#though at this point i suspect i know a little too much to claim to be clueless

[strangersteddierthings]

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 -

[julsvu]

heyy u take reqs for mha, right? if so, can i request for a monoma x gen neutral reader? reader's in class 1A and is close with all their classmates, but is secretly dating monoma. it's basically the trope 'enemies in public, but lovers in private' but class 1A and class 1B end up finding out about their relationship and lose their minds LMAO

gn! reader

💬: tysm for requesting!! this was so fun to write HSSIDI hope you enjoy !! <33

📒: crack fic kind of??, swearing, written in 2nd pov, monoma is the leader of the sassy man apocalypse, headcanons + a oneshot under the cut :>

being neito monoma's secret lover hcs

during the school festival, neito literally suggested for his class to do a plot where two people would play as secret lovers from different kingdoms that hated each other (he was projecting TEWW MUCH)

one time class 1B was playing truth or dare and he got asked if he was single or not, and this mf said: "my partner goes to a different school! 🙄🙄🙄" bc he couldn't think of any other lie

obviously, everyone poked fun at him

"monoma, y'know being single isn't embarrassing, right..?"

"you can tell us the truth, y'know.."

i feel like kendo probably suspected it at one point

since she saw the way monoma kept investigating your classmates about the villain attacks (as a way of finding out if you're okay or not)

and because his insults towards you was like..so much more detailed compared to your other classmates?? like bro knew EVERY little detail about you, even the details that no one in class 1A knew

she brushed it off though, cause you and neito always argued — there was no way, right? (yes, there was a way)

he claims that class 1A "shines" too much because of you (as a way of hiding the fact that you're the one who he actually pays attention to)

when he approaches class 1A to make fun of them, he actually does it so he can see you (when he sees that you aren't with them, he just scoffs after insulting them, and walks away) (born from the sassy man apocalypse)

your classmates.. i think some of them def knew that you were dating someone, but NOBODY could predict the fact that you'd be dating neito, class 1A's biggest hater, some of your classmates were like "🤨 is this a betrayal or.." 😭😭 goes the same for class 1B, because as said earlier, his insults toward you were so much more..detailed, they thought he hated you more than the others ☠️☠️

they found out when they caught you both dancing together during a U.A high school party

"MY JAW.. WHERE'S MY JAW?" - denki when he found out (one second away from going into his "yay mode")

and u have mina in the corner saying that it's like one of those dramatic secret relationship fanfics (which in this case, it is)

for as long as neito monoma remembered, his heart was full of you. almost like the honey of a beehive, slowly overflowing and dropping to the floor. although, he swears that you're sweeter than honey itself. or, at least, that's how it felt. it started with small, short glances, secret hangouts at a small cafe, texting every day, training with each other, bittersweet confessions, and secret good-luck kisses.

but, for as long as class 1B and class 1A (excluding you) knew, neito and you were enemies, rivals, foes, maybe even nemeses. there was only so much your schoolmates could know, though. U.A's rigid course aided you and your boyfriend in keeping your relationship under warp, people failed to notice the longing stare the blond boy would hold whenever he saw you training with what he described to be "tetsutetsu's twin" from class 1A, the slight tone of pride whenever you'd counter an insult of his with your own words, acting like it wasn't your love language reserved for only each other; sneaking away from your respective dorms to meet each other in the ungodly hours of the night, exchanging sweetened words.

you waited on the bus with your classmates, the vehicle bustling with excited conversations; mina and the girls fangirling over each other's outfits, kaminari asking the "are we there yet?" question every five minutes, iida struggling to keep your classmates quiet, and so on. as you fixed your appearance slightly, you checked the time on your watch, reading that it was now 8:00 PM. however, a certain blond texted you, interrupting your moment of silence.

"darling, we have arrived at the venue. where are you?" monoma texts, with a stunning picture of the venue sent under his text. the dim fairy lights hung around the place, the food table with a chocolate fountain and appetizers, and the chandelier that would highlight the bodies of the people dancing.

just as you finished reading his message, you heard your homeroom teacher state that you guys had arrived. almost immediately, everyone cheered, giggling, and rushed out of the bus, exploring the venue after a few reminders from Mr. Aizawa to not get lost, and to behave. you dusted off your clothing, as you looked around for your boyfriend, neito, before you finally messaged him back.

"i'm at the entrance, neito," and not even five minutes later, you heard the only voice that could make your chest feel warm. neito's.

"hey, pretty," you greet, sending him an awkward wink.

he scoffs, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. "hello yourself, sweetheart."

"shall we dance?" he asks, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. you give him a nod, as well as a chuckle. he had the tendency to make things as "theatrical" as possible. you were reminded of the time when you guys reenacted an old classical dance on a random rooftop, with no one else around.

a few moments later, the U.A high school party was in full swing, the pulsating beat of the music reverberating through the crowded gymnasium. amidst the sea of bodies, you and your blond boyfriend were drowning in the rhythm, dancing together in the dim atmosphere.

however, the dim atmosphere wasn't enough to hide you and your boyfriend, as well as your secret relationship.

kaminari spat out his drink from a few meters away. he, and mina were hanging out in the food table. "is that (name) and monoma?! the guy that hates us all?!" his jaw drops right after his statement, as he nudged the pink-haired girl beside him. the girl's eyes widen, before she squeals happily, "it's like a forbidden romance! eek!"

in the other side, there was tetsutetsu and kirishima. "yo, that's monoma/(name), your classmate!" they said to each other at the same time, and same speed.

you and neito exchanged a knowing glance, overhearing your classmates' reactions.

"monoma, did you force (name) to dance with you?!" kendo exclaimed, looking at her classmate with furrowed brows, and holding empathy for you. your laugh started off as small snickers, and then to a full-blown laugh, as you fell to your knees, giggling and holding your stomach. in the background was your boyfriend explaining, waving his hands as if to defend himself.

"you and monoma?" mina asks with a grin, behind her, were your classmates, who stopped to hear your answer. flies were about to fly into their mouths, at this rate.

"me and monoma," you replied, chuckling at the whole ordeal.

the situation made the night more entertaining than ever.

© 2024 JULSVU. all rights reserved. please don't plagiarize, translate, put in other websites or copy my work without permission. ty!

[biteofcherry]

Relish your scream

vampire!Bucky Barnes x female reader

summary: Better the devil you know, but what if going to the Scaretale with someone you're already acquainted with doesn't mean you're completely safe? What if the club isn't your doom, but merely enhances the darkness that was already setting its trap for you?

warnings: vampire!Bucky; dark!Bucky; heavy dub-con; mind compulsion; biting; blood sucking; blood play; forced public nudity (partial); oral (f receiving); sex; captivity; objectification as a kink; conditioning;

word count: 5.4k

Author's Note: I was a little disappointed you voted vampire for Bucky, because there are so many amazing stories with vampire Bucky and I feared I won't be able to create anything fresh. But I wrote it in a specific vibe, amping up the vampire bite into very debauched kind of blood play. Perhaps that can count as something new 😜 This story is the fifth one in the Scaretale universe.

The cab driver was insistent on stopping half a street away from the entrance to the club. He was one of those superstitious people who feared magic tricking him, or a monster luring him to his doom, if he found himself within Scaretale’s range. 

You wanted to claim it’s silly, but the rumor was that the club was created and belonged to a dark fae. Who knows what their magic could do. Maybe the cabbie was right to keep his distance.

Unfortunately, for you it meant that you had to walk down the cracked pavement in your high heels to reach the club. 

It dawned on you much earlier, soon after you agreed to the terms, that meeting him in a club catered to monsters wouldn’t really provide you any safety. It would be his domain while you felt on the edge for the whole evening. Or night. However long he decided it had to last.

But he had that smooth, dark charm about him, making it appear as a reasonable public space to collect the debt. 

As you walked towards the impressive building, which glowed from within like a cursed castle, you tried to convince yourself that the place of your meeting didn’t matter anyway. You wouldn’t have any sort of upper hand no matter the place you sat in. 

Because there was something about James Barnes that put you to attention at any given moment. As if your body was attuned to his presence. Like a deer may be aware of a wolf prowling nearby. 

James was a coworker at the high levels of the international company you both worked for. And sort of a work rival, too. 

He was courteous, always well mannered and classy. Dressed like that, too. He was driven at work, reaching each set goal with unwavering determination and skills. Honestly, you had reasons to admire him and admit he was fucking good at his job. Sometimes you inwardly joked that you want to be like James Barnes when you grow up. 

