agreed to send Herald Elrond himself here upon my encouragement. From your first interaction, I saw what you two have always felt. It's good of you to admit your feelings, is it not? Relieving, I mean?"
"Terribly," you agreed, Elrond rubbing your waist in support.
"Well, then you'll be happy to know, I've begun my response to Gil-Galad, so you'll have a few more days here, Elrond. I expect that boat done," he teased, "and upon your return to Lindon, I will be sending my granddaughter to accompany you as my own emissary."
"What for?" You breathed in shocked happiness, lips turning up brightly.
"It is time you begin a new education, my girl," he grinned, "and the High King has granted his blessing."
"Why would the High King be involved for my education?"
"I want you on a tour of Middle-earth," he explained, "meeting dignitaries, taking notes on what you see, hear, experience. I want detailed accounts, my girl, for our records so the King has agreed to send Herald Elrond to guide your tour."
"You've done all of that... For me?" You couldn't help the tears that sprung to your eyes, pure glee lightening your heart and head. Then, a sudden thought made you worry, "Why? Do you wish to away with me?"
"On the contrary," Cirdan set aside his bowl and approached you, Elrond letting go so you two could meet in the middle of the workshop, "I despise the idea of letting you go, even to carry my work back to the High King... Knowing you'll return shortly... But sending you on this tour is a necessity, sweet girl, because I only trust your written accounts. It's time... It's time for you to see the world I've long protected you from as it truly is and bring us back update records and accounts, and who better to show it to you than Elrond Peredhel?" He smiled, looking over your shoulder at his ex-student. You felt Elrond near your flank, Círdan looking at the two of you fondly; even reaching out to caress your cheek as he breathed in deeply. "What joy my heart feels, knowing you two have found one another."
"What joy we feel you decided to play matchmaker," you chuckled.
"Well, they say perfection only exists in Valinor, but I was determined to challenge that."
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part two: The Risk
requesting rules and masterlist
TROP masterlist
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sserpente · 1 year ago
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The Weight of a Promise - Part II
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Synopsis: One month has passed since you reluctantly became Lord Gortash's concubine. You ought to hate him--yet your heart seems to disagree.
A/N: When inspiration strikes…you gotta strike back! Took a bit longer than I expected but here we go! :D
You can read Part I here!
Words: 2523 Warnings: violence, blood, mentions of prostitution, concubine!Reader
“Good morning, dear. I take it you’ve had sweet dreams?”
You stirred, eyes flying open. You were warm, and comfortable. Cosy. Your head was resting on Gortash’s naked chest, his right arm pressing you close against his body. You had gotten so used to his presence and the intimacy between you that you didn’t even flinch away when his fingertips ghosted over your bare shoulder but instead…took relish in it.
“Morning…”
One whole month. You had been keeping an eye on the calendar on Gortash’s desk. You were surprised, to say the least. Part of you had suspected he would grow tired of you after a few days and move on to the next whore he’d be given for free. Perhaps one that would throw herself at him.
Alas, as much as you hated to admit it, you had begun to enjoy his company. Enver Gortash was as insufferable as he was megalomaniacal. But he was charming, too. No wonder the city gladly accepted him as its hero and saviour.
His mask was perfect. You very much doubted he truly did have a heart for the homeless and the poor though. Only yesterday had you overheard him talk about increasing the tax rates for small businesses for more profit to put into his Steel Watch. Now that you spent so much time with him, you would have believed his chivalry too had you not known the truth. A good man did not keep concubines, not like this. A good man did not have rumours spread about him worshipping one of the dead three.
And yet, despite everything, part of you was growing…grateful. He’d kept his promise. Thanks to him, you barely remembered what hunger was now. He had gotten you so many dresses you could never decide what to wear and every night, you shared his bed, warm and comfortable, nestled underneath his soft sheets.
The sex was phenomenal, of course. Just like the very first time he had claimed you, you would be lying if you insisted it wasn’t a pleasurable experience for you. Only it was empty, meaningless. Why else would he keep you around if not for a wet hole to fuck when he was overcome with lust?
The more time you were forced to spend with him, the more you realised that you wanted him to like you for more than your body. To know that you were more than an object for him to play with and entertain himself with and to convince yourself and your stupid feelings that he was not the villain you took him for. To soothe your own conscience.
It could be Stockholm Syndrome, you thought, chewing on your lower lip. But then again, he had told you that you were free to go the very day you arrived, made it seem like it had been your own choice to become a slave to his most carnal desires in exchange for your basic human needs to be met.
The mornings all started the same. You and Gortash had breakfast together, after that he tended to his archduke business and you remained in bed for a while longer, reading the books he owned. He’d call you over at some point, eager for your company—or your body.
As of right now, he was finished with his duties for the day. After a rich lunch, he’d insisted on taking a walk with you by the sea near Wyrm’s Rock to take his mind off things, a Steel Watcher always in close vicinity to protect him.
“You are not focusing at all, are you, dear? Could you at least put in a little bit of effort? Make it a challenge for me!”
You blinked. You’d been staring at the lance board for what must have been several minutes with your knees tucked and your chin resting between them. Gortash had insisted you played with him tonight. Only you had no idea how.
“I don’t know how to play,” you admitted.
Amusement flashed over Gortash’s handsome face. “You don’t know how to play lance board? Truly?”
You shook your head.
He took a deep breath. “Well, in that case…it is rather simple. There are six pieces in the game that—”
“Why did you increase the tax rates?” You couldn’t help it. The question left your lips before you could stop yourself. You were curious.
Gortash paused, momentary surprise marking his features. “And since when exactly, pray tell, do I discuss political matters with my concubine?”
“It’s just a question. I overheard you passing the bill.”
“You mean you were eavesdropping.”
You frowned. “You knew I was right there.”
“Ah, yes.” He chuckled. But then, nothing.
“So?”
“Protection is expensive, my dear. My Steel Watch requires constant maintenance. Maintenance that requires materials. Materials that cost money.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Pardon me?”
“I’ve seen the documents. You have two vaults at the Counting House. Two vaults that are bulging with gold.” You’d caught a glimpse at the numbers, black ink on a fresh roll of parchment one morning while he’d made you keep his cock warm for him at his desk. You swallowed. “If you truly had the city’s best interest at heart you would be reaching into your own pockets to help out. That is true charity.”
