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sp0o0kylights · 7 months

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Still working on the BB fic but have another snippet of that Stobin Timeloop AU. This can be read as stand-alone.

Steve Harrington snaps on a completely random Friday.

Well--not completely random. It's both the day of the Big Sportsball Game as well as Hellfire’s grand finale--but neither of those things should matter to Harrington.

Not that he needs a reason to lose his shit--Eddie’s long used to being threatened, insulted or outright attacked out of the blue.

It’s the whole reason he built up the persona he had--because the scarier he was, the more people left him alone.

Unfortunately it would appear that Hawkins fallen king hadn’t gotten the memo, given he seemed hellbent on kicking Eddie’s ass.

"Come on Harrington, we can talk about this." Eddie says, as he’s shoved back, scrambling for a way out, as the former jock gets up in his face.

The guy had called out his name the second he pulled into the parking lot (sans Buckley or any of the freshman they shared, which has Eddie's back up instantly) but Eddie had simply ignored him.

It was too early to deal with whatever had Harrington sounding like his ass was on fire.

Pity Steve had charged over instead, a look in his eyes that said whatever happened next was going to hurt.

Eddie carries a switchblade, but hes never had to use it before.

Had instead made an entire production about having it, including cleaning his nails with the blade or stabbing it into the cheap wood desks when a teacher stepped out of the room.

Had shouted that he’d pull it even when Harrington had charged him, but the guy didn't even blink.

Thus forcing Eddie to confront the fact that he really doesn’t want to stab someone.

Particularly not someone whose family has the police in their pockets (or did with Chief Hopper, though Eddie doesn’t doubt that the Harrington Hoard won’t immediately grab onto the next pig to get promoted.)

His panic leaves him flailing but somehow, (and unfairly Eddie may add) Steve seems to expect this.

Knows how to navigate it.

Eddie's back hits the metal of the van and he winces, expecting the hit, the pain.

If he can duck, if he can make it so the first punch only grazes him, he can grab his fucking knife and wave it around, see if that gets the asshole off him, except--

Instead of hitting him, Steve reaches past, to yank one of the van’s passenger doors open.

Herds Eddie inside, slamming the door behind him before snatching a fistful of Eddie's shirt and hauling him forward.

"What--" Eddie asked, confused, right before Steve smashes their lips together.

It's a hard kiss, practically a claim.

Steve kisses him like a drowning man gasps for air and Eddie can only fall into it, stunned.

(The stunned portion only lasts long enough for Eddie to blink before he's kissing back, hot and heavy.

He's been horny for Harrington since the asshole did a trick shot that showed off his ass and involved flipping Hagan off at the same time, sue him.)

Thinks as he does, that this is probably a trap.

That even if it isn't, then whatever it is Steve will make him regret it--even if he started it.

(Not like Eddie can claim he wasn’t enjoying it, either. He’s giving as good as he gets, dick quickly overwhelming any rational thought in his brain.

He clings to Steve like a lifeline, gasping when the jocks takes his bottom lip between his teeth and lightly drags it out, begging to be let into Eddie's mouth.

This isn't reality.

Cannot be reality, must be the start of a wet dream or some…vivid hallucinations because when Eddie grinds himself upwards into Steve, cock chasing friction, Steve presses back.)

"Fuck." Eddie moans when Steve finally releases him, panting up at the ceiling.

"Do I have your attention now?" Steve asks, voice raspy and Eddie finds himself able to die happy, because that tone is downright possessive.

"Yeah big boy, you have me--it." Eddie corrects himself fast, the words practically blending together.

Steve gives a strangled sort of laugh at that, and instead of getting up, presses his face down onto Munsons shoulder.

Eddie expects him to spring up at any moment. Declare insanity maybe, or far more likely threaten him about telling anybody.

If past bar hookups were an indicator, he'd throw a few slurs in for good measure.

(And those men had been at a gay bar, not Hawkins high school parking lot.)

It's nothing Eddie can't handle, but Steve…isn't doing any of them.

Instead his breathings gone weird, body trembling--and Eddie can see how Steve is holding himself up.

Like he's worried about Eddie taking his weight.

Slowly, carefully, he raises a hand to the back of Steve's hair.

He presses in slow, waiting to be yelled at, waiting to be rejected but never is.

"You can lay on me, Harrington, I won't break." Eddie tells him and knows his voice is too sweet when he says it.

Too lovey dovey, too awed.

Too late, for him to recover into a normal voice but fuck it. Not like Eddie was known for making smart decisions.

Nothing could have prepared him from the wounded noise Steve makes in return.

"Hey--hey." Eddie says, in rising panic. "I've got you."

"I know." Steve raises, and head coming up at last, cheeks red and tear stained but his eyes are clear.

Clear and fucking haunted.

"I know you do, Eds, but we don't have time. Which is why I need you to listen to me, because I'm not the Steve Harrington you know."

Utterly reeling from being called "Eds" it takes Eddie a moment to digest what was just said. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Steve sighs, a blast of frustration, and Eddie finds himself automatically scritching at Steve's head.

For some reason that seems to help.

"Your D&D finale’s tonight, right?"

"Yes." Eddie says slowly, his mind spinning uselessly, every coherent thought derailed by something new. The moles on Steve's neck. The way he shifts, how his leg is tangling with Eddie's, awkwardly because it's cramped as shit back here.

"I'm way past this. I've lived this. More than once."

Aha.

So it's a mental breakdown Steve's having.

"I'm still waiting for you to make sense, Harrington." Eddie says to buy himself time to think.

"Steve." The younger man corrects and he's holding Eddie's gaze. "And I'm not making sense because saying it sounds stupid."

Eddie can't help the little derisive laugh that breaks out of him. "I hear a lot of stupid things, one more won't kill me."

"I know, you're famous for your rants about them." Steve snarks back, but it's teasing.

Friendly and familiar, like he's used to bantering.

Not just that, but bantering with Eddie, specifically.

He doesn't know what to do with that, so he tugs a little on Harrington's too perfect hair.

Demands an explanation with that little jolt--and somehow, Steve doesn't haul off and punch him for it. Instead a shudder rollers through him, eyes closing just a touch and--Oh.

Oh, Harri-Steve, likes it.

"I'm from the future." Steve says, which does indeed sound stupid.

Eddie blinks. "What?"

"Robin and I are stuck in a time loop-- we keep living this week over and over." He continues, only now he's leaning his head against Eddie's arm.

"Every single time, you take the longest to get on board and buy in, and every single time I fail to get everyone out alive so fuck it. Fuck all of it--I'm speedrunning this part."

Oh this is beyond breakdown.

This is 'took something he shouldn't have and then some' and Eddie knows how to trip sit.

He just…doesn't want to get punched for being the first person Steve released his repressed homosexual urges out on, drugged or not.

(The fact Steve's still letting Eddie pet him like a cat absolutely does not have anything to do with it, no sir.)

because his mouth bypasses his rational mind most days and today is no exception.

"Okay." Eddie says. "Let's say you are from the future and not shot up with what I'm assuming you were told was steroids and was very much not."

Steve rolls his eyes.

He never bothered to dry his cheeks and Eddie does it now for him, with the hand that's not in Steve's hair.

Steve leans into it, which somehow feels like the craziest part of it all.

"Prove to me that you're from the future." Eddie challenges.

"Oh the kissing wasn't enough? Fine." Steve bitches, before rattling off facts like he's blowing through answers on Jeopardy.

"You call your guitar sweetheart and apologize for cheating on it anytime you use your other guitar, who is named Arwin. Your favorite mug in Wayne's collection is the Garfield one and you can play Master of Puppets by heart even though the album came out last month."

"And this is coming from the future and not one of the freshmen we somehow share custody over…?" Eddie says, even while alarm shoots down his spine.

Had he told the kids about his Garfield mug?

That his acoustic was named Arwin…?

He suddenly couldn't recall but that made the most sense. Had to make sense.

Steve huffs, annoyed.

Its very cute, and Eddie bites his own lip hard to keep himself focused.

A finger dips under Eddie's collar, wrapping gently around the chain that sits there before he can react.

"This," Steve emphasizes with a gentle tug, "was your mom's. She gave it to you the morning of the accident."

Eddie's world stops.

Not the same way it stopped when Steve kissed him, it stopped in a way they felt like ice had been dumped over his head. A flash freeze that squeezed his chest, claws digging into his exposed heart.

The only person who knew about the pick was Wayne.

No one else, not even his band, his closest friends, knew the origin of it.

To tell someone that, to say it was not only his mothers but that shed given it to him the morning before some drunk asshole t boned her shitty, shitty car and killed her-- was akin to handing over step by step instructions on how to hurt him.

Eddie would go to the ends of the earth for that pick, and he had never let anyone know just how important it was to him.

Except Steve Harrington, apparently.

"Okay." Eddie says, "Okay, you're from the future. You said--" He pauses, swallows.

Fights down his disbelief even as the dots connect, because why else would he tell anyone about his pick?

The only reason he can possibly conjure is if he needed someone to give it back to Wayne, because he, for whatever reason, couldn't.

"You said you're reliving this because you can't get everyone out alive?" Eddie managed to get out, grappling with the knowledge that "everyone" included him.

"Yeah."

"Are you also my boyfriend or something?"

"If we can make it there, then yes." Steve says, slightly hysterical. "And really? You're finally gonna believe me?"

"Are you arguing here for me to believe you or not, Steve, you're giving conflicting signals--"

"No it's--you've fought me on this man. I've tried every method of getting you with us and every time you argue until the bats show up but one kiss and you're all for it?"

"Give yourself some credit, it was a grand slam of a kiss.” Eddie replies, because it was by far and large the best kiss of his life.

He’d follow Steve to hell and back if more kisses like that were on the table, mental breakdown or no.

Steve snorts at him, a half-hysterical sound. “Noted.” He says.

Then; “You believe me though?”

“Not at all!” Eddie chirps with a wobbly grin that betrays him. “But on the off chance you’re right the uh…the thing about my pick…” He trails off self consciously.

“I should have guessed that was what it. You only ever tell me that when you’re dying.” Steve fills in for him, and it’s weird, to know that for two seconds Steve Harrington apparently read his face and correctly guessed what he was thinking about.

Abruptly decides he doesn’t want to think of his impending doom any longer.

“So how about we skip the dying part and focus on the boyfriend part?” He says, poking at Steve’s cheek.

Steve makes a face at him, before grabbing a his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“We gotta fix this mess first, Munson.” He tells him gently, looking up at him through his lashes and oh, that is a look Eddie will keep for the rest of his life.

“Lead on, lassie.” Eddie tells him to hide how dazed he feels. “Let’s go save the world and shit.”

With one final kiss to the palm of Eddie’s hand, Steve does.

#steddie #actual steddie for once lol #miscommunication #stobin timeloop #this starts off kinda dub con but quickly turns #steves just desperate lool #eddie munson #eddie is like those owls who puff themselves up to look mean #robin is gonna be equally annoyed the kissing is what finally gets eddie on board fast #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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dawnagustd · 1 year

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like that || jjk

masterlist | permanent taglist form | read on ao3

Shit.

You’ve always known your luck was shit, but running into your crush at a party was the last thing you thought would happen. Especially the day after you finally talked to him only to discover he has a girlfriend. You found out also that he’s an asshole who likes to lead people on until he feels like crushing their feelings.

You can’t see him right now. Not like this.

Peach Cîroc staining your top, now soaked into your flesh… It’d be too embarrassing.

So, you hide. But the room you’ve chosen is already occupied.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh, shi–”

Someone’s in here, and their voice startles you. Your right palm lays flat on your chest, trying to settle your racing heart. You turn around expecting to give an apology and be on your way, but once again, shitty luck.

“Jungkook? Seriously?”

How can things go from bad to worse?

Let’s just say you’ve been… Well, you’ve been avoiding one guy so you can chase another. A couple of months ago, you went on a blind date with a guy, and he just so happens to be the person standing in front of you. Only one person enjoyed that date, and it damn sure wasn’t you.

You knew by the way your friends described him that he was too good to be true. On paper, Jungkook sounds amazing—brown eyes, healthy hair, smart, talented… hot. But no one talks about his competitiveness. The 8-year-olds at the trampoline park will never be the same.

Instead of attraction, you can only feel annoyance when it comes to his arrogance. You would rather take the walk of shame than be stuck in here… with him.

“I’m leaving.”

“No,” he interjects. “You’re hiding.”

Jungkook takes the remaining steps to close the space separating you two, and like a deer caught in headlights, you’re frozen.

“Is someone bothering you?”

“What?! No, I’m not.”

The beginning of a chuckle travels past his lips, openly mocking you.

“You squeaked. You’re lying.” Jungkook tilts his head. “He’s out there, huh?”

Great. Everyone knows.

“Fuck off, Jungkook.”

This time he doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. His smirk just continues to grow as he stands toe to toe with you.

“Or I can do you one better,” he suggests.

Your eyebrows lift involuntarily as curiosity invades your thoughts. The thing about people who are full of themselves, they sure do talk a good game.

Tension appears to grow after his finger beckons you to come closer, his minty breath hitting your skin when he leans closer. The vibration from his words sends a tingle through your body. You suppose lack of sex will make the smallest things feel electrifying.

“...I can fuck you senseless right here against this door.”

“Oh, you’d like that, huh?”

Jungkook pulls away, taking the soothing scent of his Versace with him.

“I would,” he agrees. “And so would you if you ever gave me a chance.”

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with me.”

“You wanna bet on that?”

Silence dominates the dark bedroom as the stare-down begins. Neither of you wants to look away because that would mean defeat. That’s not an option when it comes to Jungkook.

“Scared you’ll want more, huh?”

“The lies you tell.”

Jungkook’s crooked smile never fades as he shakes his head. “I bet you’re a runner.”

“Shut up.”

In the morning, you’ll think back on this and be mad at yourself for allowing him to get you worked up.