There wasn’t really any competition between you two, none of you were threatened with the prospect of losing anything if the other’s department scored a few more points in the quarter. 

It was the smidge of inadequacy that made you often eye Barnes as a threat. Coming out of your own insecurities, you suspected. 

You were damn good at your job and at leading people. It’s just that you were… messy. 

Not a complete disaster, but a little chaotic and sometimes lost, sometimes too soft, especially considering the sharks that swam in the ocean of legal (and illegal) deals you worked with. 

Compared to Barnes, you were chaotic and bouncy.

But not everyone could stride through the room like a lethal blade slicing through fabric.

Barnes could. 

Everything about him screamed danger, even when he offered a charming smile, or bought doughnuts for the whole floor. Though you watched people let down their guards around him, treating him like a harmless, cute man. 

Was it only you that experienced that pulse of wariness whenever he walked into a room?

Perhaps, it was that aura of a vampire…

You’re still not sure what prompted you to bet him. Confrontations weren’t your preferred model of operating. Especially towards men you were both fascinated and scared of. Maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that your bubbly style was as effective as Barnes’ cutthroat smoothness. 

You veiled it as a team challenge (which both of your teams actually took as a fun twist to their usual hard work, including some subtle ribbing). If you won, you’d get to take over Barnes’ fancy office for a whole week.

It’s not like it would bother him much, since he worked evening to sunrise hours, while you were a day worker. 

But you were the messy one and it made you giggle as you thought of leaving your usual chaos in his pristine space. 

When you proposed that, Barnes held your gaze with those incredibly steel-blue eyes. Not a twitch of annoyance on his stupidly handsome face (that half of the skyscraper was pinning after). No, he was seizing you up and calculating his potential gain. Which made your pulse skip. 

You still remembered how his eyes shifted to your pulse point and your thighs clenched as you thought of his teeth sinking into your neck. 

He agreed to the bet, demanding your company, if he won. 

Which he had. 

There was a flood of tangled thoughts and doubts when you realized you agreed to be his for one night. Did he mean his night as his work day, making you do any assistant, slaving work just for the kicks? Or did he mean it as owning you for a night, as in…

His chuckle was like a tap on your cheek, stirring you from your trance when you barged into his office, needing him to explicitly state what exactly he expected of you. Then relief filled you when he explained that he wanted you as his company for a meeting. Said he’s old fashioned like that.

James didn’t mention the dress code, just told you where and what time to come. You could be a brat about it and appear in jeans and a hoodie, but you considered yourself to be honorable and a good sport. You lost a bet, but you wouldn’t be a sore loser, or petty. There was also a part of you that wanted to impress Barnes, to show yourself as someone who could pull off a fancy look. 

In your sparkling red heels and black, silk dress, you walked up the stairs of the Scaretale with your chin raised high. 

The club’s dark interior was a surprise. From the outside it appeared to be glowing, full of light and mischief, but, as you stepped in, velvet darkness wrapped around you like a shawl. 

There were points of light, but they were dimmed. A whisper of mystery and horror slithered around, quickly getting lost in the growing warmth of spicy seduction. 

It was a place known for encouraging lust and romance, but you didn’t expect the sensual brush of it to tease your skin. 

Perhaps it was why your breath hitched when your eyes met James’ across the room. 

His icy eyes always held a particular intensity, but as he watched you now it sent a ripple of something hot and exciting through your body. 

As you neared him, your heart clenched in fear, before restarting with a flutter. James was your coworker, but in this setting you lost any sense of safety around him. He was someone different here. More himself, than the persona he played in public. More the ancient beast. 

And the core of him you met that evening was scaring you.

He greeted you softly, saying your name in a way that sounded intimate and possessive. His hand rested on the small of your back as he led you toward a nook in the wall that was separated from the rest of the floor by an iron-wrought railing and heavy, black curtains draped to the sides. 

There was a rectangular table in the middle of the small room he led you to, with velvet benches surrounding it instead of chairs. Chandeliers dripping black crystals hung above, casting a soft light that didn’t fully disperse the shadows. 

“Please, sit beside me.” James pointed to one side of the table. He kept standing until you sat down, then slid right next to you. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He asked, sliding closer when you tried to put a few inches of space between you. 

“White wine, please.” You nervously twisted your fingers in your lap. 

A few seconds later a waitress appeared by the railing, though you didn’t see James summon anyone. Well, they sure had some top, attentive staff in here. You were surprised when Barnes ordered a specific brand of wine, stressing to bring it sweet.

“Why sweet?” You liked most of the whites, including some of the dry, so it didn’t really matter to you.

When James’ gaze flicked to you, it appeared it mattered greatly to him. 

“Because you’re sweet.” He stated. 

A sudden thought of him referring to your blood’s flavor made you both hot and extremely cold with terror, but his next words made that reaction appear silly.

“Wearing all those pastels and headbands with crystals and pearls. And everytime we happen to be in the same meeting, you’re always drinking pink grapefruit soda. You’re a sweetling.” 

His eyes slowly dragged down your form. You couldn’t help the quickening of your heart rate as you felt his gaze move along your body. Again, you were certain his focus lingered on where your veins pulsed beneath your skin. 

“I admit I’m quite surprised to see you in black,” when he spoke, it was lighter, more teasing. There was even a hint of that charming smile that disarms people.

“Thought it’s best to match you, since I’m your company for this important meeting,” you shrugged. 

He still didn’t express what your expected role was. If it was a business meeting, was he going to lean on you for advice? Or were you an arm candy, only there to provide a nice accent and be a trinket of power? Many conservative men still conducted their business meetings, or public appearances with that mindset. Maybe vampires did too.

“I appreciate it.” James smiled at you. There was a satisfied gleam in his eyes, but darker and hungrier than simple appreciation of your thoughtfulness. 

A voice in your head whispered that perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to cater to a monster's whims, even to those of a polished, cultured one. Perhaps it was even worse than if you goaded a barely leashed werewolf. 

Because James was incredibly smart and cunning, and you were beginning to suspect that he had the ability to manipulate your reactions without you even realizing you were playing into his game. 

When the waitress appeared with your glass of wine, James took it from her and handed it to you. Your fingers brushed against his cold ones, the contact sending a jolt down your spine. His skin was cold, yet you felt a sense of warmth unfurl in your belly. 

As if his mere touch heated up your blood. Which had to be a very dangerous thing, considering he was a blood sucking vampire. 

“Mhmm, you smell sweet, too.” He hummed, tilting his head so that his nose almost brushed a spot behind your ear.

“James!” You gasped, fingers tightening on the thin stem of your wine glass. 

A surge of trepidation took over as your instincts reminded you of being in proximity of the most dangerous predator. It wasn’t a good omen when a vampire commented on your tempting smell. Because it meant at some point he might want to verify if your taste matched. 

Yet the cold thought of it sucked your nipples into straining points. 

You took a sip of your wine. Then another one, in hope of relaxing your body enough to hide certain reactions. 

“Call me Bucky, please.” His voice sounded like a seductive whisper. It reminded you of a hot tickle against your ear, or neck, which you sometimes experienced when writhing on your bed amidst a wet dream. 

If your imagination was wilder, you’d wonder if this vampire had something to do with the sex dreams which occasionally haunted you on those rare stormy nights. 

“Okay, Bucky,” you smiled up at him, hanging onto the comfort of breaking a certain barrier between you two, by being allowed to use his nickname. You didn’t think you heard anyone at work call him that. 

His eyes darkened. He traced his fingers along the back of your neck, before settling his whole, big hand on your shoulder.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

“Bucky,” you said it softly, sensing unbearable tension growing between the two of you. 

“Sweetling.” His low growl reverberated right against your clit. 

You would hope he didn’t notice you clenching your thighs, but with how his own leg was pressed to yours, there was no doubt he felt the shift. 

Suddenly, his eyes sharpened, his gaze briefly shifting above your head before returning to you. His hold on your shoulder relocated as his arm smoothed around and down your back, his fingers digging into your waist as he pulled you closer to his side. 

“Don’t speak.” Bucky ordered in a hushed tone. “Don’t engage, even if he tries to address you. Just sit quietly beside me and drink your wine. And follow my lead.”

“An accessory,” you nodded, taking a sip of sweet alcohol. You didn’t feel particularly disappointed with being reduced to quiet arm candy. It wasn’t your meeting, nor for a business of your department, so you felt no urge to prove yourself. 