Gortash raised an eyebrow. He appeared amused, if anything. “I am giving the citizens of Baldur’s Gate a purpose. By contributing in the form of taxes, they are contributing to keeping the city and themselves safe. And unlike my own fortunes, tax money is in constant circulation.”
You scoffed. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”
“I will not have you criticize my rule, my dear. Were you a lady or an adviser of mine, I could have your head for this without anyone batting an eyelash.”
Too far. You swallowed. So much for trying to convince yourself he was not a villain. “I apologise.”
“Good. Now, as I said. There are six types of pieces in the game. The first—”
Gortash was interrupted yet again. This time, however, by an airborne knife knocking the piece he pointed to straight to the ground where it shattered into a dozen pieces.
“Playing with your whore instead of working? You disappoint me, lordling.”
Gortash stiffened visibly. “Orin.”
Your eyes widened when you turned to face the unwanted visitor. She was as pale as the moon itself, with white creamy eyes piercing your soul. And her clothes…where they made of…skin? She staggered closer on bare feet, retrieving her dagger.
“You’ll find I have made much progress with our operation. But unlike you, I am a man of true entertainment. Uninterrupted murder is not up my alley.”
You blinked. Murder? What in the hells was he talking about?
“You are losing your focus, lordling. Do you need a reminder?”
Before you had processed what was happening, Orin grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you flush against her. The smell of rotten meat and blood filled your nostrils, the blade of her dagger pressing into your skin. Her hands were ice-cold.
You gasped for air, paralysed. You willed your legs to kick her, your fingers to scratch her, your head to shatter her chin…but your body did not obey. Fear wrapped its icy claws around you, preventing you from taking action.
One wrong movement…and you would die. Your eyes found Gortash’s, yours pleading, begging. Surely, he would not let her harm you, surely, he would care if you lived after having shared the bed with him so many times…
“Now don’t be ridiculous, Orin. She’s my concubine. The only thing you will accomplish by killing her is making a mess of my office. I can always get a new one at the snap of my fingers.”
Your face fell, heart skipping several beats in a row. Not because of your fear now—but because it broke. Your lips parted. Was that truly how he felt after you’d spread your legs for him, listened to his sorrows, and kept him company? He’d promised to treat you well. Discarding you to the first bloodthirsty killer—whoever this Orin was—would break that promise after all.
“Well…then you won’t mind if I slit her throat? Bathe in her sweet blood and feast on her intestines? Would you still like to fuck her then, lordling?”
For just a second, you believed to catch a glimpse of actual panic glistening in his dark eyes. It was a fleeting moment, quickly replaced by a mask of steel.
“Orin, no, stop it!”
The woman laughed, the stench of stale blood almost making you gag as she pressed the blade even further against your delicate skin until you could feel a slight burn and something warm and sticky running down your throat.
“Orin!” You had not imagined it. There was panic swinging in his voice too now.
With a start, she removed her dagger from your throat and pushed you. You landed on your hands and knees on the hard stone floor, a pained cry escaping your lips due to the impact.
“With Ketheric Thorm dead, you should be on your guard, lordling. Because right now, your little plan is falling apart. And I am so very eager to spill blood in your chambers.”
“Control yourself, Orin. Ketheric’s death is a temporary setback. Once the Netherstone is back in our possession, we have nothing to fear and everything will go according to plan.”
You felt pathetic, cowering on the cold floor and listening to the conversation. You only understood half of what they were saying. Netherstones? What plan? And who was Ketheric Thorm?
“I will gut you if not, Gortash.” She disappeared in a mist of black and red as if her flesh erupted into a million pieces before evaporating.
Only now did you realise how heavily you were breathing. Gortash bent down, one of his hands resting on your shoulder.
“Are you alright?”
“No! No, I’m not alright!” you exclaimed, biting back a sob.
“You would have let her kill me!”
“I would not.”
“Yes! That’s what you said!” Another sob, one you were unable to hold back. You were trembling. You could feel a small trickle of blood running down your cleavage right between your breasts.
Gortash grabbed a hold of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Showing her I care for you would have been showing her weakness and that I cannot afford. I apologise you were caught between the lines.”
Care.
“How am I supposed to believe that? Am I not a means to an end? You keep acting like I should be grateful you took me in and gave me a roof over my head in exchange for sex and now I almost…” You did not dare finish the thought. Died.
“You stupid girl. Do you truly think I would keep just any woman around my private quarters where I conduct important city business? Do you think I would share my private bed with just any prostitute?”
“I…I…” You hesitated. He was not wrong.
“I am not the kind of man to pursue, my dear. I learned the hard way you simply have to take what you want in life. I liked you. So I had you brought here.”
“Why didn’t you just say so? Why must everything you do be a power trip?”
“A power trip? Exercising dominance is crucial to survive in this world. I want you here, by my side. Is that not enough? What else do you want me to tell you?”
He helped you up, retrieving a cloth from the cupboard next to a wash bowl. The gentleness with which he wiped at your throat and your chest to clean the blood off of you surprised you so much yet another sob escaped you.
“I…I want you to tell me…you care about me? I’m not just a whore you can easily replace?”
“I don’t want any of the other whores. I wanted you. And I still do. I have no reason to lie to you, my dear. And you care about me too. I can see it in your eyes. You like the things we do together. Am I right?”
You nodded, unable to utter words for a moment.
“I hate myself for it.”
“Oh? And why is that, my dear?”
“You’re not a good person, Gortash. I can see that. I can feel it with every fibre of my being.”
“But…?”
“But…”
He threw the cloth away and cupped your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips.
“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t…”
He smirked. He understood.
“I will have some servants fetched to run you a hot bath. I have some business to attend to. Then I will join you.”
“Gortash?”
“No.” He lifted a hand, a thoughtful expression decorating his handsome features for a moment. “I want you to call me by my first name when we’re in private. Enver.”
You frowned, lips parting in shock. The archduke of Baldur’s Gate wanted you to…call him by his first name?
“Enver.” You tasted the name on your tongue. It felt strange and yet…oddly familiar.
“That’s better.”
“Who is Orin? And don’t even think about telling me it doesn’t concern me given she just almost killed me.”
Gortash sighed. “She is…the Chosen of Bhaal, the god of murder and a reluctant ally of mine.”