But that’s tomorrow's problem.

“Why? Don’t want to hear the truth–”

“You get on my nerves.” You grab Jungkook’s shirt and even he’s surprised. You could care less about his taunting because this is how he behaves when he wants your attention, but that smirk has got to go.

“I don’t care. Do something about that.”

Those glossy dark orbs hidden beneath his thick lashes focus directly on your lips. Your eyes explore his features, lingering on the tip of his tongue peeking out to bring moisture. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and slowly releases.

“Give me an excuse to pin you against this wall,” he whispers.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Kissing Jungkook was not in your plans tonight, but something comes over you, and you do just that. Your teeth click, and you grab at each other’s clothes as he guides you backward. When your back hits the door is when he finally comes to a stop, and his mint-tainted lips begin to venture lower.

Jungkook grips your ass while he nips the skin of your neck, leaving traces of him along your feverish skin. Your hair entangled in his hair pulls him closer as if there is any more space left between you.

“Hold on,” he breathes. “I smell alcohol. You good?”

Thinking about earlier, you roll your eyes as you recall some frat guy bumping into you.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just got here. Some guy made me spill my drink all over myself.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He grips your hair and tilts your head, granting him more access to your collarbone and cleavage, two areas he can’t seem to abandon. “Remind me to kick his ass before we leave.”

A shuddered gasp escapes your lips when Jungkook’s teeth attack your flesh. He scoops you off your feet in the same motion, pinning you against the door with his hips while he leaves your skin wet and bruised. You can feel his bulge when he pushes up your skirt.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, raking your nails down his biceps.

He removes his jacket so you can feel more of his warmth beneath your palms. You feel Jungkook’s hand slip between you so he can pull down his pants. In this position, it’s impossible to see what he’s working with, but you can tell by the pressure probing at your panties that you’re going to feel every inch of him.

“One sec,” he murmurs.

Jungkook reaches for his wallet and finds a condom instantly. He opens the package and rolls it effortlessly. He’s probably done it more times than you can count, but that’s none of your business. It’s your turn now.

You pull your panties out of the way, and the blunt tip of his dick begins teasing your entrance, testing the waters until he’s sure it’s okay for him to sink into your pussy.

He makes you look at him while his cock slips inside of you, wanting the image of your initial reaction in his memory. You try to give him something decent to remember, but the stretch is so overwhelming your eyes roll back.

Jungkook eventually buries his face in the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his own moans, but you hear how desperate he is to fuck you. With your permission, he makes small strokes until you both can overcome the sensitivity.

“Pussy’s too good for you to be stressed over a piece of shit,” he murmurs into your bosom. He licks the sticky substance coating your breasts and moans. “...And you taste too good.”

He starts thrusting harder, and your bodies cause the door to rattle and shake. Your cries begin to fill the room, and Jungkook encourages them by filling your head with praises.

“You’re so hot and beautiful. You think that guy deserves to fuck you like this?”

He grabs your hands and pins them above you, supporting you with nothing but his slender but toned waist. You’re left in awe as he bounces you on his dick.

“Even if he deserved it. He couldn’t,” Jungkook adds. “He could never fuck you like this.”

“Jungkook!”

You sob his name as your muscles tighten, pressure building within you as you near your peak. His forehead presses against yours, and he looks into your eyes while he fucks you.

“But I can do it. I can fuck you like this.”

“Please,” you rasp.

“Why should I?”

You knew he’d be a little asshole. Your pride does not compare to your pleasure, however.

“I need to come,” you mutter.

“What was that?”

After gritting your teeth, you just allow the words to flow from your mouth.

“Please let me come!”

“Fuck. Okay, love.” His pace quickens, and your moans get louder, startling everyone outside the door. Sweat forms on Jungkook’s forehead as he puts in the work to make you reach your high. “Your moans are so fucking beautiful.”

His praise drives you over the edge, and your orgasm ripples through you without warning. Your body shudders as Jungkook guides you through an intense wave of pleasure before his thrust becomes wild and he spills his load into the condom.

“You owe me a second date,” he sighs as his dick slips out of you. Both of you groan. You from the emptiness, and he from the loss of warmth. “You’re paying this time.”

“I swear you get on my nerves.”

“I still don’t care,” he laughs.

Jungkook keeps you in this position while he caresses your thighs. You’re enjoying the gentleness of his touch. So, you don’t even complain. It’s a peaceful moment, and all the concerns you had recently have been buried underneath your dickmatized state.

After some minutes go by, Jungkook finally speaks.

“I’m going to put you down now, okay?”

“Okay.”

When your feet touch the ground is when everything sets in. You bask in it all as you both rearrange your clothing. You try to avoid Jungkook’s gaze, but it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t demand your attention.

“So, two options.”

“I’m listening.”

“We can pretend it never happened, or…”

“Or what?”

Jungkook smirks.

“We can pretend it never happened and go back to my place for round two,” he suggests.

The thought has you smiling before you even realize it.

You respond a bit shyly. “I like option two.”

“Oh, yeah?... Well, let’s go then.”

He grabs your hand, but you both pause before opening the door. There’s no way to explain this situation to anyone, and the second that door opens people will begin talking. You aren’t entirely sure how you feel about that.

As if he can read your mind, Jungkook speaks up.

“Come on. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

And you know… Maybe Jungkook does deserve a second date.

No trampoline parks, though.

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #btshoneyhive #bangtansorciere #bangtanbathhouse #thekpopuniverse #kvanity #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfics #fic: like that #sugakookitty

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makethatelevenrings · 2 years

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Shovel Talk // B. Wayne x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

WARNINGS: brief discussion of sex

Summary: It was the first time Bruce Wayne was introducing his partner to the world...and his kids. His very inquisitive, highly trained, pain-in-the-ass kids.

The steady, firm press of the hand against your lower back was the only constant of the night, it seemed. You were whisked to and fro to talk to various people with a tight smile on your face and honey on your tongue. Your partner kept close to your side as he warmly informed each person that you were his. Your appearance came as a surprise to Gotham society and also to Bruce’s family. Only Stephanie greeted you with a brilliant grin and a quick hug.

“So,” Tim said to the blonde as the Wayne clan sidled up next to their friend. “What’s their story? How do you know them?”

Stephanie smirked, wolfish and sharp, and tossed back the champagne that was in her hand. “Hmmm, the great detectives don’t know something? It must be eating you up. I could put you out of your misery…”

She considered her options and then shrugged. “Or I could go bully some rich assholes. Have fun! Toodles.”

Stephanie placed her champagne flute on a table, gave a little finger wave to the gaggle of fellow vigilantes, and escaped into the crowd of people. Dick glanced at Damian, Tim at Duke, and Jason at Cass. Unspoken words flowed between the pairs and they nodded.

They would figure out who this mysterious figure hanging off of their father’s arm was by the end of the night. They were determined.

Bruce finally left your side to speak with investors, leaving you to stroll through the gala on your own. It was then that the first team decided to strike.

“Hi!” Richard Grayson appeared in front of you, one hand on Damian Wayne’s shoulder. “I’m Dick and this is Damian. You are…?”

“Y/N,” you replied smoothly. “Your father has told me plenty about you two.”

“That’s interesting because we’ve heard nothing about you,” Dick said cheerfully. “How did you and Bruce meet?”

You grinned and clasped your hands in front of you. “We met at a charity event in the East End a few months ago. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. I guess he wanted to make sure I was a good fit before he introduced me to you all. How is school going, Damian?”

“Quite well,” the youngest Wayne answered. “My art class is highly stimulating.”

“Your father told me that you liked art. Have you ever been to the art museum in the city?”

“Richard has taken me once or twice.” Damian shifted his weight on his feet.

“I don’t know much about art, though, so Little D was doing all the talking,” Dick added.

“I fear my education regarding the history and styles of art is lacking.”

You shrugged. “I took a class or two on art history in the past and I’ve got a friend at the museum who gives tours. Wanna go with me someday? We’ll make Bruce buy us ice cream and everything.”

Damian glanced up at Dick, as if searching for his brother’s approval, and then back at you. He shrugged and almost appeared shy as he responded. “That would be agreeable.”

You turned to the oldest Wayne next. “You’re welcome to join us, Dick. I hear there’s an excellent photography exhibit on Cirque du Soleil right now.”

Dick blanched and he was clearly taken off guard by your response. A shy smile flitted across his face and he lost that handsome, rakish media appearance he usually kept up. “Yeah, that would be great.”

He racked his brain for something else to say, but Dick could see that you were earnest in your attempt to bond. How many times had this family scared off a potential love interest thanks to their hypervigilant secret life? And if Bruce of all people were comfortable with you, then you had to be something special.

Dick made his decision and planted his hands on Damian’s shoulders, steering him towards the hor d'oeuvres table that his other siblings crowded around in their attempt to look inconspicuous in their snooping.

“Thank you, Y/N. I see some investors we need to talk to but have Bruce set up a day for us, okay?”

“Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

The next kid you ran into was Bruce’s favorite child…and his trouble child. Jason intercepted you at the dessert table just as you were stuffing a truffle into your mouth. You glanced up at him with a wide-eyed expression and then merely held out a truffle in a peace offering. He grunted but accepted the sweet without an argument.

“So…you’re bedding the old man.” You choked slightly at his words and coughed to clear your throat before pounding on your chest.

“I mean, yeah, but he’s not paying me if that’s what you think,” you said once you could breathe properly. “Do you ask about the sexual behavior of everyone or am I just the lucky one?”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall as he studied you carefully. “He’s not paying you? Really? How’d he get you to stay?”

“Oh, I would dump Bruce in a heartbeat. But then I would lose Alfred’s cooking and I’m not a masochist. Well, actually, I’m dating Bruce Wayne so maybe I am a masochist.”

He snorted at your comment and nodded. “Alright, that’s fair. What’s your schtick though? I mean, Bruce Wayne could have anyone he wants. Why you?”

“That’s a fair question.” You handed him another dessert, this time a mini bundt cake. “I’d like to think he keeps me around because I’m smart, invested in Gotham, and decently attractive. But between you and me?” You leaned in close so you could lower your voice and Jason took the bait, following suit and craning his neck down so he could hear your whisper.

“I know his deepest, darkest secret.” A flash of uncertainty crossed his features but you forged ahead. “The back of his left knee is the only spot on his body where he’s ticklish. He shrieks like he’s in a horror movie or something. You’re welcome.”

A wicked grin spread across his face and Jason stood up straight, his gaze clearly seeking out his adoptive father in the crowd. You patted his bicep and he darted out into the crowd with a mumbled thanks tossed in your direction. A muted shriek rose from the crowd seconds later and you hid your grin behind the glass of lemonade in your hand.

Turning to grab a final dessert, you nearly jumped a foot in the air at the sight of the girl staring at you. Cassandra raised an eyebrow at your reaction and bit down on the cupcake in her hand. You pressed a shaking hand to your chest and sucked in a long breath before flashing a smile in her direction.

“I like your shoes.”

You both glanced down at the bright purple converse on her feet and she grinned. There had been a fight with Alfred and Bruce that she won. While converse weren’t deemed “gala appropriate” or “formal”, Stephanie had gifted them to her and Cass loved them. “Thanks.”

And just like that, she melted into the crowd too.

You were chatting with Stephanie when the last two sidled up to you. Steph groaned at the sight of Tim and Duke with their shit-eating grins but you offered them a gentle smile.

“Hello boys,” you greeted. “I figured you would be showing up soon.”

“You probably know why we’re here,” Tim said, getting straight to the point. You shared a glance with Stephanie and leaned back against the wall.

“You each get three questions. Hit me with it.”

Duke perked up. “Who’s your favorite member of the Justice League?”

“Green Lantern.” Your smirk grew at the thought of Bruce’s face if he heard you say that.

“Not Batman?”

You pointed a warning finger at him. “I’ll allow that as a follow up question, but that’s the last follow up question you get. Still have two more. And no, not Batman. I might be from Gotham, but I have taste.”

“Social security number?” Tim asked. You gave him an unimpressed stare and leveled your hand up in the air before flipping your thumb down in the style of a Roman emperor deciding the fate of a gladiator.

“Try again, Timbo,” Stephanie snickered.

“Fine. Occupation.”

“Nonprofit director for a food insecurity program in Gotham. Duke?”

He considered his options for a moment and then nodded to himself. “Favorite place to eat in Gotham?”

You ignored Tim’s mutter of “this is an interrogation, Duke!” and winked at Duke. “Probably Ernie’s Burgers over on 7th. You ever try it?”

Duke grinned and raised his fist. You accepted the fist bump. “If you don’t tell Bruce, I’ll break you out of school one day and we’ll go get some burgers.”

Tim intercepted between the two of you and crossed his arms over his chest, trying and failing at looking as intimidating as Jason did. You merely raised an eyebrow at him and he deflated quickly.

“Okay, okay. Where do you currently live?”

“A studio apartment over in Otisburg. If you want, you’re welcome to stop by. I’ll try and keep your favorite snacks stocked.”

He wasn’t buying it, however. Tim was the hardest kid to crack it seemed. You looked at Duke once more and he pointed to Tim. Alright then. Two in a row.

“What is your biggest fear?”

Stephanie stiffened beside you but you accepted the question with ease. You absentmindedly played with the ring on your finger and tilted your head to the side in thought.

“Losing the people I love,” you said simply. Your gaze strayed for a moment to glance at the tall, imposing man who chatted easily with investors. Your relationship with Bruce was both new but also building for a long time. The first meeting between you two was less than ideal, but your tentative partnership and later friendship built into an undeniable attraction. And, seriously, there was a lot of denial on both parties' end.

“What are your intentions with Bruce?” Duke’s final question snapped you out of your thoughts and you couldn’t stop yourself from barking out a laugh. Stephanie dissolved into a pile of embarrassment and giggles beside you and Tim looked positively stricken.

