#finally locked up for his goofy crimes

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

King Steve

Prompt Day 12: Hallmark Movie Tropes | Word Count: 9963 | Rating: M | CW: Royal Inaccuracies | Tags: King Ralph AU, Unexpected Royalty, Platonic Stobin, Happy Ending, Steve POV

This one is also available right here on AO3.

Loosely based on the 1991 comedy King Ralph, starring John Goodman, but this time make it Steddie.

Steve shoves the key into the lock of the Wienerlicious front door, and jiggles it just so, trying to get the damned thing to open. Robin picked this place as their next place of employment, and he's pretty sure it was just to stick him in another goofy uniform so she could call him dingus more often.

Jokes on her. He looks damn good in lederhosen, way better than she does in the milkmaid getup. So, suck it, Robin. 

Even if he's too old for this shit. He's nearly thirty, and they're still bouncing from crappy job to crappy job, aimless.

He needs a purpose, but he just hasn't found it. Not yet.

He flips on the lights, and goes through all the opening procedures on his own. Robin won't be in until later, so he's gonna be on his own through the lunch rush. If there is a lunch rush. Sometimes, that's non-existent in this place. 

And it seems like today is gonna be one of those days. He hasn't had a customer in an hour, and he's bored out of his goddamn skull. Just watching the hot dogs turn on the roller grill behind him.

Finally, the door swings open, and in walks three stuffy-looking men in suits. Glancing around the place like they're walking in front of a firing squad instead of into a fast food joint.

"Welcome to Wienerlicious," Steve greets.

"We're looking for Mr. Steven Harrington," the first one says in a British accent, and Steve narrows his eyes. He doesn't think he owes money to anyone. Especially not to anyone British. Robin and him might be scraping by, but they've managed to do it all on their own.

"Who's asking?" Steve asks, putting his hands on his hips.

"I'm Gareth Jones and this is Inspector Goodwin and Inspector Williams," the first man says, like that means anything.

Steve doesn't think he's committed a crime, Pink Panther style, but maybe? He wishes he'd stolen some cash or jewels, but he hasn't, so he's not sure why they've sent two inspectors all the way to the Wienerlicious to talk to him.

"And you're here for…" Steve trails off, moving his hand in a hurry up and spit it out motion. He'd rather get this over with.

"Well, sir, that's a private matter for us to discuss with Mr. Harrington," Inspector Goodwin chimes in, and they are definitely British.

"Then, I guess you're shit outta luck," Steve says, moving back to wiping down the counter. "If you decide you want to order something, you let me know."

He watches them look between each other, clearly debating this offer. But they step up to the counter and study the menu, with a hint of disdain, before ordering three number seven combos. Steve makes them, and puts down the red baskets on a tray. Taking their money, and handing over their change.

They're staring at his name tag. Fuck. He forgot he was wearing it.

"Are you Steven Harrington?" Gareth asks, leaning closer, nearly across the counter.

"And if I am?" Steve asks, taking a step back.

"Then we have an exciting opportunity to share with you," Inspector Williams says, gleefully.

"Listen, I'm not gonna, like, sell Amway or knives or anything. So, just. No, thanks."

They look back and forth, like they don't understand what he's talking about.

Steve sighs, "I have a job. I don't want another, no matter how much money you think I'll be able to make, so thanks. But, no thanks."

Because, yeah, he's in lederhosen, but he's working with Robin and he gets a predictable paycheck. It's a fair trade-off.

"Sir, please, just give us a moment of your time," Gareth pleads, and Steve is annoyed.

"Just arrest me if that's what you're here for," Steve says, nodding towards the two inspectors. Robin will sort it out.

"Oh, no, sir. Not at all. They're here for your protection, for your safety," Gareth says, and Steve wrinkles his forehead at that idea. He's pretty sure he doesn't need protection. "Please, just hear me out, sir."

"Fine, one minute," Steve says, following them to a table, and sitting down, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mr. Harrington-"

"Steve," Steve interrupts. 

"Steve," Gareth, the chatty one, says, but it seems physically painful for him to get out of his mouth, "it is my glorious duty to inform you that you're the new King of the United Kingdom, Your Majesty."

"The new King of what now?" Steve asks, because he's been King before. Sure, it was Hawkins High and not the United Kingdom, but he'll pass. He's grown and shit since then.

"Of the United Kingdom, and the entire Commonwealth, Your Majesty." 

Steve laughs, because why wouldn't he laugh. That's ridiculous. 

Then he remembers seeing the news headline that the entire Royal Family had been electrocuted and killed during a holiday photo session, and that they were searching their records for the next heir in line for the throne.

Steve bets they didn't expect to find him in lederhosen, slinging wieners with sauerkraut. 

"But I'm an American," Steve finally says, shaking his head.

"We are unfortunately aware, sir," Gareth answers.

"Then, how am I the next in line? That makes no sense." Steve questions, he's never even been to England. 

"On your mother's side. There's no delicate way to say this, but your grandmother had an affair with Prince Richard, and your mother was the product of that affair. So, you're in the line of succession for the throne through the House of Wyndam-Pryce bloodline."

"Okay, go talk to my mother then," Steve says, "she'd love to be a Queen."

"It doesn't work quite like that. See, there's what we call male-preference primogeniture-"

"Well, that's just sexist," Steve says, crossing his arms. He doesn't know what that last word means, but he definitely understands male-preference and can fill in the blanks.

"Yes, well, perhaps that's true," Gareth says, looking flustered, then looking excited, "but you could press to change that! As King. With the help of Parliament. You could work to change it."

"Now, Jones," Inspector Williams says, "you know the law prohibits Monarchs from solving problems."

"Yes, well," Gareth says, backing down a little, "that's a different issue altogether."

"This all seems suspect," Steve says. He wishes Robin were here. She'd know what to ask, what to say to all this. "If I'm not solving world problems, which to be honest, I'm not sure I'd be all that great at anyway, what exactly does this even entail? Is it not like being the President here?"

"No, that's more like the Prime Minister," Inspector Goodwin answers, "not exactly, but closer. You, as King, would be a ceremonial figurehead."

Steve is confused, but that's not exactly new. 

"I don't understand," Steve says, because he definitely doesn't.

"You are the new King. It's your birthright, sir."

Steve is pretty sure he's not interested in any birthrights. He's seen Buffy. Kristy Swanson was hot, but he doesn't want any of that shit for himself. No fucking way.

Unless.

"How much does it pay?" Steve asks.

"Well, it doesn't, exactly…" Gareth trails off.

"Then, again. No," Steve says, moving to stand.

"But as the sovereign, it all belongs to you. To the Crown," Gareth says, and Steve starts picturing that and now it doesn't sound so bad at all.

"All of it?"

"All of it, Your Majesty," Gareth confirms.

"So, are you willing to go with us, Your Majesty? To England?" 

And maybe he'd make a different decision if Robin were here to talk him out of it, but he nods.

"You can't go be the King," Robin says, pacing around the room, one of his shirts clutched in her hands. He jerks it out of her grasp, and stuffs it into his suitcase.

"Apparently, I can," he says, "and you can come with me."

She scoffs, "And do what? Be your lady-in-waiting?"

"Yes!" Steve says, he doesn't know what that is, but yes, if it gets her to come. Absolutely. 

"Steve, no," she says, shaking her head.

"We'll get married really quick and you can be my Queen," he says, nodding his head, "think how fun that'd be? You and me? Ruling a whole country?"

"And the Commonwealth," she says, but shakes her head, snapping out of that idea. "No way, they'd make me have your babies."

"Ew," he says.

"Ew, right back at ya, dingus," she says. 

"Then, I'll go first. Scope it out. And you can come later, once I'm settled in."

"This is a bad idea, Steve," Robin says, really talking with her hands.

"Careful, I'm the King," Steve teases.

"Not my King, dingus, you better keep that in mind," she says, and he smiles, pulling her to his chest.

"I wish you'd come," he says.

"I don't even have a passport," she says.

"Well, neither do I. But apparently, as the King, that doesn't really matter much."

"Oh, this isn't going to go well," she says, pacing again, worrying some more.

"Maybe not, but it'll be an adventure, right? C'mon. Come with me," he begs, trying to give her the eyes. But she's immune.

"Maybe later. If this sticks. I'll get a passport, legally, and come make fun of you in your stupid cape or whatever," she says, and he hugs her again.

A day later, Steve steps out of the black town car, and looks up. Jesus. This place is wild. Fucking crazy, it's a palace, like, for real. He still kind of assumed they'd been teasing when they showed up at his place of work, explaining that while he was once 46th in line for the throne, that he'd now been bumped up to number one. Just because the entire extended royal family died in a freak accident during a portrait session for their annual Christmas card.

That's a lot to swallow.

Do they not have a designated survivor? Robin has told him about that, in the US. They should have, it seems like. Most definitely.

Water, metal and electricity did not mix. And snap. They were all gone.

And now he's here.

King.

He's being led inside this freaking mansion, and it's way less funny. He's a freaking American. A bastard, apparently, and he shouldn't even be eligible for the throne. Robin looked it up. Made sure he knew that, as she railed on him for even considering doing this.

But they were desperate. And here he is. Steve Harrington, American. King of England. No, Great Britain? United Kingdom? The Commonwealth? He scratches his head and scrunches up his face. He doesn't remember. They went over this on the plane, but he's already forgotten. Shit.

He's just pretty sure it's not the King of England. Even if that sounds right to his American ear.

There's some old, stuffy British dudes waiting to lead him around, and he follows. But he's starting to think he can't be the King. Not again. He's pretty sure being the King of Hawkins High will be nothing in comparison to this. This is actual insanity. 

Actual royalty.

They leave him in his new royal bedroom, and you could fit his and Robin's whole apartment inside this one room. He stands and looks out of the window, and feels homesick. He'd rather be in that tiny apartment with her, than here surrounded by all this opulence. He shouldn't have even agreed to get on the plane, especially not without Robin. They couldn't make him accept this offer, he's pretty sure. Even if they were pretty adamant about it, at the time. It felt like he didn't have a choice, even if he's pretty sure he did. Still does, maybe. He hasn't been, like, crowned or anything. He thinks he can still say no, and probably will.

He'd just been hand stomping lemonade and slinging hot dogs, minding his own business. He was just a little delirious and desperate for something new, anything at all.

He was bored.

And then there these stuffy dudes were, telling him he was the new King. 

It all happened so fast.

He should call Robin soon, to let her know he landed. He really wants her to move here to be with him, if he decides to stay. Surely, that's something he could make happen, with all this money and all these resources.

Someone clears their throat behind him, and there's a guy, probably about his age, standing there, hands properly folded behind his back. When Steve looks at him, he bows his head at the neck.

"Hey," Steve says, turning to face him fully, "I'm Steve."

"I'm Edward, your private secretary, Your Majesty."

"What can I do for you, Eddie," Steve says, and he watches as the man cringes at the informality of it all. He just doesn't look like an Edward. He looks like an Eddie. But if he doesn't like that, Steve won't force it on him. At least not to his face. Not yet. He'll wear him down, first.

"Nothing for me, sir. What can I do for you?" Eddie asks, stepping a little further into the room.

"Edward, I think I'd just like to go to bed," Steve says, and Eddie moves towards the bed, drawing down the sheets and fluffing his pillows. 

It's overkill. But nice. 

"Thanks, you don't have to do that, but I appreciate it," Steve says.

"Your dressing room is over there. I'm sure there's some proper sleeping attire," Eddie suggests, pointing towards the right door. "And if you'd like a bath before bed, I can draw one for you, sir."

A bath doesn't sound half bad, but Steve is pretty sure he can run his own bathwater. He might be the King, and isn't that a stupid thought, but he hasn't forgotten how to do basic things for himself, not yet.

Eddie does it for him anyway, despite Steve's protests, and then shows him the little turtle bell on the marble ledge that he can ding if he needs assistance at any time.

"During my bath?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

And Eddie nods, "Any time at all, sir."

That's weird, Steve thinks, but watches as Eddie closes the big double doors, leaving him alone with his bath. He rings the little turtle bell, and Eddie comes back through the doors.

"Your Majesty?" he asks, hands clasped in front of him.

"Are there bubbles?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks taken aback, but quickly nods and produces a bottle of fancy looking bubble bath from a cabinet.

"Thank you," Steve says, smiling, and Eddie nods at him curtly, before leaving. Again.

Steve wants to ring the turtle, just for shits and giggles, but refrains. He wants Eddie to like him. He's close to his age, and maybe they could be friends. Well, maybe not, he's stuffy like his colleagues, just not as stuffy. That's for sure. Gareth and Inspectors Goodwin and Williams aren't exactly old, but they were a little uptight. 

When he's good and pruney, he gets out, and wraps a towel around his waist. When he opens the doors, Eddie is standing there, at the ready.

"You can sit down, you know?" Steve says, walking around the edge of the bed.

"I really can't, Your Majesty," Eddie says.

"Says who?" Steve hollers from the walk-in closet, where he's pulling up a pair of silk pajama bottoms. They're nice, and feel good against his skin. He likes them. He's definitely not wearing the matching long-sleeve shirt though. No way. He can't imagine how uncomfortable that'd be to sleep in.

"Royal protocol, sir."

"Aren't I in charge now? So, if I say you can sit, you can sit," Steve says, coming out of the closet, towel drying his hair.

"That's really not how it works, sir," Eddie says, looking away from him. Clearly trying to get Steve to drop it. 

He will, for now. But that man is sitting before this is over with. There's no reason for him to stand around all the time. Steve's worked retail. He knows how much that sucks, and he didn't even have to do it in dress shoes.

"Did you need help finding your top, sir?" Eddie asks, and Steve realizes that's why he's being so weird. Oh.

"Do I have to wear it?" Steve asks, pulling his towel over his chest. Maybe he's being weird, or creepy, right now. Is he sexually harassing his secretary? At home this is fine, normal. It's like a locker room, right? They're in his bedroom. But maybe that's not cool here, he has no idea.

"Well, no, sir," Eddie says, "but it would be proper. But you don't have to, I suppose."

Steve tries to slide in bed without flashing his hairy chest at Eddie again, pulling the sheets up to his neck.

"There, I'm in bed," Steve says.

"Very well, sir," Eddie says, pulling the drapes closed, nodding at Steve, and hitting the lights on the way out, "Goodnight."

"'Night," Steve says back, as the door closes, and then he's gone. 

And Steve's all alone.

These sheets are super soft, and so is the bed. Steve closes his eyes, and thinks he'll be asleep in no time.

He wakes up to the sun in his eyes, as Eddie is pulling open the heavy curtains.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. Did you sleep alright?" Eddie asks, bowing his head at Steve, and Steve really needs him to stop doing that. It's unnecessary. Steve sits up in bed and scrubs his hand across his face. He did sleep well.

"Yeah, I think I did, thanks," Steve says, stretching, as Eddie goes into his closet and starts selecting clothes. 

"We'll have to get you fitted properly today, but these should do for now," he says, laying out a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. A belt. 

"Okay," Steve answers. He can wear that. That's not so bad. "What's on today's schedule?"

And he wishes he hadn't asked, because the list Eddie rattles off is never-ending.

"All that today, huh?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. Then steps out into the hallway so Steve can get dressed.

He stands in front of the mirror, trying to tame his hair. He shouldn't have gone to bed with it wet, now it really won't behave. He might need to wash it again. He looks around, and realizes there is no shower in his bathroom. He's gonna need a bathroom with a shower, the bath was fine, but not for everyday use. 

"Edward?" Steve says, opening the door, and Eddie follows him back in.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, standing at attention.

"Is there a bathroom with a shower around here that I'll be able to use? I don't need it this morning, because of the bath, but in the future?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie.

"Yes, of course, sir," Eddie says, "I'll show you where that's at this morning."

"Thanks, also? Can I request some specific hairspray?" Steve asks.

Eddie pulls a little notepad out of his pocket, ready to take notes, "Of course, sir."

"Faberge Organics, the Farrah Fawcett spray," Steve says, and watches as Eddie takes notes. He doesn't even laugh at him. Maybe Steve should tell him it was discontinued, like, a decade ago. But it'll be funny to see how much sway this position actually holds. Maybe he'll send some staff member to find a lone can of it, long forgotten on the dusty bottom shelf of a drugstore.

"Of course, sir," Eddie says, putting the notebook back in his jacket pocket.

Steve steps out inside the hall, and isn't sure what he's supposed to do. Eddie must pick up on that because he holds his arm out, motioning for Steve to walk ahead of him. 

"I thought I could give you a more in depth tour this morning, sir, if you're feeling up to that?" Eddie asks, trailing him. 

Steve pauses, waiting for him to catch up. They start walking again, and Eddie's behind him again. Steve slows his pace, and Eddie slows his own. He feels like he's having to crane his neck back to even see Eddie as he explains all the rooms, all the antiques. The paintings.

That goes on for the whole tour of this floor, and then Steve waits at the top of the long, winding staircase. Eddie waits behind him.

"You do realize I don't know where we're going, right?" Steve says, holding his arm out, inviting Eddie to lead the way.

"Sir, you are the sovereign, no one walks ahead of you. Especially not your staff," Eddie says, and Steve looks at him like he's crazy, because that's a crazy rule. Steve is only King on a huge technicality. He's just a person.

But when it's clear Eddie is not moving until he does, he walks down the stairs, wishing Eddie would just fall into step beside him, at least.

And Eddie gives him the rest of the tour, from two steps over his shoulder. It's kind of weird and uncomfortable.

After the tour, he's led directly into a room to be fitted for new clothes, and Eddie stands nearby.

"We've prepared a few questions to ascertain your knowledge of English history," Eddie says, as they're measuring Steve for a new suit. 

Having your inseam taken is a little distracting, even under regular circumstances. Having three different pairs of hands nudging under your balls, right after you've been declared King, is another level of distracting entirely.

"Okay," Steve says, uneasy. He knows he knows nothing about history, "but I can tell you it's almost zero, right up front."

Eddie looks at him and asks, "When Anne Boleyn failed to give him a son, Henry VIII had her…"

Steve thinks, tries to come up with a logical answer, and settles on, "Adopt?" 

Eddie looks exasperated, "No. Beheaded."

"Jesus, that's a bit much," Steve mutters, and he swears he sees Eddie tamp down the barest hint of a smile. 

"Please pick a fabric, sir," Goodwin says, draping some swatches over his arm and showing Steve.

They all look the same to Steve. Various shades of dark, most with pinstripes. 

"You pick, Edward. I trust your judgment," Steve says, because he does. Eddie is dressed nicely, so surely he can pick the right thing for Steve to not look like he's wearing the curtains.

Eddie nods, quick and sharp, and then hands the chosen swatches over to one of the tailors. Pointing at three of them.

After his fitting, Steve is in jeans and a polo, even if Eddie fought him on it. "Here's a few traditional English dishes, sir, some of which you'll be served tonight. The kitchen chose things they thought you might enjoy, and I thought it might be prudent to make sure you're familiar ahead of time."

Steve nods. Okay. He can do food. He likes food. 

"Roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, fish and chips, bangers and mash, and of course, spotted dick." 

Steve's eyebrows shoot up as he looks at the bowl full of dicks in front of him that he had assumed were sausages. 

He grabs the silver tongs, and picks one up, carefully inspecting it like it might be a bomb, before looking at Eddie. 

"Dick of what?" he asks, scared of the answer. 

Eddie chuckles, "You're holding a banger. A sausage," he clarifies, pointing to some other dish, "that's the spotted dick, sir. It's a dessert." 

Steve looks and can see the raisins. The spots of the spotted name, he assumes. That's more reassuring.

"Please, sir, try it," Eddie says, so Steve lets him serve him a plate, so he can try everything so there's not an embarrassing incident at tonight's dinner.

"Sit, eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie shakes his head.

"No, sir," Eddie says.