Your eyes widened, shock rippling through you. Bhaal? The god of murder? One of the dead three?
“And who is…was…Ketheric Thorm?”
“The Chosen of Myrkul, a general who ruled over the Shadow Cursed Lands. Another reluctant ally.” Myrkul. He too was one of the dead three. The rumours you had heard about Gortash… Could that possibly mean…
“Go-…Enver…what deity do you worship?”
He smiled at you wickedly. “You have a sharp mind indeed, my dear. You might just be able to best me in a game of lance board in time.”
“Tell me what deity you worship.”
“You already know, do you not? You have asked me before, when we first met. And I am indeed, my dear, the Chosen of Bane. I will lead this city to glory.”
You took a step back, shock spreading in your veins like spiked vines. “What is this plan? What are the Netherstones?”
“That’s enough questions for now. Go and rest. The servants will be with you shortly.” He strode off, yet before he wrapped his hands around the doorknob, he turned his head and said, “Let me say it again: You belong by my side now, my dear. You have my protection. You have nothing to fear from me—or Orin, I will make sure of that. You might not agree with my methods but you cannot fight your own heart. You can trust me.”
With that, he was gone. Another promise. One that the growing butterflies in your stomach hoped he would never break. You belong by my side now, my dear.
You could leave, he had said a month ago. You should leave. Instead, you found yourself heading over to the wooden tub get rid of your now bloody dress.
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jamespotterismydaddy · 1 year ago
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Traded Posession
Dark!jacaerys x reader
A/N: I definitely did not do this request justice but I also feel like this would have to be a series if I did and I probs should finish a series before I start a new one😭
Pt 2 here
TW: DUBCON, smut, semi public sex, degration, talks of death, size kink
word count: 1,656 words
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They call you a witch, all of them. How else would an unremarkable peasant girl get the attention of Aemond Targaryen? You spend your days at his side, bathed in blood as you lick his dagger clean. You’re his perfect accomplice. You like to think that he cares for you, loves you even but in this moment, you realize just how wrong you are.
The Kinslayer has fled King’s Landing and Prince Jacaerys has claimed it. He leaves you behind like a toy that he has tired of.
The next few days are a blur. Cregan Stark’s
men are the ones to find you after your
failed attempts to escape the city. In hindsight, it was silly to think you’d make it to Harrenhall anyhow, make it to your lover. After you are arrested, they promptly throw you into the dungeon, the dungeon where you have been left to rot for the past few days.
This is when you truly realize that he’s not coming for you. He’s. Not. Saving. You. And you were an idiot to think otherwise.
You’re getting close to having been left alone too long with your thoughts when the door to your cell clangs open. Two guards walk in and lift you under each arm, to your feet.
“Hey! What are you doing?” You ask, happy to be taken out of the dungeon but unsure if it’s out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“His Grace has summoned your presence.” The guard on the left says as they drag you to the throne room.
When you arrive, the doors are thrown open and you stumble in, the guards’ pace much quicker than your own. You come to a halt and someone says, “You stand in the presence of the Dragon Prince, Jacaerys, Heir to the Iron Throne and future Protector of the Realm.”
Jacaerys Velaryon stares down at you from the Iron Throne, a cold gaze in his eyes. “Kneel.” He commands and when you don’t immediately obey, your legs are kicked out at the joint and you fall to your knees. He just looks at you for a moment. “You’re much plainer than I had suspected.” He comments offhandedly.
“Sorry to disappoint.” You say with a grimace.
A hand strikes you across the face. “You will use the proper honourifics when you address the prince, whore.” The guard on the right spits out at you.
“There’s no need for that at the moment, Ser.” Jacaerys says and then smirks. “Actually, i’ll have the room cleared.
“Your Grace.” The guards bow and then exit the room dutifully.
“I was truly pleased when we captured you, girl. I had this whole plan to trade you to my traitor of an uncle just to make him watch as I burned you alive instead…” He trails off. It’s almost like he’s telling you a story rather than describing your fate. “It was all going to be proper vengeance for my brother. Though, you’re not nearly as innocent as he was, are you?” The way he speaks is so casual that it could almost unnerve you, if it wasn’t for your experience with one bloodthirsty Targaryen already. “Imagine my surprise when I send a messenger to him and the boy returns, cockless, with a note that says I can keep you.”
You try not to let the hurt show on your face. After all you’ve done for him, Aemond couldn’t give a shit whether you live or die.
“Ahh disappointed, are you? So am I.” He says simply. “I was actually so terribly disappointed that I found that sweet little village you’re from and burnt it down instead.”
The blood drains from your face. “W-What?”
“You were not useful to me so I burnt your fucking village to the ground.”
You don’t feel like the powerful woman you were at Aemond’s side at this point. You don’t even know how you feel. Your silence reflects your shock.
“Is that all you can show your future king, a blank stare? The more I look at you, the more I can’t believe how the cyclops was so beguiled. You’re nothing.” He says with a cruel disappointment.
You stare him down, angrily now and you spit on the ground in front of you.
“Are you trying to prove something to me, wench? All I can see is that you are perhaps a bit more reckless than an average peasant. Do you care for your life at all?” He asks, like he thinks you’re stupid.
“Yes, your Grace.” You say, thinking it would be unwise to lie. Spitting at his feet was unwise as well but perhaps pride is your fatal flaw… perhaps.
“Come here.” He says, beckoning you with his fingers. You follow his command, stopping at his feet. He points down. “Kneel.” You feel inclined to disobey, Aemond liked that defiance but this man is harder to read, frightening in a different way.
“I plead your mercy, my prince.” Grovelling usually is the safest bet.
“You really cannot decide how to act, can you? I intend to find your purpose.” He grabs you by the chin and tilts your head up. “Let’s start with the most logical.” He unbuckles his belt and you know exactly what he desires.
The prince is well endowed, you know it before he releases himself, but you could not have expected him to be this sizable. He laughs at your reaction. “Judging by the look on your face, Aemond’s cock is small.”
Not small. You think to yourself. But compared to this…
“I don’t doubt that you know what to do. I trust you won’t try anything stupid” He says seriously.
Stupid like biting his cock off.