“Am I…am I getting a shovel talk right now?” you wheezed.

“Do you need a shovel talk?” Tim asked. You shook your head and waved them off, leaning onto Stephanie for support. The blonde wiped a tear away and snickered once more.

“They don’t have a clue, do they?”

“Not one bit.”

When the night came to a close and you were seeing out the last of the guests, you found Bruce waiting for you at the base of the stairs that led to the manor. He wrapped his jacket around your shoulders as you joined him on the steps.

“Did you have a good evening?” he asked.

“Yesit was. Thank you. And the kids were darling. Damian’s an adorable sweetheart.”

His eyes narrowed at your comment and he hummed. “Yes, a regular angel.”

“You really told them nothing?”

Bruce turned you in his arms and tilted your chin up so his lips could press against yours. You tucked yourself closer to him, both savoring the body heat he offered and the rich scent of his cologne. Resting your head on his shoulder, he swayed the two of you back and forth slowly.

“They’re watching from upstairs right now, aren’t they?” you whispered.

“Mhm.” His hand traced lazy strokes up and down your back. “I’ve trained them all for years and no one caught on.”

“Think Stephanie told them yet?”

Bruce rested his chin on the top of your head and sighed. “No, we would hear it.” He drew your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the ring that sat on your finger. To some, it would appear that billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne was moving quickly. Proposing already to his mysterious partner? What would the tabloids say!

But under the moonlight and the warm lights of the manor with the eyes of all of his kids watching, the two of you knew better. The ring glinted for a moment and then, briefly, flashed blue.

You had lied to Dick. While you had met Bruce at a charity event, you had met Batman long before that on the decks of the Watchtower when Hal introduced you to the Justice League.

If there was one thing the Bat of Gotham needed, it was hope.

Tag list: @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @alexxavicry

#bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batfamily x reader #batfamily imagine #batmom imagine #batmom x reader

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pink-sparkly-witch · 6 months

Text

Everything

Summary: Dumped by her boyfriend, Y/N goes home with her tail between her legs, praying that her roommate, Dean Winchester, isn’t there to witness yet another failed relationship. But fate doesn’t work that way, and what seems like the universe conspiring against her might actually be what she’s needed all along.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, language, douchebag ex, Dean’s a bit of a dick at first, insecurities, heart to heart, frenemies to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I’m so sorry. This summary is awful. I hope you enjoy whatever this is 😅 Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

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The rain pours down, and thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance. You laugh bitterly at how the weather reflects your mood. Rain soaks your hair and clothing, your feet sodden and squelching; the stilettos you’re wearing offer zero protection from the torrents of water falling from the sky and running down the sidewalks.

You’re grateful for it, truth be told. At least this way, no one knows the mascara that runs in black streams down your cheeks is from the tears you’ve been crying over that asshole. The asshole you’ve been dating for two months who just dumped you at your local bar while sitting next to his date for the night.

Fuck, how did this become your life? How did you become this gullible, desperate woman who keeps falling for these kinds of men? Men who date you and sweet talk you, saying all the right things until they get what they want from between your legs and then leave you for someone prettier. Someone younger.

Maybe the asshole’s right. Maybe you are the type of girl to have a fun time with, not the kind to take home to meet someone’s mother. But fuck, that hurts to admit and fuck, you lose more of yourself with every asshole that spews those kind of lines to you. If you’ve said it once, you’ve said it a million times. You’re done with men. And this time, you mean it.

You turn the corner onto your street and stop in your tracks. Dread settles in your stomach as you see your roommate’s car parked on the side of the road. He just had to choose tonight of all nights to stay home, didn’t he? That’s all you fucking need right now. You consider turning around and walking away. Hell, he wouldn’t miss you. You were meant to be staying at the asshole’s place anyway.

But, this is your home. Well, the place you live, at least, and you need to go there eventually. Might as well get it over with. Your lip trembles, knowing you need to face the one person you really don’t want to right now, especially in this state. He already thinks you’re pathetic enough as it is.

You walk up the stairs, dread settling heavily in the pit of your stomach the closer you get to the door. You cast up a silent prayer that the only reason Dean is home is because he’s got female company over. At least then, you can get in, grab some whiskey and get to your room quietly and unnoticed.

“Hey, what are you doing home so early? Thought you were staying at Chuck’s tonight?” Dean says from the couch, not even turning to look at you.

“Yeah, well, plans change. Why are you here? Thought you’d be chasing some skinny ass, barely legal bitch at the bar.” Your tone conveys pure disgust, and you curse yourself for it when he turns to look at you. And, of course, he laughs.

“What the hell happened to you?” he buckles, scanning your absolutely hilarious appearance. “You look like someone threw you in the river and left you to claw your way back out again!” Dean laughs, and you huff, desperately trying to stop the fresh batch of tears threatening to stream down your face.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Dean, there’s a torrential downpour out there.”

“Yeah, that explains the puddle at your feet, but not the rest of you, bitch,” he laughs, and that does it. You know he’s not being serious; you constantly hurl insults at one another, and it doesn’t usually get to either of you, but this time, it hits differently.

“The only reason I kept you around so long is because you’re like a bitch in heat. Always needing to be fucked. But that’s all you’re good for, and it grows old pretty quickly.”

Your eyes water, and your lip trembles. A sob escapes unchecked, and you wish the floor would open you up and swallow you whole. “I’m going to bed,” you mutter and turn to walk away.

“Y/N, wait,” Dean says, his face softening into concern.

“What, Dean? What? You wanna laugh at me more? Call me a bitch again, huh? Look, I know you don’t like me, but you know what? A little compassion can go a long way. Some humanity might make me actually believe you have a heart.”

Your mind replays every conversation you’ve overheard Dean having about you with his brother, his friends, and his conquests, and your heart sinks to the floor at how true your words are.

“Who? Her? She’s just my roommate. Baby, you don’t have to worry about her. We’re not even friends, and she’s not my type. She’s basically my live-in maid. She cooks and cleans for me and pays me for the privilege.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what happened?” Dean asks, stepping towards you, frowning when you step back.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sniffle.

“Come on, you’re upset. Talk to me, tell me what’s going on.”

“Why? So you can make fun of me like you always do? We're not even friends, Dean. Stop pretending you give a damn about me.” The hurt furrowing his brow surprises you, and you scoff. “Don’t look so hurt, Dean. I’m only repeating your words back to you. I’m the live-in maid, remember?” you turn and walk quickly to your room, slamming the door.

Whiskey will have to wait until Dean’s gone to bed.

It’s been quiet in the main section of the apartment for over an hour now. It’s probably safe to assume Dean has gone to bed, and you can get the whiskey you’re so desperate to drown yourself in.

Leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom, you pad down the hall in your bare feet, trying to be as quiet as possible. Dean is a light sleeper, and he’d complained before about you waking him whenever you get up in the middle of the night suffering from a bout of insomnia.

“I was wondering when you’d come out,” Dean’s voice makes you jump as it rings from the small dining table by the kitchen window. He’s sitting in the dark, with just the moon’s light shining enough to see his silhouette. “I was getting worried,” he states, sipping from a tumbler.

“Oh, so you do have a heart?” you respond. It’s a bitchy comment, and you know it, but you’re in defence mode after Chuck. “Might want to show it once in a while.”

“Nah. Makes me look weak,” he chuckles. His joke caught you off guard, and you let out a little huff of laughter. “See? I knew I could make you smile!”

“Barely,” you quip back and sit across from him, grabbing the whiskey bottle and filling the empty glass Dean must’ve put on the table for you.

“What happened, sweetheart? You left here tonight looking stunning and happy, and when you came home—”

“I was crying, and you called me bitch,” you state, watching Dean’s head drop.

“Not my finest moment, I admit,” Dean says as he reaches for the bottle and refills both glasses. “I didn’t know how upset you were, and I was only teasing you. If I’d known that it wasn’t just the rain that made your mascara run, I’d never have said it, and I hope you know that.”

“I really wanna believe that, but you’re always saying hurtful things,” you say, draining your glass.

“The things you said earlier,” Dean nods. “I didn’t mean… look, Y/N, you’re a beautiful woman, and some of the girls I bring home get jealous, you know? I say those things to keep them sweet.”

You nod, thinking it’s a fair excuse. Dean does have a lot of women over, and you’ve pulled out the sting from more than a few of them.

“As for what I say to Sam and my friends, well, they tease me about living with a pretty girl and don’t believe me when I say we’re just roommates,” Dean continues. You have to admit that was also sound reasoning. It didn’t excuse it; he was still a dick, but you understood it a little better.

“It’d just be nice if you stopped for a second and thought of me as a person with feelings before you say those kinds of things in front of me,” you say, filling your glass again.

“Alright, sweetheart, I promise I’ll work on that,” Dean agrees, and you notice he’s watching you intently.

“What?” you ask, feeling uncomfortably exposed under his gaze.

“What happened with Chuck,” Dean asks again.

“I don’t want to tell you,” you sigh.

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” you whine and hit your head on the table.

“Come on,” Dean says, topping up their glasses again. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I promise whatever it is, it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“I got to the bar, and Chuck was there with another woman. He told me we were over and that Anna was his date for the night. Then, to rub salt in my wounds, as I was walking away, he told me that all I was good for was a great time in bed. Always up for anything, like a bitch in heat.”

“And then you came home, and I called you a bitch. Y/N, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Dean takes your hand in his, and you can see that it’s a genuine apology, and he really does feel awful about it. “You know he’s wrong, right? You’re worth so much more than that?”

“I don’t think I am. He’s not the only guy to tell me that,” you shrug. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m done with men and dating.”

“You don’t mean that. You think I don’t know about all the romcoms you watch on Netflix? All those girly books you read.”

“Yeah, well, a fat lot of good they did me. I’m starting to see why people are boycotting Disney Princess movies because they’re filled with romantic disillusionment and give a false idea to women that their Prince Charming exists somewhere out there.”

“This is more serious than I thought if you’re losing faith in the Disney Princesses!” Dean chuckles, and it makes you smile slightly. “Seriously, though, I think this is more about the men you date than you, sweetheart. They are way out of your league.”

“I am not out of anyone’s league, Dean. If anything, it’s probably the other way around,” you huff a bitter laugh.

“I’m out of your league,” Dean says quietly.

“You have that backwards. I’m the one out of your league. You’re gorgeous and charming, and I have seen the girls you bring home, and they are the most stunning women I’ve ever seen. I can’t compete with that.” The words spill out of you before you can stop them, and you think Dean might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell when the only sliver of light comes from the moon shining through the kitchen window.

Dean laughs, and it takes you aback slightly. “I have called you beautiful or some other variation of it several times tonight, and not once have you picked up on it. Those women are hot, sure, but you… You are on a whole other level of hot. You are stunning and so much classier than they will ever be.”

You scoff at his words, not believing them but not wanting him to know they affect you. You know Dean’s type, and it is definitely not you. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better, Dean.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. There’s a reason Sam and Cas and Benny are on my case so much about you, and it’s because I really, really, like you—”

“So, all the insults and barely tolerating my presence was what,” you smirk over at him, “you pulling my pigtails and pushing me over in the playground?”

“When you put it like that…” Dean cringes. “I guess it was. Look, you’re hurt and sad, and we’ve had a lot to drink, so I’m not going to push you to tell me if this is one-sided, but I will talk to you tomorrow when we’re both sober.”

The warmth of the sun wakes you, and you stretch in its gentle heat. You’re not nearly as hungover as you should be, and for that, you’re grateful. Dean had some interesting things to say last night, and you’d rather your brain was running at full capacity.

Quietly, you make your way to the kitchen, mindful that Dean’s door is closed, so it’s likely he’s still sleeping, and start the coffee machine.

You busy yourself with clearing up from the night before. You rinse dishes, put them in the dishwasher and put the almost empty whiskey bottle back in the cupboard. You grab your and Dean’s favourite mugs and place them next to the coffee machine.

Taking the cleaning spray, you spritz all the surfaces and wipe them down while patiently waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

“How did I manage to find the only person in this city who likes cleaning?” Dean’s groggy voice sounds from the doorway, and you smile.

“Morning, Dean,” you say as you pick up the coffee pot and fill his mug. You place it on the breakfast bar and fill your own before hopping onto one of the stools and making yourself comfortable.

“Morning, sweetheart. Thanks,” Dean says as he picks up his mug and takes a sip. “So, about last night…”

“Wow,” you chuckle. “Straight to the point, huh?”

“I’ve wasted enough time, and now that my feelings are out there, I can’t sit on this any longer,” Dean pauses to take another mouthful of coffee. “I meant what I said. I like you, Y/N. I’m sorry if anything I did when I was in denial of my feelings hurt you. And I’m sorry for pushing you away and making you think I hated you so you wouldn’t find out how I really feel.”

“Dean, I don’t know what to say,” you say. “I used to like you in that way, but with how you were with me, I turned it off because, for the past year, I’ve been thinking you don’t like me, and I don’t know if anything is still there for you.”

Dean nods, looking a little deflated by your words, but it’s clear he accepts them. “Can I at least try and make you get it back?”

“I don’t know—“ you begin, but Dean cuts you off.

“Please, Y/N. One date is all I’m asking for,” Dean begs, and you feel your resolve waning. You know you still have feelings for him.

“I’ve seen the girls you bring home, Dean. And I’m nothing compared to them,” you try. It’s your last bit of fight, the last time you’ll be able to give him an out from this.

“You’re everything, Y/N. And I mean that. You are smart, funny, kind, beautiful… you’re everything they weren’t. Please,” Dean begs again. “Just one date. Let me prove it.”

“Okay,” you nod with a small smile.

“Yeah?” Dean says, breaking out into a boyish grin.

“Yeah. I’ll go on a date with you, Dean.”

“Awesome!” he grins, looking like he just answered the million-dollar question. “I promise you won’t regret it!”