"Edward, live a little," Steve coaxes, kicking out a chair leg, an invitation, but Eddie doesn't budge. Just stands at attention, a few feet behind Steve while he eats. It's good. He likes it. Even the spotted dick, which he can't even think about without laughing. How is he going to be able to eat it, or say it, in a public setting? Impossible.

"This is all good, I was scared what you might bring me, to be real honest," Steve says.

Eddie smiles, "Well, we went easy on you. I didn't think you were ready for the black pudding or haggis."

"I don't know what that is," Steve admits.

"For the best," Eddie teases, and Steve smiles at him.

"Tell me about yourself, Edward," Steve says, using his fork and knife to cut into one of the bangers. 

"I'm here to serve you, sir," Eddie says, and Steve looks back over his shoulder at him and rolls his eyes.

"No, about you. Not about me in relation to you, just about you."

"Sir, I don't really…" Eddie trails off, like he doesn't know what to say.

Steve won't make him talk, but he sure wishes he would. He'd like to get to know him better.

"If you won't sit, would you at least come over here where I can see you?" Steve asks, and he's happy when Eddie concedes, and comes into his line of sight. 

"How long have you worked at the palace?" Steve asks.

"Nearly ten years, sir. I've been a secretary for about two years, though. After my uncle retired, I was chosen to fill his duties."

Steve nods, hoping Eddie will continue and elaborate further. He doesn't.

So, Steve eats while Eddie stands by, quietly.

And it's weeks of meetings, fittings, lessons. Eddie and the rest of the staff are working diligently to get him ready to face the press and public.

Steve's trying. He really is, but it's a lot to comprehend. He doesn't understand all the rules, all the protocols, and he is constantly on the wrong foot. Doing something stupid, saying something stupid. He's never gonna catch on to this.

He flops back on his bed. He's going to make a fool of himself, and the Crown. 

Eddie comes in later, and takes one look at him, and starts digging in Steve's walk-in closet. He comes out with an all-white outfit and instructs Steve to put it on. 

Steve does. He's stopped fighting. Stopped asking why, a long time ago. It doesn't matter why, none of them care. He's just a small cog, in a big wheel. He's in charge, but he isn't. Not at all. None of his choices are his own. He's not sitting on a throne barking orders. He's following, trying to please the people around him. Trying to please Eddie.

Once he's dressed, Eddie takes him out to the yard of the palace, and gets down and straps big pads to his shins. They look like oversized, shin guards for baseball catchers. But padded. He was a catcher for one season in high school and hated it. It's the hardest job on the field, he's pretty sure. Pitching was easier. He did that in little league for a while. 

He's standing there in his padded shin guards, looking at Eddie for guidance. Eddie hands him a paddle. Steve tries to hold it like a baseball bat, and Eddie laughs, while trying to help him correct his grip. 

"This is a cricket bat, not a baseball bat, sir," Eddie says with a smile. 

"Oh, so more like croquet?" Steve says, lowering the bat in front of him, and Eddie grins.

"You know how to play croquet?" Eddie asks, looking surprised.

"Sure," Steve says, "I might not be royalty, but I do come from a rich family. Back home. We definitely played croquet from time to time."

Eddie smiles, and nods, "It's not like croquet. You want to keep the ball away from your wicket, not aim it towards it," Eddie explains, helping him adjust his grip, again. His instinct is still to draw it up like a bat, twirl it around in his hand. Test its heft. But Eddie tells him to keep it down, in front of him, to protect his wicket, the three stumps and two bails balanced behind him.

Once Steve is in place, Eddie yells, "Bowler!"

And the guy downfield throws the ball at him in a goofy fashion, bouncing it in front of him, and Steve hits it. And it sails up and away. They do it over and over. This is something he's actually picked up on quickly for once, and it's fun. Steve hits the shit out of the next one, and declares it a home run.

Eddie laughs, "A maximum, sir, but yes, the same idea, I suppose. Six runs." 

If it bounces to the boundary, it's worth four Eddie declares, and eventually Eddie goes to the other side of the little dirt rectangle, and they teach Steve how to run back and forth to accumulate runs that way, if he doesn't hit it out of the park.

"You can lead with your bat, sir, get it over the crease ahead of you," Eddie says.

"The line? The baseline?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles. 

"Yes, sir, that," Eddie grins. 

And he runs past Eddie once more, passing in the middle, and he reaches up as they go past each other, offering him his hand, a high five.

Eddie clearly isn't sure about this, but still puts his hand up, and they touch as they run by each other, each headed to the opposite end from where they started. 

When they've finished, Steve leans over, his hands on his knees, breathing hard. But he's happy right now.

Once he stands, he looks at Eddie, smiling, and asks, "Do you want to play croquet next?" 

And Eddie laughs, honest to god laughs, and it makes Steve smile, big and bright. It's a great sound, and he hopes to hear it more often.

"Sure, Your Majesty, we can play croquet," Eddie says, and sends the pages to go find the equipment.

Pads shucked to the side in the grass, Steve watches as Eddie lines up his shot.

"Don't do it, don't even think about it," Steve says, breathing down Eddie's neck, taunting him as he tries to line up his mallet with the croquet ball.

Eddie laughs, and nudges him backwards with his elbow, and then freezes, like he's realized what he's done. Steve just shoves him back a little, hopefully assuring him that it's fine, that he likes this. That this feels normal, at least almost, and that's fucking priceless. To his sanity, to his heart. 

He's homesick for Robin, for America, honestly.

He wants to watch baseball or basketball on TV. He wants to drive his car. He wants a pizza, a burger, or some fried chicken. Anything. He can ask for anything he'd like to eat, and they'll bring it, but it's always a fancy version. They seem to have an aversion to actually just going out and getting him the junk food he's missing.

This has been a huge responsibility to take on, one he doesn't fully understand, with a very steep learning curve. But right now, they are just two guys playing a sport together, for fun.

That he understands, fully.

"This is the most fun I've had since I've gotten here," Steve says, standing next to Eddie as he whacks the ball through the hoop.

"I'm glad to hear that, sir."

Once the game is over, Steve stands there in the grass, happy. He looks at Eddie, "What sport can you teach me next?"

Eddie just laughs, "Polo, I suppose. How do you feel about horses?"

And then it's back to the unfun parts. Steve showers, and throws on the clothes Eddie has laid out for him. And he attends meetings. He has his weekly Audience with the Prime Minister, one-on-one, without Eddie present. They always make him feel nervous that he's going to fuck up.

But it's only twenty minutes. He can do anything for twenty minutes.

Eddie works sports into his tight schedule, and Steve appreciates it. It's not everyday, but it's as often as they can fit it in, and they play and Steve pushes himself. To get better. To have fun. 

To impress Eddie, a little, with the one thing he's been good at here.

 

Steve's having a bad day, and he's had enough, so he pulls a baseball hat over his head, and walks out of the front door. Nobody stops him, but he's pretty sure that's just because they've never had to deal with a Monarch that was trying to escape the way he is. But he's had all of this he can take today.

He doesn't get far down the road, before he realizes he is being followed. He turns and looks, and there's Eddie. So, Steve slows down, stalls, waiting for him to catch up.

"You coming with me, or are you going back to tattle?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles.

"Where are we going, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, falling in step behind him.

"I'm hungry. I want some food, some American food. Something I'm familiar with. No spotted dick, or whatever the fuck that was. Is there something around here that I'll recognize?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods, and then he waits for Steve to start walking again, keeping two paces behind him.

Steve glances back at him, "How did you end up working for the royal family?"

"My family. It's just what we've always done," Eddie says. "My uncle had this position before I did. When he retired, the last King asked for me to step in, to keep with some sort of continuity, I suppose. He'd known me for a long time, since my childhood."

"I'm sorry you lost your friend," Steve says.

Eddie pauses, like nobody has ever said that to him before, "Thank you, sir."

Steve nods, "Well, what would you like to do instead?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him, like he hadn't expected the question.

"Working for the royal family is the highest honor," Eddie says, and Steve laughs.

"Okay, that's bullshit. You don't want to serve people. You don't want to serve me. That's not your dream. What do you want to do? What would make you happy?" Steve presses.

Eddie looks at him, like this might be a trap, even if it really isn't. Steve genuinely wants to know what Eddie likes to do. He wants to know anything Eddie will tell him. Which really, really hasn't been much. He's definitely not very forthcoming about anything personal.

"I like to play music," Eddie finally says. 

"That's cool," Steve says, meaning it, "are you any good?"

"Not bad, I don't think. I play with my friends in a little four piece, when I have the time. The palace requires a lot of my time," Eddie says, and then looks embarrassed. "Not that I'm complaining. I'm happy to be at your service, sir."

"Steve," Steve says, "please, just call me Steve."

"King Steve," Eddie says, and smiles at him, just a little. Steve realizes Eddie's teasing him, and it makes Steve happy. Like they might be friends. Or could be, in time. He definitely needs a friend here.

"Well, that's not the first time I've been called that, so it's an improvement. For sure. But try to work it down to just Steve, in the future. At least while we're alone."

Eddie nods, but he doesn't look like that's going to be something he'll ever do.

They walk a little further, and Eddie stops in front of a Kentucky Fried Chicken. Perfect. 

Eddie ushers him inside, and into a hidden corner booth, before going up to order. When he comes back, he gently puts down the tray, and acts like he's going to start setting everything up, like this is a state dinner. It's definitely not.

"Just sit. Eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie looks uncomfortable.

"That's really not…"

"Does it look like I care, Eddie? Please?" Steve asks, and he pushes a styrofoam plate in his direction, and starts loading it up.

"Are you a breast, leg or thigh man?" Steve asks, and Eddie blushes a pretty pink.

Steve's pretty sure he's not a breast man, and that's more than okay with him. Maybe he can use that in his favor, someday, hopefully.

"Anything is fine, si-"

"Steve," Steve corrects.

"Steve," Eddie whispers, like he might be caught and reprimanded. 

Steve smiles, and puts a couple different pieces on Eddie's plate, then some mashed potatoes. Gravy. A couple biscuits, and looks at Eddie as he pushes it his way.

Eddie is just looking down at it. 

Steve reaches down and picks up his thigh with his hands, and takes a bite.

"Finger lickin' good," he says, and Eddie giggles, as he picks up a piece himself, and takes a bite. It looks awkward, and a little dainty, but it thrills Steve that he's playing along. Getting a little more comfortable with him.

He wants to get to know him, Eddie, the man under the suit. Maybe the man, out of the suit.

On the walk back, Steve looks back at Eddie. 

"Eddie?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him.

"Yes?"

"Was there really nobody else? Is it me…or nothing?" Steve asks, because he's pretty sure he can't do this. Doesn't want to. At least not long-term. Not for his entire life. He's given it a good go, but he's not feeling it, at all.

"Well," Eddie says, drawing out the word, seemingly unsure if he should keep talking. 

"Well, what?" Steve asks, pausing, and pulling Eddie off the sidewalk and into a little hedgerow. They stand there looking at each other.

"There was one other option, but he didn't want to do it, so I kept my mouth shut," Eddie says, looking at the ground.

"So, that guy could say no, but I'm just the schmuck who had to accept this thing? This weight on my shoulders?" Steve asks.

"I didn't know you then. You were just a name, a profile, on paper," Eddie explains, still looking down.

"And you knew the other guy?"

Eddie nods.

"Who is it? Do I know him?"

Eddie looks up, quietly asking Steve if he'll keep this secret, and Steve reluctantly nods.

"My Uncle Wayne," Eddie says, "he's retired, and already he did his duty to the Crown, and didn't want that kind of spotlight trained on him. He just wanted to go on, living his normal life. He didn't ask for it any more than you did."

Steve nods, he understands, even if it doesn't make him feel much better.

"Oh," Steve says, "I understand. I just wish, well, that I'd have been given more of a choice, too. If I said no, they'd have found him, eventually, right?"

Eddie nods, "I'm sorry, sir."

Steve gets it. Unless he wants to make that old, retired man sit on the throne, he's stuck.

"It's okay, Eddie. But I feel alone here, most of the time, so I'd like Robin to move here. Can that happen?"

Eddie shakes his head, looking sad.

"Sir, they're never going to allow you to marry your American girlfriend. It's been a hard enough sell for you."

Steve laughs, pushing his bangs back off of his forehead, "Girlfriend? No way. She's my best friend. Platonic with a capital P, only."

"Oh, well, then, yes. I'm sure we could arrange for that to happen, assuming she'd like to come."

Steve grins, wide. That's the best news he's gotten in weeks.

They start walking again, "Do you live at the palace?" Steve asks.

Eddie chuckles, and shakes his head, "No, sir, I don't live at the palace. It just seems like it."

He's teasing, and it makes Steve smile.

"Where do you live, then?" Steve asks.

"Right around the corner, actually," Eddie says, and Steve stops walking.

"Can we go see it?" Steve asks.

"You want to go to my flat, sir?" Eddie questions.

Steve realizes that was probably rude to invite himself over, "Only if you want me to. You're not obligated, of course."

"I didn't think I was obligated, Steve," Eddie says, "but it might not exactly be tidy. I wasn't expecting a royal to want to visit me at home."

"Do I look like I'm gonna care about that?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles, and redirects them, but still keeps just behind his shoulder. 

Eddie's apartment is nice, and not as messy as he'd sold it as. Steve looks around, at the pictures on the walls. At his guitar on a stand by the couch. Eddie is digging in the fridge and brings him a beer, which Steve takes with enthusiasm. He's been offered wine, and liquor, at the palace, but this is just a regular beer. That he'll be allowed to drink out of the bottle, no glass in sight.

It feels like home, and he twists off the cap, sliding it into his shirt pocket.

Eddie sits next to him on the couch, and they drink, and just make small talk. It feels normal. Cozy. Like he's in someone's home, instead of a museum, and he longs for a place like this to call his own again. He took it for granted back home, and now he misses those days. Misses Robin.

They don't stay long, and just walk back to the palace after they've finished their beers, but it's the best night Steve's had since he's gotten to this country.

"I can't move to London," Robin says across the ocean through the phone, and Steve slumps at his desk. 

"But, I miss you," Steve says, twisting the cord around his fingers.

"Well, you should have thought of that before you packed your shit and ran away to play King," Robin snarks.

She's teasing, but it's true.

"Will you at least come to visit?" he asks, hoping. Begging.

"Of course," she says, "if you're paying."

"I'm paying. I'm the King, you know. Just be aware you'll have to curtsy to me," he teases.

"Yeah, never gonna happen, dingus."

But she agrees, so he puts Eddie on the case to set it all up through his office.

"I want to go to the movies," Steve declares suddenly, and Eddie looks over at him. They're sitting across from each other at a desk, as Steve's going over paperwork from his red box. Signing what he needs to sign, asking Eddie about what he still doesn't understand.

"The movies?" Eddie questions. 

"Yeah, you know, a movie theater?"

"I'll see what I can do, sir," Eddie says, with a smile.

 

That night, Eddie guides him to a secluded room. And it's a private theater. Right in the palace.

"This has been here all along?" Steve asks.

"Well, yes, sir, but it's really for the staff. But I cleared it tonight, for you."

Steve doesn't even care what they watch, he just wants to have some fun.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, settling into one of the chairs. Patting the one beside him for Eddie to sit, and after Eddie's collected a bucket of already prepared popcorn from a table, he does sit, and hands it over to Steve.

They sit side-by-side, watching a movie, sharing the bucket of popcorn, and it feels normal for a couple hours. He could have been on a date, a regular date back home, tonight. 

But it's Eddie, and he can't kiss him at the end of the night, even if he'd like to. This gift from him was more than enough.

Eddie follows him back to his bedroom, and turns down the bed, and Steve stands there, watching him.

"Thanks for tonight, Eddie. I had a lot of fun," Steve says.

"Me too, sir," Eddie answers, "goodnight."

Steve is standing out on the step, bouncing on his feet, nervous. Excited. Robin is on the way, and when they finally pull up with her, she leaps out of the car and runs straight into his arms. Not a curtsy in sight. He catches her and spins her, hugging her tight. He didn't realize it until this very moment, that one of the things he's been missing the most is human touch. None of these people touch him. No friendly hands on a shoulder, or arm.

No reassurance. No checking on his emotional needs. No comforting him. No checking in, at all. He's just supposed to function, as is, all on his own, he supposes.

He's been needing a hug, he realizes, and he buries his face in her neck, and if it's weird, she's going with it.

"I'm so glad you're here. Welcome to my new home," he says, and she grabs his hand, and he lets her pull him into the palace and up the staircase, at a near run. Dodging staffers, who bow to him as he is dragged past them. They clearly disapprove, but he doesn't give a shit. This is the most normal thing he's experienced in weeks.

She pauses at the top of the staircase, but only because she doesn't know where she's going.

He nods to the left, and he's being pulled along again, giving her directions to his bedroom, and once they're inside, she launches herself onto his bed, bouncing.

He smiles, and hops up next to her.

"Holy shit, Steve, look at this place!" she shouts, eyes wide as she looks around.

"I know, right?" he asks, but he's only looking at her. She's the only thing in this whole room that he cares about, that he loves.

That night he wraps his arm over her side, crowding up behind her, and she lets him hold her, "I'm so happy to see you."

"You better not be that kind of happy to see me," she says, contorting to get away from his crotch.

He laughs, laying his head on his pillow, "I'll try to keep it in check."

"You better, dingus."

And dingus sounds like a better, more fitting, title than King ever has, a thousand times over.

He wants to be her dingus, he doesn't want to be the King.

Steve is startled awake in the morning, by Eddie at the foot of his bed.

"Oh, Your Majesty, I do apologize," Eddie says, starting to back away from the bed, "I didn't realize you had company."

Robin looks at him, giving him the once over, "Well, not that kind of company, Jeeves. Let's get that straight."

Steve laughs, and nods, "Definitely not that kind of company, Eddie."

"We're best friends," Robin says.

"Platonic with a capital P," Eddie repeats, "as Your Majesty has said."

"Your Majesty," Robin says with a cackle, rolling towards him, and he slaps her on the arm, and it just makes her laugh harder. "King Dingus."

"He hasn't picked a regnal name yet, so perhaps that could be an option?" Eddie says, and Steve can't believe it. It's the funniest thing Eddie's ever said in Steve's presence, by far.

Steve laughs, throwing his head back, melting into the bed again.

Eddie just looks confused, and a little alarmed. But he still draws back the curtains, and brings Steve and Robin in a wheeled cart full of breakfast and coffee.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says.

"Sir, madam," Eddie says, and he bows his head at the neck, and then he's gone.

As soon as the door closes, Robin slugs Steve in the arm, "You have a crush on Jeeves!"

Steve doesn't even try to deny it, just smiles, "Yeah, that's Eddie."

Robin stays two weeks, and then she goes back home to their real life. And Steve's agitated. He misses her. He should have gone home with her. 

Eddie comes in carrying a large, heavy by the look of it, cardboard box. Great, now what?

"What's that?" Steve asks, standing to go take a look as Eddie places it down on the table.

"Your hairspray, Your Majesty," Eddie says, opening the flaps, "I'm sorry it took so long. I had to convince Unilever to engage in a short, private production run, just for you, sir."

"No fucking way," Steve says, reaching in to pick up a can, and it's really it. 

He grabs Eddie and hugs him, shaking him around, and Eddie is just a ragdoll in his arms, but Steve could kiss him, he's so happy.

"Thank you, Eddie, you're now my favorite person. Robin, who?" he teases, immediately taking a can to the bathroom.

Eddie follows, and watches him as he sprays it on his hair and tries to style it, even though it's not wet. 

"Just wait until tomorrow, I'll look so damn good," Steve says, and he meets Eddie's eyes in the mirror, and Eddie's blushing.

"I'm sure you will, sir," Eddie says, and Steve can feel it between them. The sexual tension. The attraction. He's not sure how to do anything about it, if he even can.