“You’ll be good, sweetling.” He declared, as if you had no option but to obey. 

As his eyes held your gaze, you felt something shift inside you. Like a thin string wrapping itself around your throat. Its other end seemed to be in Bucky’s hand. An invisible leash that compelled you to follow his lead, just like he said you should. 

Compelled… The word echoed in your head, scratching against your skull with some knowledge you couldn’t remember. 

You focused on it and on the sweet taste of the wine as someone entered your space. You cast a quick glance at the large man, but remained glued to Bucky’s side like he wanted. Their words flew in and out of your ears, actual information barely sticking with your awareness. You were more entranced with Bucky’s voice.

And the way his fingers started running up and down your arm. Cold, yet enticing that very lively sensation. 

Words about takeover alerted your mind, but then that shiny, invisible leash tugged on you gently and your brain settled back into its comfort of focusing on Bucky. 

At some point, his teasing fingers closed around your hand and he brought it to his lips. He kissed the soft part below your thumb then pressed his mouth to your wrist. Right over where your pulse danced. 

Your body tensed at once, a pained gasp leaving your lips as Bucky’s fangs pierced your skin.

He bit you without any warning. Like it was his privilege. 

Tears filled your eyes as you looked up at him with a flare of betrayal. His gaze shifted from the other man to settle on you, even as his lips remained sealed into your wrist, sucking slow sips of your warm blood.

Be good, sweetling. His voice filled your head. 

It hurts. You weren’t even aware that your whine didn’t form into actual words spoken aloud, but was merely a pathetic sound accompanying your thoughts. 

Does it? Bucky’s eyebrow arched as he drew more of your blood in, then swiped his tongue along your sensitive, punctured skin. 

You blinked, dazed. When he bit you there was pain, but as he sucked you… You felt the throbbing in your wrist, but its echo was a more pleasurable beat that had your nipples and clit thrumming. 

You watched Bucky lick his lips clean and return to his conversation with ease, as if taking your blood was nothing more than sipping a drink. Which he did again a few minutes later, lifting your hand and sinking his fangs a little lower into your forearm. 

A soft, little cry spilled out of your mouth, but your legs parted wider to ease your throbbing clit. 

There was no previous agreement to Bucky drinking from you, yet somehow you didn’t resist as he took. Your body simply molded to his demand. Your brain resisted, angry and sobbing at the inability to fight, but that rebellion came and went like sparks of a badly functioning electricity. 

You didn’t want it, didn’t consent to it, but it felt so good. Made you a good kind of dizzy. Ligheaded, like you had one glass of champagne too much. Your usually buzzing body felt softened and pliant. 

For once you were calm and nestled, not a chaotic shard not fitting to the surroundings.

You spread your legs wider. The table separated and obscured the view of you from the stranger, but you had an inkling that the arousal trickling between your folds wafted into the air. 

It sure reached Bucky’s senses. Behave, his hand on your waist tightened its grip.

I am, you boldly replied to the phantom voice in your head and promptly brought the glass of wine to your lips. You drank half of it in one go. 

A part of you expected Bucky to act rashly. To show irritation or impatience, but then again you never saw him lose the winter cool of his demeanor. He didn’t react to your mental hiccup either, simply carrying on the conversation with the other monster. 

However, his hand smoothed up your arm slowly. Fingertips danced over the puncture wounds which he sealed with a swipe of his tongue, then traveled upwards. 

He took the thin strap of your dress between his thumb and forefinger and dragged it down your shoulder. Black fabric covering your breast fell down, swaying in a soft roll right above your nipple. Just when you thought his retaliation was driven to the max, Bucky’s hand skimmed over your collarbone and down to the swell of your breast.

Voice not wavering even once, as he kept talking over some business details, Bucky slipped his fingers under the silk of your dress and took your tit out. 

No! Your humiliated consciousness screamed silently. 

Bucky remained unphased. He exposed your breast, running his fingertips around the areola and flicking your puckered nipple. 

When the other man started talking, simply continuing the conversation as if you weren’t lewdly displayed in front of him, Bucky tipped you back. The arm around you tightened, supporting your back. His other hand cupped your breast as he sank his teeth into the soft tissue. 

More wetness pooled in your core, even as pain from the bite zapped your synapses. 

You were nothing but a chalice of wine from which Bucky sipped whenever he wanted. However he wanted to. 

A morsel to bite and chew slowly. 

He didn’t seal that bite right away, so the blood trickled down slowly as he helped you back into a sitting position, cuddled to his side. You felt the warm liquid gather atop your nipple into a ruby drop. 

Bucky swiped it with his thumb, teasing your nub as he did. 

When he brought the thumb to his mouth to suck it clean, you stared up at him in horror and awe. That handsome face with chiseled jawline and cheekbones, pale pink lips wrapped around a marble white, thick thumb. As he released his finger, you saw a flash of his teeth - a smudge of your blood covering them. 

His thumb was coated with Bucky’s saliva as he brought it down to rub over the bite, sealing your wound. 

The hand on your waist gripped your elbow when you attempted to reach for the strap and cover yourself back. Leave it, Bucky’s low command resounded in your head. What?! No! Why? It was indecent! He wasn’t even drinking from you anymore. Just holding you partially naked and humiliated. 

Because I wish so and you’re mine to do whatever I please.

There wasn’t even a seductive lilt of teasing to his tone. It was a richly dark declaration of ownership you didn’t expect.

You wanted to protest, to scream it out at him that you didn’t want it. That even if some aspects of his actions were arousing you, you weren’t his to treat like a toy, or blood bag. That’s when your memory flashed back to the exact conversation you had with Bucky when you negotiated the rules of the bet. 

What you interpreted as company for one night, for this particular meeting, was never in fact stated as limited. Bucky never said for one evening. He only demanded that you’d give him your company. 

Now, his voice returned, as calm as before, sit still and drink your wine, or I’ll take your other tit out.

Anger and despair flared inside you, as hot as the wave of dark excitement that turned the fabric of your panties into a soaked mess sticking to your folds. 

What he said and did to you was bolder and filthier than you tried with any of your former lovers. It didn’t only push, but crossed your boundaries. But even as he did something so unpredictable like undressing you in public, there was calculated deliberation in it. Cold, lethal precision strumming your responsive pressure points. 

Will you let him drink from me? For some reason, you clenched your fingers on Bucky’s suit jacket, clinging to him as terror of what might actually happen took over.

No. You’re mine. Came his instant, firm response. 

But there was only silence when your panicked voice asked, Will you kill me?

He left you hanging with that worry as he wrapped up his meeting. The wine kept your blood rushing warm, as did Bucky’s closeness, but your heart started to drag with growing dread. Needing something to anchor yourself to, you stared at the rings on Bucky’s fingers. 

It was only when his voice reached your ears that your head snapped up and you realized the other man was gone. 

“You did really well for your first time, sweetling.” Bucky’s fingers gently took your chin. 

Despite the allure of his eyes and his hold on you, the spark of dread spread into a sticky web that filled you with all sorts of cold, breath-stealing fears. His choice of words was deliberate. Everything Bucky did was. So it meant he planned on there being a second, a third, and more events similar to that night. 

Bucky took your empty wine glass and placed it on the table. Then he readjusted your dress and helped you up onto your feet. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, muttering something about getting you a proper coat. 

A waitress waited by the exit, handing you a to-go cup of something hot as Bucky led you toward the door. Your fingers wrapped around the warm cup, scenting something sweet. 

You had a thought of making a scene, making a run for it, but this place was filled with monsters who, undoubtedly, would be on his side. And Bucky was a damn vampire, who could probably catch you before you made half a step. 

Also, whatever was in that cup was really tempting you to drink. And his hand on your back felt nice, too.

As Bucky guided you down the steps, a sleek, black car stopped at the curb. Some young man jumped from the driver’s side and gave Bucky keys with a deep bow. Huh, you didn’t know they had valets here. 

Bucky helped you into the passenger’s seat and buckled your seatbelt. So engulfed by the cozy warmth and spicy scent, you didn’t think to use the moment of him walking to the driver’s side to try and escape. 

But the question returned, rolling out on your tongue as Bucky cut through the city with speed right on the edge of limit. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

“Not yet.” Bucky’s calm, simple response was like a blade piercing through your chest. 