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

#everything #au dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #au dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst

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copperbadge · 11 months

Text

I am now home, fed, rested, and festooned in cats.

I had a lot of opinions about the case I was jury on, but I don’t know how much of it I’ll write up; I kept a kind of disjointed journal, but it’s not super coherent. Turns out if I don’t document my thoughts in real time I get bored of my own mind very quickly.

We were jury for a complicated medical civil case; we heard testimony from six doctors and two nurses and saw so much imaging. I’m sure the plaintiff suing the medical center had bigger concerns, and it’s not like you get detail with the internal imaging we had to examine, but it must have been rough on him that in the course of learning about his injuries, which were on his lower body, we also had to look at multiple images of his dick. It certainly startled me when I realized what we were seeing for the first time.

Most of the trial I was kind of okay with just keeping things to myself, writing and thinking about it privately, but I was dying inside that I couldn’t talk to you guys until now about the asshole juror I mentioned earlier. I had intended to use writing about him as a safety valve -- a sort of “Hey I can’t talk about the trial but wait till you hear what That Guy did today” -- but uh.

So I didn’t actually bully anyone off a jury, but for the rest of my life I am definitely going to claim I did.

The second day of trial, the bailiff grabbed me before trial and said the judge wanted to talk to me; I thought I was in trouble but it turns out that he wanted to know about my interactions with the other juror. Apparently the bailiff had seen me step in when he was pestering a fellow (female) juror the previous day. Later he got super aggressive with the bailiff herself, and I guess she saw me watching and gauging whether to step in then, too. (I didn’t end up getting involved because she handled him just fine and also she has a gun.)

The judge questioned me about what I’d seen and done and why I’d done it, and then informed me he was removing the juror from the case based on what I’d told him about the man’s behavior. I’m given to understand there may be a charge of contempt of court and a fine, but I’m not clear on the details and it appears I won’t have to get involved further.

But yeah, that’s why you didn’t hear any more about him. Realistically he was removed for harassment, but I like to think a small part of it is that I fucked with him so visibly and thoroughly that they knew “this jury box isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

Anyway, I’m glad it’s over. I would have liked to have spoken to the plaintiff and his wife after the verdict and expressed my sympathy for what they’d gone through, but I think perhaps understandably they didn’t want to linger. Besides, we found in his favor; he seemed pleased with the outcome and his wife was happy-crying as we left, so I expect the message was understood.

My job is not exactly mindless, but it also doesn’t usually involve paying hardcore attention to complex medical testimony for six hours a day. I am exhausted. Fortunately this weekend is relatively laid back -- my only commitment is to a Pride beach party tomorrow, and I’ve used some of my jury pay to purchase one of those pop-up shade tents, so the plan is to sit in the shade with snacks and beverages and be the Beach Dad.

#archive

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blushweddinggowns · 7 months

Note

if it hasn’t been asked yet, prompt 18 has incredible steddie potential. no pressure tho! love your work, hope your brain feels better<3

Aww ty and it is feeling a lil better 💗 And here's some pre-steddie for ya! I might do a part two of this because the vibes leave room for some uh, not sfw material. She has some energy.

Steve liked to complain about driving the kids around, but in all honesty? He loved it. He loved how lively they all were, he loved the silly arguments they would have, he liked just being around them, especially Dustin.

But holy shit did he hate picking him up from Hellfire. Because for some fucking reason, Dustin was never just waiting outside. He was always waiting outside with Eddie Munson, his brand new hero.

Steve had no idea what Dustin saw in the guy. He was such a dick, even when they barely talked for five minutes a week Eddie never missed the chance to be a snarky little bitch.

Which is why he wasn't too excited to see Eddie smoking alone outside of their club room, no Dustin in sight. Steve frowned as he got out of his car, looking around like Dustin might magically appear.

It wasn't helping that Eddie was staring right at him, an amused smile on his face, "You looking for something?"

Steve rolled his eyes at the question, "Just tell me where Dustin is."

"Inside," Eddie said as he took a drag, still staring at Steve. It always made Steve feel weird, the way Eddie would look at him. HIs eyes were too big or something, too intense. It always made him squirm, "On the phone, talking to his girlfriend. It's kind of gross actually, how mushy they are. He managed to scare everyone off but me."

That sounded about right. But that also meant that now Steve was stuck with standing next to this guy. And he really wasn't in the mood for awkward small talk.

"I'll wait in the car then," Steve said dismissively, stopping when he heard Eddie snort behind him.

"Too much of a princess to stand around with the undesirables huh?"

Steve spun around, his face hot at the weird insult, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Eddie shrugged, dropping his cigarette to the ground, "It means I think you're an uppity bitch. Tell me Steve, is hating me your only personality trait? Or do you get off on acting like a pissy kitten? That pretty face can only take you so far you know. "

This, this right here is what he hated the most about Eddie Munson. He was a dick yes, but he was so specific about it. Always calling Steve stupid shit like princess, kitten, bitch and now pretty. It was weird, emasculating, and...confusing. Very confusing on why the first thing it always did was make him blush. He didn't make Steve mad in the right way. He made him feel off kilter and anxious, his heart almost always going into overdrive whenever he had to talk to the guy.

But that didn't mean he was going to take all of that laying down, "Says you? I'm surprised you don't have a I hate Jocks tattoo on your forehead. For an 'undesirable' you sure are judgmental as fuck."

Eddie laughed at that, like Steve was an old friend who made a hilarious joke, instead of someone who was actively trying to get under his skin, "Do you still count as a jock? Because if you do I might have to re-evaluate that. I never said I hated you, princess."

Oh great. So that was just a nickname now. Steve opened his mouth to snap back at him, to ask why he was such an ass if their wasn't mutual hatred between them.

But then Dustin was popping out of the club room, a big smile on his face as he waved at Steve, "Sorry I'm late! Suzie called and she heard about this new theory she had to tell me about and-"

"And you can tell me in the car," Steve interrupted, avoiding Eddie's eyes as he dragged Dustin away. The asshole smirked at him as they drove away, like he could just tell how much he was driving Steve crazy.

Yeah, Steve would never understand what Dustin saw in that guy.

#eddie munson #steddie #pre steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #asks #prompts #I had an idea for a little vignette storyline with this that I might go through with?#unsure #trying to tame down the insanely long posts I do a bit here #but if there is interest i might follow through!#thank you for the prompt💗💗#Lol steve you'll understand soon enough #eddie calling steve princess is a thing for me #if you couldnt tell #one more ask is waiting for me on this lil project!#I see you anon!#Probs do that tommororw!

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autisticlancemcclain · 10 months

Text

(prev chapter)

“You’re a – an actual –” Lance stammers.

Prince Keith growls, low in his throat.

“A beast.”

— — —

The Beast is bent so close that Lance feels the heat of every exhale flutter along the back of his neck, hears the silent whoosh of it rush through his ears. It makes his hairs stand on end. He circles Lance, slowly, clawed feet silent on the marble floors, yellow eyes scanning him up and down, analyzing him. Lance feels as if he is a tiny deer, separated from the rest of the herd, circled and scrutinized by a giant, hungry wolf. His heart pounds. His mouth is dry. Fear lights up every nerve in his body, forcing him on high alert.

He is in danger. Real danger, possibly, because the Prince is a beast, not simply beast-ly.

As suddenly as before, the rippling fury boils up in his belly, ramping up his heartbeat for a different reason, clearing his vision, setting his jaw.

He has come here, to this stupid fucking castle on results of a lottery ordered by decree, he has travelled days on horseback in stony silence with his brother through the predator-heavy forest, he is the only person putting himself out right now. He is the only person ripped from his home.

And Prince Loser over here has the audacity to be a dick?

“You’re an actual asshole,” Lance snaps, finishing his earlier sentence. Vaguely, behind him, he hears a muttered “Stars a-fucking-bove”, but he is too busy relishing in the blatant shock on the Prince’s face to give much of a shit. “Yeah, bet your prince-y prance-y ass hasn’t heard that one before, huh? Too busy huffing and puffing around this stupid place?” He jabs his finger in the Beast’s chest, all fear completely gone, riding the high of being the one who has the upper hand in the situation, against a prince. “And speaking of this stupid place! Clean up every fucking once in a while, will you? You have hands, do you fucking not? Pick up a broom! Fucksake! The dust here is so thick I can hardly see through it, and I’m meant to live here! It’s nasty! And maybe have one of your servants — holy shit, you’re such a douchebag, who has servants — put some fucking hay in the stables! Maybe your rich person horses can fucntion on…fucking…unicorn dick and gold flake crack, or whatever, but my horse needs fucking hay! Fuck!”

His chest heaves as he gulps in as much breath as he can, slightly lightheaded, glaring bloody murder at the Beast. “Oh, and another thing —”

“Do you have any who I am?” The Beast interrupts. His voice is barely above a whisper, deeper than before, carefully controlled. Dangerous.

Lance screws up his face. “A be-east,” he mocks, rolling his eyes. He hears rapidly cut-off, shocked laughter, poorly disguised as a coughing fit. It bolsters Lance greatly, and he smirks. “I can fucking see that, Prince Charming. I thought the nickname referred to the attitude and temper, but obviously not.”

The Beast snarls. “You are going to be the worst one yet. I cannot wait for you to go running.”

“Well, you can fucking get used to me now, shitbrain. I’m going nowhere. Pucker the fuck up, because we are getting married, and you are going to live with it, even though I cannot fucking stand you.”

The Beast scoffs, taking a step backwards. Some of the animalistic fury has faded from his posture, and his expression appears human-like in its huffy stubbornness. It’s the same expression Lance has seen every single time he went to school and someone was forced to partner with him at a desk. “Marriage. You are my last choice for that, that’s for certain.”

Lance rears back as if hit. His breathing picks back up, slightly, and his hands begin to shake.

He has no right to feel the pierce to his heart as deeply as he does. He has started the vitriol, after all. The Prince is being no crueller than he is. In fact there is objectively no cruelty to his sentence at all — of course Lance isn’t his first choice. He has had dozens of engagements before Lance. Hundreds, even. Lance isn’t even sure how many engagements he’s really had, as he’s had then as long as Lance can remember. Lance is not his first choice; not even his second or third and ninth or twentieth or two hundredth. Lance would never have even crossed his royal mind, in terms of a romantic partner.

But to be the last choice? That is explicit. That is a choice in itself. That is there are countless people on Earth, some vile some evil some irredeemable, and still they are a better choice than you. That is you are everything I despise just by virtue of who you are. That is you are my worst possible nightmare.

To be the last choice is to be so unthinkable that your inferiority is marked. To be the last choice, again and again, everywhere you go, is to be simply inferior. The worst option. The opposite of a hail mary.

Lance is always the last choice. The only time he has ever been chosen first was when he was chosen to leave.

Something in his face must give him away, because a kind of shuttered look clouds Keith expression, like he realizes he’s gone too far. Lance hates it, more than he hates the Prince himself, because he doesn’t know him, no one does, no one chooses to know the worst option, and it stings terribly and it’s worse that a stranger can burn him so badly. It’s worse that this prince, who for all intents and purposes is no one to Lance, can dig so deeply into him.

“Hey,” the Beast says, an awkward tone to his voice, “I didn’t mean —”

“Save it,” Lance chokes out, and flees. He runs randomly in the vague direction Adam and Shiro had been guiding him into before everything went to shit, ignoring their cries for him to wait, praying that no one follows. As he turns down hallways and ducks through corridors the sounds of their voices fade to nothing, and eventually he slows, chest heaving, hiccuping, face wet with tears.

Mortified that someone may see him, human or not, he opens the nearest door, barely checking to see if it’s a bedroom before collapsing on the small, rickety bed, twisting the worn quilt in his hands, and truly begins to sob. He lets out loud, wailing cries, louder than he’s ever been in his life, even when he’d run out into the woods and climb the tallest tree he could. They tear themselves out of him, the sobs, and leave him shaking in their wake, the pain of being the only one left waiting, this pain he’s carried locked up inside him since he was born, too late, too early, too nothing to be noticed. He lets the snot and tears run down his face and into the pillow and forgets for a moment to watch for a red nose and swollen eyes. He has no home to return to. There are no other people, really, in this castle to see him. His husband-to-be couldn’t care less if he flayed himself open and bled out on the marble entryway. He can let himself break, here, and not worry about keeping the pieces held closely together, because no one wanted him when he was whole, anyway.

“That’s it, honey. You let it out.”

Lance screams.

A voice screams back.

Lance screams louder. He screams until his voice cracks, actually, wrenching himself up from the mattress and scrambling backwards until his back presses to the wall, frantically sweeping the room to see who had spoken.

“Who the fuck is in here?!” he shouts, fist half-extended in front of him like it will do anything. There’s nothing in this tiny-ass room except the bed he’s sitting on an a faded yellow wardrobe.

“Yeah! Show yourself, intruder!”

“No! No intruder!” Lance turns wide eyes to face the wardrobe, which just moved. “It’s you!”

Oh, fuck this stupid weirdo castle.

“Well, of course it’s me,” says the wardrobe incredulously. “But what was all the screaming about?”

Lance stares at it. Him. Them. He’s not sure yet. He blinks rapidly, as if he can communicate the fried mush of thoughts in his brain into the sturdy wood. It, as expected, fails to work.

“I forgot,” he says slowly, “that non-living things are living, in this godforsaken place.”

The wardrobe hums. “Ah, that would do it.” It inclines the decorative carving on the top of it, which Lance can now see is a face, in his direction, smiling wryly. “Sorry for freaking you out, man. I’m Hunk. I’d shake your hand, but I don’t have arms.”

Lance smiles slightly, sniffling. “Hi, Hunk. I’m Lance.”