But he wants to, and it's nice to have that feeling again. About anyone. And he's happy it's Eddie that's making him feel like this, because he really likes him a lot.

"Can we go swimming today?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at the schedule, and nods. 

"I think we can fit that in this evening, if you'd like, sir," Eddie answers.

"Yes, please," Steve says. 

That evening, they walk down to the private pool and Eddie stands there while Steve strips off his shirt.

"Aren't you coming in?" Steve asks. He's assumed Eddie would. It's a sport, and that's one of the few things they do together, as almost equals.

"Sir?" Eddie questions.

"C'mon, get in!" Steve shouts, laughing, splashing water towards Eddie, which Eddie dodges easily. But Eddie nods. Disappearing into one of the locker rooms.

Steve's taking bets with himself, if Eddie will be in one of those silly old-fashioned, striped swim costumes with shoulder straps when he comes back.

He's not.

He's just wearing a pair of basic black trunks, and Steve can't help it as his eyes rake over Eddie's pale, exposed skin.

Steve's not sure he's even seen Eddie's forearms, let alone is his bare chest. He has a tattoo. More than one, it looks like, and Steve grins. Fully enjoying the view. Maybe he's not as buttoned-up as he appears on the surface.

Eddie comes down the steps and pushes off, and swims towards Steve.

"What now, sir?" Eddie asks, treading water. 

"I was thinking about laps, but anything would be good with me," Steve says. As long as he's with Eddie, he's in.

And they fall into lane lines, and Steve breathes to his left so he can see Eddie, and for once, they are side-by-side, equals. They both do a flip-turn and push off, resurfacing together. Steve smiles, and keeps kicking.

He feels normal, here, now. Swimming. His teammate beside him. And Eddie is his teammate, maybe the only one he has in this place. He's surrounded by people, but he feels like Eddie is the only one that ever actually sees him.

And he's happy as they swim, together, until they are both struggling to breathe, clinging to the side of the pool. Steve rests his head on his arms, and feels good. Really, really good.

His happiness doesn't last long. 

The next morning, Gareth comes into his office, with four or five other staffers trailing behind him.

"Your Majesty, we'd like to discuss taking the first steps towards the wedding," Gareth says.

"Whose wedding?" Steve asks.

"Yours, sir," Gareth says, and Steve sees red. He knew they were scheming to set him up on dates with various available women, but this is too far. He'll be the King, but marrying a stranger isn't happening.

"I'm not getting married!" Steve snaps as he storms out, turning to hold his hand up, giving the universal motion to stop, demanding that they not follow.

Steve only wants to find Eddie.

Eddie is walking down the hallway, and Steve accosts him. 

"This is too far, you can't tell me who to marry, Eddie!" Steve yells, and Eddie quickly grabs him by the arm, and pulls him into Steve's bedroom, and shuts the door behind them. Locking them inside.

"Your Majesty, please, it's for the good of the country. To protect your bloodline, your birthright. You're the last. You need to marry, and produce heirs. That's just how it's done."

"I'm not the last and you know it!" Steve screams.

"Please," Eddie says softly, like he's trying to tame Steve, "please consider doing this. It's the right thing to do."

Steve crosses his arms across his chest, "Absolutely not."

"Sir, please," Eddie says.

"Stop calling me sir, if you're gonna fuck me over, at least use my name, for god's sake."

"Steve," Eddie says, "we aren't doing this to hurt you."

"Well, it sure feels like you are. What about love? What about who I love?" Steve asks, his voice softer.

"Love must be subordinated for the good of the monarchy, Steve," Eddie says, his voice softer now, too.

Eddie has called him Steve, here, and Steve can't even be happy about it.

"No. No way. No, no, no."

"Princess Caroline is a perfectly acceptable choice. You need to do this."

"You're serious?" Steve snaps.

"Yes!" Eddie snaps back.

"I won't, I'm not marrying someone I don't love!" Steve assures loudly, and he means that. They can't make him. "This place is terrible, this job, it's bullshit! It's all bullshit! I'd rather be selling hot dogs, or ice cream, than to be locked up here in this gilded cage! At least at home my choices were my own and I could fuck up my life any damn way I saw fit!" Steve screams. 

"Steve," Eddie says, scrubbing his hands over his face and Steve's never seen him this undone, "Why? Why are you fighting this? This is just how things are done."

"You know why," Steve says, crossing the room and closing the space between them.

"I don't…that's not…" Eddie mutters, looking anywhere but at Steve.

"Eddie," Steve says, taking him by the shoulders, "look at me."

Eddie does, reluctantly.

"I can't marry Princess Caroline, because I love you."

Eddie's face falls, like he's just been given terrible news, and Steve's stomach drops. He's miscalculated this, all of this, and immediately lets go of him. They haven't been flirting, they haven't been anything to each other. Steve has misinterpreted their whole thing.

He feels sick.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Steve says, taking a step back, "I shouldn't have said that to you. Please, don't-"

But his words are cut off, when Eddie is suddenly moving towards him, and finally, finally presses his lips to Steve's.

Steve reaches his hand up, and cups the back of Eddie's head. It's better than he'd even fantasized about. He kisses him, over and over, holding him. Finally touching him in all the ways he's longed to, for months.

"Eddie," Steve breathes out, once they've separated, and Eddie just smiles at him and takes him by the hand, leading him towards the truly outlandish bed. He hadn't dreamed this is where the day would end up, even if he'd dared to hope. 

Eddie pushes Steve onto his back on the bed, and the dynamic has shifted in a way that Steve loves. Yes, please. More of this. He watches as Eddie pulls off his jacket, his tie, and unbuttons his dress shirt.

It's the best strip tease Steve's witnessed in his whole life.

And when Eddie crawls on top of him, in just his underwear, Steve laughs and wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him close. Pressing kisses to his shoulder, his chest, anywhere he can reach.

After, Steve brushes his hand through Eddie's hair, holding him, as they lay together. Eddie's legs are tangled with his, and they're comfortable here, together. 

"I need to quit," Steve says, softly.

"I know you do," Eddie answers, pressing his lips to Steve's chest.

"Will your uncle take over? If I do?" Steve asks.

"I'll talk to him," Eddie assures.

"Will you go with me when I leave? Or will you need to stay with him?" Steve asks.

"At first, I'll feel I'm obligated to stay," Eddie says, "he's my uncle. He raised me. But after he gets settled, perhaps."

Perhaps isn't a no, so Steve takes that as good news, and just pulls him closer while he has the chance.

"Maybe, you'd like to settle in with me here at my flat, for a stretch. Before you go home," Eddie suggests and Steve nods. Absolutely. Yes, to that. Please.

Eddie and his speechwriters help him perfect his abdication speech, and write his Instrument of Abdication letter. Wayne Munson, at his side. Stoic and quiet, but willing now, to accept this responsibility. 

Steve signs it, and Eddie, Gareth, Goodwin and Williams all sign as witnesses to his signature. 

And it's done, basically.

"You boys do realize I have no children, so this might come right back to you, after I'm gone," Wayne says softly.

And Steve and Eddie both nod. They know. But they appreciate this time Wayne's given them, to live and love. It's a gift, because he loves Eddie and wants him to be happy. Steve knows that, and he won't take it for granted. Not ever.

In a few days time, he's standing before Parliament, something he's never had to do, before now.

"My Lords and Members of the House of Commons, I know it is unusual for a King to address you in this manner, but I have some things I'd like to say, that I'd like for you to hear them in person, from me," he starts, before going on to apologize for being too set in his ways, too American for this duty. But he explains that there is another heir, an English one, also born into the House of Wyndam-Pryce. He tells them that it was discovered after Steve had assumed the throne, but now that he knows, he feels it only right to step down. He introduces Wayne, and turns over the Crown, happily.

As soon as he steps back from the podium, he feels like the weight of the world has left his shoulders. He walks out into the sunshine and smiles, closing his eyes, tilting his head towards the sky. 

He's a free man, once again. 

Eddie is waiting, and takes his hand, and finally, for once, Eddie steps out ahead of him, leading the way.

There are lots of people standing around watching him pack, and Steve looks around, "Are they scared I'm going to steal something?"

Eddie laughs, "Well, maybe. You can't take anything that belongs to the Crown."

"I only want to take one thing with me," Steve says, smiling.

Eddie grins, lowering his voice, "Me?"

"Okay, well, two things," Steve teases, and Eddie cocks his head, curious.

Steve walks down the staircase, carrying the giant cardboard box of hairspray. Eddie holds the door open for him, and then helps him put it in the trunk. Technically, it belongs to the Crown, but Steve is sure they'll never miss it. If Wayne wants him beheaded for taking it, bring it on. The man hardly has any hair at all left, so he definitely doesn't have a pressing need for hairspray.

"So, how was it to be King?" Eddie asks, settling into the back of the town car beside him.

"Well, I met you and I got a lifetime supply of my favorite hairspray, so pretty good, overall," Steve teases, and reaches over and takes Eddie's hand, looking at the window as the palace grows smaller in the distance behind them.

He's not the King, not anymore. 

But he's Eddie's boyfriend, his partner, and he's pretty sure that's a way more important role for him to try and fill.

Notes: This originally started for Steddie Holiday Drabbles, but the length got away from me. And then really got away from me. I couldn't condense this into 1000 words, it seems. So, I did something different for that Royalty AU and used this one here.

Royalty isn't really in my wheelhouse, but King Ralph popped into my head, and made me cackle. Sure, I'll make American Steve an unlikely King. No problem.

I'm sure Eddie had the job of about a dozen men, here. Go with it.

Also? John Goodman is a damn delight. Nobody could deliver the "dick of what?" line better than that, though I had Steve try.

Wienerlicious was from the show Chuck.

House of Wyndam-Pryce is a Buffy joke. That's Wesley's last name, and Wyndham was the fictional name in King Ralph. So it seemed fitting.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

#steddiemas #hallmark movie tropes #royalty au #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #king steve #platonic stobin #stranger things fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemas

[deandoesthingstome]

Hall Pass - Epilogue

You Better Lock Your Phone

Paring: Henry Cavill x Reader (RPF)

Series Summary: You run into Henry Cavill at the start of a two-week house-sitting vacation. You had some previous plans. Some were ruined by your now ex-boyfriend. Some were made better. Guess by whom?

Series Warning and A/Ns: Check out the Masterlist

Playlist: I will add to Spotify with each chapter. The last two songs are for this epilogue, especially Billie Bossa Nova - Billie Eilish

Word Count: 2.3K - This is well and truly it. Hope you love it!

Bonus: I'm headed back to the scene of the crime this weekend! Yay, me!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Over the next ten days, you and Henry took every opportunity to enjoy each other, over and over again.

Sometimes it was lazy and slow and sensual in the early mornings. After, he would slide on a pair of pajama bottoms, which he actually did own, and pad out to the kitchen to make coffee. When you finally emerged from the room, freshly showered and clothed in a comparably comfortable pair of loose sleep bottoms and a thin, comfy cardigan, you’d approach him and slide a hand over his shoulder from behind and down his unclothed chest while you bent to kiss his mouth as hard as you had the night before. Then you’d take your coffee and sit across the table from him, looking out the picture window to the wintry field behind the home, book in hand. As you read, the deep vee front of your cardigan would loosen and the fabric would fall off your otherwise bare shoulder.

Henry would take notice and comment and tell you how pretty you looked bathed in the morning sun. He’d ask to take your picture and you’d oblige, offering him a shy smile, a goofy smile, a wide smile, a genuine smile filled with a hint of sadness.

He’d pause, staring at the photos on his phone, then swallow hard and put it away. He’d scoot the leather wingback chair away from the craft table and reach for you, drawing you close to him with one wrist clasped in his large but gentle hand. 

With the other hand he’d guide you into his lap, sometimes sideways so he could curl you into him and breathe in your scent while he held you so tight and rocked the notion away. Sometimes, facing him and straddling his wide thighs so he could drag your hips in close, roll up into you, get you off kilter so you’d pitch forward enough for him to catch your lips with his, always with the right amount of cushion so you didn’t bump teeth or noses against one another before he held you rapt with his lips.

But the best was when he’d drag you to him and set you on his lap facing away from him. He’d snake his hand around your waist and up into your sweater, hand cupping your breast and pulling you tight to his chest. He’d get you so hot, get you grinding against him, get you needy for him.

It was easy for him to lift you to your feet so he could drag your pj’s down and coax you out of them before he set you back on his lap, though not before he also shuffled his own pants down. He’d pull out the condom he’d tucked in the pocket on the off chance you’d be up for another round so soon after the morning session. But you were, always, and when he slipped you around him your moan was for anything but pain.

It was for the incredibly satisfying feeling of fullness, or the way he moved in and out of you, or the way he held you close with a grip that said he never wanted to let go.

When you weren’t fucking, you might be out riding. Caleb had watched Henry saddle Telly. When his technique was approved, Henry received permission for the two of you to take the horses out whenever you wanted since you could now saddle them without Caleb.

You took Henry on the rest of the paths around the property, always heading off in a different direction each time and always winding up at the hot spring every time. Sometimes with a thermos of hot chocolate, sometimes with another bottle of champagne, sometimes with something a little stronger, but usually always with the willpower to stop before you went too far. 

No matter which way you came, you always trotted back on the shortest route possible, Kal bouncing along beside you. Once the horses were back in their natural state, you would head inside to shower and make love again.

You absolutely made yourself stay away from Henry every now and again, though, determined to give him time to actually concentrate on what he came here for in the first place. The model was coming along nicely as you found time to sneak in a quick yoga practice or meditation, perhaps a nap snuggled up with Kal, who never had a problem leaving his father’s side in favor of your company.

Sometimes you’d step back into the great room and be struck by his presence, the goofy or concentrated look on his face, and you’d call his name and silently ask for permission to snap a photo or two as well.

You made sure to get decent photos of him around the property, too. Tending to the horses, attacked by goats, out walking in the fresh snow, perched on his incredibly photogenic ass at the top of the front porch steps, legs spread wide and elbows resting on his knees as he begged you with his eyes to come to him, before he voiced his need.

“Just put the phone down already and come here.”

You turned off the screen and slipped the phone into your back pocket and went to him because why would you ever say no to Henry?

He’d stand up and hold your hand while you climbed the stairs together and went back into the house, sometimes to fuck like rabbits and sometimes to just hold each other tight.

On your second Wednesday at the farm, your actual birthday, you called the local lodge restaurant and asked what the occupancy was like. The hostess laughed in your ear.

“It’s Wednesday in the middle of winter. There is literally no one here. You can have your pick of the tables.”

When you hung up the phone, Henry was waiting with your coat.

“Please, I hope you know that simply because you secured the reservation, that doesn’t mean that I’m not going to take charge of the rest of the evening, including helping you on with your coat and walking you out to my rental because I’m not letting you drive us on this date.”

“Henry, calm down. Of course you can drive. I only offered because I know the roads around here, but I'm happy to give you oral … directions! Get your mind out of the gutter!” you laughed as he raised his eyebrow at you again, with the largest shit-eating grin you’d seen yet. “I’m happy to give you verbal directions to the restaurant.”

You didn’t miss the way he muttered under his breath he’d take the oral, too.

He’d been the perfect gentleman all evening, opening your door for you and helping you out of the SUV. He asked what you were having and if it would be okay if he ordered for you. 

“This time, sure.” You smiled at him, hoping he didn’t pick up on that Freudian slip. As if there would ever be a next time.

You spent the next few hours eating and chatting and laughing till you cried. After dessert, Henry allowed the staff to take a few photos with a promise they’d wait until Saturday to post them on social media.

It dawned on you in the car on the way home, why Saturday.

“Don’t think about it,” Henry called to you from all the way across the car. “Come back to me, come back to us here and now.”

You turned your face away from the window and looked at him as you wiped the tears and gave him the smile he wanted from you. You wanted it, too. Wanted to keep this night special. Keep the focus on only what you’d done with him today already and what you were going to do with him tonight. Ignore the fact that it will all be over soon.

“There’s my girl,” he smiled at you. “Now, am I turning left or right up ahead? I’m completely turned around here”

You laughed and wondered at how he managed yet again to finagle you out of whatever funk threatened to derail your nothing but pure enjoyment of the two weeks together.

There was never a time when your clumsiness as you tried to undress one another and still keep your mouths mashed together didn’t end up with one or both of you laughing your asses off on the ground. That’s why when Henry wanted to fuck you in all sincerity, with no jokes or silliness to detract from the way you felt about each other, he’d simply force you to stand still while he undressed you and kissed every inch of your body.

He’d lay with you on the bed and hold you close as he kissed your mouth deep. He’d roll you to your back and hover over you, dragging a palm down your body and slipping a long finger or two deep inside your folds. He’d get you rocking into the palm of his hand and begging, begging for more.

It was after he’d let you up so you could suck on his cock for a bit, and after he’d dragged you to the edge of the bed with your legs hanging over and your ass just in the air so he could eat your pussy for a bit before he flipped you over and entered you from behind and made you come screaming his name, that he’d asked you if he could take another picture.

“Now?” you asked.

“Right now. With you looking like that, all fucked out and drunk on my cock. You can pull the sheet up if you want, here…” he leaned forward to drape the cloth over your hip and your breast, letting you tuck it in a way that he could see your leg and arm, but nothing truly untoward. “Like that. Just unbelievably gorgeous. Okay?”

You agreed and let him snap a few shots. He even suggested a few poses and when he showed you the finished results you couldn’t believe your eyes.

“That is not me! Who is that? Whose photo did you just pull up?”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Look at you. You’re gorgeous. Your smile reaches all the way to your eyes. It tells me you’ve never been happier. I love that for you.”

“So you really are a photographer, huh?”

Henry laughed wholeheartedly again. “Right, yes. Seriously, though. I’ve been in front of the camera for years. You don’t think I’ve picked up on a few tricks of the trade?”

“Thank you, Henry. Thank you for showing these to me.”

“I’ll send them, don’t worry. And this is just me showing you yourself.”

When your friends showed up on Friday, you introduced them to Henry and they convinced him to stay one more night. Friday night was so much fun, that Henry stayed Saturday night, too. As he was getting packed and ready to leave Sunday, he reached for you as you were packing also.

“Come with me.”

“What?” you asked, certain you didn’t hear what you thought you did as you allowed yourself to be pulled into his arms.

“Put these bags in my car and come with me. For a few more days. Somewhere else, somewhere private again.”

“What for?”

“So we can actually talk. I shouldn’t have kept us from talking about it the whole time. I only wanted to make sure we enjoyed it as much as we could. But that was silly, because I missed the opportunity to tell you sooner that I think I might be falling for you and I want the same to be true for you. Are you falling for me?”

“Yes,” you whispered, wanting to pinch yourself. “Yes of course I’m falling for you. I’m sorry, I also should have said something. I was so scared, this is, like, really soon.”

“We can still take this slow, but those restaurant photos are already online, and I'd be surprised if people haven't already come looking. And not that those kids know to point to you here right away, but there is bound to be increased interest in the area for a bit and I think it just best if we stay away while we figure out what we want to tell them when they finally do come knocking.”

“You’re seriously asking me to start a relationship with you?”

“Well, continue one, yes. Please.” The look on his face was nothing but serious.

“But my life…”

“Here, yes, I know. That’s exactly what we need to talk about. I’ll do whatever you want, but you have to know if you decide to stay here so that we are forced to be long distance at the very beginning of our relationship, it may make things difficult for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Reporters, paparazzi, crazed fans, whatever you can think of. I could hire someone to help keep folks away. You'd be welcome to go wherever you want, though you’ll probably find you won’t want to.”