He’s right though, you do know what to do, taking him in your mouth as much as you can and beginning to suck, you quickly realize Jacaerys is bored. You speed up your movements, just the way Aemond used to like it. The quick pace usually is pleasing to most men… you thought, but the way the prince slumps back in his throne says otherwise. He examines one of the swords next to him in a distant sort of interest and after a few moments, he grips your hair and pulls you off.
“I see now why he didn’t come back for you. You’re like a broken toy.”
You just gaze up at him from under your lashes. “It’s how he liked it.”
Jace scoffs. “What a surprise. You have no technique. I suppose you can learn. I expected you’d be a fully trained pet but oh well.” He brings your head close again. “Go slower this time.” He tells you and you do, taking the head into your mouth and beginning to suckle like a little lamb. “Better.”
You lick up his shaft and then try to take him fully into your mouth again. He never completely fits but you bring your hand up to aide yourself. He guides your movements, pulling on your hair back and forth. You gag almost every time but it would be pretty much impossible not to with how big he is. Though he seems to get off on both, it’s more the motions than your suffering that brings him pleasure.
“Good. Now get up.” He says as he pulls you off again. He stands as well and though he’s not as tall as aemond, he’s still taller than you. “Bend over.”
“Over what, your Grace?”
He sighs and rolls his eyes, like you’re more of a nuisance than anything. He then swiftly grabs you by the waist and manhandles you so you’re bent over the iron throne. Though, you make yourself pliable for him.
“You would think that as a prince, I wouldn’t have to do all this work.” He rucks up your skirts and tugs down your smallclothes. He sees your folds glistening with wetness. “Oh gods, you like all this? What a pretty little cunt you have.” He says as he rubs his hand through it. “Let’s see if it’s enough to truly make a man cunt-struck.” He then slips himself inside of you, so slowly that you think that it makes it hurt more rather than less.
“Ah-ah…” you whimper out once he’s fully sheathed inside of you.
“I almost didn’t think I’d get it all the way in.” He laughs a little before beginning to thrust lazily. “Maybe this was the only reason he kept you around. It wasn’t enough though, was it? He still abandoned his little whore.” He chuckles and begins to thrust a little harder now. “Nothing to say? You were so confident at the cyclops’s side you seemed to have lots to say then.”
“My prince…” you moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, his thick cock filling you up deliciously.
“Say my name when I fuck you.”
“Mmm, Jacaerys.” You whine out as his hands come to your hips, his thrusts making you unsteady.
“Perhaps I’ll keep you around. Make you my little fuck toy.” His thrusts get quite rough now. He’s angry and taking it out on you. And you could swear that his thrusts are so deep that his cock is in your tummy. You feel his fingertips on your pearl.
“Please, Jacaerys.” You beg him for release.
“Begging now? Gods maybe my stupid fucking uncle just enjoyed how pathetic you are, but you don’t care about him now, do you? You’re my whore now.” His hips keep slamming against yours and his words make you hit your peak, the possession of them enticing you. The way you constrict around him has the young prince hitting his peak as well. He spills his seed deep inside you and then immediately pulls out.
“I’m going to my chambers. I’ll have you bathed and delivered there in an hour.” He says before descending the steps and leaving you there, slumped over the iron throne.
taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy
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milykins · 2 months ago
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Maybe this is too simple of an ask, so ignore if you wish, but I was just thinking what might Donnie's reaction be to someone (s/o, crush, friend, your choice), making him homemade pop-tarts?
Hey, anon! Thank you for the ask! I apologize for how long it took me to respond to this. I did have some difficulty with writer's block. Definitely not too simple, I did flesh it out a little, so I hope that's okay!
TW: None, aged up characters, Donnie x Reader
Special thanks to @iridescentflamingo for creating the gif! This is for you and the Donnie girls!
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Pop-Tarts
It had begun with a game of questions.
“I like… Pop-Tarts.” This was the first bit of information he’d given you when the two of you started getting to know one another. Alright, he had a sweet tooth for pastries; you could get behind that.
A few months later, his brothers spilled the beans. He didn’t just like them; Pop-Tarts were like some kind of oral fixation for him. He licked them. He sat there working in his lab, one hand busily typing or writing while the other hand held a pop-tart.
The one thing you couldn’t understand was their claim that he put them back in the box after licking all the icing off. Why wouldn’t he just toss them if he didn’t want to eat the rest?
Donnie confessed that he hadn’t really been thinking the first time he put one back in, and then it just became a habit. It drove his brothers nuts, and they teased him mercilessly about it. No box was safe; Mikey had to hoard his in his bedroom.
Instead of viewing it as a strange habit, you found it endearing. Donnie had his quirks, yet he was always kind and gentle with you, eagerly showing you his latest projects. You noticed how his face would light up like a solar flare when you entered the lair. He would stop his work and leave his lab to greet you upon hearing your voice.
Your feelings toward him developed slowly. When the two of you first became friends, he explicitly told you that you could call on him anytime, day or night. You liked him a lot. He was a great friend, advice-giver, tech-whiz extraordinaire, and total sweetheart. He’d come to fix your computer a few times and finally built a brand new one with parts he’d salvaged from his old tech.
It was a gesture so sweet that you wanted to do something even sweeter for him. What better idea than to bake him something? Pop tarts, perhaps? The recipe was easy enough: puff pastry, jam filling, and pink icing with sprinkles. Once finished, you’d left them on the counter and gone out to grab a few things for dinner. You hadn’t expected him to drop by and ruin the surprise.
Upon unlocking the door to your apartment, you heard a quiet shuffling in the kitchen. You quickly assumed it was one of the brothers. You had known them long enough by this point that they tended to show up unannounced from time to time. Which brother, though?
Mikey was the prime suspect. He'd been caught a few times stealing snacks, and you worried that your surprise for Donnie had already been ruined. Raph dropped by to borrow DVDs and occasionally watch them, but your living room was empty. Leo, being the most respectful of his brothers, never showed up without calling or texting first, so it couldn't be him. That left... Donnie, and as you turned the corner, you could indeed see it was him.
The scene that greeted you was quite comical indeed. He'd frozen, one of your homemade pop tarts in hand, his large tongue in mid-lick. He turned slowly, looking very much like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
"So, it's true what your brothers say." Doing your best to keep your expression neutral, you approached the tall, lanky turtle. "You little thief, those were meant to be a surprise." You deliberately left out the fact that they were a surprise for him; you just wanted to see him squirm a little.