“It’s good to meet you, Lance.” He rocks side to side slightly. “So, uh, why are you here? Not that I’m not happy, or anything! Man, no one’s been to the servant’s quarters in ages, on account of no one needing them anymore. It’s nice to have visitors. And human ones, especially, that’s crazy —”

“I’m, uh, the fiancé,” Lance interrupts quietly. He tries for the same smile he had earlier, when he was bantering with Shiro. “Mail order bride, at your service.”

Hunk laughs loudly, shaking the floors with it, bent in an unnatural way that wood doesn’t bend but in a way that makes Lance think of a young man, smartly dressed, helping lift and fix clothes and gadgets alike in the castle. What Hunk could be if he was human, at least in Lance’s imagination.

“Aw, this is great! We’re gonna be friends, man. I can tell already. You don’t take any shit, huh?”

Lance’s eyes go wide.

That was so…casual.

“Yeah,” Lance says hastily, before Hunk can change his mind. He quickly swipes his face to get rid of the tears and look marginally less like a goober. “Sounds good, Hunk.”

Hunk nods to himself, satisfied. “Nice. Oh, hey, you must be hungry. It’s a pretty long journey up here! Want me to see if I can get you some food?”

“That’d be great,” Lance says gratefully. Wasting no time, Hunk-the-wardrobe clanks twice against the wall he’s leaning on. He waits a moment, and then there’s a three-clank response, and he smiles.

“Tea is on the way,” he promises.

Lance frowns, trying to puzzle that one out — tea? From where? How was ‘yeah there’s a guy sobbing on the bed in my room and I think we could probably get him some grub’ communicated in two wall slams? And, just for good measure, why is this castle so fucking weird? — but no sooner does he open his mouth to ask these questions does the door slam open, startling him, and quick as a horse a tea cart races in, door slamming again behind it.

“Hello, hello, darling,” says a tall, slim teapot on the cart. “I’m Colleen.”

Well.

Honestly, that’s par for the course.

“Hi,” Lance says hesitantly.

The teacup smiles gently. “I heard you had a bit of a rough start, here. Hopefully I can help smooth things over. Would you like a spot of tea?” She taps her spout on the side of the cart and a little teacup hops up. It has a face just like the teapot and every other enchanted thing here, only around its eyes is painted the largest set of spectacles Lance has ever seen, and Veronica is legally blind. “My daughter and I can get you a nice, refreshing cup, right, Katie?”

The little teacup shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

Lance opens his mouth. He closes it again. He thinks about how he feels about drinking out of a teacup that is alive, somehow, and considers how he may phrase this, as delicately as possible.

“That’s a tad too weird for me,” he says politely. “Do we have any teacups that aren’t anthropomorphic?”

———

next chapter

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gremlin-bot · 1 year

Text

Growth of Trial and Error

So, I lied about this being put on the back burner apparently. It feels so good to post this after working on it for like two months. I hope y'all enjoy this 5 + 1 fic that was bate read by the wonderful @half-dead-ham !!! This fic also connects my other fics in my 'Petals and Arrays of The Dead and Those Yet To Be' series.

AO3 Link: here

—------ 1

Danny and Tim have been dating for a little over a month and a half. In that time they have tried to have a date night once every week… It ends up once every two weeks with random visits for a cuddle date. Danny blames the Observants and Gotham rogues for being bitches. There's only so many times that the restaurant they have reservations at somehow gets hit in an attack before they just give up on restaurants all together.

This is one of those cuddle dates. Danny was laying with his eyes closed on Tim's couch with a star pattern blanket wrapped around him. He's waiting for Tim to get back to back with popcorn so they can watch the Knives Out movies. Why would Tim want to watch murder mysteries when he literally helps solve crime as his nightly activities Danny would never get, that being said he had no room to talk. He himself often fights ghosts for fun now. It's good stress relief from royal duties.

Speaking of royal duties, Danny was sick of paperwork and meetings. Being Ghost King was one almost useless meeting after another with even more useless paperwork to go with each one. He swears, if the Observants ask for another meeting about making more court trials he will find a way to revive them from never being alive and end them himself. All that doesn't matter at the moment because he has a tired boyfriend to cuddle, once he stops taking so long in the kitchen.

Danny opens his eyes to see Tim with a small loving smile on his face. One that Danny can't help but return.

"Aww, it's almost like you got flowers in your lungs for me again!" Danny teases

"Hey! You have no room to talk, Mr. Blood Blossoms!" Tim's blush only gets worse with Danny's light laughter.

"Yeah, yeah and I'll never live that down." Tim rolls his eyes at the pun. Why did he have to bring another person who likes puns into his life, wasn't Dick enough? Danny lifts one side of the blanket.

"Come on sweetheart, get in here." Now how can Tim say no to that? He sets down the popcorn and the veggie tray Bruce insisted they have. Tim dives into Danny and settles in for a good old murder mystery.

They get half way through the first movie when things go wrong.

"God these guys are assholes, you'd think that after hearing one person getting excluded they would worry about the possibility of it happening to themselves!" Danny says, grabbing a handful of popcorn from its bowl.

"I hate that I've met people like this at galas." Tim groans.

"I hope they crash and burn. Marta deserves the inheritance at this point." Danny ends his point by popping pieces of popcorn in his mouth.

As the scene on screen changes, so does the one in Tim's living room. Danny really can't have a nice day off.

A ripping sound is hard over the cacophony of the TV. A portal to the Infinite Realms appears next to it, effectively ruining their cuddle date night. As the Observant floats out into the living room, Danny can't help but feel like he is forgetting something.

…Oh, oh no.

Danny realized what he forgot to tell Tim.

He is the ghost king and Tim has no fucking clue.

Oh Ancients, Tim is going to kill him a second time. That's a future Danny problem, present Danny has to handle an Observant with an uninformed vigilante boyfriend laying on top of him.

Tim has yet to move as he is in his civvies but Danny can feel him tensing. In an attempt at comfort and making sure Tim stays in place, Danny squeezes Tim to his chest and lets out soft rumbling from his core. A signal to the other that everything will be okay, he still doesn't relax.

The Observant was impatiently waiting for Danny's acknowledgement. It doesn't wait long, not because Danny answered but because it ran out of the little bit of patience it had in the first place. The mutual disdain the Observants and Danny hold for each other is great, but Danny will always commit more than the Observants. So yes, Danny could make this easier for himself and Tim, but no. He has principals!

"King Phantom, us Observants wish to schedule a meeting with you regarding the court-'' the eyeball in a sad imagination of jello didn't get to finish its request. It got cut off by Danny's sigh.

"If it's about the same thing as before, no. As stated in the Court Acts section 12a, you can't give out Court hearings without proper approval by an Ancient and myself. Nor can a trial proceed without a pre-approved Ancient or ghost of similar position from outside the Observant branch." Danny's blank stare fixed itself on the unwanted goo encased eyeball, daring it to rebuttal.

"Yes, of course King Phantom. I will tell the others." The Observant grits out. Its goo flesh scrunching in a poor imitation of a disgruntled face. It rips open a portal to the Infinite Realms and leaves without further pestering.

Danny lifts his arm. He can hear Tim's mind trying to piece together what happened.

"Hey, Tim? Beloved? Are you good?" Danny is starting to think that this might have broken his boyfriend. It's been a good 30 seconds since The Observant left and Tim hasn't moved. Maybe he's rebooting? As Danny is pondering the mental state of the man he's supposed to be cuddling, said man decided to roll off of him landing in a crouch.

Tim looks Danny in the eyes and says with all his heart, "What the fuck, Danny?!"

Oh Danny might be a little fucked.

—--------

Tim is going to kill and revive his boyfriend for a second time, if he doesn't explain right now.

"So, I may have forgotten to tell you something important." Danny placates.

"Oh! What gave it away? The probable high powered ghost that portaled into my living room and broke the TV in the middle of our date, or the fact you responded to them with higher authority!" Tim's sass is amplified by the TV blinking to life and giving a static scream.

Danny breathes in through clenched teeth, face slightly scrunched. It was adorable, making it hard for Tim to stay upset. "I'm sorry Tim. I didn't mean to keep anything from you, I just forgot you didn't know already and I just don't talk about it by default. You know I'm not used to not being around my parents and they don't know about any of-"

"Danny, hun, you're starting to ramble. I know how it is with your parents but please explain now.”

“Sorry, I’ll start at the beginning. So, you know how I told you how I became a teen hero after my half-death.”

“Yeah…” Tim switches from crouching to sitting on the floor, eyes squinting at Danny with suspicion. He doesn’t like where this is going.

“So, there was this one time my town was pulled into the infinite realms by the old ghost king. So I had to fight him. I won in the end but, Oh the consequences of these actions."

"Oh no."Tim said quietly, reeling at the possibilities of what the downfall of a king could be.

"Fun fact, the right to the throne is earned through trial by combat. It would have been fine if not for the Realms showing affection for me. You can't argue with the semi-sentient realm between realms," Danny sighed.

“Semi-sentient in what way??! How did it show affection for you?? What do you mean it would have been fine??" What exactly was Danny involved with? Tim thought it was just ghost wrangling. He knew he should have tried harder to contact Constantine about ghosts. Doesn't matter at the moment, nothing could have prepared him for this.

"I don't know how but the Infinite Realms are just like that. It might have to do with the fact that it's where all the dead end up, so technically all lands of the dead, but I just work there." Danny shrugged, all too used to the Infinite Realms' brand of being.

"Danny, Alnilam, my dearest boyfriend, I mean this with my entire heart and soul, what the fuck?" Tim lets his head slump into Danny's arm. He was done for the day and the next two after that. He just wants to watch some murder mysteries with Danny and deal with the Ghost King shit later. It was the first day off of both Wayne Enterprises and any major case he’s had in weeks.

The TV's static increased in volume for a moment before setting down, as if mocking him. He side eyes the TV.

"Sweetheart, if you stop glaring at the TV and give me like 5 minutes, I can fix it." Danny lightly chuckled.

"Fine, I want to see if I'm right about what is actually going on." Tim knows who did it, he's just waiting to be proven right.

"Hey! Don't spoil it!! Not everyone is a smartass." Danny sheds the blanket as he stands, "Are you going to join me on the couch when I'm done, or are you brooding?"

"Yet here you are calling me a smartass." Tim rolled his eyes. Switching from the floor to the couch and stealing Danny's blanket in the process. He's allowed to be a bit petty. It's what he deserves after this ordeal and the ones to come when they talk in depth, but that's for later. Right now, he gets to go back to watching murder mysteries with his boyfriend.

—------- 2

Danny woke up the next day with Tim's head on his chest and a crick in his neck. That's what he gets for falling asleep during cuddle night. Carefully, he reaches for his phone, trying his best to not wake up Tim. Ancients knows how much that boy needs sleep.

Checking the time Danny sighs. He has a meeting with the Ancients in half an hour. Looks like he will have to wake him up… or turn intangible and let him be. Danny debates for a minute before deciding fuck it. He makes himself intangible slowly, eventually Tim is laying on the couch still peacefully asleep.

He carefully floats out of Tim's space and onto the floor. Turning tangible turns into a problem, as Danny apparently can't watch where he pops into existence. His foot ends up in his water bottle. Losing his balance he falls and hits the floor hard, this of course wakes up Tim.

"Danny, what are you doing?" Tim groggily asks.

"Trying not to wake you up while I leave for a meeting. As you can see, I failed." Danny says from the floor, not having moved yet. "I'm just going to transform right here on the floor in shame"

"Transform?" Tim blinked, adjusting so he could fully look at Danny.

"Yeah, so I can get to the meeting on time... Wait. Tim, did you forget that I can transform?" Danny sits up, making eye contact with Tim.

"No I didn't forget, you never told me!"

"I told you the night we started dating," Danny laughs.

"Okay maybe I forgot, but it's not my fault," Tim counters.

"Oh, and how is that?" Danny teases.

"Well someone told me that he was getting severely injured by the Blood Blossoms that were in his lungs. So, forgive me for missing some details!"

"Okay, okay, you win. I did go to my ghost doctor after, you know.”

"Good. Don't you have a meeting to get to?"

"Oh shit! Close your eyes, my transformation is a bit bright." Danny shoots up and transforms in the process. Grabbing his things around the room he almost missed Tim's reaction. If it wasn't for Tim's gasp.

Danny turns to face Tim, his face is flushed as his eyes take in Danny's ghost form. Danny's growing smirk just makes Tim's blush darker.

"See something you like?" Danny teases, his smirk growing wicked.

"Shut up and go to your meeting!!" Tim throws a throw pillow at Danny, only for Danny to turn intangible. He didn't even have the decency to dodge.

"I'm going now, goodbye sweetheart." Danny rips open a portal with his claws, diving through just as he hears Tim's goodbye.

—---------- 3

It took two weeks for Tim to succumb to the need for information. Danny should have expected this from one of the world's greatest detectives, but the call he received at 4:16am was still a jarring surprise. He almost fell out of bed trying to answer his phone. Tim is lucky that he wasn't asleep yet.

After a slight struggle, Danny finally answered the call "Tim, sweetheart, what could you need at this fine 4am?"

"Are you technically a god? Because according to this glowing book I got my hands on-" Tim sounds like he's been on a research binge for an unhealthy amount of time.

"Please tell me you didn't use your vigilante status to steal a book about the Infinite Realms from the Justice League's magic team or whatever they’re called."

"I may have but anyway- wait." Tim stopped mid sentence, like he was reviewing information. Danny has no clue what it could be, but he did know that it would make the conversion complicated. "I didn't tell you I was a vigilante. How did you figure it out?"

"You don't change your voice at all when ordering coffee as Red Robin." Danny says flatly.

"That's fair and also explains why you were okay with me canceling dates last minute. I should invest in a voice changer or something."

"I think you'll be fine, sweetheart. I have a habit of remembering voices of people I’m crushing on, and heightened hearing makes that a little easier."

"If you say so… I'm still gonna look into it." Danny can hear Tim's typing pick up. At this rate the both of them won't be going to sleep anytime soon.