“My job? I mean, it’s pretty much remote anyway. I’m sure I could do it from anywhere, but my apartment, my belongings…”

“All things I want to spend time sorting out with you as well as just spending more time together. Kal will also probably never forgive me if I let you just go, which is why I’m suggesting you come with me so we can figure out how and when we want to make this public. I want to keep the craziness away from you until you feel you’re ready.” He paused for a bit of dramatic effect. “As well as have you in my bed.”

“Henry, you are incorrigible!” you laughed and tumbled into his arms.

“Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes,” Henry begged, with a hint of a laugh that gave you pause.

“Oh my god, Henry!” you shouted. “Did I say that out loud?” 

“I really kept up a good facade on that one, didn’t I?” he laughed and you knew this was your man forever now.

Tags:

@littlegreenplasticsoldier- you opened this floodgate. Sorry.

Anything: @mayloma @fvckinghenrycavill @geralts-yenn @sillyrabbit81 @kittenofdoomage @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @aireraume @kebabgirl67 @marantha @sweetdreamsofgelato @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @dedicated-to-mr-cavill @alexakeyloveloki @feelmyroarrrr @raccoon-eyed-rebel @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @kingliam2019 @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka

Hall Pass: (askers and likers, though if you liked the teaser post and you aren’t here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you)  @crymeariversworld @tess-lecter-blog @codykosuckmytoe @casadutti @fefa-la-printcessa @kaylamontaniz @kemillyfreitas​ @urmom3sposts​ @alicasalime​ @florxdexcerezo​ @lothbrokcore​ @straightforwardly @fuzzyugly-blog @livesinfantasyland @thereisa8ella @coldmooninthedark @12dilucswife @ms-angiealsina @7eamfan7asy @band-of-brothers-memes @ms-betsy-fangirl @cavillsslut @henryownsme @hawklin @yoongskook

#henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #hall pass #mine #deandoesthingstome

[valeriianz]

Funk-Inflicted | G | pure marshmallow fluff | musician Hob |

------------------

Hob takes the stairs up to his apartment, smiling broadly and hefting his messenger bag a little higher up his shoulder. He’d gotten out of work early and he knew today was Dream’s day off, so he was eager to surprise him and spend the evening together.

As he gets to their floor, he hears music playing loud enough in one of the surrounding apartments to be heard– muffled– down the hallway. Hob’s ears perk at the familiar sound of trumpets blaring and a funky bass tune accompanying it.

A slow grin spreads across his face as he gets to Dream and his shared apartment, the source of the music discovered.

Hob slips his key into the lock and slowly pushes the door open, peeking his head inside and slowly stepping through the threshold. And what he sees nearly makes him fall sideways.

Dream is dancing to the music. Well, he’s trying to. Mostly he’s tossing his head from side to side as he sways with the broom in his hands akin to something Hob has seen in an 80s film.

Hob looks around briefly, noticing the spotless living room. Clearly he’d caught Dream going on a cleaning binge, but had gotten distracted while he swept. But it was obvious barely any sweeping was happening at all, if the way Dream began to shake his ass was any indication.

Hob’s heart fluttered in his chest, crossing his arms and fully relaxing against the wall, watching Dream move and getting lost in the music. Dream was always a vision, effortlessly beautiful, but also prideful, serious, only ever loosening up when he was alone with Hob. And so seeing him like this, defenses down, twisting the broom in his hands like a tango partner, nearly made Hob laugh with joy. Hob was in love with the goofiest contradiction on the planet.

Dream brings the broom handle towards his mouth like a microphone and parts his lips to sing along to the chorus as it comes up,

“Why, it's a pleasure to meet ya You look like one incredible creature…”

Hob bites his lip to keep from laughing. Dream was singing to Hob’s music. His lyrics. Singing along to a song Hob had written after the night they’d first met.

“Wanna treat you fine, let's dance and grind Get so funk-inflicted, it's a crime…”

Hob’s huge smile simmered down as he took a deep breath through his nose, filling his chest, remembering how Dream had looked that night, standing in the crowd, the only person in the dingy club not dancing. But staring up at Hob like they were the only people in the room.

“You're divine you're sublime and well you blow my mind, ay– AH! Jesus Christ Hob–!!”

Dream had finally spotted him, stumbling backwards and eyes blown wide in shock.

Hob finally allowed the laugh that he’d been keeping down to fill his lungs and flood past his lips, his arms tightening around his middle and tipping forward with it.

“Fuck! Stop laughing at me!” Dream screeched, a deep shade of pink blooming on his neck and ears as he dropped the broom and ran to turn the music down. “Why are you home so early??”

Hob got himself under control, wiping the corners of his eyes as he finally dropped his bag and approached Dream.

“They let me out early. And I wasn’t laughing at you,” Hob said, his smile still wide and goofy as he took Dream by the hand and pulled him forward.

“Sure sounded like laughter,” Dream muttered, petulant now, unable to meet Hob’s eyes.

Hob hummed, vaguely paying attention to the progression of the music playing at a more reasonable level around them.

“I laughed because I’m happy.” Hob brought both of his hands around Dream’s face and encouraged him to meet his gaze. “You make me so happy,” he gave Dream a quick kiss on the lips. “You make me laugh,” another kiss. Hob could feel the tension slowly melt away as Dream kissed back. “And seeing you sing and dance to a song I wrote about you is a little surreal…”

Dream swallowed, slowly opening his eyes as Hob pulled away to slide his hands down Dream’s shoulders, arms, taking his hands. Hob raises one brow and grins again as he sings along to the upcoming verse.

“Well alright, he ignites when we hit the floor…” 

Hob steps from side to side, encouraging Dream to move again, who only laughs gently, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling, but he acquiesces anyway, smiling easily.

“... Like the vroom on a super Commodore…”

Hob swaps his hold on Dream’s hands for his waist and Dream follows along, wrapping his arms around Hob’s neck and allowing himself to be swayed.

“...Now if it makes a good story, well it's just worthwhile With him is like dealing stories in a sprinkler style…”

Dream snorts and Hob spins them, unable to not wear his heart on his sleeve, eyes focused only on the vision before him, and finally crooning one more line before leaning in for a proper kiss.

“You’re so sly.”

-----------------------

the song Dream is dancing to (and yes, TCE is totally Hob's band)

#dreamling #hob x dream #i have a lot of thoughts about this au lol #and might havta come back to it #Hob singing to Dream is my weakness dont judge #my writing #musician hob au

[crossovershipstournament]

FINALS: Max Goof (Disney)/Yakko Warner (Animaniacs) VS Huey Duck (Ducktales 2017)/Wakko Warner (Animaniacs)

Propaganda for Max Goof/Yakko Warner:

I just like them. I think its cute. Romeo and juliet vibes because theyre from different studios, Disney vs warner brothers. They're both funny, dorky guys, and they bring out the best in each other. Plus only child vs overworked older child turned parent is a really good dynamic too.

YAX SWEEP

#YAX SWEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!

#yakko x max opened my third eye #this needs to be a thing

Cameo of Max's VA expressing approval of the ship~!

#YAX SWEEP #LETS GOOO

#yax propagandists ASSEMBLE

#yax sweep #they deserve it

Ok I keep forgetting to submit my own Yax propoganga but I have put so much thought into them.

They have the same sense of humor, we literally see them tell almost identical jokes. They’re both such dramatic showoffs and they both are schemers, they're both the brains of their group (friends v family)

They’re complimentary.

They’re foils.

Beause Yakko isn’t as open with his emotions, he’s more sarcasti. But Max has been truthful about what he feels since Goof Troop. It's there on the surface and he communicates and understands in ways that would be SO good for Yakko. They're two sides of the same coin. They are opposites but they support each others weaknesses. Yakko wants so badly to make people laugh, and it’s so important to him to do so. His self worth is connected to it, but Max doesn’t like his laugh and suppresses it. It practically writes itself. So yeah, there’s all the fun WB/Disney forbidden lovers, but it works off a dynamic that would already work really well. That's why I like them so much

YAX!!!! COME ON GUYS!!!!!! What is love if not filling the other person in smiles and laughter? What is love if not being the best of friends first, the perfect duo. Partners in crime that egg each other on!!! Yakko and Max deserve a kind ending, vite yax!!!!!!! Also, through Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Yakko and Max exist within the same universe. They're so close. It's not a stretch to see them interact and understand each other. They deserve this!!!!!!!!!!!

YAX SWEEP! COME ON LETS GO

#we need the brother battle! #animaniacs #yax

Go vote for Yax I am begging yall. Two snarky teenage boys who care so much about what other people think about them, finding acceptance and joy in their shared humor, and new family in the people their companies warned them about?

Like, from Dot and Wakko's side, moving away from Yakko and his boyfriend for a moment.

Dot and Wakko need someone to be friends with outside of themselves. They need familiarity and kindness.

Who better to open the Warner's to a kinder life, than a toon from a company all about the power of familial and romantic love? The themes that surround Max and Goofy, as well as many other Disney's, are exactly the kind of thing that those kids need the most.

Yakko being happy is a the first part, but having the Warners brought into the family by Goofy Goof, the man with so much understanding and love to give, who GETS kids, and has always let Max be a kid and help him through it, his appearance through Yakko amd Max knowing each other gives the Warners a positive adult figure in their lives who will be there to support them instead of criticize them for being "too much".

Yax isn't JUST about Yakko and Max, it's about the connections these kids make that starts with the eldest opening himself up. It's about learning the world around them isn't just filled with people who want them locked up.

The world is also filled with people who embrace their weirdness and energy, and who will guide them. Even if you just like yax as friends, you have to see the potential there is for all of them

The Warners and the Goofs, to have lives grow richer.

And more, with them being from seperate companies, their worldview would be able to grow to incorporate new ideas and thoughts. The Warners aren't very open with their emotions, so a father son duo who have always been open and communicative would be able to show them the benefits of doing so themselves.

Plus, watching the Warner Siblings wreak havoc with a smile, hurting no innocents, would be exactly the type of thing to make Max smile.

He could help do smaller damage control if need be as well, he's been accounting for his and his Dad's Goof Luck since he was born, and for the fallout of his own insane schemes. Adding in the brilliant and mischievous mind of Max Goof to the minds of our puppy children trio is golden.

They deserve each other, deserve kindness and acceptance. ALL of these kids do. And every single one of them get that through Yax.

#they mean everything to me #and if they make it to the finals i will cry literal tears #GO VOTE FOR YAX ‼️‼️

#YAX SWEEP LETS GOOO

#COME ON YAXXERS!!! #VOTE FOR YAX!!!

#GO VOTE FOR YAX ‼️‼️ #LET'S GOOO #YAX SWEEEEEEPPP

votee for the yaaaaxxxx

#CMON GUYS VOTE YAX #YAX SWEEP

#yax nation needs to win #go vote!

Propaganda for Huey Duck/Wakko Warner:

Huey and Wakko are classic opposite attrack characters, while also touches of "you're drawn to people who remind you of your family" thrown in. They're both very autistic coded characters (because their shows are cowards and refuse to say the word) but in opposite ways. Wakko is very outside of the norm where as Huey holds himself to a strict set of rules. While Huey adds a bit of routine to Wakko's life, Wakko encourages Huey to cut back, go outside of his comfort zone at his own pace and also relax a little. Wakko reminds Huey of both his siblings, excitable and dramatic like Dewey, and laid back (compared to his siblings) and mischevious like Louie, where as Huey reminds Wakko of his own siblings. A bit more uptight and bratty like Dot, and intelligent and encouraging like Yakko. They also bring out different sides of each other, Wakko can be gross and messy and Huey somehow finds it charming, and Huey can help Wakko see that he's intelligent and creative in his own ways rather than being outshined by his own siblings. They both also have anger issues, and Wakko would be great at helping Huey to feel his anger rather than always keeping it hidden away. He makes Huey feel seen and heard and taken care of because Huey doesn't have to be the Older BrotherTM around Wakko. Basically just opposites attract autistic kids who help each other come into one another.

#yall need to vote for my baby angels #wakko/huey sweep #please #they deserve it #their shows treated them awfully

#MY BABIES VOTE WAKKO/HUEY YOU LEGALLY HAVE TO ITS MY BIRTHDAY

#HUEY WAKKO SWEEP YOU LITERALLY HAVE TO VOTE THE BABIES

VOTE HUEY/WAKKO PLS PLS PLS MY DARLINGS MY BABIES MY LIL GUYS

ALSO IF WAKKO AND HUEY WIN THEYLL GO UP AFAINST YAKKO AND MAX WHICH IS VERY FUNNY

And if they win I’ll release never before seem Huey/Wakko art that I’ve drawn

#CMON GUYSSSSS #WE CAN DO THIS#HUEKKO SWEEP #WE STILL HAVE 2 HOURS #we need the brothers to battle

Please vote for Wakko/Huey! They need each other to help balance each other out and to grow as people! They are so cute together.

(Also want to see a brother vs brother to figure out who has the most heartwarming relationship,but that's secondary to this)

#hey if you guys love me you'll vote for wakko and huey thanks

#VOTE HUEKKO #WE NEED THE BROTHERS TO BATTLE

#if u vote Wakko/Huey I will draw whatever request you want this is my promise to you

Art Credit: Max/Yakko art by @/doodle-poofes Huey/Wakko art by @/justadoll and @/krillconnessieur

#Crossover Ships Tournament #Poll Tournament #Huey Duck #Ducktales #Ducktales 2017 #Wakko Warner #Animaniacs #Max Goof #Goof Troop #A Goofy Movie #Yakko Warner #YOU GUYS ASKED FOR A BROTHER FIGHT FOR THE FINALE #WELL YOU'RE GETTING ONE~!

[tickletastic]

Fear Toxin, Love, and Other Sh*tty Drugs

Fandom: DC

Ship: JayRoy

Warnings: canon typical violence, panic attacks (sort of- after effects of fear toxin?)

Summary: Jason and Roy have a rough night out on patrol in Gotham, nothing goes as planned, and an Arkham breakout is just the cherry on top. (not a whole lot of tickling, i got carried away, cross posted to my AO3 bc I planned a second, non-tickly chapter)

The streets of Gotham had not been kind last night.

The previous night started just as expected, a crime syndicate carelessly offloading giant tin shipping containers of the world’s most dangerous weapons, a plan in the works for them to leave them in crime alley, to leave them with the most desperate people in the city and watch Gotham crumble. It was a kid that had tipped Jason off, just some kid with a shitbag dad who thought Jason could save them, thought Jason could save anyone. Jason found out the rest from some of his undercover contacts, who sounded nearly afraid when discussing the kinds of weapons that would soon reach Gotham’s streets. 

Jason was now waiting, impatient and annoyed, on the corner of a tall building, waiting for the right time to jump into action. The building used to have some mom and pop restaurant on the main floor, one that Jason would frequent after long nights of patrol, when he couldn’t drag his body any further. Apartments were above, but they had been condemned at some point after the restaurant closed down. Now, Jason has a safehouse set up in one of the old rooms, and, though he’d never admit it, he uses Wayne funds to stock the old restaurant with frozen pizzas, chips, mac n cheese, and other snacks for the kids that wander by, hoping that they’ll find food somewhere like this. 

Roy is at his back, eating greasy chips from a tupperware container. Jason had insisted that Roy didn’t need a patrol snack, but, after caving in, he made sure, at least, that the snack wouldn’t be so loud. If it weren’t for Roy, Jason would’ve lunged into the action by now, not caring if the syndicate dealt him a broken leg or a dislocated jaw while he took down enough of them to get the weapons somewhere far from here. Roy had always been the patient one, and he manages to keep Jason’s irritability at a low by talking about some book he wanted to read.

The crimes are cresting, the final load now on Gotham’s dock, a sound of trucks in the distance. Now would be the best time, Roy can see every opportunity laid out in front of him, but then Oracle’s voice is ringing out over the comms, panicked and urgent, announcing that tonight, some random fucking night that was just supposed to involve stopping petty robberies and killing a syndicate boss, was the seemingly biannual Arkham breakout. 

Roy and Jason are caught in a heated, whispered debate, Jason thinking they should strike before some goofy D list villain can come interrupt them, but Roy thinks it’s too unpredictable now, that they should return the following week, when Jason knows the syndicate planned to do inventory of their new stash. Jason stands up, Roy grabbing him by the leg of his pants, just as Oracle makes another announcement, the silence between Roy and Jason so tense that it could be broken in half. Roy’s heart started to beat faster, his palms suddenly sweaty where he gripped his bow, the world around them suddenly a cacophony of noise. In spite of the precautions, the two-foot thick concrete walls, and the fucking manual entry external lock system for the cell, he had gotten out too. 

Jason tensed, but otherwise showed no emotion towards the situation– no reaction to the fact that the man who killed him is roaming the same Gotham streets that he is. It was always like this when it came to the Joker, Jason always tensed up and pushed people away, claiming he’s okay until the second he’s not.

Bruce had a protocol for this exact situation– Jason would be moved to Star City, or JL Tower, or Central City, or even the Amazons– just as far as Bruce could get him as quickly as possible. Then, Tim would find Bruce, Duke, or Steph, and stick to them like glue. Damian was expected to find Dick and stick by his side, but that was more of a formality of the plan, since Damian was usually glued to Dick’s side on patrol anyways.

Jason had never been aware of the plan, too stubborn to ever leave in the face of danger, too eager to throw himself back into fear. Sometimes, Wally would come, taking Jason back to Dick’s apartment in Bludhaven despite Jason’s displeasure and squirming. Sometimes, it would be Diana, or “Aunt Di,” as the Robins had always called her, and Jason couldn’t help but agree to whatever she asked, still awestruck by her presence. One, it was even Hal and Barry, Barry gushing about having gone back in time and seeing a Shakespeare play at the Globe. Usually, though, it was Roy calling Jason, coaxing him back to Star City by faking some non-emergent emergency or begging for Jason to help Lian with a spelling test. Usually it was Roy, but Roy was in Gotham tonight. Roy was in Gotham and he would have to physically pry Jason from the roof to get him to give up the sting he had been planning, and there would be nothing that would convince him that his life, his sanity, might be more important for the time being. 

Nothing except for Oracle’s frantic voice, followed by Nightwing’s– Red Robin hasn’t reported, and nobody’s seen him for at least half an hour, caught up in the noise of the Arkham breakout. They have no clue where he is, and, before Oracle can formulate a plan, or even examine the situation with his non-functioning tracker, Jason is hastily grappling from building to building, searching the database in his helmet for a list of every abandoned warehouse in Gotham. 

The communications system is entirely silent, creeping on as each of the bats scramble to understand where Red Robin would have gone, how they had managed to lose track of him for so long. Roy gives panting, out-of-breath updates periodically, telling of the buildings Jason has checked, falling behind as Jason throws himself from rooftop to rooftop. 

Oracle’s gasp rings out over the speakers, hollow and practically shouting, “we have CCTV! The car manufacturing place on the East Side, the corner of 2nd and Church– Hood is the closest!”

“No!” Bruce shouts over the comms, the worried ebb in his voice coming out more like Bruce than Batman, “Signal and I are not much further, we’re on our way.” 

“Absolutely not, 30 minutes is more than enough time for the clown. I’m not letting another fucking Robin die tonight,” Jason grits, hauling ass towards the building as soon as he can see it, the car company’s logo practically decaying, peeling off the building’s facade. 

“Arsenal, do not let Red Hood enter,” Bruce grits over the line, a hardened command, before his voice softens, “please, don’t let him go in.”

Bruce sounds the most scared Roy has ever heard him, and Roy is terrified. He’s desperately trying to keep up with Jason, throwing himself recklessly over the edges of roofs and down rusty fire escapes, but the distance keeps growing. 

“Jay, I can’t keep up,” Roy shouts, a desperate tone, almost a plea, “Jason Peter Todd, you better not go in without me, you better fuckin’ not.”

“It’s him or me,” Jason grunts, “it’s him or me, and I’m not letting him kill another fucking kid.” 