Dropping the treat immediately, Donnie became a stuttering, blushing mess, stumbling over his apology. “I-I-I’m sorry! I saw them and—.”
“You couldn’t help yourself?” you finished for him, slowly making your way over.
He looked so guilty that you almost cracked right then and there. “I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t have…”
“No, you shouldn’t have, how dare you?” You were right up to him now, hands on your hips, doing your best to appear annoyed. “I expected this kind of behaviour from Mikey, not you.”
Poor Donnie, deflating even further, had started to back up slightly toward the window. “I’m sorry…” he said for the third and final time. “I’ll compensate you for the ingredients. Maybe it’s best if I just… go.”
No! This isn’t what you wanted. Chastising yourself for taking things too far, you went after him, grabbing his arm before he could leave. “Wait!”
The command was executed in a huff as the turtle in purple turned, his expression confused. “But—.”
“They’re for you!” you rushed out, catching his hazel gaze for a brief moment. “Donnie… I was just teasing… I made them all… for you.” Dropping your hand, you took a deep breath, and the words kept coming. “I wanted to repay you for the computer… and the advice… and the help… just everything.”
He regarded you quietly as your gaze dropped, and you rubbed your bicep awkwardly. “They’re for me?” It seemed as though his mind was struggling to catch up, trying to process all the information you’d just given him.
“Yes,” you replied softly. “You never finish the store-bought kind, so I thought you’d prefer these ones. I’ll understand if you don’t; I just—”
It felt like a switch had been flipped. He wrapped those long arms of his right around you, drawing you close to his chest. “I love them. Thank you.”
You felt a wave of relief as you sank into his embrace, sliding your arms up under his to grasp his shoulders. “You’re welcome.” Now, you were overwhelmed by the urge to finally reveal the feelings you had hidden inside all along. “Donnie… I…”
The moment you looked up at him, his mouth descended on yours in the sweetest of kisses. Warmth pooled in your belly as you responded, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze until he pulled away. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” He let out an awkward laugh.
“Me too,” you murmured, the biggest, stupidest grin on your face. “I wanted to tell you.”
“In a way, you did.” He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. “No one has ever made something like this for me before.”
It was during this exchange that you had pulled away slightly and taken his hand, guiding him back to the kitchen and handing him the discarded treat from earlier. “Well, Pop-Tarts are your thing, aren’t they?” you giggled. “I still don’t understand how you manage to lick the icing off the store-bought ones. I bet you can’t.”
Donnie took another swipe of icing with his tongue. “Care to test that theory sometime?” He was grinning now too, raising an eyeridge playfully. “For science, of course.”
You had to laugh, but the double meaning behind his words stirred something within you. “For science… I think we might have to test out a few different types of icing.” This playful flirting was new and exciting, and you craved more of it.
By now, Donnie had nearly finished the pop-tart in two large bites. “Mm…” His groan of satisfaction said it all; he loved them. He took the last bite and carefully tugged you close again. “Delicious! Don’t let Mikey find these; I want them all to myself.”
“I can do that,” you whisper as you’re pressed against him once more. “As long as I can have you all to myself, then we have a deal.”
“Deal.” His mouth was on yours again, as if he were starving for your kisses, drinking in the warmth and softness of your body.
Nothing more needed to be said, but Donnie intended to use your counter for something other than baking. That day you discovered he had quite the tongue, indeed.
End.
Taglist:
@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus
@the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28
@definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie
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halliestinks · 1 year ago
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Hello!! I really loved your cartman and reader who’s like his sister headcanons so i had a similar request
could you write another wholesome headcanons for a female reader who treats karen like her little sister? the reader only had brothers so karen is like her adoptive younger sister, and how would kenny react?? maybe he also has a crush on her? sorry if it’s too much <33
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Karen McCormick w/ Fem!Reader who treats her like a younger sister
a/n: ty for the request! I had a lot of fun writing this and I love karen, she and her brothers deserve sm better :C I hope you like it 🎉🎉 (reader is in highschool & karen is 12-13)
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• growing up with brothers was a struggle to say the least
• it’s not like you didn’t love them or anything, you just found yourself yearning for a sisterly bond
• so when you first met karen you instantly felt a connection and took on the role as the protective older sister 💪😤
• you met her at the park one day, she seemed really upset so you approached her and asked if she was okay
"my friends ditched me to go shopping, they said I couldn't come because I wouldn’t even be able to buy anything..."
“……do you want me to beat them up"
• ngl you probably freaked her out a bit at first LMAO
• she’s like ??? who are you???
• the only reason you recognised her was because she’s related to kenny. and even then, you barely spoke to him so it took you a little while to realize who she was
• to cheer her up, you took her to go shopping by yourselves. you willingly payed for whatever she wanted (though she argued that you didn't have to). and from that day on, you found yourselves hanging out frequently
• karen was definitely unsure at first, she’s never had an older female friend before so she didn’t know how to behave.
• but as time went on she started to open up, and before you knew it, you were having deep conversations and learnt a lot about her
• you occasionally invite her over to your place. and you have a girls night! giving each other makeovers, playing video games and watching horror movies is the usual routine
• since karen is also in the same sister-less situation as you, she will go to you for advice if it’s something she doesn’t want to talk to kenny about
• driving around mindlessly while blasting music is another fun activity you and karen enjoy (you jokingly follow people around town and make them think you guys are stalkers 🤭)
“isn’t that Clyde Donovan?”
“yah I think so”
“let’s follow him next”
“good idea 🫡”
• you then proceeded to follow him around until he took off running and squealing
• going over to her house is a rare occurrence, and it only ever happens when nobody else is there. you suspect that it’s because of her parents
• she only told you a little about them, but from what you heard they weren't very good people. luckily she has her older brother to take care of her, even though you didn't know kenny very well it sounded like karen really admired him
• speaking of kenny… karen constantly begs you to become friends with him. the conversation usually goes like this;
“you guys would be such good friends!! and then you can fall in love, get married and have babies so I can be a cool auntie!!!”