"I'm not going to ask how long you've been awake, but for your own health and mine please stop researching and get some rest. Even the dead are asleep right now." Danny pleads. He knows that they both have things to do later in the day, and Danny doesn't want to fall asleep during his classes.

Tim sighs, "Fine, but after your class tomorrow can you actually answer all my questions?"

"Yes, Hun. Now get away from the computer and go to bed." Danny lightly chuckled.

"I’m going, I'm going." Danny can hear the eye roll in Tim's voice. "Night Danny, sweet dreams."

"Goodnight Tim." Danny smiled as the call ended. Glad that he could get his workaholic boyfriend to go to bed, he relaxes back into his own bed and lets sleep take him.

—------- 4

Tim was on the fire escape connected to Danny's apartment. Hoping to break in and set up his notebooks and other things he collected in his research into the Ghost King and by association the Infinite Realms. Unfortunately for him Danny's last class ended early, as can be seen as Danny entering his own apartment the same time Tim crawls through the window. Tim knows he looks like a kid caught red-handed faking a nonexistent Uncle, Danny's deadpan stare didn't make it better.

"Hey, Danny…" Tim drawls as one of his notebooks falls from his grip to the floor.

"Tim, you could have used the door like a normal person." Danny sighed as he set his bag down. Tim took this time to set up on the floor with his notes spread on the coffee table. "Notebooks? That's not usually your style?"

"Yeah, I would have done my usual spreadsheets and docs but apparently Infinite Realms information crashes any and all tech. So, it's old school for now."

"Oh! Yeah, I forgot about that. I can fix that problem for you while we talk, just give me your tablet, or would you prefer your laptop?"

"Tablet please. Would you mind explaining what you're doing to it while fixing it?" Tim was ecstatic, he loved watching Danny work on his inventions. The methodical way Danny assembled work is a wonderful contrast to how they were made; chaotic and from almost nothing.

Danny's smile was absolutely smitten when he turned back to Tim with his tools. "Of course sweetheart. What do you have to ask me?"

"Okay, so I have a lot, so this is going to take a while." Tim starts as he opens a fresh notebook, pen at the ready.

It was hours of revelations and notebook after notebook. Danny was patient and explained everything the best he could. Tim was pretty sure Danny would ask for his notes after this with how thorough he's being. He honestly wouldn't be this thorough unless it was for a case, but Danny can't remember to tell anyone anything important for the life (death) of him.

"Yeah, parts of the Realms are just kinda ocean-like randomly, so if you visit we have to watch out for that." Danny explained with little fanfare.

"Why are the Infinite Realms like this?" Tim groans emphatically.

"I don't know, man. I just accept and deal with it," Danny replies with a shrug.

"Speaking of things you deal with, you can get summoned, right?"

"Yeah, I can ignore them, technically, but it's like a ringing that keeps getting louder and more annoying till I answer it."

"Huh, interesting. So, does that mean it can be used as an excuse to get out of meetings?" Tim asks with mischief lacing his words

"I… holy shit, I think it can!!!" Tim can see the excitement spread across Danny's face at the realization.

"We are trying it for our next cuddle night, if what is in this book is correct." Tim hands Danny the book he took from Justice League Dark. It's open to a summoning array with instructions underneath it.

"Oh, this is wrong. The array itself is good but the instructions on placement and gifts are either wrong or too vague."

"Oh? I should tell JLD, then."

"Nah, don't. It'll keep me from getting summoned, plus they can always ask you if they need to summon me. Seeing that I'm giving you the correct one."

"Fair, but you better give me all the materials for it then."

"Tim, if it's you summoning me all you need is a small offering and a drop of your blood." Tim looks at Danny in confusion. Danny shakes his head in amusement. "The closer I am to a person, the less required to summon me. At some point all you need is the array and a bit of your blood."

"Oh, that's pretty smart and seems like a perfect way to cause trouble for others" a sly smile spills onto his face, thinking about all the possibilities this could bring.

"Oh, yeah! The amount of times Sam has summoned me at galas is too many to count." Danny's grin is unnaturally wide, with too sharp canines that make Tim swoon as Danny launches into a story of gala shenanigans.

—----- 5

Danny was curled around Tim in his ghost form, acting as an ice pack for his boyfriend's sore ribs. The idiot was overtaxing himself on patrol and took one too many hits. Danny doesn't mind some ghostly cuddling, but he would like it if Tim looked after himself more.

Tim relaxes into Danny more as he types away on his computer. Danny glances at Tim's screen to see that he is looking into the effects the Infinite Realms has on the mortal realm. Which would be sweet if he wasn't using it as a distraction from being banned from current cases.

"Tim, you're supposed to be resting. You know, off the laptop?" Danny lifts his head from Tim's shoulder to actually look at him in the eyes.

Tim sighed, not stopping his typing. "This is resting, I'm barely even hacking into the government."

"Why are you like this?"

"The trauma,” he replied sarcastically. “But anyway, it looks like the government was doing experiments at one point but stopped." Tim hummed as the clicking of the keyboard picked up speed.

“Oh, that’s just the Ghost Investigation Ward.” Danny lets his head drop to his boyfriend’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Tim’s typing only quickened with time and the new information given to him.

“Danny, why are there files about their multiple attempted captures of you, and different files detailing experiment plans that involve vivisecting you‽” Tim was no longer relaxed against Danny’s body.

“I thought they deleted those.” Danny srutines the screen, looking for anything to tell him what has happened to the plans. There in the top right corner is what he was looking for. “Sweetheart, the plans have been defunct, like we worked out when they were getting their shit together.”

“They hunted you for sport,” Tim’s unimpressed stare bore into the side of Danny’s head.

“They got better… morally.Not at the hunting thing,” Danny sighed. “Look, before senior year Tucker, Sam, and I spent the whole summer essentially reforming them. It took a lot of effort but they are ethical now, and even helped fix the shit they wrecked. I promise you they aren't a problem anymore.” Danny pleads.

“Fine.” Tim relents for a moment. "How did you even get them to reform? From what I've read they were pretty biased."

Danny's carefree smile turns sharp. "Blackmail and aggressively shoving evidence to prove them wrong in their faces."

Tim lets out a fond huff as he rolled his eyes, as if he hasn't done worse as Robin. Tim finally lets himself relax, body goes limp against the cold form wrapped around him. A yawn escapes as he feels the pull of sleep cling to him.

“Tired enough to sleep now?” Amusement colored Danny’s voice.

Tim closes his laptop and sets it on a part of the couch not occupied. “Yeah, carry me to bed?”

Danny chuckled as he gently picked up the injured boy and floated them to Tim's bed.

—----- +1

When Tim walked into Danny's apartment he didn't expect to see him putting what was probably Lazarus water into small vials. It looked like he had been doing this for a while. There were several different bags full of the glowing vials with the one he was filling now being one of the last.

"Danny, what are you doing?" Tim asked the dark haired boy, already expecting what the answer might be.

"Remember how I'd said I would look into the Lazarus pits for Jason?" Danny replies as he reaches for more empty vials. Tim hums and moves the vials closer to him. “Turns out to do that I need a shit ton of samples for Frostbite, so here we are.”

Tim sets his things down and settles into helping his boyfriend. "How was dealing with the League of assassins?"

"It was fine. They didn’t notice me, surprisingly.” Danny shrugs, putting more filled vials away.

“I wouldn’t say it was surprising they don’t know about ghosts.” Tim points out.

“Fair. I had a look around, they have a lot of interesting things in their base.”

“Oh, did you take anything besides the lazarus water?” Tim wonders what caught Danny’s attention. From what he remembers it could be just about anything from swords to priceless pieces of art.

“No, but I did see what I’m pretty sure was a spleen in a jar!” Danny’s smile grew almost inhumanly big. “Tim, get this! It was fucking labeled! Labeled!” Danny’s excitement is clear in his voice. Tim couldn’t completely focus on it. He only knows of one spleen that was removed under the care of the league.

“What was it labeled?” Tim asked, nervousness creeping into his voice. Please don’t be his spleen.

Danny’s giggling was barely contained as he answered, “Ra's al Ghul’s emotional support spleen. Outsourced from RR.”

“HE PICKLED MY SPLEEN!!” Tim shouts, startling Danny into almost dropping the vial in his hand.

Danny looks at Tim in confusion for a solid five seconds before Tim saw a look of realization bloom on his face. “Oh Ancients, RR stands for Red Robin. What the fuck! Wait, you’re missing your spleen! How did your spleen end up there??” Danny’s distress only rises as Tim doesn't answer him.

“So. I may have forgotten to tell you something.” Tim says as his clearly innocent smile wobbles with hidden laughter.

“You think so‽” sarcasm dripping from Danny’s voice. “Ancients Tim! Is this how you felt with me?”

“Yes. Suffer.” Tim didn’t mean for this to happen but he will take this happy coincidence for everything it has.

----------- Tag List

@kyrianclawraith , @alice-hazelwood , @phoenixdemonqueen , @may-rbi , @mimilikey , @undead-essence

#dpxdc #tim drake #danny phantom #danny fenton #ghost king danny #5+1 fic #tim drake x danny fenton #Petals and Arrays of The Dead and Those Yet To Be #dp x dc fic #Writing on the walls

297 notes · View notes

ethanlvndry · 1 year

Text

Title: Fuck you too.

Pairing:Ethan Landry xfem!black!reader

Warnings: mentions of sex, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, death, injury, crying, angst. I haven't seen VI yet, so I might have stuff wrong.

Summary: After the incident with your ex in Woodsboro, Amber Freeman. You find yourself seeking comfort with Chad's roommate. Ethan Landry. What happens when a repeat of Woodsboro starts up in college?

😨🔪ꜱᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴠɪ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ🔪😨

Here I was, drinking at a frat party. I'm trying SO hard to forget about my ex. Amber. The one who would help me cut my hair, the one who would help me get up after a hangover, the one who would help me steal. Oh, Amber...

I can't believe I still think of her like this. As if she didn't literally slit a gash, now a scar, in both my arm and leg. She was older than me by 2 days, but we would celebrate our birthday the day after her's.

While I continue to sulk at the bar in the house, I heart commotion. About 3 voices, 2 of them sounding familiar. Like Chad, and Tara's.

I dump the rest of my drink in the sink and toss my cup into the overflowing trash can.

"Hey partner, Tara's fine down here." You hear as you get closer.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that?" A rando in a white outfit remarks.

"Yeah you did"

"No chad- I want to!" Tara jumps in

"See Chad? She wants to." The rando taunts.

The white clad guy then begins to practically drag Tara up the stairs, ignoring her exclaims of discomfort. Chad acts on instinct and pulls him by the shirt, dragging him back down the stairs.

"Get the fuck off me!" The rando says while shoving Chad back. It starts to just go back and forth with the insults and shoves, while Tara is trying to break them apart, Sam appears. With a taser.

I would've laughed had I not been processing being shoved by her as she came over here.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna tase you in the balls real quick.

She quickly takes him in his..well..balls. Then, she gets pushed back a little as the dude falls to the ground, screaming in pain.

"Fucking bitch!" He exclaims

"Sam, are you fucking kidding me? Are you stalking me now?" Tara asks as she bolts for the exit to leave

I hear people beginning to talk about Sam being a Pshyco, and try my hardest to keep my smirk hidden. Now she knows how it feels.

I mean, I've been suspected of being a secret killer, since Richie was talking about some-

"Your time is coming soon [name], you'll see!"

I get shivers thinking about it.

I'm pulled out my thoughts as I feel a cold hand begin to drag me out the door. I pull it back.

"C'mon [name], we have to go." Anika exclaims

"Why do I have to go? It's not like they trust me enough to want me to be there." I retort back

She gives me a look that has be melt, and just follow her lead out the door.

"Tara! Can you stop?!" I hear Sam say.

"I can't believe you did that! You fucking embarrassed me!"

"That guy was a dick! He was gonna take advice of you!"

"So? If I want to hook up with an asshole that's my decision. It's MY decision. It's not wbout you-I mean, you were out of my life for 5 years - then you can't leave me alone for 5 minutes!"

I try to listen more into their argument, but I'm interrupted by Chad's roommate greeting me with a small hello.

"Hey! Crazy night, huh? I mean, we weren't even there for an hour, and somebody got tased in the balls"

"Yeah! I like your costume, by the way. You're supposed to be Domino from Deadpool, am I right?"

"Yeah, and you're an...uh, a knight?"

"Yeah, I know. I made it in less than an hour. It looks trashy."

You rock trashy really well. I want to say, but, I can't. Not after what happened with Amber. I instead go for a laugh that makes him laugh in return.

"I feel kind of out of place. Wanna go to my dorm?"

He asks. I widened my eyes at how quick the conversation went from that time this. He must've seen my slight discomfort because he began to profusely apologize to me.

"Ethan. HEY! Don't worry. I understand how you feel right now. We can go, but let me tell everyone first."

I see him slightly relax at my confession.

"Hey, you guys! I'm going over to Ethan's dorm if you need me"

I watch as they all kind of ignore me except for Anika, only for a split second when she returns to her conversation with Mindy.

We split off from the group, now on our way to Ethan, and Chad's dorm. When we get there it's awkward. Us not really knowing why it got to this point. Then all of a sudden.

"You wanna fuck?"

Shit. Way to make somebody uncomfortable [name].

"Y-yeah, but we have to stay on my side. Otherwise, Chad will kill me."

I walk over to him and straddle his hips as we start locking lips. Oh, this was gonna be a good night.

♡♡♡

It's been a couple of days since Ethan and I slept together. Tara and Sam were being attacked while Ethan and I were lying down with each other. Well, we were lying down with each other. I had woken up a few times finding that he wasn't next to me anymore. I was so tired that I just lied right back down.