Jason disappears from Roy’s vision, dropping from the sky, and Roy curses, desperately trying to catch up. When he finally drops from the roofs himself, Jason isn’t there, and the door to the warehouse is wide open, dented where a heavy boot kicked it in. Roy rushes in, zeroing in on the direction of the noises he’s hearing– loud clanging and snotty begging– but there’s another door in the way, another door between him, Jason, Tim, and the monster.

“Fuck- fuck! Jason, let me in!” He screams, throwing his body against the door, desperately trying to make a dent as he bangs and kicks and yells. Over the comms, his own voice, shaky and desperate, shouts to the bats, “he’s in there! He’s fucking in there and I can’t get in, I don’t know what’s happening!”

Roy isn’t calm enough to hear any of the responses, breathing heavily, fighting the encroaching panic. He takes one of his explosive arrows, backing up until he thinks he’ll be able to take the door off its hinges with his shot. He lines it up, shaking in spite of all the practice he’s had, all the years he’s spent protecting himself, protecting Jason. There’s a thick thud heard from the other side of the door, and a staticky buzzing playing out in the building, and Roy sees plumes of smoke seep out from the door’s cracks, he hears maniacal laughter announcing itself, the sound of metal dragging on concrete. 

“Jason, if you can hear me, tell me if there’s someone on the other side of this door,” Roy tries to sound commanding, supportive, but his voice is betraying him, hoarse as he shouts, “Jason, I’m going to blow this thing to shreds, I need you to fucking answer me!”

There’s crashing on the other side of the door, noises that sound pained, gasps and shouts and pleas. Roy starts screaming Jason’s name again and again, desperately hoping he has clearance to blow the door to pieces. He finally backs up, aiming again at the rusted, bolted door, when it swings open, Roy hearing the voice over his comms and in person simultaneously. 

“We’ve got them,” Nightwing announces, and he emerges with Tim over his shoulder, gas masks on both of their faces. Despite the masks, Tim looks less than conscious, slack where he hangs over his older brother’s shoulder.

“Where the fuck is Jason?” Roy asks, shaky and scared, caught somewhere between vomiting or hyperventilating, “please, Dick, please don’t tell me-”

Bruce emerges, the sweat on his face visible between the cowl and his own air mask, one arm under Jason’s knees and the other under his back. Unlike Tim, Jason’s eyes are wide open, frantic, while he shakes violently in Bruce’s grip, muttering horrified under his breath. 

“Why isn’t he wearing a mask? Dick, why isn’t Jason wearing a mask?” Roy shouts, hysterical, “Jason, Jace, are you okay? What the fuck happened?”

When Roy approaches, Jason flinches away with a piercing scream, fighting desperately to get out of Bruce’s grip, seemingly terrified. 

“It was fear toxin, Arsenal,” Bruce responds with a grunt, working hard to keep Jason in his grasp, “Jason was given a direct dose, the mask wouldn’t have helped.”

“What the fuck will help? He looks terrified, what is he seeing? What did that fucker do to him? Where the fuck is he?”

Dick takes a second to turn around, having begun making his way to the front door, “Arsenal, the Joker’s dead.”

Roy just gapes, obediently following Bruce and Dick out the door, hoping to god that the bat won’t use this as another opportunity to ice Jason out, hoping the bats have some hidden remedy to Jason’s current paranoia.

The Batmobile awaits them outside when they get out, the Gotham streets feeling quieter than they had when Roy entered, his heart beating in his ears. The Batmobile is small on the best of days, but Roy ends up taking Damian back to the docks and equipping him with enough padding for a skydiving mission, strapping him securely to the back of Jason’s motorcycle before climbing on. Jason would never forgive him if he left the bike in crime alley anyways, knowing a bit too much about crime alley kids and their penchant for stealing expensive tires.

By the time the two are back at the manor, Tim and Jason are in separate medical rooms, Tim out cold, hooked up to machines galore, and Jason fighting with everything left in him to escape the room. He still has the same terrified look in his eyes, and he’s begging, over and over, not to die, crying for help as if he’s back in Ethiopia. 

Roy can hear Bruce trying to shush him, saying comforting, paternal things in Jason’s ear in spite of the physical force he’s using to keep Jason in the room. “You’re not there, Jay. You’re home, you’re with your dad.”

In spite of the comfort, Jason keeps thrashing, tears freely streaming down his face. Roy looks on from outside for a moment, scared that he’ll make it all worse for Jason if he tries to intervene. 

Roy visibly jumps when a voice sounds from next to him, turning to see Dick, discowled but otherwise still in his costume, his brow furrowed, “we gave him the antidote, but it’s going to take a couple hours. The Joker gave him three times what Scarecrow would have, and strapped the mask to his face so he’d have to breathe it all in.”

“Fuck,” Roy sighs, rubbing over his face with one of his hands, “there’s nothing we can do until then? We can’t just let him go through this.”

Dick sighs, mirroring Roy’s tense expression, “Bruce is trying, I’ve tried, you can give it a shot? Maybe you’ll be able to remind him he’s older than he was back then, that might break the illusion, at least a little bit.”

“Okay, yeah,” Roy says, dropping his hands to his sides, “yeah, I’ll try.”

Dick gives him a reassuring pat on the back before entering the room, dropping his voice to say something hushed to Bruce. Bruce nods, turning to glance at Roy, exhaustion written all over his face. He motions for Roy to enter, and, once he’s sure Roy could hold his own, exits with Dick. 

“Hey, Jay,” Roy says, just above a whisper, “Jay, it’s Roy.” 

Jason is silent now, entire body shaking violently, entire face painted with terror. He’s got a thousand yard stare, seemingly aware that someone is in the room, but looking past Roy. 

“I’m going to come closer, Jason,” Roy announces, stepping towards Jason as if he were some scared animal, because, in some way, he is.

Roy is afraid to touch Jason, afraid that it would trigger him to fight off whatever the hallucinations are making Roy look like. What does he do when Lian’s scared? How does he get her back to sleep when she thinks there’s something lurking in the darkness of the bedroom?

Roy tries to touch Jason as little as possible, maneuvering him so he’s at least close to the edge of the bed. He then rounds the bed to the other side, dropping the weird hospital handle softly so it doesn’t block his way, lying down on one side. He laughs a bit to himself under his breath, trying to shed the shyness from the possibility that one of the other nosy bats could walk in at any time. 

Softly, just loud enough to break the room’s silence, Roy starts to sing Total Eclipse of the Heart, melodic and sweet, like he would sing to Lian when she got scared and crawled between him and Jason in their bed. Roy gets through three quarters of the song before he notices Jason’s shoulders are no longer tensed, that he’s leaning against the bed voluntarily.

Just as Roy is about to start his lullaby rendition of Faithfully, Jason slumps, turning his head. His face is still covered in nervous sweat, and Roy still gets a sense that Jason is not really seeing him, but Jason tries for a hoarse whisper, “R-roy?”

Roy reaches out carefully, easing Jason so his back is on the bed, so he can maneuver them so Roy is holding him, Jason’s head listening to Roy’s heartbeat. “It’s me, Jaybird. Just close your eyes, it’ll all be over soon.” 

Roy feels the spot Jason occupies on his chest getting damp, and starts to run a hand up and down Jason’s back. “I c-can’t stop seeing him. He’s here, he’s g-going to kill me.”

Roy shakes his head, though Jason doesn’t see it, “he can’t hurt you, Jay. He’s gone, and I’d never let him.”

Roy is not entirely sure if Jason believes him, not sure if Jason even knows where he is, but he keeps singing until Jason is shaking a little less, until his breathing has evened out and the spot on his shirt starts to dry. 

When Jason wakes up the next morning, feeling like he has the worst hangover of his life, he coughs hard and long until he’s being manhandled upright, a glass brought to his lips. Dick is helping him drink before passing him a handful of pills. Jason has no clue what any of them are, just that he’ll swallow all of them dry if it means he won’t have to deal with the headache and the nausea anymore. Instead, he feels almost instant drowsiness, and he falls asleep yet again. 

The next time he wakes up, the pain is mostly gone, though there’s something foggy in how he’s perceiving everything around him. He hoists himself up so that he can see the entire room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Sitting with his legs open on the floor, facing the bed, is Roy, reading Jason’s well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. 

“Didn’t know you knew how to read,” Jason tries to joke, but his voice doesn’t work the way he wanted it to, coming out garbled and hoarse. “What the fuck happened to me?”

Roy looks up, a soft smile on his lips when he sees how different Jason is from last night, “you don’t remember?” 

“Ran into a warehouse,” Jason shrugs.

“And after that?”

“Not a lick.”

To Jason, Roy has a weird glint in his eye, a slight strain in his brow, “I honestly think that’s for the best, Jaybird.” 

Jason rolls his eyes, sore as he picks himself up from the bed. He goes to where Roy is sitting and plops himself in between his boyfriend’s legs, his back to Roy’s chest. “You know, it’s pretty fucked up not to tell me what I experienced first-hand.”

It's Roy’s turn, now, to roll his eyes. He sighs, putting Jason’s book off to the side and hugging Jason tight, his chin on Jason’s shoulder, “it was fear toxin. Fear toxin, you, Tim, and the Joker.”

“Fuck,” Jason sighs, “of fucking course it was.”

“You’re fine, Tim’s fine, everything is alright,” Roy says, running soft fingers through Jason’s hair, curly and unruly from his sleep. 

Jason turns his head to the side, making quick, anxious eye contact with Roy, “I think I’ll take your word for it.” 

“You better.” Roy has a mischievous smile on his face, one that Jason can’t see, but he senses the shift in tone, feels Roy’s fingers migrating down to his tummy. He’d rather huff fear toxin for a second, even third time than admit it, but sometimes, when he feels the fear thrumming in his veins, feels like if he’s not touching Roy then he’ll disappear, that he’ll be underground at 15 again, he yearns for Roy’s soft fingers, his teasing touch that ebbs all the fear from Jason’s system. 

When the fingers start to move, Jason doesn’t even try to hold back, giggling freely into the sleeve of the old Gotham Academy hoodie he’d been put into sometime last night. Roy’s fingers tickle in teasing circles around his belly button, clawing at the skin. 

“C’mon,” Roy says, his voice dripping with the sickeningly sweet softness he always showed Jason at times like this, times when Jason would just accept it rather than prickling away from it, “I want to hear you.”

Jason blushes a light pink, his face heating up, but he moves his hands from his face in favour of lightly grasping Roy’s wrists. “Yohou’re a dick!”

“Oh am I?” Roy’s voice rumbles in Jason’s ear and Jason squeaks, throwing his head back. Roy is grinning so hard it almost hurts, and he kisses the top of Jason’s forehead. Jason scrunches his nose, shaking his head back and forth. 

Roy leaves soft kisses down Jason’s neck, his hands moving up to draw soft shapes over Jason’s sides. Jason’s giggles are bubbly and uninhibited, letting Roy explore. He starts to squirm when Roy’s fingers nearly reach his ribs, scratching just below and eliciting a snort and an embarrassed whine. 

Jason leaves his neck wide open, and Roy takes the opportunity to give him a raspberry, Jason kicking his legs out with a squeal, on the verge of real laughter. Roy makes sure his fingers stay just soft enough, his lips just teasing enough, to have Jason giggling himself silly, happily leaning in to the redhead.  

Roy’s fingers slow a bit, wanting Jason to hear everything he’s about to whisper, “you don’t even know how fuckin’ glad I am that you’re alright.”

Jason’s blush grows hotter, feeling another wave of shyness creeping up. He moves his head to give Roy a kiss on the cheek, his boyfriend’s blush almost matching his, just to even the playing field and all. “I’m soho glad you’re hehere.”

Roy smiles before leaning in for a proper kiss, his fingers just barely grazing over Jason’s sensitive spots. When they both pull away, breathless and awestruck, they’re wearing matching goofy grins, Jason still giggling under his breath. 

Jason spots his book again and uses the very tips of his fingers to pull it close enough for him to pick up. He places it into one of Roy’s hands, smiling mischievously at Roy’s confusion. “Nohow read to mehe, asshole!”

#jason todd #roy harper #arsenal #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #dc #batfam #lee!jason #angst out the wazoo #angst #hurt/comfort #fear toxin #the joker fucking sucks #jayroy

[genshin-impact-unofficial]

Hi! I love the way you write Itto :). Could you please write a fluff scenario of Itto x gn!reader spending Christmas together? 🎄

Ahhhhh! That himbo is my FAVORITE to write. He is so unserious and thinking about him my therapy at this point. MERRY CHRISTMAS and thanks for the request!

Jingle All The Way!

Itto Christmas shenanigans.

Tags: Itto x GN!reader, Silly, Can be read as Established Relationship or not, Fluff, Kisses, Comedy, AU where Teyvat has a Chrismas.

As soon as December hits, something just overcomes Itto.

The man is gonna deck the halls so hard that even Santa will shed a single manly tear. There's no escaping the festivities, especially since you're his partner in crime this year.

It's like a damn speedrun. Cozy sweaters, CHECK. Decorations, CHECK. Egg, NOGGED. Hot Chocolate, GUZZLED. Carols, BELTED. Gingerbread house, DESTROYED.

By the time Christmas rolls around you are beat. At this point the holiday spirit is running through your veins. But at the end of the day, seeing the joy that it brings to the goofy oaf next to you makes it almost worth it.... almost.

"Alright! Next up is the ultimate snowball battle for the ages! Then we gotta- " Your hand quickly covered the oni's mouth, preventing him from saying another word.

"Hold up, I thought we did those things already?" You questioned while raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Yeah, but today's Christmas." Itto explained. "It's the big day so we gotta go out with a bang! All the greatest hits in one epic marathon!" He looked so rearing to go that you could almost get swept up in his boundless determination. Your aching muscles reminded you that you COULD NOT take another day running around Inazuma yelling out Christmas carols and double fisting hot coco.

"You want a finale? Alright then, how about a new exciting experience?" You stepped up, hoping Itto would take the bait. He looked at you as though he was mulling it over, gears cranking in his head.

"Oh yeah? Then whats this grand finale of yours? It's a pretty big order to top my masterfully crafted Christmas extravaganza." Itto challenged meanwhile looking quite proud of himself.

"Well you're just going to have to trust me and see." You taunted, knowing full well that the oni's curiosity would get the better of him. So when you grabbed your coat and headed out, it wasn't a question whether the other was following.

Itto tried his best to remain aloof but you could feel anticipation radiating off the boy. You had to make sure not to skimp him on all the experiences that the holidays had to offer. But before you arrived, you instructed the tall man cover his eyes and led him to stand exactly where you wanted him.

"Alight, open!" You smiled as the hand covering Itto's eyes swung away in excitement. He eagerly looked around and took in the beautiful surroundings. The bustling city really was a sight to behold. From the top tier of stairs you could see the lights that twinkled on every store front and white fluffy snow blanket every surface. Intricate decorations were strung across the main road while last minute shoppers scurried on below it. Laughter, music, and wishes of good faith fill the air.

"I gotta give you, this is a great view, buuuuut....." Itto wore a victorious smile. "I can't say it's a new mind blowing experience. I know it's hard to believe that the great leader of the Arataki gang has done it all but-"

"Ah ah ah, the view wasn't the finale." You interrupted, taking an extra step so you were almost eye level with the large man. You pointed upward to guide Itto's gaze. Affixed to the red arch above you was a dainty mistletoe. The oni's crimson eyes locked onto the small plant while his jaw hung slightly jar. The light pink on his cheeks from the nipping cold quickly began to spread and deepen.

"I - ahhhh HAHAH. I mean I CaN- Do you uh?" Itto's words fumbled from his mouth in half formed thoughts. His wide eyes darted back and forth from you to the mistletoe. You chuckled and although you enjoyed the antics of the flustered boy, you were merciful enough to not let him flounder for too long. It was the holidays after all.

"Merry Christmas Itto." You whisper to him while using your newly gained height to lessen the distance. Your hands gripped onto the front of his ugly sweater to pull him closer until lips met. Itto's arms were quick to envelope you into a warm embrace which was nice in contrast to the chilling temperature.

It wasn't long before you were overtaken, Itto held you even closer and his lips lingered on yours. You broke, leaning back in his arms to breath and then giggle when the oni simply opted to start peppering kisses all over your face. Itto pulled back to look at you, his dopey grin held so much affection that you could practically feel your heart melting away in your chest. Okay, maybe putting up with the oni's crazy agenda was worth it..... sometimes.

<A/N: I am sorry if this seems a little rushed. (please excuse any mistakes) I thought I'd have more time and wanted to get this out before Christmas lol. I LOVE ITTO SO MUCH OK.>

#genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #itto x reader #arataki itto #genshin itto #oneshot #drabble

[saltineofswing]

ANOTHER EARTH, FILE 001 – BATMAN

Circa 1996-2003 – ‘BRUCE WAYNE’S TERRIBLE HORRIBLE NO-GOOD VERY BAD DECADE’

The turn of the century is bad for everybody in a world where there’s a new catastrophe every week, but for Batman especially, this is a rough stretch. To this point, all of the despotic alien dictators and insane transdimensional imps have been haranguing Superman, up the coast in Metropolis, But in 1996, the Thanagarian Invasion of Earth occurs, and the Justice League is shaken to is very core. In 1997, Grayson trades up to Nightwing, and Bruce takes on a new Robin, the young Jason Todd, who is definitely going to be fine don’t worry about it. 

This'un is a doozy, truly comic-tier explanation below the cut.

In 1998, shit hits the fan for Batman specifically. Surprise! The Joker kills Jason Todd while perpetrating a scheme outside of the US, right as Bruce and Jason are on the cusp of truly bonding as father and son. A couple months later, the Joker reappears in Gotham and cripples Barbara Gordon, then-Batgirl and also the daughter of Commissioner James Gordon, one of Batman’s staunchest allies. The Joker’s sudden and somewhat inexplicable slide from dangerous, but goofy, crime gimmicks into genuine stochastic terrorism sets off a chain reaction amongst Gotham’s gallery of rogues. In 1999, at around the one-year-mark of Jason’s death, Tim Drake convinces Bruce to accept him as the new Robin after reverse-engineering Batman’s secret identity.

And in 2000, a new and dangerous foe emerges to challenge Batman, self-styled as Batman’s greatest foe – his bane, if you will. It’s Bane. And Bane breaks the bat. During Bruce’s recovery period, he selects Azrael to fill in for him. Azrael, as an unstable zealot at the best of times, ultimately defeats Bane but also does real damage to Bruce’s personal sphere; between the death of Robin II and Bruce choosing to keep his infirmity a secret from his coworkers in the Justice League and subsequent confusion around just who was in the bat-suit during this period, Batman’s reputation takes a substantial black eye at every level, and Bruce starts to cut himself off from friends and family. 

In 2002, a massive earthquake hits the United States’ eastern seaboard, with the epicenter just barely offshore of Gotham City. The city is plunged into absolute chaos due to extreme structural damage to a huge portion of Gotham’s downtown area; the island on which most of the city is built is cut off from the mainland, and the federal government evacuates about 75% of Gotham’s civilian population. The remaining 25% of civilians are basically left to die, as the government declares Gotham City a federal No-Man’s Land, locking down its border. Warring supervillain factions and desperate militarized police forces are eventually brought to heel… by Bane, who takes over Gotham in the confusion. 

Bruce returns to Gotham with Catwoman and finally defeats Bane personally, bringing an expanded Bat-Family to bear and restoring his public image. He also internalizes, finally, the value of relying on other people. He takes a liking to the new Batgirl who emerges during this trial, Cassandra Cain, and formally establishes ties to Stephanie Brown (briefly Robin, currently Spoiler). Simultaneously, Lex Luthor leverages a metric fuck-ton of political influence to get Gotham’s borders reopened, using the positive publicity to get a pardon of past crimes from the President and undetake a Senatorial campaign. 