“…”
“😇”
“what! 😃”
• you do eventually run into kenny one day when you’re dropping karen off at home and he waits until karen can’t hear to thank you for everything
• you suddenly start seeing him a lot more after that encounter, getting to know him as well (karen teases you whenever she sees you two hanging out)
• he also joins you two whenever you’re at their house, and you manage to force him into modelling with you doing his makeup and karen paints his nails (he claims that he’s only doing it for karen but in all honesty he just likes spending time with you)
• sometimes when it’s a nice night out, you’ll take karen out to go stargazing
• you find a nice spot somewhere just out of town and you lay down either on the top of your car or on the grass
• pointing out silly imaginary constellations and giggling about them until you get tired and go back home
• you couldn’t wish for a better sister 🫶
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biancadoes1 · 5 months ago
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Hi! I recently discovered your blog, and I’m loving it!
I wanted to share that one of my friends went to the Netflix party with Luke and Nicola in Brazil. She’s still over the moon about the experience, and it was definitely one of the best moments of her life. She told me she noticed how they take care of each other and constantly touched while talking, almost like a couple. We spent weeks discussing every little detail. My friend believes they either have something romantic going on or have had something in the past because the way they touch and look at each other isn’t how friends typically interact. We all know this by now, of course.
Anyway, I also wanted to share that during my friend’s stay in Rio, one of the other girls invited by Netflix (whom we unfortunately know) was a nightmare throughout the trip. At the party, she claimed she was feeling unwell, was treated by the medical team, but we strongly suspect she pretended to be sick, thinking Luke or Nic would hold her hand. She also complained there was nothing to eat at the party, despite plenty of options, and got upset because she thought she’d get a one-on-one moment with Luke and Nic.
A key detail: she hates the character Penelope. She had even made some posts on Twitter explaining why she didn’t like Penelope (though she deleted them when Netflix invited her). She also used to post saying Nic was trying to steal the spotlight in Bridgerton and that the show gave her too much attention, neglecting the main family.
The day after the party, all the girls had to catch their flights home, but she didn’t. She stayed longer in Rio to stalk Luke and Nic and even went to the restaurant where they were dining on their last night in the city. She tried to photograph them, but their security team didn’t allow it and asked her to respect their privacy. In the end, this girl ended up asking for money online to get home.
I find it so disturbing how someone can dislike a person yet be so obsessed with them to the point of stalking.
Ew.
So psychotic fans are just rampant in Bridgerton?
I mean, I guess I knew this. If none of you have been on Twitter to see the tweets from people who legit believe Bridgerton is a real world with real people living in society today, it's eye opening how fucking wrapped up in a fictional world people can truly get.
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delafiseaseses · 2 years ago
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Y'know what I think makes Jeannie May Crawford stand out so much amongst Fallout villains? Not just the fact she's associated with Boone and one of the horrors he's dealt with, but because she's different than most other Fallout villains, big or small.
[I'm not gonna be going into the cut Ghoul bigotry in Come Fly With Me even though it supports me point, as that is, well, cut and therefore not-canonical actions. Though it is in-line with her other behaviour.]
I know why Jeannie May feels different to me. She's an advocate of Normality. What do I mean by that? Well, it's simple. Her motive for her Big Evil Action is pretty clearly the fact that Carla didn't like Novac and was overall an annoyance to her status quo. The perfection of her town. Her "little desert oasis". Jeannie May is basically the leader of Novac. She owns the Dino-Dee Lite and by extension the entire town. To her badmouthing Novac is badmouthing her and that is a crime she cannot stand. No punishment is too great. Carla and her unborn child deserve to suffer, in her mind. She knows what the Legion do to women, but she didn't care.
But it doesn't just stop there. That's the thing. She doesn't just hate people disliking Novac. Jeannie May also resents the idea of people not being very social as Alice McBride says this "Oh, we keep to ourselves, for the most part. Try not to pry. I think Jeannie May gets bothered that we aren't more sociable, but it's just our way. Ain't that we don't appreciate what she's done, managing this town like she has, but I worry she feels that way anyhow." the McBrides were probably not at risk of the Carla-treatment, but who knows what Crawford would've done to them if she got too upset at their lack of sociability.
Oh, also, the reason she kept the document that got her killed? 500 caps. That's it. In the Bill of Sale it says "Payment of an additional five hundred bottle caps will be due pending successful maturation of the fetus, the claim to which shall be guaranteed by possession of this document." considering Jeannie May is a landlord to so many people that sum has to be nothing to her. The entire 1500 caps was nothing. But she was confident, arrogant. Nobody would discover her actions. Boone's suspicions wouldn't go anywhere (and he'd never suspect her). It was her town and she was safe in it. Everyone was unable to see past her act (except No-Bark if you believe that one thing he says is an indication he knows something is off about her).
Of course, when you're so confident that you'll never be caught, the thought never enters your mind anyone will find out. The only thing that enters your mind is... a .308 round.
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kokostarbits · 25 days ago
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🌼🔮Stuck with the Soggy Cat🔮🌼
-------------------------------------
Part 2:
🌟🥚Having You Here🥚🌟
Magolor had been living with Meta Knight for two weeks now.
He kept track of the days by the tea mugs stacking up on the little windowsill, and the fact that Meta Knight started leaving out exactly one extra slice of toast in the mornings without saying a word.
"You like having me here." Magolor teased one morning, poking at the toast with a grin. "Don't try to deny it."
Meta Knight didn't look up from his book. "I simply hate wasting food."
"And I just happen to show up every day when there's toast ready?"
"You still talk too much."
"You missed it."
That got a barely perceptible flick of an eye in his direction. Magolor grinned to himself.
Truthfully, things had been... oddly peaceful. He'd expected yelling. Cold shoulders.
Maybe a sword pointed at his neck, but Meta Knight (gruff and distant as ever) hadn't tried to throw him out. He hadn't brought up the betrayal again. He just... let Magolor be.
And more than that, he helped.
Like the night Magolor had a nightmare and woke up yelling spells he no longer had the magic to cast. Meta Knight had appeared in the doorway without a word, sat beside him, and stayed there until morning.
Or the time Magolor accidentally knocked over a whole shelf of books and started panicking, only for Meta Knight to silently start picking them up with him.
It was weird, and then nice, and then weird again.
But the weirdest part?
Meta Knight smiled more now. Not big, obvious grins like Kirby or Dedede. But soft, small things... Like the corners of his eyes crinkling, or the faintest tilt of his mask when Magolor said something ridiculous.