I've been feeling a little sick since we slept together, though. I at first blamed it on the food from the party. But as time went by, I started thinking of other reasons. Pregnancy being one of them. We didn't bring a condom since neither of us thought we would be doing stuff like that, but we ended up just being so into it, I'm not even sure if he pulled out. Everything that happened was a blur.

This morning before I came over to The sister's, and Quinn's dorm. I went to the convenience store to buy some tests.

I planned to take them at Sam house, but now we're sitting around the table getting ready to eat, and all I can think about is Ethan, I tried calling him, but it went straight to voice-mail. I was beginning to get worried. But then Sam snatched my phone, implying that I was trying to contact the killer.

I roll my eyes at her obviously hesitant behavior and the fact none of the "core four" was standing up for me, but push my anger back down.

Then we all hear a ding come from our phones simultaneously. We all open them up to see an image of a dead Quinn. We look at Quinn's door, hearing struggling, and then silence. The door is suddenly banged open, with Quinn's body hurling on top of Anika and I. We push her off of us, and we all scatter across the apartment.

I run towards the table to get the unopened bottle of whiskey and smash it on the Ghostface's head. They then turn towards me, sticking their knife up and impaling me through the shoulder. I screech as they twist it inside, rubbing the pain in.

Mindy then gets a knife block and hits them on the head, causing them to pull out the knife and fall on the floor. We run into Quinn's bedroom and see that her fling is dead in the tub. Of course, Mindy has to announce it as dramatically as possible.

We then push the storage shelf in front of the door to keep the killer out. As I'm holding the shelf to the door, Mindy points out how much blood Anika is losing. Sam then opens up the window, and I almost laugh at the idea I know she's conjuring up.

The ladder.

I see Tara, Chad, and Sam's new love interest across the window, urging her to cross. She masters up a sigh before beginning her trek across the buildings. As she's making it over, I see Mindy and Anika having one last kiss before Mindy crosses the ladder. When she crosses, I tilt my head at Anika's reluctance in crossing before me.

"Go [name], you have more of a chance of making it across!" She says

" There's no way in hell I'm leaving you! Somebody has to hold the door, plus they actually like you!"

"GO, AND HURRY" She yells

I quickly let go and climb through the window onto the ladder. The adrenaline starts to wear off as I realize how far above ground I am. I make it before it completely wears off. Now, it was Anika's turn.

She limps over to the window, starting to steady herself, when she starts to panic. Not only from the height, but from the stab wound she received minutes ago.

"I can't do it!" She cries

We all urge her to come holding our hands out, and then we see movement behind her. Seeing Ghostface broke into the bathroom.

"What?" She asks

"Anika, you have to move right now!" Mindy exclaims.

Anika looks back to see how close Ghostface is and sees how he stabs his knife into the sill.

She cries no as he starts to tilt and shake the ladder whilst she's crossing. I reach further out the window to pull her over and feel somebody's pulling me back by my sweater.

" Take my hand Anika!"

She inches her hand closer to mine, our fingertips now brushing, I push myself out further, to the point I'm partially on the ladder. I grip her sweatshirt and pull her into me, her leg getting stuck, then a Crack sounding out. She screams. I keep on pulling until she falls through the window on top of me.

"You're okay Anika, you're okay."

I say while patting her head as she sniffles and sobs into my wounded shoulder. I grimace at the way her leg is bent but choose to ignore it as I let her cry out to her hearts content. I then hear police sirens and look out the window only to see Gjostface gone, along with their knife.

I purse my lips at another loss for us. We have severe wounds that could and would affect us physically and mentally.

♡♡♡

We all sit in the back of an ambulance in blankets as I see someone getting closer to us.

Ethan.

"Hey! Where the fuck were you?! You're gone and my sister almost dies!"

"I was at Econ, ask the hundreds of people I was there with."

I bite my lips at the apparent possibility that Ethan might be the killer. I don't wanna believe it, but I know better than to let feelings get in the way of my logic.

"It's always Econ with you! The same excuse with you over and over again!"

"[name], back me up here, please."

I go to open my mouth, but close it as I realize I'm at a loss of words.

Ethan scoffs before walking off, not before muttering a cold, curt "thanks a lot" towards me.

I call out his name, but the distance between us starts to increase. Him now appearing as a tiny dot.

A nurse comes over to give me my vitals.

"We scanned over your torso and shoulder, it appears you have a broken rib and a dislocated shoulder. Nothing to severe. I suppose you already know?"

"Know what?"

"You're pregnant! With twins at that!"

My mouth, along with the rest of the groups, hangs wide open.

"Hm. I Guess I should leave you to have a chit chat with your friends about it since they seem involved with you?"

She then scurried away to go deal with the casts getting prepared for Anika and I.

"Who's the father?"

A few seconds go by before she repeats herself. A little firmer this time.

"They're...Ethan's"

The group then makes worried faces at my suddenly outburst of sobs as I realize what I got myself into.

♡♡♡

I try to text Ethan only to find out he blocked me. I've thrown up about 3 times in the past half an hour from how much I've been crying. I can't raise two babies by myself. I've been thinking about an abortion ever since I found out. I don't believe either of us would be willing to step up and take care of them.

I tried to call Ethan through Snapchat because he hasn't blocked me through there yet. But my call gets declined faster than I can blink, leaving me there to sulk and cry about the predicament I got myself in.

♡♡♡

We're now at a weird shrine for the stab movies, actual stuff from the murders in the abandoned theater. Gale showed us this place. Her now being in the ER from a Ghostface attack. We are all wandering around looking at things when all of a sudden, a Ghostface pops up slashing at Tara and I.

We both run into Chad and Sam who are running away from another Ghostface as we go down a hallway, Chad begins to do stuff to get them of of our trail. That however, ends up with him having his flesh audibly ripped by the knives of the killers.

Tara's screaming, piercing everyone's ears as she watches him tell her to leave, like a hero. Sam grabs Tara so she doesn't run towards them, and I follow them. We run into Kirby, her having blood on her head. Detective Bailey then appeared, gun instantly pointed at Kirby. A shot sounds out Kirby on the floor.

The Ghostfaces then take their places by Deetective. One of them revealing themselves as the father of the twins inside of you. Ethan Landry. And the other as Quinn who appeantly faked her death.

As they reveal themselves as relatives of Richie. I can feel Ethans gazs on me, I quickly look at him only to find that he's smirking.

This fucking asshole is smirking.

Bet he won't be smirking when I tell him that he's a father.

Quinn charges towards us, Tara shutting her down with a brick. Her losing some teeth. She then tries to go for me, but I say-

"Not so fast, Quinn, wouldn't wanna hurt your little Nieces, or Nephews, right?"

She let's the information settle into her brain before she realized that you told her you're pregnant with her brother's children.

While she's distracted, I angle the sharp side of the knife towards her shoulder. A screech coming from her bloodied mouth. Giving me enough time to get away.

As I'm running. I hear footsteps behind me, causing me to speed up and take harsh turns that could confuse whoever behind me.

I crouch behind a couch, only to be met face to face with Ethan. He grins sadistically pushing on my healing shoulder wound. My eyes widened at how he knew where it was when I didn't tell him anything about my wounds.

"Y'know, it was me at the apartment. I felt bad after I got you, but I mean, you did help kill my fucking brother with that bitch Sam"

My eyes begin to well up with tears from how quick his personality changed. From shy nerd to crazy creep. I then feel a pain in my abdomen as I was about to tell him to fuck off.

As my vision starts to darken, I mutter out my confession about being pregnant and chuckle at the still apparent way his face changed.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I got lazy at the end if you didn't notice, by the way part 2, or should I leave it alone.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x black reader #ethan landry x pregnant reader

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bigdumbbambieyes · 9 months

Text

part 2 of this 🍋

Steve rips the towel from around Billy’s waist and pushes his boyfriend onto the bed, ignoring the way Billy’s smug look sends a shot of heat through him, because Billy knows. He fucking did that shit on purpose and Steve’s playing right into his hand.

But, his irritation doesn’t last long, not when he pulls off his shirt and pushes his shorts down, his hardening cock bobbing as he crawls onto the bed and watches Billy watch him with an equally hungry gaze.

“You’re so fucking easy, Harrington,” Billy hums, his hands grabbing at Steve’s hips, pulling him up and up until he can plop his ass down on Billy’s chest carefully.

And Steve knows he’s easy for Billy. The asshole doesn’t have to point it out, even though it does make his dick twitch in guilty interest.

Not one to back down from their back and forth, Steve mumbles pointedly, “You were the one playing with your tits, Hargrove.”

The use of surnames brings them back to their senior year of high school, when tensions had been incredibly thick and they’d hate fuck on the weekends.

It makes this so much hotter.

Billy grins up at him, licking his lips nice and slow, like the tease he is. It makes Steve want to rub the tip of his dick against them.

But, he doesn’t — not now. Instead, he’s reaching for their bottle of lube and drizzling it over Billy’s smooth chest, capping it with his thumb before massaging the soft-firm pecs, thumbing little circles on Billy’s nipples, and he feels a rush of pride when Billy’s face heats up and his jaw drops a little as the massaging continues.

The slow glide of his hands along Billy’s chest makes his cock hard, the tip leaking as he watches his boyfriend stare up at him, pretty lips parted with soft breaths and blue eyes brightened by the pink of his cheeks.

“Gonna fuck your tits,” Steve murmurs, shifting forward and stroking his cock with his lubed hand, hearing Billy’s soft ‘fuck yeah’ and those strong hands move down to his thighs, gripping them tight.

Steve’s nice about it, at first. He pushes Billy’s pecs together and slides his dick into the little cleavage there, biting his lip as he uses his thumbs to press down, creating a nice little channel to fuck, and it makes him sigh out a quiet moan.

The gentle ‘click’ of the lube makes Billy groan, his eyes focused on watching the tip of Steve’s cock appear and disappear between his pecs, poking his tongue out to a point to try and catch it to no avail.

“Slut,” Steve pants with a grin, humping Billy now, his hips rutting a little harder, “You’re fucking loving this, aren’t you?”

“Almost as much as you are,” Billy fires back just as breathlessly, one hand disappearing from Steve’s hips to touch himself, the other going to push Steve’s away to replace it. Looking up at him, Billy hums, “C’mon, fuck’m like you mean it, pretty boy.”

Steve knows a goad when he hears it, but he’d be a fucking idiot to say no, so he plants his hands on either side of Billy’s head and fucks his tits.

It’s…unlike anything else. Billy’s grinning and egging him on, staring up at him in awe the longer it goes on, his eyes a little glassy as he enjoys himself and gets lost in the pleasure.

Steve doesn’t last long, he cums all along the line of Billy’s throat and chin, his collarbones. He’s panting and shaking a little, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Billy’s flushed face and soft, satiated grin.

Before Billy can say anything or bitch about the cum on him, Steve shifts down, lowers his mouth and licks up Billy’s throat, catching all of his cum with a long swipe — and the moan he feels vibrating from Billy’s throat nearly makes him hard again.

He sucks at the little bit of cum on Billy’s chin, hears the low chuckle his boyfriend makes at that, and lowers his mouth to a pierced ear to whisper, “Wanna cum in my mouth?”

And Billy moans again, laughing lazily as he mumbles, “The fuck kinda question is that?”

A stupid one, Steve thinks as he slides down to take Billy into his mouth.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #lemon #i promised a part two and here it is!!#bambiwrites

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astorianyxkings · 5 months

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You guys ever think about how Bruce feels when one of the batlings call him Dad? Or refer to him as their dad? Or how he feels when he steps into a fatherly role for a bat?

I mean yeah its mostly done in public, Dick has always called Bruce Dad or refer to him as his father since he was old enough to go to galas. And yeah at first the word felt like nails scraping down a chalk board because Bruce isn't worth being a dad, not in his head at least. He was still in his twenties, and Dick already had a dad. One who loved him. But he tolerates the word anyway, because its just to keep up appearing right?

Nowadays, having repaired their severed relationship, Bruce wants to hear the word. He misses it but he doesn't dare ask. But when he reveals that he officially adopted Dick and he hugs him and says "I love you Dad." Bruce can't help but cry, sob quietly as he clutches his son in his arms. "I don't want to replace your father." He says, begging his voice to not waver, it doesn't listen. "You're not," Dick responds, "You're just standing on the same level as him. My dads and my mom. My parents."

When Barbara becomes Batgirl Bruce is terrified. He knows the kind of sick freaks out there, who ogle her in her Batgirl suit. It makes his blood boil the way any father's would. Except he isn't her father. She has Jim for that. And even if she's dating Dick, Bruce can't seem to figure out why he's treating her like this, why he's keeping her patrol limited, why he's texting Commissioner Gordon in panic whenever she's late. Jim laughs and says its like they're co parents and something in Bruce's heart jabs.

When she's paralyzed by the Joker Bruce isn't sure what to do. He pays her medical bills and has a back and forth with Jim, "Its my fault he found out she was Batgirl!", "He didn't, he did it because she's a Gordon! It's my fault!". Bruce crues over her in the comatose state, apologizing over and over, its his fault, his minds been made up. When she becomes Oracle there's nothing he wouldn't do to accommodate her. Barbara may not legally be his daughter, but she kind of it his first daughter.

When Jason comes around and starts calling Bruce dad at galas, he's more comfortable around the word. He can be a dad to Jason, Jason didn't get to have a good dad but Bruce bought a parenting book (What to Expect when Moving from Raising One Kid to Two) and he's handling it. But then he dies and Bruce is met with the guilt of knowing that he failed his son. Because even though Dick was his ward and first born, Jason was the first one he was okay with referring to as a son.

And then he came back and Bruce is no longer dad. He's B or Old Man. Its better than "the asshole who let me die" so he'll take what he can get. Except once at a gala Jason has a bit of a Freudian slip and refers to Bruce as his dad and he leaves the room to burst into tears. Jason doesn't hate him and while he's grateful part of his mind knows he should. He deserves to be hated, Jason is just too much of a good person to do it. But it doesn't matter, Jason's still his son and his heart still stutters whenever he's reminded of that. Jason is his son, his boy.