The suit reflects how utterly fucked Batman’s life is during this period of time. Battered, frayed, with armor plating literally strapped on where old pieces have been damaged or torn off. The tech boom resulting from the Thanagarian Invasion has begun to hit every layer of civilian life at this point, which means villains are starting to get more and crazier gadgets and Batman is forced to keep up. Stylistically it takes inspiration from late-80s/early-90s Batman suits; it’s also the debut of my solution to the costume boyshorts ‘problem’ (I don’t necessarily think it’s a problem, mind you) – Thigh highs!

Back To Title

Circa 1990

Circa 1992

Circa 2003-2007

Circa 2008+

#my art #Batman #dc comics #redesign #character design

[wahbegan]

The Black Phone Review

So, since there isn’t much in the way of an actual review of the movie in The Black Phone tag, primarily because it’s full of....ahem....other things, I thought I’d give writing one a spin, since I do that sometimes.

So far, i honestly have no idea if the Stephen King curse of having 95% of all adaptations of his work suck shit is hereditary or not. Joseph Hillstrom King, better known as Joe Hill (whose pen name is apparently because he doesn’t want to live in his father’s shadow, but honestly i think it’s because he doesn’t want to go by Joe King because it sounds like a fake name the fucking Joker would make up), only has four adaptations to his name, present company excluded. So far. The Locke and Key Netflix series, the NOS4A2 AMC series, and the films In the Tall Grass and Horns. And In the Tall Grass was co-written with Stephen King, so it’s more like three and a half.

Now I’ve never seen the tv shows because i haven’t read Locke and Key and because NOS4A2 is by far and away my favorite of Joe Hill’s novels, and i almost know for a fact that it would disappoint me because of the love i have for that book and the image of it built in my head. But they both got good reviews. Not STELLAR, but good.

In the Tall Grass was received about as well as any other adaptation Stephen King gets his filthy mitts on, and Horns was pretty much considered mediocre. Just...fine, i guess.

So we’re in this limbo here with Joe Hill adaptations, which is a shame, because by and large, i actually (HERESY ALERT) tend to like his work better than his father’s. None of his movie adaptations have been just hilariously fucking awful like a lot of Stephen’s, but none of them have really been fucking solid gold diamond-studded hallmarks of cinema like the select few of Stephen’s, either.

So it’s a bit odd to me that Scott Derickson picked The Black Phone to adapt. I mean Hill only has four novels to his name, the rest being comics and short stories, and someone already has the rights to The Fireman, while Heart-Shaped Box languishes in development Hell for idk 15 years, so it’s understandable he’d go for a short story.

But still, The Black Phone is a very simple story, about ten pages long, with all of the action confined to a brief kidnapping scene and one room. Certainly an ambitious thing to try to tackle, but i was worried about how much expanding on the story the movie was going to have to do.

I was then further worried by the trailers, because whoever edited them honestly needs to be taken out back and shot. Those despicable fucking trailers that just take you beat-by-beat through the movie, first of all, and also edited lines of dialogue to, inexplicably, make them sound much less natural and much more expository and heavy-handed than they actually were.

Also, you may remember Scott Derickson as the lad who did Sinister. Ohh, now it makes sense why he’d pick this movie, he fucking loves mixing true crime with dead kids jump scaring his audience. And I was worried it would be too much like Sinister, where the truly fucking harrowing part of that movie (the snuff films) ended up taking a backseat to his love of dead kids running about and over-the-top goofy looking villains.

Again, this wasn’t helped by the trailers, which put the dead kids and the killer’s mask (not present in the original story, in which he was just some fat, gross-looking guy) front and center, including a group shot of all the dead kids blocking the road that Derickson pretty much copy/pasted from Sinister.

But this is Joe Hill, i thought, and i actually have a girl to take to see it, and it’s getting good reviews, so what the hell.

So does it do it? Does The Black Phone finally make a Joe Hill adaptation that is as extremely good or extremely bad as one of his dad’s?

Well.....no. Not...really. Unfortunately, it’s not the kind of movie that is so good it’s going to be culturally revered or anything.

This is all just my expectations, though. Which muddied things a lot. My advice? Just don’t watch the trailers at all, and don’t think of Sinister or the legacy of Stephen King when you watch it. And for the sweet love of merciful Christ, don’t think of what lurks in The Black Phone tag on tumblr. Take it as its own thing.

Because as its own thing, it’s a very fucking good movie. 

Everything Sinister did wrong, The Black Phone does right. The supernatural elements are actually used fairly lightly, and almost all the horror in the movie comes from how fucked up the all-too-familiar true crime situation is. A boy stops to help a seemingly clumsy, friendly doofus who took a pratfall and spilled his magician’s act all over the pavement. The next thing he knows, he’s got wasp spray in his eyes and is being bundled into a van. And this isn’t the first time. 

Those kidnappings serve the same purpose the snuff films in Sinister did, but are a lot less in-your-face and just let you simmer in the implications.

Even Ethan Hawke’s masked child-killer, The Grabber, doesn’t appear very often. It’s the tension. The mystery of what, exactly, he does to kids between kidnapping and murdering them. The horrible but very nicely restrained descriptions of some, but not all, of the atrocities committed on his victims. The heavy implication, but refusal to outright confirm that he’s a pedophile. The agonizingly long shots of his victim trying to escape his basement dungeon, knowing that he could appear at any moment.

This wouldn’t work as well if The Grabber wasn’t acted superbly, but he really is. Ethan Hawke is fucking terrifying, which is not an adjective I would have ever used for him before, but he really is. He plays The Grabber with this....softness is the wrong word, but at least a front of it. A disquieting and jarring childishness in some scenes, a clear immaturity. Whether he’s just stunted emotionally or putting on a front for his victim’s sake isn’t clear, but either way it gets under your skin.

Especially because they never tell you anything about this guy. Not even his name. There’s no backstory of abuse, no rounds with his therapist, no diary, nothing. All we have to go on is Ethan Hawke’s excellent performance and tiny scraps of implication. It makes his behavior and mood swings harder to predict in a very refreshing way. 

Like most abusers, he wasn’t angry the majority of the time. Wasn’t outwardly threatening. Even his weird Devil mask, while ostentatious, seems to be less of a fright mask and more of his own bizarre, childish way of expressing his mood and persona at the time. He swaps it out between a completely mouthless version when speaking to the protagonist just after the kidnapping, a sickening grin when he dotes on his victim and brings him food, and an exaggerated, pouty frown when he waits at the top of the stairs, shirtless, holding a belt, just waiting for him to try to escape.

I know a lot of people think that image is hot. Let me be clear, it is probably the single scariest fucking shot of the movie. I just couldn’t stop thinking of some incredibly damaged, sick motherfucker imitating what he saw as a kid. Making a vaudeville horror show out of child abuse. 

Yes, this is one of the most effective horror movie killers in recent history.

But there’s so much more to the movie than that! The protagonist and his sister are also both played fucking stunningly, both being given a LOT of VERY heavy material to work with. Abuse, bullying, the kidnapping that forms the crux of the movie, and they nail it. The sister’s hysterical screams and sobs as their father beats her while the brother watches, angry out of his mind but paralyzed with fear is....

Jesus.

This movie is very gritty, by the way. Not in an over-the-top, in-your-face way, just a...an air of detached realism. It’s set in the late ‘70s, but instead of the nostalgic sheen recent media puts over everything from that fucking era, it’s portrayed in a very naturalistic way. There’s some lovely use of 8mm film, the lighting and costuming department did a very good job capturing the look of the era, and most importantly, childhood in the ‘70s, when beating your kids was still pretty normalized, missing faces got printed on milk cartons, and stranger danger was at its peak. 

It’s not glamorized at all, is me point. 

BUT it’s also not all doom and gloom. The kids are the main stars of this movie, and they do an amazing job at not just being victim, but being survivors and rising above the bullshit they go through. The protagonist’s little sister in particular is an incredible character, given some of the best lines in the movie.

And over the titular Black Phone...the dead children are played as scary a bit. Thrice, in fact. There are three jump scares, one of which made a woman in my theater scream. But for the most part, they’re not played for horror. They’re played for a surprisingly meditative melancholy. They’re played for just fucking sadness at the young lives cut brutally short, whatever innocence they had lost.

And by the end, they’re played for a sense of camaraderie in darkness that really fucking tugs at your heartstrings. I was not expecting this movie to be as emotional as it was. 

So in the end, The Black Phone is gripping, tense as fuck, psychological, pretty fucking harrowing, depressing and cathartic all at the same time. The direction and art are quite nice, and i don’t have many problems with it.

James Ransome’s character is a little weird, sticks out just a mite, buuuutt that can be forgiven. It is also very Stephen King-y, with absolutely psychotic bullies and an abusive alcoholic father, although his abuse and alcoholism are both contextualized in a bizarrely grounded way.

Finally, yeah, just a content warning, in case you haven’t already picked it up. As I said, there are no explicit mentions of or depictions of pedophilia  but it is heavily implied. No kids are shown being murdered, but they do talk about it, and they do get the shit kicked out of them both by other kids and by their parents. I mean violence against children is the principal theme of this movie so, while it ultimately ends on a pretty uplifting note, i’d still avoid it if you’re squeamish about that sort of thing.

But will it be remembered alongside The Shining or The Shawshank Redemption? Or even the recent IT movies? Fuck no, but i would venture a guess and say it’s definitely the best Joe Hill adaptation to date

#The Black Phone #Joe Hill #Scott Derickson #i should make a tag for my reviews you know what i will #reviews

[applebandito]

100% Kingdom Hearts 1 (Day 7)

Current Targets: Colosseum Champion

I awoke beneath a mountain of discarded soda cans and a blanket like it was 2002 again. I recalled the day I actually was introduced to Kingdom Hearts. I’d long since stopped reading video game magazines and the only thing I’d heard about this game was “Disney and Final Fantasy characters in the same game.” This was enough to pique my interest, so when I was standing in a Target and staring through the glass at the video games, I saw the shiny blue cover and knew I needed it.

As if by fate, my grandmother found me standing there after she’d finished her shopping and asked if I saw something I wanted. Figuring this was a leading question for Christmas or a birthday, I mentioned the game and pointed to it. She hailed a store associate and I was on my way home reading the back of the box.

I was deposited back at my home and my father was gone for the day, so I sat down with a two liter of soda and a bunch of chips and the rest was history as the game spun in my PS2 unchallenged for weeks. It was a rare time that with the measly job I had, I decided to purchase a strategy guide to ensure I’d milked the game for every last secret. Also the strategy guide was great and very handsomely decorated.

I’m waxing poetic about the first game and my history with it mostly because this was the day a metric ton of the achievements were going to get done and frankly nothing of any sort of interest happen. The ultima weapon got swung, bosses died, and that’s that. Sephiroth wasn’t even that difficult, nor was the Organization 13 guy they added. The Ice Titan was a dawdle, the sandy man took a bit of time, but it wasn’t bad. I maybe died to Sephiroth and the clock tower dementor but nothing gave me much to talk about.

Honestly the only comedy really came from doing 100 Acre Woods to close it up. Something about how slow it goes made me wish it could be all over. I also had to go back and collect a torn page from Halloween Town. Despite going back through every world and opening up every chest I could find and locking up the remaining worlds, I never found the last one because of where it was hidden.

Pooh moves like old people fuck when you need to get him to go somewhere which  means you have to stutter step while you’re locked on to him to help him get up to a swing or find his friends. Getting him up to a swing in order to get Eyore’s tail actually made me mad because he got distracted by honey. On brand for him, sure, but part of me honestly want to commit war crimes just because of this minor inconvenience. It’s at this point I knew this game was having the appropriate effect.

I also finally touched Gummi ship building and quickly discovered that the appearance of some weapons severely belied what exactly their function was. Thundaga-G look like gatling guns, so I figured they’d shoot a ton of bullets straight ahead. I built a beefy A-10 Warthog of a Gummi ship, prepared to turn Heartless children into Heartless orphans. But no, they shoot fucking missiles! Not even good missiles. They go roughly ten feet, run out of breath and explode into a pathetic poof of damage. The only thing that was good was the lasers I’d attached, but I ran out of power faster than a Texas town in the winter; and I had to desperately get to Cancun. 

I wound up mopping up the keyblades, the tournaments, even the staves and shields for Donald and Goofy. By this point I was numb to collecting things and having to go back and kill white mushrooms with the variety of spells to get one of the shields. Or a stave. I can’t be arsed to look up what it was. What I do know, is there’s going to be a lot more to write about when I do my Proud Mode playthrough because then I’ll be paying more attention to the story. Or at least the early simplicity of it. Before the series got more convoluted than a Reddit Rube Goldberg machine.

Once the journal for Jiminy Cricket was all filled out and all the dogs had been packed into their modest upper class home, I finished all the last little bits so that all was left was completing the game on Medium/Hard difficulties and the coveted platinum. Mercifully, completing the game on Hard would also unlock the medium difficulty trophy, so this would be the last I’d be seeing of the trophy unlock until I beat the game a second time.

So while this may not be as entertaining as the other entries, We’ve got the memes and dreams of watching the story.

Completed 53 of 56: He Who Doesn’t Exist The Cloaked Shadow The Sandy Blade Coliseum Champion The Frost Giant One-Winged Angel Level Master Master of the Seas Pooh’s Friend Record Keeper Storyteller Searcher Professor Top Dog Best Friend Mini-Game Maniac Gummi Ship Collector Customizer Ace Pilot Blade Master Master Magician Master Defender

#kingdom hearts #playthrough #playstation #playstation trophies #platinum #sora #donald #goofy #disney #trophies #kh1 #blog #word vomit

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Rectify: Part 5 (Final)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

As requested by anonymous: It would be awesome if you could make a tfatws Bucky fic or series where the reader is on the list for his making amends because the winter soldier did something to her or someone she loves, and once he gets close to her in some way he ends up falling for her and it’s really angsty but a happy ending !!

A/N: FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

While Bucky only knew you a short time, you'd left a permanent mark on his heart. He missed your warmth, your kindness, your goofiness, your humor, your laugh. He missed having someone to confide in about his problems. But he also felt he had no right to miss you because of what he did to you.

Your absence took a noticeable toll on him and it was evidently clear to Dr. Raynor that something had occurred. So this time around, she pushed Bucky as much as she could.

"You need to tell me what happened, James."

"I told you," Bucky sneered at her, "Nothing happened."

The therapist narrowed her eyes at her patient, "Your sleep has gotten worse. The bags under your eyes have gotten darker, your eyes are red, you're more irritable-"

"Okay, I get it!"

"Do you?" she cocks her head to the side, "This is for your own good, part of your pardon. I'm here to help you, James, and I don't have to be. So unless you want to be locked up for your crimes, I think this back and forth we go through every week should stop and finally let me in."

Bucky let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his cropped hair, "Fine."

____________________________________

It took you a few days to full process what happened. James, Bucky, he was the one who killed your parents. You went to go on and do some research and to eventually find that James "Bucky" Barnes is the very same that you once learned about briefly in your history class. Former Howling Commando and best friend former Captain America, Steve Rogers. He went MIA during WWII. Due to Black Widow leaking important SHIELD and Hydra files, you came to learn that Bucky didn't die, but rather was captured and brainwashed under Hydra. For years they used him as their weapon.

While learning this information, it did provide some relief for you, but it didn't complete betrayal and hurt you felt.

After a few days after your research and coming to terms with everything you've learned, you felt a bit better, but equally lost as well.

You pulled up Bucky's number and again and again, finger hovering over the call button. You wanted to talk to him, but then you remember what he did, then you'd put down your phone.

You'd only known Bucky for a short time, but he left an impact on you. Despite his cold, apprehensive demeanor, he's actually kind, soft, and caring. He's funny when he can be, and you find his overall presence very calming.

You thought of how safe you felt around him, comfortable, vulnerable, just over all good.

You've seen first hand how people's past mistakes heavily effect them. You've seen many work hard to rewrite those wrongs, a sign of remorse, regret, grief. Were you a hypocrite for encouraging change and forgiveness, while also not practicing it yourself?

__________________________________

It was nearing midnight when Bucky's phone began to ring. Sleep evading him, he was quick to grab his phone and looking at who was calling him. His heart dropped when he saw it was you. For a moment, he wasn't going to answer. Maybe it was a butt dial or something. But then he also thought, what if you were in trouble?

Before he missed your call, he quickly answered, bringing the phone to his ear and letting out a soft, "Hello?"

"Hi," you murmured apprehensively, "Did-Did I wake you?"

"N-No," Bucky stuttered and then cleared his throat, sitting up in his chair, "No. I was already awake. I, um, I've been having trouble sleeping lately."

You hummed and muttered, "Same here." There was an awkward silence, a moment of uncertainty, until you spoke up, "Do you...wanna meet up? At the diner?"

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Kinda. I just-I wanna talk. Is that okay?"

"Sure."

"Okay. I'll see you in ten minutes?"

"Okay."

Bucky hadn't changed into his pajamas, still in his shirt and jeans from earlier. So he slipped on his boots, gloves, and jacket and he was out the door.

He arrived just the same time as you did. He opened the diner door, allowing you to step in and you grabbed a booth in the back corner of the diner.

A young man, probably college age, approached you two asking what you'd like to drink and you both replied coffee. When the young man left, you spoke up.

"I looked you up. Learned who you are, who you really are. You were pardoned for your involvement with Hydra as well as with Steve Rogers going rogue. I saw that you...you've gone through a lot Bucky." you paused to see if he wanted to say anything, but he didn't. So you continued, "The last time we were here, you said something to me? That I'm part of your efforts to make amends? What did you mean by that?"

Bucky let out a shaky breath and began to explain, "Part of my pardon is that I go to therapy, to ensure I don't become...him again. So my therapist told me to make a list of amends, people I need to reach out to, to right my wrongs I did while I was the Winter Soldier."

"And I was one of those people?" he nods and you let out a deep breath, "Have you done this with other people? Befriend them to right your wrongs?"

"Only to one other person."

You shake your head and lean back in your seat, "You know this is fucked up, right? Messing with our feelings like this? Befriending us under false pretenses, finding solace in you, only for you to be the source of the most heartbreaking pain we've felt? I'm an orphan because of you, Bucky....but I understand that what you did wasn't your fault."

Bucky looked at you with furrowed brows, confusion in his eyes, "I-huh?"

"I'm upset with you, but not for you killing my parents. I'm upset that you lied to me for the months I've known you. Despite that, I still want to be around you and-and I kinda hate that. But....But I always preach about second chances."

"You're giving me a second chance?"

"Out of the goodness of my heart, yeah, Bucky, I am. You've-You've also become very special to me and I don't know if I could continue on without having you in my life. But if we're to do this, if we're to be friends, I have one condition: no more lies. You be 100% completely honest with me."

"I-I don't even know what to say. Y/N, you are so kind and compassionate. I," he pauses and sighs in disappointment, "I honestly don't think I deserve this chance."

"All of this stems from you wanting to do the right thing, Bucky, and that tells me that you're a good person. And I think you could use a friend." you reach out and place a hand on his gloved on.

He lets out a relieved sigh, "Thank you, Y/N. I don't-You're way too good for me."

You shrugged and held out your hand, "Let's start over. Hi, I'm Y/N L/N," you give him a soft smile.

Bucky gulps and then slowly pulls his glove off his metal hand and then places it in yours, "Hi, I'm James Bucky Barnes, but call me Bucky."

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #marvel imagine #fatws #fatws spoilers #falcon and the winter solider spoilers #falcon and the winter soldier

[ragingbookdragon]

My Dark Knight

A Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language (I think? I don't fuckin' remember.)