“The process is more complicated. There are rules-” he paused, hearing your intake of breath. When he looked at you, you were curling in on yourself and leaning against the side door, like you wanted to blend into it and disappear. 

Something flashed in his blue eyes and after a moment you were pulling away from the door and sitting back in your seat. 

Bucky’s fingers cupped your chin. Even with only one hand on the steering wheel he had full control of the car. 

“I’m not disposing of you, sweetling.” He assured you. “You’re my feeder. And will become my companion.”

Companion. It echoed in your head. You agreed to be his company. But you didn’t know it meant something more for a vampire. 

The bites on your body pulsed with awareness, reminding you of the way he sunk his teeth into you. You wondered if his cock would sink into you with the same seductive firmness. 

Your previous dizziness from the blood loss was nothing compared to the chaos that Bucky’s revelation brought. On the way to his estate he explained more, stating details of his plans for you as if he was reporting something obvious. Each sentence of the fate he weaved for you, however, leashed on your skin like a lick of flogger. Hurting and pushing your mind toward a cloudy space. 

With some last remnants of panicked will, you attempted to run when he parked in front of an impressive estate. He caught you in a blink of an eye. Then those blue eyes were staring into yours and an invisible leash tugged on you, calming you into compliance. 

He made you drink that hot chocolate, which you got in the to-go cup, as he steered you through the corridors of the mansion. Rich sweetness filled your mouth and brought a sense of regeneration. 

The cup dropped forgotten when Bucky brought you into his bedroom. Somewhere between his words about keeping you here with him for two years, until you learned all the rules, all the expectations and attuned to your role at his side, he unzipped your dress and pushed it down to the floor. 

Your hands against him held zero strength as he spread you on his massive bed, your attempts at fighting him off melting as his teeth scraped along your naked body. 

“Your blood tastes like decadent chocolate” Bucky hummed against your hip bone. “I bet your cunt tastes just as sweet.” 

He ripped away your soaked panties then spread your thighs wide apart. His lips mouthed against the delicate skin of your inner thighs. You knew there were some crucial arteries there and you wondered how much it would hurt when he bit into one. 

But he didn’t. Instead, Bucky kissed further up. He licked the seam between your thigh and cunt, then traced your outer lips with his tongue. 

It was atop your mound, a breath away from your clit, where he slowly, torturously slow, sunk his teeth in. 

You screamed and he held you down.

He didn’t suck your blood right away, but pulled back and watched it trickle down onto your glistening pussy. Dark red juice dripped down your clit and between your swollen folds. 

Bucky dove in. Feasting on your cunt with reverence and hunger he didn’t display before. He licked your blood and your slick, mixed them on you and on his tongue. His growling, near animalistic sounds vibrated against your sensitive core. 

He made you come while he made you bleed. Licking and swallowing your wetness; holding your hips down in his strong grip as your body twisted and writhed in pleasure-and-pain. 

Then he drew another blinding climax out of you, driving two of his ringed fingers into your sopping cunt and at the same time sinking his teeth back into the open bite atop your mound. 

He closed your wound, but didn’t wipe away the blood as he kissed up your body. When he bit your breast, he let the blood drip down the swell of it, too, before licking it off your skin in tantalizing, sensual strokes. 

You hurt from the bites, but Bucky’s mouth and touch brought you so much exquisite pleasure. 

He drank from both your breasts, smudging your blood all over his mouth as he kissed your skin through the ruby mess. Closed the wounds with a teasing lick of his tongue, before flicking it against your hardened nipple and sucking on it so hard you felt that suck on your clit. 

“You’re delicious, sweetling.” Bucky rasped against your ear. “And such a good girl for me.” 

You felt the nudge of his cock between your folds. Your hips rocked up eagerly, but your weakened arms drew between your bodies to push him away.

Sensations were overwhelming. You feared that your brain might completely shut down, if Bucky added to it the stretch of his cock and ripping pleasure of being fucked. 

Gently, he pried your hands away from his chest and placed your arms next to your head on the mattress. He pinned them down as he rolled his hips into you. 

“Gotta do it, sweetling,” he hushed your mewls. “Gotta break your body before sunrise, so your mind starts to learn to sleep all through the sunny day.” 

“It’ll take weeks to fully break you.” Bucky sneaked one of his hands between your bodies, to guide his cock into your entrance. “I’ll exhaust you over and over again, until your body conditions itself to shutting down with sunlight and waking up at sunset. Until you’re molded to me.” 

Your lips parted on a strained moan as he slowly penetrated you. 

Just like you suspected, Bucky drove his cock into you with a firm, steady stroke, just like he sunk his teeth into your skin. 

As his dick stretched your pussy, Bucky kissed you. Sensual and languid. Getting you drunk on his lips and taste like the most potent wine. He welcomed your yielding moan with a victorious growl.

Then, as the head of his cock nestled against your cervix and he bottomed out, Bucky’s fangs dipped into your lips. 

You clenched around him, your body tensing like a cord as he drew blood from your mouth. He sipped on you, forcing some of the metallic sweetness of your own blood onto your tongue. 

Bucky soothed your lips with a swipe of his tongue, before lifting his weight on his forearms. He looked down at you - all dark, ruthless beauty of him, with eyes glinting winter storm and mouth red with your blood. 

There were smudges of red on his torso, as well, from where his body pressed into the bloody mess he created as he drank from various spots on your chest and belly. 

“You already take me so well and feed me so sweetly,” he said, licking remnants of your taste off his bottom lip, “you’ll learn to take all the pleasure and pain I give you. And someday you’ll take my blood and I’ll show you what ecstasy of a vampire feels like.”

With that he withdrew, only to slam back in a hard snap. Your body jolted, your back arching. 

You were so weak, so lightheaded. Exhaustion was pulling you into darkness. But the way Bucky was fucking you bursted through that dark with fireworks. His name was a broken cry on your lips, so soft it may have been a whisper. Or a prayer. 

“I deliberately had the sheets changed to white.” Bucky mused, driving into you harder, making your legs jerk helplessly with each thrust of his hips. 

“Wanted to see the stains from your cum and blood on it. You make such a pretty mess.”

Your consciousness drifted away completely after he tipped you into another orgasm, relishing in the way you screamed and clenched around him. Your body was boneless as he chased his own release, groaning it not soon after you floated into sleep. 

To him you looked most beautiful: spread out on the crumpled sheets, your body smeared with blood and bearing marks of his bite. Stains of red and acidic wetness splattered the sheets between your legs. 

Bucky leaned down, one more time biting into your mound. A shallow wound this time. Just so he could watch your blood slowly trickle down in a thin stream and mix with his cum dripping out of your fluttering pussy.

You remained unconscious when he cleaned you up. As well when he ripped away soiled sheets and replaced them with a set of fresh ones and climbed into bed next to you. He held you in his embrace as you slept through the day that stretched outside; heavy, black-out curtains preventing a single sunray from sneaking inside. 

When you’d wake up late in the afternoon, Bucky was going to provide you with a hearty meal and adequate vitamins. He’d tell you more of the rules. Then he’d break your body again. 

[batchilla]

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.”  

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.

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.” 

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.”

Taglist: @jasontoddproblems

@sunnie-angel

@stormz369

@love-theangel-blog

@torchbearerkyle

@interwebseriesfan24

@love-theangel-blog

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@soradragon Banner credit is to @strangergraphics

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. 

[queers-gambit]

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

"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."

part two: The Risk

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[sserpente]

The Weight of a Promise - Part II

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.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

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

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

[delafiseaseses]

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.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

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

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.) 

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

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. 

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!!!

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 👻

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. 

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

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.)

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!

[ikamigami]

I always personally disliked Eclipse as to me, he was just Moon but without the title of "brother"(not that that made Moon's treatment okay, if anything it makes Moon worse because siblings should NEVER treat their other siblings like Moon treats Sun)

I get how he's angry and traumatized from being trapped in Moon's mind but what he took from it was completely incorrect, instead of realizing the one who did this to him was Moon, Moon discarded him and locked him away, he never realized Moon had ensured Eclipse couldn't be heard by doing that, he seriously thinks Sun was ignoring him when Sun flat out had no clue he was there and likely the Fazco techs never noticed anything and Moon likely lied to Sun that there was nothing there because he knew Eclipse was there, Moon is solely to blame for Eclipse's situation, and YET he blames Sun, who's just as much of a victim as him, he seriously saw what Moon was doing to Sun and his own situation and somehow went "Sun's the bad one"?