He'd started talking more too. Not a lot, but sometimes over late-night tea he'd tell Magolor stories. Quietly. Thoughtfully. Like he was letting the words out only because he knew Magolor would hold them gently.
One rainy evening, Magolor was curled up on the couch in that same black shirt with the "M" on it—he still wore it constantly, claiming it was "super comfy," though Meta Knight suspected the real reason was because it smelled like him.
Meta Knight sat across from him, reading.
"You ever get tired of all this quiet?" Magolor asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "You used to live on a battleship...the Halberd, right? With swords, yelling and the dramatic lightning?"
Meta Knight turned a page. "Peace is preferable."
"Even with me here?"
There was a pause. Meta Knight looked up, meeting his gaze.
"Especially with you here."
Magolor blinked. His ears twitched.
"O-Oh..."
He pulled the shirt collar up to hide the way his face heated.
Meta Knight stood and walked over. He knelt in front of the couch and gently brushed a crumb from Magolor's cloak, completely ignoring the wide-eyed look he was getting.
"You've... changed..." he said quietly. "You still talk too much, and you're still a mess."
"I'm adorable and endearing." Magolor corrected automatically.
Meta Knight didn't argue.
Instead, he reached up and tugged the hoodie part of Magolor's cloak over his head gently. Like he used to when Magolor fell asleep on long missions. He let his hand linger for a second.
"...But I like this version of you..." he said. "Even if you're a little chaotic."
Magolor's heart did a flip.
"...You do like having me here...do you?" he whispered.
Meta Knight looked at him, golden eyes steady behind the mask.
"I never said I didn't."
Magolor leaned forward and bumped his forehead softly against Meta Knight's.
He didn't need magic to feel warm anymore.💕
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Here's part 2!!! I've actually been a little nervous to post my writing...😅 But you guys are so sweet, and you've been giving me sweet compliments on my stories and my art!!!
So I know I say it a lot...but I truly mean it, thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything! I used to hate what I draw because I cared to much what people think when they hated it...but it's been so sweet ever since I joined Tumblr, and that's because of you guys! Keep being amazing my little starbeans!!! 😭💕🌟
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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 1 year ago
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part 16 - but I know where to start
“Feeling my way through the darkness, guided by a beating heart. I can’t tell where the journey will end, but I know where to start.” -Wake Me Up by Avicii
Regent Masterlist Part 15
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Was it a cop-out to summon Jazz back to the Far Frozen? Yes. Did Danny particularly care? Nope! 
Jason was comfortable, propped up with a book Ghostwriter who had popped by to personally deliver. How the ghost had known about Jason Phantom wasn’t going to question, but he suspected GW kept an eye on the bookworms that passed through the Realms- or at least those close to the “Royal family”. Phantom wasn’t much for reading, not unless it was space-related, but he enjoyed listening to the Liminal man reading out loud. He had a brash voice, accented with a cadence like those from Crime Alley, but it only underscored the passion he held for reading. Phantom didn’t interrupt him once, not even when the halfa pulled out his ecto-phone and texted Ellie. 
(His little sister was in Kansas, spending time with another clone she’d literally run into.) 
Almost another full day's cycle passed before Phantom realized Jason had fallen back asleep, a book resting open on his broad chest and soft snores coming from the man. 
Yeah, he could see how he and Jazz fit together so well. 
There was just something about the Once-Revenant, a part of what made him Jason, that resonated with the Phantom. It’s what made him talk to the man as Red Hood, feel comfortable enough to stay in his company for so long, trust him with his older sister- the person who raised him. 
(Spent her birthday money to get him those cheap plastic glow-in-the-dark stars.) 
(Taught him how to read.) 
(Held him as the nightmares of his death shook him to his core.) 
(Did not fear him.) 
(Not as Phantom, Danny, or Dan.)
(Loves him.) 
(Mourns him.) 
(He would never tell her, but he understood how Dan could succumb to grief.)
(Jazz was his.) 
(His first friend, his true mother, his rock.) 
(She wouldn’t have claimed Regency without that tie.) 
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Remix & Original chat 
Remix: Lol hows weenie Original:   jasons x3 ur size pipsqeak                    Remix:  ur point?  Original:  lol hes ok                                 frosty says he got hurt wth shrpnel                        new healed core + shrapnel = bad time Remix:  sucks 2 b him  Original:               so tru        Whre r u? Remix: omw 2 spain barcelona Original: ooh send pics if u need me call Remix: pics or nay gotcha txt u l8r luv u  Original: love u 2
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Safely back in the living Realm and tucked away in Jason’s apartment, Jazz and Danny tried to investigate the bomb- unfortunately there was nothing for them to do but wait. 
On the upside, the Justice League was about to hit the UN full force with all the subtlety of a tsunami and who had front row seats to the drama? 
Yep, the Regent.  Jazz wasn’t exactly thrilled that her presence was requested, even though it was on the path to the desired outcome the Nightingale siblings had fought for, but both her soulmate boyfriend and little brother would be by her side as support. 
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The Birds and the Bats Group Chat
Zombie: I lived bitch Spoiler-Alert: Jason!  Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing!  Blood_Heir: Todd. Zombie: don’t sound too excited there demon brat.  Blood_Heir: Never.  Sleep_When_Im_Dead: Where have you been? Zombie: Stayed overnight at my Docs for observation.  Fly-Like-A-Dick: For three days? Blood_Heir: Fail to find that humorous Todd.  Zombie: wasn’t meant to be a joke brat.  I was actually at my Docs.  Zombie: Got a shovel talk from my girlfriends little brother too.                                     Spoiler-Alert:  Whoa GIRLFRIEND!!!! 😱 Jason!  Why is this the first were hearing this??? Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing!!!!!! Quiet_Dancer: 🤗  Zombie:  At least Cass and Dickiebird are happy for me                                    Spoiler-Alert:  Ecstatic! But details! Now.                                                      Zombie: No.                                              Fly-Like-A-Dick: Is she a redhead??? Sleep_When_Im_Dead:  Jasmine Nightingale.                                                      Zombie: Babs.                                               Oracle_of_Gotham:  On it.  [member Sleep_When_Im_Dead has been blocked from the group.]  Spoiler-Alert:  too late!!!!!! Cass  with me! Quiet_Dancer: 🫡 Oracle_of_Gotham: DENIED Batdad:  Welcome back Jaylad.                                                        Zombie:                                           Old man       You and I need to have a talk with words                                              Fly-Like-A-Dick: battle stations everyone!!!