Author's Note: The only cringe I got from this story was the title. It's so fucking cheesy bruh. Enjoy! -Thorne

Bruce was a mystery to her. The longer she dated him, the more she realized the image he projected was a cover, hiding the real man underneath. One time they’d gone on a date to the new escape rooms that had been built in Gotham, and the entire time they’d been inside, she could tell the person she’d gone in with, was not the same person locked in with her. His eyes had narrowed as he scanned the room, sometimes lingering on certain items placed around. She watched him for a moment, then his eyes met hers, and he immediately grinned, eyes losing their hardness, taking on a mirthful appearance. “Find anything to start with?” he’d asked her, then followed up with, “I don’t even know where to start.” She might’ve fallen off the back of a wagon, but it sure as hell wasn’t last night.

She handed him a slip of paper, observing how his mood shifted once more, turning solemn as he read it. It baffled her to no end, wondering why someone like him would become so serious and concerned at times. The image he projected to Gotham was the model of billionaire-playboy, something that he played well; other times he acted goofy, giving Gotham the loveable-goober, they exasperatedly appreciated. But what got to her the most, was how solemn he would become. It would happen at random times, and though she would never admit it, it took her a God awful, embarrassingly long amount of time to realize it occurred when police sirens would sound.

***

They lay on her couch, (Y/N)’s back pressed up against his chest as they stretched their legs out in front of them. A good meal and a few glasses of wine had them cuddled up and laughing about the most random things.

She held the magazine up, showing him the cover. “That’s a good picture of you.” He hummed in amusement, listening as she said, “You’ve got that little half-smirk on your lips.” She turned her head, seeing the same smirk looking back at her. “I like it.”

His eyes filled with mirth as he leaned forward, gently pulling the magazine from her hands. He let it flutter to the floor and (Y/N) let out a small laugh as he started pressing kisses to her cheek and neck. “Bruce Wayne, you’re a scoundrel.” The hum he returned was quiet, but it was an answer to her all the same.

A moment later, his lips had stilled against her skin, pulling her from the moment she was in and causing confusion. “Bruce?” She craned her neck, trying to see him. “Is everything alright?” (Y/N) caught his eyes, seeing him staring silently out the window.

Seconds later, a police cruiser passed by, blue lights blazing as her eyes darted to catch it. Something in his eyes worried her and she rested a hand along his jaw, coercing his gaze to hers. “It’s probably nothing…just plain old, Gotham crime.”

When he finally looked at her, his eyes still carried their sharpness, and while it concerned her, it didn’t truly become understandable until a few days later.

***

She hadn’t met the rest of his children, only Tim from the times she’d visited the office; the two seemed to get along well, their backgrounds being similar, and she developed a mothering fondness for the boy; he didn’t seem to mind being doted on by her either.

(Y/N) stepped through the doors to his office, seeing his son sitting at his desk. “Hi Timmy. You look like you’re having a busy day?”

He glanced up from the laptop, giving her a smile. “Hey Miss (Y/N).” He looked back down. “It’s not too bad…meeting days usually aren’t.” He paused, eyes meeting hers once more. “Are you here for Bruce?”

She nodded, stepping closer to his desk. “He texted saying he was in a meeting and that he’d be done around eleven-thirty.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Mind if I impose for a few minutes?”

Tim returned her smile in kindness, shaking his head. “Not at all. In fact, I could use your help organizing.”

(Y/N) nodded, moving beside his desk. As she gathered his files, a certain ring binder caught her eye, and she tapped it. “This doesn’t look like the usual files you boys have…what it is?”

Tim glanced at it, voice dropping as he admitted, almost bashfully, “Oh that’s…a personal binder…I forgot I’d brought it here.” He reached over, flipping it open, and (Y/N) took in the sight of hundreds of photos of the Dark Knight and his partners.

She took a seat on the arm of his chair, gazing at them; one photo caught her eye, and she pointed it out. “That one.”

Tim stopped trying to flip the page, looking at the photo. “What about it?”

(Y/N) stared at the image of Batman standing on the ledge. The picture wasn’t as clear as she’d like, and it was a bit far, but she could see a familiar smirk on his face.

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed and he asked, “(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

She blinked, smile appearing on her face as she nodded. “I’m fine…just in thought for a moment.” She gestured to the picture. “Do you think you could make a copy of that for me?”

He nodded, albeit confused, picking up a few of the pages, murmuring, “I’ve got better photos of him in here. Clearer ones.”

(Y/N) shook her head, pointing at the photo. “I want that one.”

Tim shrugged, pulling the photograph from the plastic slip before moving to the printer. A moment later, he took a copy of the photo from the top, handing to her, watching as she folded it and tucked it away in her purse.

“Any reason why it was that photo?”

As she opened her mouth to respond, the door to the office opened, and Bruce appeared in the entry. He smiled at her. “(Y/N).”

She rose from the chair, putting the purse strap on her arm; she glanced down at Tim and whispered, “I’m a big fan of Batman when he doesn’t look like he’s angry at the world.” Tim snorted, and she moved to Bruce, placing a hand on his arm. “Hi Bruce.” The two waved at the teenager before leaving for lunch.

***

A few hours later, she sat on her couch, staring between the photograph and the magazine. Her eyes rested on the photo, then she slowly drug them to the magazine and she sighed, “There’s no way…I’m just imagining this.” Apprehensively, she picked up the marker, moving it to his face on the magazine. “He’s not Batman…he’s not Batman…”

She colored in the top half of his face, then added two ears and breathed, “Oh holy mother of God…He’s the Batman.” (Y/N) held the magazine and photo side by side, disbelief in her gaze as understanding flooded her thoughts. Before she knew it, she was rising from the couch, making her way to the front door.

***

She pulled up to the manor and climbed the steps, knuckles rapping against the door as she waited. The door opened, revealing the butler; he was surprised to see her but quickly recovered. “Miss (Y/N). We weren’t expecting you tonight.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile and responded, “I know…I’m sorry for showing up at late notice but…I need to speak to Bruce.”

He nodded, letting her inside. “Master Bruce is in his room, but you’re welcome to wait in the living room while I fetch him.”

(Y/N) hummed, following him into the room. He left her standing by the couch, his sons sitting there, eyes wide as they looked at her.

She waved at them. “Hi boys…Hi Tim.”

He waved back at her, then his other sons rose from the couch, extending their hands. “Dick Grayson, I’m the oldest.”

She shook it, smiling, then took the other’s hand. “Jason Todd, I’m second oldest.”

(Y/N) dropped his hand, glancing at the younger boy who was glaring at her. “From what Bruce described, you must be Damian.”

He glared at her. “How much is he paying you to be his escort?”

Jason reacted immediately, turning to the boy. “Oi!”

(Y/N) simply smiled and returned, “Probably about as much as he paid your mom to be his.”

Damian’s eyes widened in shock as his mouth went slack, obviously not expecting such a sharp comeback.

She knelt to his height and gently closed his mouth. “You’ll catch flies, sweetheart.” She stood back up, smiling as Bruce walked into the living room.

“(Y/N)? Is everything alright? Did something happen?”

She turned, looking at him. “Uh…sort of?” She paused, then murmured, “Kinda had a lifechanging revelation at my place about twenty minutes ago.” His eyes filled with confusion, then she revealed, “You’re him…you’re Batman, aren’t you?”

The room went silent as her words hit each of them, and she watched the billionaire persona fall away as The Dark Knight appeared. “…How’d you find out?”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly, the weight of his gaze beginning to make her nervous; she wrung her hands, voice quiet. “I didn’t until tonight…with a little help from a photo and a magazine…” She paused, then said, “You’re really him, aren’t you?” She glanced at the boys. “And they’re…them. Nightwing…Red Hood…Red Robin…Robin.”

Her gaze turned back to him. “You guys are the Batfamily.”

Bruce stared at her a moment, then walked past her murmuring, “Follow me.”

She obeyed, walking behind him into the study. Bruce twisted the hands of the clock, then a doorway appeared; he took her hand, leading her down the darkened stairway. When they got to the bottom, he led her to a wall of suits.

They stood in front of it, and she watched his stare turn almost sad as he looked at them. “…I was going to tell you in time.” He glanced over at her. “It looks like you beat me to it.”

(Y/N) looked away, frown crossing her lips as she apologized, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to take that right from you.”

Bruce’s hand tightened around hers, and she looked back up at him. “You did take that right from me.” He eyed her, that smirk crossing his lips as he quipped, “But I know ways that you can make it up to me.”

(Y/N) huffed in disbelief, letting go of his hand. “You scoundrel.”

His smirk grew as he rounded on her, hands taking hold of her hips. “Oh, I’m not a scoundrel.”

She laughed as he pressed her against the glass suit holder. “You are a scoundrel and if you want me to make it up to you…” (Y/N) pointed to one of the suits. “Let me try that on and I will.”

Bruce chuckled, leaning close, his breath on her lips as he purred, “Where’s the point in that? It’ll just get taken off.”

(Y/N) glanced over at the case, then back to him, and begged, “But I really wanna try the suit on.” She curled her hands in his sweater, pleading with him. “Please Bruce? Just for a couple minutes?”

He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you really want to try the suit on?”

(Y/N) nodded fervently, hands patting his chest as she spoke excitedly. “And the belt. I wanna wear the utility belt.”

After watching her for a moment, he relented, and a few minutes later, she stood in the center of the cave, the suit barely fitting on her.

(Y/N) pulled the cowl on, eyes searching the cave until she found him; she grinned, pulling a deep voice as she posed. “I’m Batman.” Bruce let out a deep sigh through his nose and she asked, “How many times have you heard people do that?”

He grunted. “Too many.”

She smiled, walking over to him. “I just want you to know that this is badass, but this thing also weighs a ton.” (Y/N) rested her chin against his chest, staring at him. “You’re very strong, Bruce.”

He stared back at her, countering, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, thumbs sticking under the cowl as she pulled it off; she gently took his hands, caressing the back of them, and murmured, “…I love you.” His eyes widened and she squeezed his hands, reiterating, “I love you, Bruce.”

He seemed to hesitate in his answer, but she didn’t mind, letting go of his hands in favor of wrapping her arms around him. “You don’t have to say it back yet…I know it’s early.” (Y/N) leaned into him, pressing her lips to his cheek. “But I just want you to know that I do…” She pulled away, steel-blue eyes following her as she did.

She waited for him, then he took her hand and muttered, “…I’m not an easy man to understand.”

(Y/N) smiled, gently shaking her head. “I’ve got all the time in the world to understand.”

He swallowed, meeting her eyes. “Most of my time is directed to—” Bruce gestured to the cave. “This…I don’t know if I can offer you what you want.”

(Y/N) brought his hand up to her face, pressing kisses to his palm. “Your love is all I could ever want…my Dark Knight.”

Before he could respond, a scoff sounded by the stairs followed by a voice, griping, “My Dark Knight. How original.”

The two pulled back, and she watched Bruce reach down, plucking something from the utility belt around her waist. He pulled away and chucked it towards the stairs, then a yelp sounded. “That hurt, old man!”

Bruce grinned, wrapping his arms around (Y/N). “Good. I meant for it to.”

Laughter followed, then his sons came into view, and Tim quipped, “So, we’re not lobotomizing her for figuring out our secret?”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, but Bruce’s arms tightened around her waist as he denounced, “Not the best joke, Tim.

He pointed finger guns at her. “Sorry (Y/N)…just kidding.”

She let out a laugh that seemed more forced than not. “I would hope so.” (Y/N) cleared her throat, pulling away from Bruce’s arms. “I should probably change out of this now.”

As she took a step, a siren sounded from the Batcomputer, making them look towards it; Bruce looked back at the boys and nodded. “Go.”

Each of them moved, and she waited for them to come back. When they did, the boys passed by, giving waves and smiles (even Damian), until all that remained was her and Bruce. She stared at him, seeing him in his suit up close for the first time.

(Y/N) inhaled deeply, tracing the symbol on his chest. “Well…go save Gotham, Batman.”

A small smile crossed his lips, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. As he pulled away, Bruce murmured, “I’ll be back soon.”

She nodded. “Be careful…you and the boys…please.”

Bruce gave a quick nod, then walked off. He got a few feet away, then turned around, gazing at her. “(Y/N)?” She glanced at him and he confessed, “I love you too.”

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader imagines #bruce wayne x reader imagine #bruce wayne x reader oneshot #bruce wayne x reader one-shot #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne oneshot #bruce wayne one-shot #batman x reader #batman x reader imagines #batman x reader imagine #batman imagines #batman imagine #batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin

[delldarling]

all that matters | merrick

chasing truth | chapter nine male faerie x gender/body neutral reader 7803 words lemon | teasing about relationship, communication about feelings and past relationships, kissing, nipping/mild biting, hair pulling, oral, hands, lube, penetrative sex, banter & talking during sex chapter index? or chapter eight?

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

For a moment or two, you can bury the knowledge of Faerie behind the facades you've come to know and care for. You've known Gar as nothing more than a handsome, nerdy human being for years, and Merrick? Sarcastic, awkward Merrick has been one of your closest friends over the past year and change. It's safe to say that you've spent ample time in their presence, trading jokes and building stories you know you'll share for years to come. 

That false screen over their true selves won’t ever last now though. You know what lies under their glamour, and you know them too well. You can't ignore the things you've seen. Neither you nor Merrick will ever doubt Gar's morality and honesty again. Not when it comes to those he cares for. Not after what he’s told you and Merrick about his Court. 

The car doors close in quick succession, one after the other, echoing down the dim, silent street. No one comes to investigate. No lights flicker behind the curtained windows, and no one cracks open their door. It's a relief, and yet a mild disappointment, knowing what you're all about to do.

“This still doesn’t sit particularly right with me,” you say softly, words barely more than a breath tickling your lower lip. You clutch your bag to your chest, fingertips digging into the seams to better distract yourself. Ditching the car and taking another makes sense, but just because it makes sense doesn’t mean you have to like it. Or approve of it.

Merrick can’t quite look you in the face, but Gar only shrugs. “It’s not the kindest option, not by a long shot, but we can’t travel on foot,” he says. Part of you wants to cringe because Gar doesn’t mean we, he means you. “Besides, we need to make it to where we’re staying in the next few hours, and this is the quickest way to tempt Roran closer without putting any of us in danger.”

You turn, eyeing the cars lining the street, and sigh. More stealing. It’s fairly silly that you’re worrying about this kind of crime, especially when you’ve already been riding around in a stolen car all day with a faerie assassin. You can’t stop the itch of the thought in the back of your brain, which probably means this is how you’re attempting to compartmentalize everything.

“I won’t even break the seatbelts this time,” Merrick tells you, cautiously placing his hand on your shoulder, fingers feather light. Relief eases the tension around his eyes when you don’t move away, and he sighs when you step into the circle of his arms. “If you don’t want to witness it,” he whispers, leaning his head against yours, “then I suggest you keep holding me. He’s right though. We can’t keep the same car, not after we clouded the whole thing with glamour.”

“I know,” you say against his neck, enjoying the warmth of his skin against your cheek and temple. “I get it, the whole thing, but it’s not going to stop feeling wrong just because I know it’s necessary.”

Merrick breathes deep, and you can already tell that he’s going to keep trying to explain it away. “If we thought that-”

“You don’t need to defend yourself. We’ll get in the new car, we’ll head to our stop for the night and it’ll be fine. I just… Need to compartmentalize, and that’s rather new.” You sigh against his neck, the tickle of breath making him shiver. Merrick shifts, hands leaving your back and sliding up your shoulders until he can cradle your face in his hands. His thumbs stroke over your cheekbones, tender and careful, and you can’t think to do anything but blink up at him.

“Or I could distract you?” He offers, and bends his head down, covering your lips with his. A few hours ago and you would have been too tired, too on edge and hungry for food to let him try this, no matter how attracted you are to him. But everything with him, regardless of the fear and adrenaline, is still brand new and leaves your fingers aching, eager to keep him close. Even with all that you’ve learned, Merrick still feels the same, warm skin and calloused fingers, and it’s familiar and… comforting. When his mouth opens, breath hitching as you lean in against him, you find yourself wondering how eager he’s been for more of this. More of you.

Merrick puts his whole body into the kiss, pressed against you from chest to thigh, the taste of floral tea filling your senses as his fingertips carefully stroke behind your ears. He hums into your mouth when you roll your tongue and even though your eyes have fallen closed, you could almost swear that a brilliant light is beginning to shi—

“Hey!” Gar shouts hoarsely, and something hard bounces off of Merrick’s forehead. When the two of you stop kissing, eyes darting to the small item rolling slowly away from you, it turns out to be a small, wizened acorn, cap long lost. The two of you turn to look at Gar with startled expressions and find him trying to hold a fierce scowl on his lips. A muscle in his cheek jumps, betraying his amusement.

“I hope the both of you realize what happens every time that starts up! And if you do then I suggest you take a moment to reflect... You don’t,” Gar says after a moment, stalking closer with a steady frown now on his lips. “Merrick, you light up like a firefly every time you touch! You may as well be a torch in the middle of the street!”

Merrick’s mouth opens, attempting to disagree, but his lips curl and his nose wrinkles, like he’s tasted something off. 

“You do. I’m over here jimmying open a car door, trying to steal it, and suddenly there’s a blazing light in the middle of the road! Everyone on this street is probably going to come out here, and-” Gar freezes when you shush him, eyebrows rising. 

“Everyone is going to wake up if you’re shouting!” You snap, embarrassed but mostly tense because you still cannot quite believe you’re both being chastised for a handful of kisses. Both of the faeries grimace, shoulders hunching like they want the ground to swallow them whole. “I’m never going to say this again,” you mutter, already regretting your interruption, “but please: Go back to stealing the car, and Merrick and I will discuss his—his enthusiasm.” The frown on Gar’s face promptly vanishes.

“Enthusiasm,” he mutters, a goofy smile replacing his initial ire. He looks slyly at Merrick, but then holds up his hands in surrender when Merrick glares. “Right. Stealing. I’ll be quiet until it’s time to go.” He turns on his heel, heading back towards an old looking Datsun, a ridiculous little spring in his step. You’re fairly certain Merrick is going to make him pay for that later. 

“So,” you say, your heart suddenly ricocheting off of your ribcage before it settles back into place. “You… You glow?” You have to fight not to laugh, though Merrick notices straight off. His eyes narrow before he sucks a deep breath in through his mouth.

He tries, twice, to say something, but ends up shaking his head and closing his eyes, breathing out through his nose. “Apparently,” he finally settles on. “You make me happy, make me- forget myself. Or forget everything else. I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again, but I’ll be more conscious of it.”

“Is that a normal thing?” You can’t help asking, laughing quietly when his shoulders slump. 

“For my sake, I hope it isn’t. We should go though. I believe Gar is finishing up.” He nods his head in Gar’s direction, but you don’t even look towards your friend. Your eyes are caught on the collar of Merrick’s shirt, replaying everything Gar had confessed to earlier in the car. 

“Gar doesn’t lie,” you murmur. “You agreed, he can’t have been lying. After everything he’s been through.... Is there any way—”

Merrick presses his lips together until they’re nothing more than a slash across his face. “If what Gar says is the truth, then none of us should have lived the lives we have.” Merrick grits his teeth, hands growing loose in their grip on your arms and nods towards Gar again. “Back in the car. Roran might not be close yet, but it still isn’t safe. The last thing we need is humans with guns seeing us stealing vehicles.”

You have to agree with that, but you still can’t help wondering about it all in the ensuing silence. Gar worked as a Guard in the Court of Land for the entirety of his adult life. He refused the Queen’s direct orders to kill a disobeying gardener, but... The Fae aren’t supposed to be able to disobey their monarchs. After Gar’s confession, he and Merrick had shared a serious, silent conversation with only a look. One you had no hope of deciphering and while you know you can’t actually do anything about Gar’s situation, you can’t stop yourself from worrying about it. You turn it over and over in your mind as the three of you drive away, meager belongings in hand, and time slowly slips away from you. You barely notice when you leave the main roads behind, but when the car pulls to a stop in almost full darkness, you lift your eyes. Gar has parked in the driveway of a rather ornately decorated cabin, surrounded on all sides by tall trees. You glance back down the drive, but all it reveals is more forest. You must be out in the middle of nowhere.