It's just like how Moon blamed Sun for their shared situation even though the Creator made them that way on purpose and Fazco let them rot, and neither he or Moon ever realized that had they been nicer their freedom would've been achieved faster? Sun was more than willing to help Moon and tried extending a hand to Eclipse despite thinking Eclipse caused July 16th, but both made themselves out to be serious threats to Sun's life and other people's lives and gave him no choice

It makes me wonder if Eclipse inherited part of Moon's hateful grudge towards Sun for locking him away, but just like Moon rather than realizing Sun actually had a good reason for that(aka he had no other choice, it sucks but nobody helped him, he didn't have the ability to do anything else, and Moon kept killing people, seriously what is he supposed to do?), it wasn't out of selfishness or malice, and Sun would've rather never had to do that to Moon, he would've rathered they coexisted, and Eclipse, despite claiming he's better than Moon, never grew up enough to realize that?

It also didn't help that after July 16th when he introduced himself he made himself out to be the bad guy, Sun and Moon had no idea Bloodmoon was a thing, to Sun all he knows is there's another presence in his head and it just killed all those people, and to Moon, he knows exactly what's in Sun's head and he thinks that that's what caused July 16th because he knew he left the killcode in there like an idiot, and what does Eclipse do when he makes himself known? Takes over Sun's body to laugh in his face, good job incriminating yourself for a crime you didn't commit

I half suspect the reason why he's so cruel to Sun is, like Moon, he knows Sun is too kind(Eclipse thinks cowardly but he's wrong) to fight back, ergo, there's no consequences to hurting him, because he'll keep being kind and forgiving, that Sun is easy prey, and we know both he and Moon think that because both are shocked when they shove Sun past his breaking point, which takes a lot, that and the fact that they enjoy hurting Sun, Sun's they're perfect victim since they could be endlessly cruel and torment Sun and Sun for the longest time never fought back, and both of them enjoyed hurting Sun, if Moon and Eclipse tried this with anyone else it'd backfire, heck when Eclipse tried manipulating Earth back when he had the Star he flat out failed because she was not cowed by him whatsoever, and Lunar eventually left him after he had enough and Lunar even killed Eclipse when Eclipse pushed him too far…Speaking of

The guy literally built Lunar to be his perfectly loyal and loving little brother and yet through his cruel behavior and him hitting Lunar Lunar ran away, he managed to drive away somebody he built to be brainwashed for and unflinchingly loyal to him, that's both a testament to his cruelty and how even when he's presented the perfect opportunity to not be alone, to get what he wants, to be loved and have a family, he ruins it with that aforementioned cruelty because he like Moon can't help himself, even if he "learned siblings act like this from Sun and Moon" does that really make it right?

Another thing I wonder is if he built Lunar to be like how he perceives Sun to be: always loving, always loyal, childish, stupid, naive, and selfish, and yet then we see how that backfires as unlike Sun, Lunar would not tolerate Eclipse's abuse, he would not forgive Eclipse if pushed too far and would take action against him if Eclipse kept going, that the love he had for Eclipse to begin with faded when Eclipse hurt him, which goes to show how Eclipse's perception of Sun(seen through Lunar) completely misrepresents and is inaccurate to who Sun actually is, people like to cite how Eclipse might've killed Lunar out of spite because Lunar "betrayed" him, if Eclipse held the role of Moon and Lunar was meant to be Sun in their dynamic, Lunar went against the script by standing up for himself and cutting Eclipse out of his life, as opposed to Sun who even now gives Moon a chance after everything, but that's just an idea

Eclipse has always tried ruining Sun's life and hurt him, it goes far beyond retribution(retribution for crimes Sun never committed) into torture, and he always think terribly of Sun, that Sun is a weakling, a coward, worthless, just as selfish and evil as he is, and that Sun deserves to suffer, and there's no excuse for that no matter what reason there might be, some might say "he's mad at Sun for not fighting back against Moon", then why did he decide to double Sun's suffering rather than try to help/encourage him to be stronger? If Eclipse was so lonely and wanted companionship Sun was right there! It's also clear that this isn't the reason since he would always call Sun a coward and just like Moon beat Sun down any time Sun did stand up to him, him blaming Sun for his imprisonment is stupid as it was Moon's fault, not Sun's, others might say "he hates himself" and so what? You don't tear others down to make yourself feel better that's what bullies do, and then there's the reason that I suspect for his behavior:

He enjoys it, he likes hurting Sun because it's fun for him, we've heard him laugh about it before, that he believes all these incorrect things about Sun and therefore he feels justified in being awful to him, and when Sun's not his personal punching bag Sun's his tool for getting petty revenge on Moon

Also for that matter, why did he never seriously confront Moon on abandoning him? If Eclipse is deserving of any kind of justice then by all rights he should chew Moon out for sealing him away, he's more than in the right for chastising Moon for that, yet that never happened weirdly, and why not start to heal from that through therapy and/or introspection rather than just lashing out at everybody?

He, like Moon, absolutely refuses to even entertain the idea that he was the one in the wrong and will jump through every mental hoop he can to avoid that, it's never "hm maybe I did something wrong" and it's always instead "it's everyone else but me" or "I'm bad so what", he never realized that most of the bad things in his life were his own fault

Sun fighting him for control? Sun would've shared if Eclipse wasn't an active threat to him and Moon, Sun hating him? He tortured Sun to his breaking point, Lunar disowning him and allying with Sun and Moon? He abused Lunar badly enough to chase him away, Bloodmoon becoming a loose canon? He discarded Bloodmoon when he fulfilled his purpose and became too unruly for Eclipse's liking, the Star slowly killing him? He sat on his hands having an existential crisis rather than using the Star to upgrade his body in an instant so it wouldn't kill him like every other Eclipse with the Star did, Sun and Nexus killing him? That's the culmination of all his terrible actions finally catching him

I could go on, and yet he still wonders why he's lonely, it took the guy dying four times, one being to Lunar, and being turned into a puppet by Ruin and later Dark Sun for him to finally give some sort of apology to Lunar, but never to Sun, to his first victim, he says he's done hating and yet now we're seeing him continue to be spiteful and bitter towards Sunlight and Moonlight in the new dimension and feel vindicated in his abuse of Sun through dealing with Sunlight

Like seriously why don't people want him to ACTUALLY improve and be a better person? I don't want him dead, I want to see him improve, or at the very least actually earn making a new life for himself by making amends with his old victims, he did that with Lunar, who not Sun? If he does apologize to Sun genuinely and recognize what he he did rather than running away I'd die happy…

Sorry that this is long and with all the talks on Eclipse's regression I wanted to pitch in

You're absolutely right, dear anon 👏

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me ^^

I don't have anything to add here ^^

And I also wonder why people don't want Eclipse to improve..

And I want the same as you, dear anon.. for Eclipse to reflect and realize his mistakes and wrongdoings and apologize and atone for what he's done.. or just apologize.. like if it's really better if Eclipse went separate ways from Sun and Moon (though I personally disagree) then let Eclipse at least apologize to them..

I think that it'd be for the better for all of them..

Also let Moon apologize to Eclipse too..

And Sun can also apologize for saying that he should kill himself..

So all of them would be even but I think that it matters..

Maybe I'm wrong but who knows..