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Council of Uncaged Birds
Queen_Regent: Ellie, I want you to meet Jason.  Officially meet him.  WanderingPrincess: eh??? temp said wasnt srs Queen_Regent: Danny No InfiniteStarPrince: Danny YES Frosty said they are  soulmates!!!!!! WanderingPrincess: 🤯😱 wha th fuck!!!1 Queen_Regent: language!  WanderingPrincess: ENGLISH imma get a shovel gotta undead weenie 2 bury.
Template. [user InfiniteStarPrince has left the chat]  WanderingPrincess: coward Queen_Regent: I have many regrets.  WanderingPrincess: u luv us 👻
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Lady & Knight chat Lady: Jay remember when I told you I wanted you to meet Ellie?  Knight: She’s bringing a shovel isn’t she.  Lady: I love how brilliant you are.  Knight: I aim to please. 
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Lady & Knight chat Knight: you patrolling tonight? Lady: wasnt planning on it Knight: wanna meet me? Lady: same time same place? Knight: you know it
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The abolishment of the Anti-Ecto Acts officially happened at three pm on a dreary Gotham Tuesday. Jazz was cuddled with Jason on his couch, dozing off to his heartbeat as he read Pride and Prejudice for the thousandth time. The comfortable silence they had wrapped themselves in only occasionally broken by Jason turning a page was completely shattered when Jazz’s phone rang with the Ghostbusters theme song. 
“Danny?” Jazz answered surprised, “School isn’t out yet, what’s wrong?” She was greeted by Danny’s heaving cries as he replied. 
“Batman, he- he did it!” Danny sobbed, “He saved us.” 
It clicked then. The Dark Knight had completed the task he was entrusted with by a Spirit of Protection, the Once and Future Star King, and unknowingly kept the promise a ghost made to a young Jasmine Fenton. 
One day my son will stop this. All of this. You only need to be strong. Take care of yourself and your brother. I promise. 
She had waited years for the promise to be fulfilled, the sworn promise of the dead to a living child. Jasmine was a patient soul, but she had still been a child that night in Gotham. 
(The Drs. Fenton believing the stories about a ghostly vigilante patrolling the streets, a never aging child by their side.) (Dragging their children with them. ) (Hungry and cold.) (A dead man who swore his son would end their torment one day.)
(She should’ve known it wouldn’t come fast enough to save Danny.) 
How was she to know the ghost was speaking of the Realms inhabitants, not the abused and neglected children of Ghost Hunters? How was she to know that the hope such a promise kindled wasn’t hers to keep?  Jason wrapped his arms around her, the book set aside and her phone gently taken from her grasp to be put on speaker so they could both talk to her little brother. Danny had dissolved from heaving sobs to muffled hiccups, seemingly now that he’d shared the news with his sister. 
“He really did,” she muttered. “He really did it.” 
(The furry fucker actually did it.) (She’d known that he was going to try, but humans are stubborn creatures.)
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A/N: Hi! Welcome to an update for the Regent. Just to be fully transparent with each of my readers - The Regent is still on Hiatus.
I have deleted so much of my writing because I don't like the flow/dialogue/pacing. Original ending thrown out and rewritten twice- still don't care for it. Who knew something other than Angst would be so difficult.
(Not me!)
Having said that, this entry is of course beta'd by the wonderful @meditating-cat who has put up with my random messages.
(You are amazing!)
(In all honesty, I wish I could just skip right to the ending because at least I know 100% I can get it just right....eventually.)
Thanks for reading and happy easter!
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lafiametta · 3 months ago
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okay i don't know why (maybe it's because i found it extremely hot too) but i feel like the first time ani started to be attracted to igor is when he smashed up the candy shop. something about the fact that he has the capacity to be that violent but as a person isn't. (or at least, isn't with/to her. we don't know what he's like when he's "working", whatever that entails)
Yeah, I totally see what you're saying, and it's interesting because it's after the candy shop scene that she's less openly hostile to him and doesn't seem to mind him being around her as much. I mean, she's upset about the scarf (mostly because she thinks he brought with the intention of using it on her again), but then she gives in and takes it. When they're watching Toros drive the SUV off the tow truck, she turns back and looks at him, like, “Hey, are you seeing this crazy shit, too?” And after Garnik vomits in the car, when Toros is cleaning up at the gas station, she directly addresses him (“Yeah, I'm not getting back in there”), as if she sees them both in the same boat, rather than continuing to dismiss him as dangerous or as a mindless henchman.
Because the candy shop is really the first time she's seen him in action, using his full destructive force. (She might claim in was in the living room, but there he was much more reactive, his assault on her no doubt terrifying, but not actively aggressive.) In this scene, though, he stops Tom in his tracks and easily disarms him (it's almost comically easy), then waits for Toros's instructions, like a leashed attack dog. Once Toros gives him the order, he goes to town, smashing gumballs and the popcorn machine and a glass case, before taking the aluminum bat and giving it a small, precise tap against one of the jars (which also shatters magnificently). As the audience, we weren't really prepared for this kind of direct violence — we haven't seen anything quite like this from Igor before, even though we know he was brought into the situation as a physical enforcer — and it's shocking and a little scary. (Maybe to offset the vibe, Igor's shown in the background of the remainder of the scene casually eating popcorn out of the broken machine.)
But none of this fazes Ani. The moment he finishes his destructive work, she's right behind him, advancing quickly on Tom and Crystal with a pointed finger directed on them, yelling at them to call Ivan. It's almost as if his aggressiveness sparked hers, like after watching him, she feels emboldened to unleash her own propensity for combativeness. I suspect (although it might be a bit of a stretch) that she actually finds his capacity for violence exciting and attractive, that is, when it's not aimed at her. There is also something to be said, as you pointed out, for the fact that while he has this capacity, it's only put into action when he's told to use it by his employer. For the rest of the movie, his body is still utilized, but mostly to aid or provide strength (like when he pulls Ani out of the fight, or carries Ivan down the courthouse steps). We don't really know what he does in terms of physical enforcement when he's otherwise “working” for Toros, and neither does Ani. She can probably imagine, though. And based on her reaction to him in the candy shop, I don't think she would find it entirely off-putting.
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