When he meets Tim, Bruce is scared all over again. He doesn't want to be Tim's dad. Tim already has a dad—and in Bruce's self loathing mind, a neglectful father is still better than whatever impersonation of a dad he could be. But Tim is stubborn, he latches on and somewhere along the lines after his emancipation, Bruce realizes that he's Tim's dad. And he wants to be Tim's dad. And he won't fail Tim the way he did Dick or Jason, he made too many mistakes with them.

Tim sometimes feels out of place. Bruce doesn't know why, he belongs into their family (cult as Jason says affectionately) and Bruce will always remind him of that. Tim is his son and Bruce will never get over that, he gets to see this boy grow up to be great. And maybe when Tim's sleep deprived he calls Bruce dad, but thats between him, Tim and the tear stained pillow on Bruce's bed.

And then there's Steph. Stephanie Brown forced her way into the Batfamily by dating Tim and even after they broke up, she's not leaving. And Bruce doesn't want her to. She's made it clear she doesn't want to be a Wayne officially, she's fine just being Steph. Except, Bruce kind of thinks Steph is like his daughter too. She's not just some random girl he finds overly bubbly, her bubbliness reminds him if Dick, her street smarts remind him of Jason. But despite that Steph is so unique. And even if she has a dad, Bruce can't help it. He personally decorated a room at the manor for her, had it painted purple and everything. Steph might not be a Wayne by name, but she is in everything else. And Bruce is kind of okay with that.

And then there's the two kids who refer to him as their dad all the time.

Cassandra Cain becomes Cassandra Wayne and she never looks back. She rarely speaks, she's content with sign language and you best believe the rest of the family learns it to communicate with her comfortably. But something in Bruce's heart flutters when she refers to him as Dad. When she signs about one of her dance recitals, Don't forget dad! Or when she's bragging and boasting at a gala about him, My dad's not like that! He's really nice!

And then there's Damian. He couldn't run away from being his father if he wanted to. Which he doesn't. Damian called him Father, rather stiffly for the first two years together. But then one day he's talking to Jon and Bruce isn't trying to eavesdrop but he's not perfect do he does and he hears Damian refer to him as Baba and he almost trips over his own feet. Damian, ever the observer, notices him immediately and then he's suddenly calling him Baba more often, Baba I'm going to walk Titus or Baba, Grayson is trying to hug me again. Doesn't matter the context, hearing Damian utter the endearment makes his heart melt every damn time.

But when Duke rolls around, heartbroken and unfairly orphaned, Bruce is terrified all over again. He's not ready to force Duke into accepting him as a father, Duke has a dad. Bruce doesn't want to replace him. But Duke, much like Tim, latches on. He needs a father. He needs one to guide him, to help him forge his own path. And Bruce can't help himself. He's a father. He's Dukes father.

Bruce being a dad but hating himself for it while loving his kids but hating that he's forced to be their dad because the world was cruel to them.

#dc comics #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #barbara gordon #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #damian wayne #duke thomas #Bruce was made to be a dad #and hes a damn good one #i dont care what canon says they can kiss my ass with their abusive bruce bullshit #this man is a PROUD father #the only person in his family he hates is himself #seriously his self esteem is absolute shit get this man a therapist my god #bruce hating himself bc he thinks hes an unworthy father is such a huge hyperfixation for me

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spicyspiders · 1 year

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My boy Rodolfo needs some love <33

Could you do Rudy x male reader where they're at a bar , probably getting drinks with Alejandro and They all get a little drunk. Rudy gets like really flirting with reader , I fully believe that man can say the most filthy shit he just needs a little liquid courage. Eventually it leads to reader and Rudy making out and yk go somewhere private to fuck

Idk if you do two characters x readers , if you do could you have Alejandro join Rudy and reader ? Like he feels left out and tbh horny when he sees them making out and asks to join

I love your writing , hope you're having a great day <33

In this, they're office workers and Alejandro is their boss. There isn't smut in this, but it's implied at the end.

“What?” You looked up from where you had just been staring at the table. You weren’t sure how long you had been looking, but when you looked up, Rodolfo had a big grin on his face.

“More drinks?” Alejandro asked, or you guessed, just repeated.

“No,” a slow smile spread across your face, “I think I’m good for now,” you had found a good point at which everything felt good. Well, not everything felt good, because when Alejandro stepped away from your table and headed to the bar, your smile fell.

“What?” Rudy asked, looking you up and down.

“Why did you invite him?” You hissed.

He held his hands up in defense, “he said he was buying. Besides,” he glanced over to the bar, “he’s a good guy.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, he wasn’t that bad. Especially as far as bosses go. Really, the night could have been way worse, had he been awkward while he watched the two of you drink while he slowly sipped on his. The alcohol, you had come to learn, only loosed Alejandro up and made him add more to the conversation.

Throughout the night, he had even managed to pull a few laughs out of you. All of which made a smug smile stretch across Rudy’s lips. An expression that you tried your best to ignore.

“Yeah, I guess,” you grumbled out. When yet another one of those smiles settled on his face, you pushed away from the table and stumbled off to the bathroom. You thought you could hear a shout that vaguely sounded like your name, but you ignored it, and kept walking.

“Having fun?” Alejandro asked when you stepped up to the mirror after finishing up at the urinal.

You stood there in confusion, looking back and forth from the door to where you just had stood. Maybe you had drank more than you thought.

“Surprisingly, I am,” you said, switching on the water and then lathering up your hands. You physically cringed when you stuck your hands under the water. You weren’t sure if it was from how hot the water was, or because of how the words sounded when you heard them.

Before you could apologize, Alejandro smiled and grabbed some paper towels to dry off his hands, “I get it, grabbing drinks with your boss can be awkward, especially when he invited himself out.” Again, he did something else to make you happy that he came, this time by grabbing some paper towels and handing them to you.

He hadn’t been your boss for very long, and when he moved his way into that position, based on first impressions, you thought he was kind of an asshole. You quickly learned that he was more so a no-nonsense boss, which you had come to respect.

“Wow, such a gentleman,” you smiled softly.

He almost looked embarrassed by your words, but a small smile appeared on his lips. You could hear him say something under his breath, but the music from the bar was seeping into the bathroom and made it hard to hear.

To further prove your words, he opened the bathroom door for you, “thanks again,” you said, sending another small smile his way.

Alejandro walked close behind you as you both walked back to the table, and nearly bumped into you when you had to stop. His warm hand settled on the small of your back to steady you, “what a dick,” he said loud enough for you to hear.

“Yeah,” you murmured, and watched on as another patron tripped his way up to the bar.

When you got back to the table, Rudy was shaking his head, “you can’t even go to the bathroom on your own,” he said, because of course he had seen the whole thing.

“I got lost at the office one time.” You said, sounding annoyed.

“Seriously?” Alejandro asked. When you didn’t answer, a laugh burst from his chest.

Almost by reflex, your middle finger nearly went up at him, but you held back. You did, however, take that energy out on Rudy. You waited until the right moment when Alejandro finished his first beer and went to the bar for a second.

“You’re lucky this alcohol has mellowed me out,” he said after you kicked his shin softly.

“Or what?” You questioned.

“I’d bend you over this table for assaulting me.”

You have him a bored look, “It was barely a tap, besides, what’s stopping you?”

“I wouldn’t want our boss to see how easy it is to make you hard.”

You hated the warm feeling that shot through you at his words, but you responded quickly, not wanting to let him catch on. “The alleyway beside the bar looked pretty empty when we came in,” you pointed in the direction of the door.

You weren't dating per se, but ever since you started working at the office, you and Rudy had spent a lot of time outside of work... getting to know each other.

Ever since that first time after work, you would normally find yourself making out with Rudy almost every Friday night. And it was no different tonight.

You both sat at the table for a few moments, staring at each other like two drunk idiots with dumb smiles on your face.

You couldn’t read his mind, but you definitely know you didn’t pay Alejandro any mind as you quickly exited the bar and made your way into the dark alleyway. After all, it was hard to focus on Alejandro when Rudy pushed your back into the wall and pressed his lips to yours in an aggressive kiss.

Though the kiss was aggressive and stole your breath away, he made sure no harm came to your head. He used one of his hands to cup the back of your head, while the other was placed on your back so he could pull you closer.

As his tongue made its way into your mouth, his hand went lower to pull your shirt out of your pants. When he did, you couldn’t help but end the kiss and let out a laugh. When you were using the bathroom earlier, you must have tucked your shirt back in, as if on instinct.

Rudy let out one of his own and pressed his forehead to yours. You stayed close to each other, breathing in each other’s breaths. In being so wrapped up in one another, you failed to notice the steps coming down the alleyway.

You jumped away from each other when a throat cleared near you, “hey,” Alejandro said awkwardly, “I’m going to head home.”

“Oh,” you said, his words sobering you up. You glanced over at Rudy, but he just stood there looking embarrassed.

“Unless,” he paused, “you both wanted to come back to my place and continue this? Hopefully with me involved, not that it wasn’t hot watching the two of you kiss,” Alejandro said, looking between the two of you.

Images flashed through your mind, ones that made a heat settle deep within your stomach. You probably looked a little silly, standing there nodding your head with your mouth slightly hung open, but by the smile Alejandro gave you, he didn’t mind.

After you stopped nodding, you looked over at Rudy, waiting to see his answer. Instead of giving one of his own, he ran off down the alley, “I call shotgun!” He yelled behind him.

#x male reader #alejandro vargas x male reader #rudolfo parra x male reader #rudy parra x male reader

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

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Hii, if you're still taking request I wanted to ask if you could write a Gareth fic where he sees the jocks annoying you and steps in (I feel like I'm feeding the 'damsel in distress' stereotype but it's Gareth🥰💞). If you won't or can't write this thank you anyway<33

I also wanted to say I love your work and writing!

my hero.

gareth emerson x gn!reader

word count: 703

warnings: swearing, jason and his goons being assholes, jason carver in general, brief mentions of anxious!reader, fluff

a/n: hi my sweet!! thank you for your request!! this is a really precious concept. i hope it’s to your liking!! i just kind of went for it and this is the result. and thank you for saying that you like my work. it really does mean the world hearing that and i am sending you an enormous hug. enjoy! <333

————

You didn’t need to be saved. You were completely capable of defending yourself—you did it all the time—and you knew that.

But the relief you felt at Gareth’s appearance was palpable.

You were having a shitty day. One of those where everything hurt your feelings, every little thing went wrong.

You’d slept through your alarms and woken up twenty minutes before you needed to leave. Gotten toothpaste on your shirt and had to change it.

Then you’d gotten stuck in traffic because of a wreck and made it into class right as the bell rang, out of breath and a little sweaty despite the freezing temperatures.

You’d been handed back your essay in class and not done nearly as well as you hoped, despite having worked your ass off on it.

Your lunch had been rushed and tasted like shit because you had an anxious stomach ache.

But it all met a peak when you were getting books out of your locker in between classes.

“You look like hell. Do you ever sleep?” Jason Carver’s voice rang out like a shotgun from where he stood next to you. You had the unlucky advantage of his locker being a few down from yours.

You were too frazzled to even answer him. “What, you mute or somethin’ now too?” That was Andy.

You shifted your math textbook. “How’s your mom Andy? She looked like shit when I left her last night.”

Jason moved in, slamming your locker door shut. Good thing you were finished with it.

“You really shouldn’t say things like that. It’s not polite.”

“Fuck off, Jason. Just because you can’t get Chrissy off doesn’t mean you have to take that frustration out on me.”

He blushed a dark shade of red, borderline purple, his brows pushing together angrily. “You’re such a bitch. You know what—”

“What, Carver? What are you gonna do, huh?” Gareth took your books out of your hands, moving behind you to put them in your backpack for you.

Jason crossed his arms, letterman jacket crinkling as he did so. “Just making conversation. What do you want freak?”

Gareth laughed. “Original. So, what’re we chatting about this afternoon?” He crossed his arms, mimicking Jason’s pose and pouting at his fussy expression.

You looked up at him for the first time since he’d appeared. He looked like he always did. Gorgeous. Brown hair fluffy and moving with each turn of his head, shoulders enveloped in a black corduroy jacket. He looked warm.

The ache in your chest that had surfaced when Jason and his goons started bugging you vanished. Gareth was good at that.

“How your friend here is a bitch and could learn a lesson in respecting their higher-ups.”

A shadow crossed Gareth’s face. Asshole, he thought, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, Carver?”

“Yeah?” The blonde looked confused.

“Suck my dick.”

You coughed out a laugh, making Gareth smile and rub his hand over the top of your back before pulling you away.

Clearly, even the idea of that was bothering Jason. He spun around at your retreat. “What the hell is wrong with you? Creep!”

Gareth turned around, grabbing hold of your hand. “Aw, you know you want to. I bet it’d help release some of that tension. Bet Andy’d help you out if you’re not so fond of me!”

Jason flushed that cruel pink again, and Gareth tugged you off in the direction of your next class, which you shared.

He stopped you in the hallway, checking his watch to make sure you had a few minutes. “You okay?” He asked, blue eyes boring into yours.

“Yeah. Thank you, Gareth the Great. My hero.” He shook his head at you in disapproval, but it was hard to take him seriously with that cheesy ass grin on his face.

“You’re such a shit.” He leaned in and kissed the top of your head, lips warm and curls brushing your skin, just as the bell rang.

He made sure to wave at Jason in the parking lot after school, which only caused a more violent blush than before and a slam of a car door. Gareth, however, laughed in triumph and practically jumped he was so giddy.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#gareth emerson #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x you #gareth emerson x gn!reader #corroded coffin #gareth the great #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson fic #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson comfort #jason carver is a piece of shit #savannah’s fics

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