[halliestinks]

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

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)

• 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 🫶

[chaifootsteps]

if you have time and feel like getting frustrated, the comments on this thread are certainly a read: https://www.reddit.com/r/HelluvaBoss/comments/1gsa0nr/after_episode_10_i_think_blitz_is_ready_to/

to run it down quickly:

someone immediately points out Blitzo did apologize several times while Stolas never has

comments saying it's a good time to switch to see what Stolas is up to because he'll totally have become a better person by now, right? right?

comments like 'well it's been a month wth has Stolas been doing the whole time?'

comments implying it's on Blitzo to sit Stolas down and explain exactly where he screwed up, because holding him to account went so well last time with Mr 'I don't look down you! how many times - I'm not going to ask for examples and instead just racistly compare you to Striker' and Stolas is a three year old who can't be expected to do any thinking of his own

multiple comments along the lines of saying Stolas doesn't think he did anything wrong, is delululu, he suspects he did something wrong, he's open to the possibility that he did something wrong - I just don't get how anyone thinks Stolas is sympathetic or even likable at this point?? he's been told straight up to stop doing something before and ignored it, told he's upset Blitzo before and ignored it. how much more evidence do viewers need that their sweet sensitive boi is actually a selfish void of empathy? how do they still have the patience to believe he'll ever hold himself to account for anything when the entire season has been built to say he's not responsible and is just very sad and misunderstood? when there's quite literally a shot in the trailer implying he gets exactly what he wants - to make Blitzo his knight whether he likes it or not? if this were any other character there'd be endless essays about how much they suck and how abusive they are

someone falsely claiming "Blitz will still blame himself for being the one who came up with this whole deal" - uh, no he literally didn't?? Stolas did that.

someone else saying 'Stolas did nothing wrong' then being reminded he did, going back and watching s1 and remembering that he did used to be classist (kind of worrying that Viv's retconning is working on some fans tbh)

someone implying it's Blitzo and Verosika's fault for giving him different ideas about who was wrong like it's their fault Stolas went to Anti Blitzo party he said was childish and petty and would never go to. he could have stayed home and got blind drunk there instead

people pointing out that the rest of IMP messed up too by not using disguises so they should all be on the hook for it, not just Blitzo (not holding my breath for anything but the gang being like 'this is all your fault!' if Viv wrote those ones though) - this one makes me a little sad tbh, it's obvious Blitzo has no hope of getting any grace from Stolas but we already know he sucks. the writing on IMP is so inconsistent it's gonna be sad if his family threaten to leave him over a business plan that all three of them were all in on, too, just to pile on the Blitzo misery again

It's been crazy to see the subreddit, where the narrative is so tightly controlled, waking up little by little. They've still got a ways to go, but it's pretty astounding to see it happening at all, and being allowed to happen.

[mysticmilks]

Will and his feelings for Katherine

In this TED talk, I will argue that Will guessed or at least suspected that Katherine was his sister from the moment he met her, and hence there were no romantic feelings from his side.

[Lots of spoilers]

Yes, maybe it's obvious for everyone, but I still find it interesting to inspect how the narrative structure was keeping us intentionally in the dark both because of different POVs and because of the parts of the backstory that we get only way afterward.

The idea that there were any romantic feelings comes from two sources, Katherine's POV and Violet's. But when we look at the story from Will's perspective the meaning of his actions changes.

Let's start from the beginning.

Assumption 1: Some vague suspicions that he had siblings (backstory in Book 2, Elizabeth's POV)

Will was around 6-7 years old when Elizabeth was born. At that age, he would at least remember something, even if his mother never talked about the baby, even if she said that the child died or claimed that it never happened. Some memories, some half-forgotten moments must have stayed with him.

He knew for sure that his mother had a platitude of secrets, that she was afraid of something, and that she acted cautiously.

Assumption 2: Almost sure that he has/had sisters after his mother's death (Book 1, very close to the end, Will's POV )

Will is around 16, his mother is dying, covered in blood, murdered by unknown people. And she is talking nonsense. She is afraid of Will, so she attacks him, and she begs him not to hurt her girls.

Will was never stupid. And he had plenty of time to think about his mother's last words (and actions). And even though he wants to believe that she just didn't understand who he was, and what was going on, he is still our clever Will, and it's not that unbelievable, to at least suspect, that his mother really did have other children (girls), that she had to give up (and maybe that, somehow connected to her death).

He doesn't know if the girls are alive or where they are, but at that point, he must be almost sure that his mother had daughters.

Fact 1: Will knows both how his mother looks (obviously) and how Lady looks (Will's POV, Chapter 1)

Will is probably the only person alive, other than Devon and Sandy, who knows how Lady looks, and seeing her in the mirror he immediately recognizes that she has similarities to his late mother. 

Conclusion 1: When he saw Katherine for the first time he, for sure, noticed that she looked very similar to his mother and to Lady.

Once again, Will is smart, and seeing Katherin for the first time, he understands that she must be his sister.

He tries to find out if she has any other family members, asking her about her cousins.

When she reaches to his neck, he instinctively pulls away. The same way he wanted to pull away from Lady in the mirror. Because in both instances he thinks about his mother.

And at the end of their first meeting, he says that he was wrong, and he won't do whatever he planned.

Fact 2: When Katherine kisses him, Will pulls back

Will never initiate or encourage any intimacy. Probably because he didn't feel that way about her, but also because she is his sister.

She kissed him.

He tried to warn her and protect her because he promised his mom.

And Violet is the one who talks about love and kisses, while Will wants to say “It’s not what you think” because it's not. And it's not what we, readers, think because at that point Will (who's still not stupid) very much suspects that he is either Dark King's descendant or Dark King Reborn.

So my conclusion is that the feelings he has for Katherine are mixed but there is very little indication that he felt anything romantic or passionate toward her.

The whole point of this long post is an attempt to prove that Pacat is playing with our minds via POVs, vague dialogs, and a backstory that is revealed way too late. And if we can't trust the story in these small details, we also can't trust it in much bigger points such as Dark vs Light Sides, the role of the Collar, and the story of The Betrayer.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Congrats on 1k! I'd love a little missing scene fic between 2x04 and 2x05 where Stede gives some much-needed TLC to Ed and all of his mutiny-sustained injuries during his first night back on the Revenge 🥺

YES this is my NICHE!! Get absolutely cared for and cherished Ed!

Send me a prompt and I'll write a 1k word fic!

--

Ed had a thousand half-baked plans swirling through his mind as they rowed back to the Revenge.

He didn’t think Stede understood just how badly the crew would surely want him to stay gone. Ed’s current top idea for their best strategy was to pretend that he had become stricken with malaria. He’d also once met a guy who claimed to have been able to cry blood on command, and he was hoping that maybe he could do that, if it came down to it.

Fuck, but he was tired.

He’d had a hell of a day, was the thing, and he’d kind of been relying on staying moving or otherwise letting himself just drift along, and now that he had to sit still, and it was getting dark and quiet, everything was starting to rush in.

His head was pounding, and it hurt so badly he could feel it in his teeth. His split lip stung. His arm had kept getting sorer, until now he really didn’t want to move it. If he had been lucky enough to avoid a couple broken ribs, they were sure as shit bruised.

Point was: he felt like warmed over shit, and he was beginning to suspect from Stede’s increasingly worried glances that he might’ve noticed.

Fortunately, all his planning turned out to be useless.

As they pulled alongside the ship, Olu’s face popped up over the side. “Fucking finally,” he said. “What’s taken you so long?”

“Well, we stopped by an antique shop for dinner, which burned down,” Stede filled him in, reaching out to steady the ladder Olu threw over the side, “and then Buttons turned into a bird.”

“Ed with you?”

Stede pursed his lips, looking at Ed over his shoulder. “Yes, he actually-”

“Jim says they want you to lock the cabin door tonight,” Olu said. “As a precaution.”

Olu’s head disappeared, and Ed just stared up open-mouthed. “Huh. Thought that’d be harder.”

“Well, I had a feeling.” Stede held the ladder steady, motioning for Ed to go first. “C’mon.”

Ed would never know how Stede managed to get him up the ladder, because the second he put his foot on it, the world went spinning away, and suddenly the sky was on the ground, and that certainly wasn’t good.

The next thing he knew, he was laying on the deck, and Stede was saying “give him some space, please,” in that bitchy tone Ed loved so much.

“‘M fine,” Ed mumbled.

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England,” Jim muttered under their breath.

Ed let his eyes slip closed again, listening vaguely as Roach promised to bring a few first-aid supplies to the captain’s cabin.

“D’you want me to take care of him?” Roach asked.

Before Ed could even lift his head to say no, Stede was saying, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Ed risked a peek around as Stede helped him up, supporting him with an arm around his waist as he led him towards the cabin. Fang gave him a genuine smile, but Frenchie wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Jim still glared at him.

“It’s okay,” Stede whispered into his ear. “You don’t have to worry about anything right now.”

Ed’s headache must have been worse than he thought, because he kind of drifted, half-conscious, as Stede got him seated on the couch. He heard Roach’s voice again, saw Stede sit something on the cushion next to him.

“I can take care of it myself,” Ed muttered half-heartedly.

“You don’t have to, though,” Stede said softly.

Ed sort of nodded, and the next thing he knew, Stede was sitting next to him, warm and real and there, and there was a soft cloth dabbing at the cuts on Ed’s cheeks.

Stede helped Ed shimmy out of his jacket and his shirt, whispering apologies when Ed cried out as that jostled him, and set to work soothing bruises and patching up cuts. The wound on his arm hurt like a bitch, but it thankfully wasn’t too deep for Stede to feel like he couldn’t stitch it up himself.

He should’ve felt more cautious, he knew, shouldn’t have been leaning into Stede’s side, halfway to nodding off, letting Stede see all the vulnerable bits of him so soon.

But Ed was tired, and everything hurt.

“Shh,” Stede kept soothing, so gentle and so earnest that Ed exaggerated a bit, whining like he’d never had worse pain before just so Stede would keep comforting him. “Only a bit longer, you’re doing so well.”

Roach had left something for the pain, a syrup that went down sweet as honey, and Ed was glad that Stede had taken over, because he might’ve kissed anyone who gave that to him out of sheer relief.

As it was, Ed was so tired he wound up just kind of mouthing at the side of Stede’s face.

Stede laughed, pulling Ed into his side, wrapping his arms around him, and the whole world went soft and steady. “Tomorrow,” Stede promised. “You can rest, now.”

Ed let his head rest on Stede’s shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, humming in delight at the feeling of Stede’s hand softly circling his waist to hold him steady.

He wasn’t looking forward to how he’d feel in the morning. He knew he’d be on unsteady footing, unsure what to say or how to say it, and Stede would probably come up with a whole speech for him to memorize for the crew, and that would go over like a lead balloon, he imagined. He wouldn’t know how to respond when the crew were upset or angry with him - as would be their right, of course. And he wouldn’t know how fast Stede would want things to move, or if he’d be angry with Ed, still, too, or…

Ed sighed, tucking his nose further into Stede’s neck, breathing in, just allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of Stede around him.

That was tomorrow. For now, he was safe.

[turnipstewdios]

Half-Lives: Chapter 2

Read here: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48120073/chapters/121402672

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope!” Best burgers in Gotham!”

Danny suspected his new friend was enjoying the look on his face a little too much. And to be fair, Jason would know better than Danny would. He did live here. He shouldn’t be this skeptical, given his favorite place to eat back home. Tourists in Amity had been a bit put off by a place literally called “The Nasty Burger” but it had been the best spot in town. So this shouldn’t be so weird. But…

“Do they all wear costumes?” “Yup!” Because yeah. The cashier was wearing tights. And a cape. And a rumpled looking domino mask held on with a string. “Which robin is that even supposed to be?” Because Danny wasn’t super familiar with the difference between the local vigilante’s costumes, but this didn't really look like any of the pictures he’d seen.

Jason looked slightly less gleeful at that. “Honestly… not sure.” he was squinting in the window at the register now. “Kinda looks like the first robin, but I think those are supposed to be Red Robin’s bandoliers.” “Why on earth does this city have a Batman themed fast food restaurant?”

“Why on earth not?” Jason shrugged. “Come on, I’m starving.” Danny followed him inside, and then quietly reaffirmed his decision not to look into fast food jobs  when the cashier grimaced, visibly braced himself, and asked if he could take their bat-order in the most horrifyingly cheerful voice he’d ever heard. He frequently talked to dead people who sounded more alive. I’m already dead. Don’t think I could handle being soulless too.

“Hi Benny!” Jason walked up to the counter like he came here daily. Which he might, for all Danny knew. They were only a few blocks from the roof he’d met him on, and he probably lived there. “Rough night?”

“Hi Jason.” The cashier, Benny apparently, looked slightly less strained when he walked over. “Not really. It’s been slower than usual.” “Yeah, it has, hasn’t it?” Jason looked almost put out at that. “The usual?” Benny was already moving to type something in on the register. “Yeah please. What do you want, Danny?” “Erm…” Danny scanned the menu briefly, and ordered the first thing that looked good. Then paused as his stomach complained again, and ordered a second burger and extra fries as well. And maybe also a hand pie.

He started to pull out his wallet, but promptly got distracted by the sight of the fry-cook in the back wearing a Batman costume. Which looked stupid. And so miserably hot. Why? What was even the point? By the time he looked back at the register, Jason had paid for both of their orders while he wasn’t looking. “Hey hey woah, dude, I can pay for mine, you don’t have to get that!” “Nah, I got it.” Which was just, so not ok! Danny had ordered a ton of food, and Jason lived in Crime Alley! He probably wasn’t all that well off, and he definitely shouldn’t be paying for a ravenous half ghost stranger's food! “Hey relax man, I mean it. It’s no big deal.” “No big-? Do you normally feed trespassers you catch on your roof in the middle of the night?” Jason paused for a moment. Then, seeming to make some sort of decision, grinned roguishly at Danny while he grabbed a cup. “Nah, only the cute ones.” And walked away towards the drink fountain while Danny blue-screened. Oh. Oh no. Hot guy flirting. Danny was so screwed.

They filled up their cups at the fountain, (Danny was screaming internally just a little bit) and then Jason went to claim a corner booth to wait for their order. Danny realized that he had been completely distracted from the whole paying the bill thing. He should probably just go with it.

As they sat down, Danny took a moment to really look Jason over in the light of the restaurant. He was, just maybe, not quite as scary as he’d seemed on a dimly lit rooftop. He was still really big though. And looked like he might be able to bench press Danny a guy without straining. He had short black hair with a tuft of white hair in the front that almost looked too bright to be dyed, and really striking blue-green eyes. His clothes were plain, but sturdy looking and well made. His shirt was really tight. He looked great in combat boots.

He also felt like he might, maybe, be ecto-contaminated. It was hard to tell. Whatever it was, it was low enough that Danny hadn’t noticed anything until they’d shaken hands on the roof. Even then, it was hard to get a read on, and nowhere near enough to set off his ghost sense. If he’d met Jason in Amity, he didn’t think he’d have noticed at all. It was odd to find someone like that here though. There was plenty of ambient ectoplasm in the air in Gotham, but he hadn’t noticed any effect on the people who lived with it. Where would the guy even have come into contact with a high enough concentration of the stuff for it to leave a mark? He got broken out of his thoughts when Jason started the conversation up again.

“You must be really new in town if you haven't been to Batburger yet. When’d you move in?” “Ah, just over the weekend. Only got into my apartment Saturday.” “Mm, ok, yeah. You haven't had your’ first rogue attack yet then, huh? Nothing’s happened in weeks.”

“Uh, no. I haven't.” Danny would like to keep it that way, thanks. He’d had more than enough of constant attacks by malevolent entities in High School. He wanted to be able to sleep once in a while. “You been mugged yet?” Danny almost choked on a sip of his drink. “Who just asks that? Casually?” “A Gothamite.” Jason grinned at him from across the table. “Getting robbed or held at gunpoint or taken hostage by whoever broke out of Arkham this week is a right of passage.” Great. He should feel right at home then. “In all seriousness though, have you run into trouble yet? This city’s no joke, even when you know your way around.” Danny glanced down at the table. “I'm fine. I can handle it.” Jason raised an eyebrow at that. “Look, I know, ok? I’m not taking this lightly or being careless. I know I don’t look like it, but I can take care of myself.” He could. Not that he was about to explain the ghost powers to anybody. Gotham was a rough place, but Danny was a tough person. He’d had to be. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go anyway. Their order came up, and Danny waved Jason down while he got up to go grab it. He should take the opportunity to change the subject. The fewer questions got asked about where he was from, the better.

The food did actually smell really good. Carrying it back to the table reminded him how hungry he was. He hurriedly sat down, pulled his burger out of its greasy paper wrapping, and tore into it like… well like he hadn’t eaten in almost three days. It was good. Different from anything at the Nasty Burger, but it tasted great! Jason had also started eating, and the table was silent for a few minutes while they worked their way through the first burgers in the stack. _________________________________________ Danny ate like he hadn't seen food in a week. Watching him attack a hamburger like a rabid coyote would have been funny if it hadn’t been mildly concerning. Jason took a moment to think while they both ate, and tried to puzzle out why he felt so… off kilter. He kinda liked Danny. And that was part of the weird stuff. He’d barely even met him. Knew nothing about him. Jason was a crime lord and a vigilante, it paid to be suspicious of strangers. He shouldn’t be this open to liking the guy this soon. But, Danny felt… safe. Soothing almost. The nerves he’d been feeling all day had calmed down a bit.

He had also turned an adorable shade of red when Jason tried flirting. He’d wondered if he’d overstepped for a second, but it hadn't seen like he minded, just like he’d been caught off guard. (He had also definitely been checking Jason out on the way to the table.) Jason had still backed off a bit though. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable if the attention wasn’t wanted.

His hand still felt cold where he had touched Danny’s skin. It’s still like 80 outside, how the fuck are his hands that cold?  Could he be a meta? Did he have ice powers or something? Jason had no idea, but something about the contact had felt hauntingly familiar. That didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about him. He danced around questions about where he was from in a way Jason had seen from way too many street kids. The possible lack of access to food and the worn-down clothes were also not good signs. Jason couldn’t see any obvious bruises or scrapes, but he thought he might have seen the edge of some scarring peeking out from under his shirt. Danny apparently did have an apartment, but the lack of AC probably meant it probably wasn’t the best place. He hadn’t mentioned anyone else living with him either, and Jason couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

Danny finally slowed down half way through his second burger, and Jason took the chance to ask another question. “You know anybody in Gotham?” Danny paused, chewing for a moment before swallowing. “No, not really.”

“No relatives or friends? University?” “Uh, no. My family’s still back west. And I’m not here for school.” “Work then?”

Danny chuckled a bit. “I’m actually looking for a job. Haven't been here long enough to get established yet.” Currently unemployed, but not homeless at least.  “How’re you affording the apartment while you look? You got a roommate?”

“Oh, no. I had some savings. It’s enough to pay rent for a few months, I just need to find work ASAP.”

All right, so he did have somewhat of a safety net for the moment. That was good. “What kind of jobs are you looking at?” “Uh, well. I don’t qualify for a whole lot. I was actually going to start with looking into delivery jobs. Just about all the restaurants in my neighborhood do takeout, somebody’s gotta be hiring.” He took another bite. Chewed. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll look for whatever. I haven't actually had a lot of time to think about it yet. You know anything in the area I could look into?” Ah. That, Jason might be able to help with. This was his turf. He knew it inside and out. “Hmm” He took a second to work on his fries while he thought about it. “Yeah I might.” There were a few places nearby that might legitimately be hiring. But there were also a few businesses in the Alley that would hire someone if Red Hood asked. He had used them before to get alley kids and folks down on their luck a job. The small business owners in the area couldn’t always afford to pay the help they needed, so in a few cases Jason had paid the wages himself. The business got new staff, a kid got off the streets, and Jason got to do something useful with Bruce’s money. “I think there’s a few places I know that might have positions open. I’d have to check though.” He took a sip of his drink to wash down the last of his fries, and rummaged around in his pocket for his phone. “What’s your number? I’ll send you some info on places you can check out.” Danny raised an eyebrow. “My number? For job recommendations?” The corner of his mouth tugged up a bit. “No other reason?” “Ha! Well,” Jason smiled back. “There might be another reason.” Danny grinned back, and pulled out his own phone. “Sure, I can do that.”

_________________________________________

It was still hot outside. Danny somehow managed to forget that until he stepped out the door of the restaurant. The un-conditioned air hit his face like he’d been slapped with a warm, damp towel. Why did it have to be so humid? Jason didn’t look particularly thrilled to be back outside either. At least they were both suffering.

Danny felt awkward again. “Hey, thanks for the food man. You really didn’t have to.”

“Again, no problem.” Jason pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and started to light one. “It was nice chatting with somebody.”  He looked over at Danny for a moment. “You gonna be able to get home all right?” “Oh, yeah I should be fine. It’ll take me a bit but I know where I’m going.” He did. He’d looked up where the Batburger was so he could find his way back to the apartment. Jason puffed on his cigarette a bit. He looked concerned again. “How far away are you?” “Ah, a few miles?” “A few miles?” Alarmed now. “I thought you were out for a walk on the roofs!?” “I was?” “You traveled a few miles on the roofs!? What are you, a bat ?!” “Uh..” “Dude. You want a ride home? I’ve got a bike.” “Um, I’ll be fine. It really didn't take all that long to get here.” Jason dragged in a breath around his smoke and grumbled something too low and garbled for Danny to make out. It kinda sounded like he mentioned the bats again though. Let the breath back out. “You sure? I’ve got an extra helmet.” He started walking back down the street towards what Danny assumed was his apartment. “Nah, it’s fine. Really. I can get around. It’s kinda fun actually.” “You sound like my brother.” Jason sighed. “Fine.” He stuffed his phone and the box of cigarettes back in his pocket. “I’ll see if anyone I know is hiring and send you the details.” “That would be great man, thanks.” Danny smiled. “No pressure, I’m sure I can find something.” Danny looked up at the building as they approached it. “Could I use the stairs to get back on your roof again? _________________________________________ “Sure, why not.” Jason glanced over at him as they started climbing. He still wasn’t sure he shouldn’t just be insisting Danny let him drive him home. He kept saying he could take care of himself, but Jason wasn’t so confident. He opened the roof access door for the second time that night, and leaned up against the wall of the stairwell while Danny moved over towards the closest neighboring building. … “Hey, be careful. You’re not as likely to get mugged up here, but you can still run into people you don’t want to mess with.” “Oh, whaaat? But the last scary guy I talked to on a roof bought me dinner!” “You planning on making a habit of talking to scary guys on roofs?” “Nah,” Danny’s smile gained a smug teasing edge, and for a moment his teeth looked way to sharp. “Only the cute ones!”

Jason choked on a lungful of smoke. It only distracted him for a second, but when he looked back up, Danny was gone. Fuck. Really, really have to keep him away from Batman.

_________________________________________ Danny made it back to his apartment quickly and without incident. He probably shouldn't have disappeared like that, but he was still stifling low giggles over the face Jason had made when he'd turned around. It had been worth it. He phased in through his window, landed on his slightly creaky floor. And then stopped. He cursed, and smacked his palm into his face.   He'd forgotten to get a fan.  

[rey-jake-therapist]

Oh. My. God. This last episode was SO GOOD! If Disney doesn't renew I give up on this franchise, I swear. At last some really fresh ideas about the Jedi! (Sorry but The Last Jedi was never as new and controversial as its fanbase claims it was: the consensus at the end was the same as usual: Jedi good, Dark siders bad, no complexity whatsoever!)

Most of what I expected happened 🤩 spoilers episode 8 below.

I wanted Koril (Osha and Mae's other mother) to be the Stranger's former master, but it seemed more likely that it would be Jedi Master Vernestra. And he's TERRIFIED of her?! My man had no problems facing a crowd of armed Jedi alone in episode 5, but as soon as she arrived he put on his helmet back and went hiding like a little child afraid of being punished hard 😳 I can't forget that the scar he had was in his BACK.... Meaning she thought she killed him by attacking him from behind. Not very Jedi, not at all....

Of course we could think he betrayed her, but considering his stance on loyalty, I find it hard to believe. Loyalty is very important to him, we saw it at the way he reacted to Mae's betrayal. And now we know that whatever happened, Vernestra probably lied about it.

Because yes she's a freaking liar! Instead of admitting that her former padawan is still alive and taking pupils, she puts all the blame on this poor Sol. I guess it's karma because that's exactly what he did with Mae. How not agreeing with this senator, who pointed that leaving too much liberty to the Jedi could be dangerous? How do you trust people who lie every time they need to cover their track? Nice foreshadowing of Anakin's betrayal, too... Yes sir, one day a Jedi will go rogue and destroy everything.

Osha thought she saw Mae kill Sol, but she saw herself in fact... she just probably didn't believe it could be her! Neither did Qimir. If he wasn't in love before, he's already naming the babies as we think lmao Poor Sol though, I'll miss him. I suspected it would happen, but still... It was painful to watch, almost as much as seeing Ben Solo kill Han in The Force Awakens. Except here at last, Osha had a good reason to kill him, while in TFA it was only done for shock value :/ I know Sol expressed remorse but it was definitely not enough to get forgiveness. He should have told the truth the Osha, to the Council. He had it coming....

Mae losing her memories of Osha was such a heart wrenching moment. Especially when Mae couldn't finish the song... 😭 in my predictions I saw Mae turn, but I didn't see *that* coming.... Reminds me of Revan! The Stranger agrees to let her go while he was obsessed with killing her, just because Osha asked him to.... That's love 😍

And they really had Osha and Qimir riding together in the sunset. They really did it!! After all this time spent trying to ship Reylo but never really getting it because these idiots just kept fighting with no conversation, my soul is healed at last... You know, the scene where they take the ship and argue like an old couple? I wanted a scene like that for episode IX. Or anything that would have been a scene together with no fighting 😔