“I thought we were heading to a hotel?” You ask, confused as Gar gets out, grabbing both his bag and your own before you can even think to take hold of it.. 

“I said I knew how to use the internet, not that I was going to head to a hotel.” He gestures to the surrounding woods, trees shading parts of the cabin from view. “Hotels, or motels even, have too many witnesses. Even if we lock down on any glamour use and I hide my hands and ears?” Gar makes one pointed look Merrick’s way, eyes roving from his face, to the way he carries himself. Both of them have always been lovely, and Gar definitely has his fair share of admirers—Em comes immediately to mind—but Merrick?

With his fair curls, and the utter disdain he directs at just about everyone who shows him attention that he doesn’t want, he’s always stood out. Never mind that he hides his ears, and the great tattoos of his wings, you were hardly the only person who had been unable to tear your eyes away from him every time you met. You’re still not sure how he managed to hide so much of himself for so long, especially after all the times he’d hung out on camping trips or went out for drinks. Yeah. Gar doesn’t have to say anything else. No matter where you go, there is going to be someone who won’t be able to forget Merrick’s face, or demeanor, or both.

You glance back at the cabin as Gar passes you by. The clean windows and paved driveway, and the careful tending done to the planter boxes hanging from the windows...

“Did you book us an Airbnb?” You can’t help asking, rushing to keep up when Merrick starts walking to the door too. 

Gar throws a sweet grin over his shoulder, cheek growing a shade darker with green. “Two bedrooms and everything. I’m going to leave you and Merrick to get settled,” he teases. You would like to kick him for that one, but you can’t actually deny that a few moments alone with Merrick will be pleasant. “And I’m going to grab food from a supermarket. I’ll be less... conspicuous by myself,” he says idly, like he’s still thinking everything through. He unlocks the door, not even bothering to set down the bags to do it, and then sweeps inside.

Gar is a whirlwind as he moves through the cabin, turning on lights and dropping your stuff in the small, but cozy main room. He gives you enough time to get through the door, checking out the small windows in the common area and the kitchen, and then turns to leave. He clasps Merrick’s shoulder once, nods his head at both of you, eyes already distant and then he’s gone, back through the still open door. You take a few steps after him, mouth opening to call out a goodbye, but he’s vanished. You blink, confused, because he didn’t even take the car, but then… Well, you knew already that the only reason they hadn’t left town on foot was because of you.

“That was weirdly intentional,” you mutter, quietly closing the door. For a moment, you hesitate, hand over the lock, mind racing. You can’t really ignore the fact that you don’t need any food. They’d brought plenty of things from the apartment in the array of bags that Merrick had brought in. Maybe he’s really just trying to give you and Merrick some time on your own? And he has the key, you remind yourself, finally locking the door. You turn, quietly wandering around the little cabin you’re going to be staying at for… who knows how long. You can feel Merrick’s eyes on you, but he doesn’t actually follow until you head into one of the bedrooms. Both of the rooms are medium sized, clean, and better than any standard motel, that’s for sure. The decor all has some kind of woodsy theme that makes you wrinkle your nose, but Gar might appreciate the irony of it, what with his tree affinity. We’re not X-Men, slips back into your head, making you smile wryly.

Merrick slides past you, groaning as he flops backwards onto the bed. His hat slips off of his head as he bounces, his curls falling in a picture perfect halo around his face. With no one else around, you’re not sure if his hair looks so bright because you don’t normally see him with his hat off, or if it’s because he’s beginning to glow in your presence. You bite back a smile.

“How are.. How are you holding up?” You ask, sitting so you can kick the knock-off keds down on the floor. You stay where you are at the lower corner, but after a moment you pull your legs up to cross them, noticing the storage space under the bed. The place is definitely lovely, but it’s still out in the middle of nowhere, and unknown. You wonder if anyone ever gets over wondering if something is underneath the bed, but you can’t bring yourself to get down and check. The momentary image of Roran waiting underneath has your heart speeding, though you’re not sure whether you want to laugh or shiver.

Merrick swallows, but summons up a smile for you. It’s not brilliant or blinding, but it’s real, if soft. “To be honest, I’m not actually sure?”

“You don’t have to know, Merrick.” You reach out, tugging a wrinkle in his trousers, just under his knee. “I’m asking if you need to talk about things. If you don’t want to—” You stop when Merrick shakes his head.

“I’m… I’m happy, because of you. Because you found out about me and you didn’t run. And... I’m hurting because of Roran.” His cheeks tense, which likely means he’s gritting his teeth again, trying to puzzle his way through the labyrinth of his own feelings.

You take a deep breath, unsure as to whether he’s going to be okay with the line of questioning you’re opening up, but you have to do it. It’s not even that you have to know, but Merrick very much looks like he needs to talk about it. He might not get another chance, not without Gar around, and you’re not sure he wants to do that, not after what you heard in the car.

“...Is Roran your ex?” You ask, fully expecting a wince and closed eyes, or for him to immediately look away. 

“Are you going to be surprising me like this forever?” He asks instead, laughing softly. You give him a small smile, but otherwise continue to stare. Human or Faerie, the question he asked isn’t actually one you can answer and keep truthful, and besides, you’re trying to get him to open up. You don’t want to push, or have him change the subject so quickly. “Not exactly,” he finally says.

“Merrick,” you softly chastise, because you know there’s more to the both of them than that. He sighs, brows furrowing, but finally begins to speak.

“We made no declarations. Roran had plenty of other lovers and I didn’t mind. I—I was never much interested in anyone, but I didn’t mind passing the time with Roran. My interest in him was sparse, at best.” He frowns, like he realizes how that sounds and pauses to lick his lips. “I cared about his well being and I enjoyed his company, especially as a friend, but my interest lay in my work. In fulfilling the orders the King gave me, and I never felt like I had anything left to truly give him. Not really.”

“Did he.. Think you were exclusive to him?” You ask, drawing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. You can’t deny that it’s an awkward feeling, knowing this. But Merrick has been by your side for a year, and you knew he was keeping secrets. It doesn’t change your feelings, however strange it might be, finding out that he’s been with others, but the knowledge does put a different spin on what you witnessed back at your house. “I’m not condoning anything, his actions or—I’m just trying to understand where he’s coming from,” you rush to say, when Merrick looks slightly pained.

“Not exactly,” he says again, and truly grimaces when the words pass his lips. “He asked for my love, asked for any scrap of attention I would be willing to throw his way, and for a time it was easy. I always liked him, and giving him that much had never really been a problem. But before I came, I told him I wasn’t his. That my heart was my own.” Merrick sits up, and he looks torn, staring down at his empty hands. “I told him I wouldn’t die, and that, I think, is what he was initially angry about. He thought I’d died, and I never made the effort to correct that worry.” 

That you might be able to understand.

“Okay, that I might agree with,” you tell him softly, shrugging when he looks at you, dark eyes wide. “Do Faeries apologize? Because leaving someone who cares for you is one thing, but letting them think you’re dead is… a little much. Granted, we’ve been raised very differently, so I can’t actually speak for him.”

“I, yeah, I do owe him that,” Merrick agrees. “But my heart—it’s yours, now,” he tells you, voice low and fierce, and desperately earnest. His eyes search your face, trace your slowly smiling mouth and you’re suddenly very thankful that Gar decided to vacate the premises for a while. “I can’t change how I feel, though by Air I tried at first. But I don’t want to change how I feel about you. No matter what happens with Gar, or with Roran, I want to stay with you, if you’ll let me.”

Your chest feels as if it’s all tangled up in knots, nerves and worry utterly strangled by the sudden tidal wave of softness. “I want you to stay, too,” you say, eyes drifting to the leaf pattern on the bedspread. “Even if you do change your feelings, you’ve been in my life for a year now, and.. I see you in the future, you know? If it’s with me, then great, if it’s as friends? I can see that t-”

Merrick leans in close, your name on his lips, interrupting the awkward string of words spilling out of you. “Then I won’t be leaving,” he assures you, his curls crushed against your forehead. “Not for any of them. I can’t turn away from this, and I have to help Gar, but I won’t leave,” he whispers, watching you closely, like he’s afraid you might disagree. You reel him in for a kiss instead, trying not to let your eyes linger on the way his lips tremble, but then he’s smiling against your mouth.

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

It almost doesn’t make sense, knowing you’d spent hours in your bed with Merrick, exploring each other, mapping out every inch of each other’s flesh with fingers and mouths… And all of that was less than two days ago. While it had been happening, it had felt like the only thing that mattered, like you’d never forget it. Your heartbeat had been so loud in your head that you could barely hear yourself think beyond the next touch, the next kiss.  

After the day you’ve had, after everything that’s happened since you forced yourself to grab a few hours of rest in a stolen car, part of you wonders if there aren’t things you imagined. Did Merrick really like it when you touched his ears, or bit at the lobe of them and traced the cartilage with your tongue? Had he really made you fall to pieces so quickly on the kitchen counter, or had it only seemed that way, with adrenaline and hope and lust running high?

The first touch of his fingertips under your shirt is electric though, and the callous on his thumb catching at your hip makes you shiver. Regardless of the time you’d taken before, or how fast or slow things had actually happened, the chemistry between you is a heady thing. 

Merrick’s kiss is slow, and more than just the press or slide of his lips on yours. It’s the pause before he kisses you, the beat as he pulls away, mouth parted, his breath soft against your skin before his tongue touches your lower lip, and then his mouth closes, sucking slightly, like he’s trying to taste a drop of honey that he knows was left behind.

How are you supposed to keep quiet with such attention focused on you?

The first soft gasp has Merrick’s hands skimming over your middle, hand coming to rest on your heart, to gauge your pulse before he tries to get your shirt off of you. Part of you thinks you should tease him and struggle with the material—he’s always trying to undress you first, isn’t he? But you’re too eager to get his mouth back on yours, to curl your hand into the curls at the base of his skull and pull, exposing his throat for kissing. 

As soon as you do that, as soon as your fingers are tangled in his hair, Merrick glows. You don’t bother to point it out, you don’t really want to halt things at the moment, but you bite at his neck, wondering if any marks you leave will glow too.

His eyes close when you pull a little harder, his cheeks grow ruddy with color and then you let your own eyes unfocus, losing yourself in the feeling of him under your hands. He runs just slightly warmer, though you’re certain that could be your imagination. The heat of him against you feels wonderful though, and leaves you wanting more. You slide a hand along his back, reveling in the change of temperature, and sigh when he shudders under the sweep of your fingers.

He doesn’t pull away—his breath is coming faster as you suck at the skin of his neck—but Merrick’s hips shift, his legs settling to either side of yours and then he’s groaning, erection rutting against your thigh, trapped in his trousers.

“Harder,” he whispers, and for a second you’re not sure whether he means you to use your mouth or the hand in his hair, but a twitch of your wrist answers that question. His mouth falls open and you have to release his neck so you can lean back and take in the sight. It’s—It’s intoxicating, seeing how much you affect him. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen someone so eager for you, and then his eyes open, wonderfully dark underneath those pale lashes and arousal grows so strong in you that the ache of it is painful.

“What do you want?” You ask, voice low as his eyes trace your lips. You have to ask, because you’re not sure what you want, if you want to feel his mouth again, or use your mouth on him, or maybe-

“Everything,” he whispers, because it’s the truth, and that’s all that matters to him.

You huff out a laugh, knowing you probably look punch-drunk off of his kisses, off of touching him at all. “Merrick, as wonderful as that sounds, we’re going to have to narrow things down.”

He barely looks sheepish, though you catch his eyes darting to your bag near the side of the bed. 

“I packed… Things?” He says, and his tone is so unsure that you want to pat his cheek. 

“I could have sworn I looked through that bag,” you mutter, fighting a smile, but Merrick sits up on your thighs and you let him go. He looks, well—He already has sex hair, with the way you’ve been yanking at it, and neither of you have actually gotten there. Gar is going to have a field day when he comes back.

“Did you check the side pocket?” Merrick asks, and he leans over the edge of the bed, pants riding low on his hips and exposing the dimple on his lower back. He tugs at the zipper, fumbling about and comes up with lube and condoms, and a handful of other things you’d kept in your bedside drawer. 

“Are all faeries this prepared?” You tease, smiling widely when he rolls his eyes. “Or am I just terribly lucky?”

He doesn’t respond, just hops off of you—and you can feel the difference now, as it’s cold without him—and pulls off his clothes like he has no sense of modesty. It’s always a rush, seeing him bare this way. The tattoos of his wings are still impressive, catching your eye and drawing your gaze over his shoulder and bicep as he turns to face you fully, but then your eyes lower and your breath quickens. 

“I can’t get enough of this,” Merrick murmurs and he looks so damned earnest, sitting down next to you on the bed and leaning over you so he can brace himself up on his forearms. “The way you look at me. For so long I thought I was imagining things-” And you do laugh when he says that.

“You thought you were?” You ask, reaching up to trace a fingertip over his cheekbone and down his jaw. “At first, I thought I had a chance, but then we were friends and... Honestly, I was sure you didn’t like anyone. I watched you reject person after person and was convinced that I’d only ever fooled myself. The other day when you joked about sharing a bed? I thought—”

Merrick frowns. “I was trying to be sly,” he murmurs, wincing when you raise an eyebrow. 

“It came across as a joke, after the way I’ve seen you talk to other people.”

“I didn’t mean it like-”

“I know,” you hasten to say, slipping your arms around him and tugging at his shoulders, wanting him closer. “I know that now,” you correct, pleased when he’s nose to nose with you. “But I didn’t then. That’s why I grabbed your hat and reacted like I did. Every time you said something even remotely similar, I convinced myself that I was only hearing what I wanted to hear. I was only hearing what I thought about when you weren’t around.”

“You fantasized about me?” Merrick asks, and he sounds entirely too gleeful about that. 

“...Did you fantasize about me?” You shoot back, knowing it will likely shut him up. 

“Yes,” he says instead, completely surprising you. “I… I felt like I shouldn’t have, but I kept thinking about the way you talked to me and I was lonely and—It was more than once,” he blurts with a sigh, and he looks like he hates the fact that he has to tell the truth. 

You just grin at him, feeling ridiculous, until Merrick shakes his head, and gets back to kissing you. Apparently he’s decided the time for talk is over. Or at least, talking about this subject is over. His kisses trail down your neck though, which you suppose means he’s decided on what he wants, and you can’t really complain. 

He uses tongue and teeth as he moves down your body, hands kneading gently at your thighs, stroking with fingertips and pressing with his thumbs. He lingers at your hip for a moment, sucking kisses into the skin there that you know are going to ache later, and then his hand is on you.

He definitely remembers everything he’d learned back at your place. He knows how to stroke, how much pressure to use, how to curl his fingers just so, and your thighs are starting to tense and his mouth isn’t even on you yet.

“Merrick,” you murmur, clutching at the blankets under your hands. You want to watch him, want to see his pink tongue lick—but you’re mildly distracted by that glow of his, shimmering softly over the walls. The light is on in the room, ceiling fixture bright, but there’s movement to the light on the walls that matches the rolling of his shoulders and the arch of his back.

His mouth closes over you, tongue flicking.

“Fuck,” you say immediately, tensing when he pauses, waiting for you to relax under his touch. He doesn’t use his teeth here, that’s for sure. There’s just his tongue at first, hot and wet, and his breath, soft against your bare skin. Then Merrick sucks until his cheeks have hollowed out, fingers curling just right and you have to bite your bottom lip, using the pain of your own teeth in your flesh to try and keep yourself from thrusting your hips up into his face.

He pulls off of you with a wet pop, leaving you whimpering and can’t help the little smirk he directs your way before he speaks. “You don’t have to be gentle with me,” he tells you, smirk growing a little wider. “You’ve seen some of what we can do. You can let go,” he assures you, hand still working you over, tongue sliding over his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of you on his own skin.

“Sure,” you say shakily, and then your eyes are nearly rolling into the back of your head as his mouth closes over you again. You’re fairly certain he’s doing it just to leave you breathless, to leave you speechless. “I’ll just—just go to town,” you mutter, rolling your hips, but only just. “You could probably, uh, could just pick me-”

Merrick stops using his hand on you, hooks his arms underneath your legs and lifts your hips as he kneels on the bed. He curls his arms around you to hold you in place, legs hanging over his shoulders, and rolls his tongue over you before he starts sucking again, making soft noises that are driving you crazy.

“Oh, oh, fuck, you’re going to-” Your hands are totally tangled in the blankets now, having dragged them with you as he lifted you partially off the bed. You’re going to lose it if he keeps up with this, blood rushing towards your head, leaving your face feeling hot and your thighs shaking against his ears.

You shout as you come, trying to arch your back, to get closer to his mouth and pull away from it, all at once, but Merrick is holding you too tightly. After a moment it gets to be too much and you’re gasping, panting and reaching out to try and slap at his knee, though you can’t quite reach. “Enough,” you say once, and Merrick slows, but he doesn’t pull his mouth off of you until you wail the word. For a second you think he’ll just drop your overstimulated self back to the bed, but Merrick is more careful than that. He lowers you down, revealing his messy face and heavy lidded eyes. His cock slides over your most sensitive parts as he sets your ass in his lap and carefully takes your legs off of his shoulders. Your calves feel like they won’t hold you up for a week. 

“I’m going to die,” you say, all dramatics, and then Merrick is chuckling, wiping at his lips. 

“I hardly think you will,” he says, confident in his words. “But if it was too much, I have no problem ceasing while we’re ahead. Soon enough, Gar will be back and...” He licks his lips again, frowning slightly as something occurs to him. “Did I glow, like Gar said earlier?” You can’t help laughing, but that only makes you move against him, leaving the both of you making soft, shocked noises.

“Would you—would you like to find out?” You ask, breathless when he presses himself between your legs. 

Merrick hesitates, nearly frowning for a moment before he settles on an easy, slightly awkward grin. 

“It’s a bit of a toss up,” he explains, eyes tracing you from head to toe. He lingers on the spots he’s kissed, on the way your mouth is parted, breath still coming heavy, like it’s being drawn up from the absolute depths of your lungs. “I want to do the things that could potentially lead to me glowing.” He can’t seem to stop himself from rolling his hips, from rutting in between your thighs and leaving himself trembling at the touch. “But do I want to know if I’m actually making a fool of myself?”

“Making a fool of yourself?” You repeat, laughing. “Is that what happens when faeries glow during sex? They’re considered fools?”

“Maybe not fools,” he amends, looking a little awkward as he tucks a few stray curls behind his pointed ears. “But… Horribly transparent. You can see how much you affect me, and leaving our emotions laid bare?”

That you can understand. Granted, you don’t think you’ll ever mind the fact that he shows just how much he wants you. That he’s incapable of hiding how he feels when you touch him. You desperately want to kiss him again, to return the gesture. You might not be able to glow, but you’re fairly certain anyone looking at you can see how you feel—especially now that you’ve both laid it all out in the open.

“Come here,” you urge, crooking a single finger.

He pauses, dark eyes darting between you and himself, and you see the thought cross his mind. He could try and press inside you, he wants it, but—Merrick leans over you, arm stretching until he’s braced himself next to your shoulder, as close as he can get without being inside you. His hair falls back into his face.

“Kiss me,” you say, stroking your hands along his sides and up and over his shoulders. You have to concentrate, keep yourself from getting distracted when the pads of your fingertips catch on the wing tattoos. They have such texture, and one day you’d love to trace those lines with your tongue, if he’ll let you.

Merrick falls back into kissing you like he’s never left. Tilts his head and slots his mouth along your lips, soft at first and then his tongue finds yours, sweet and warm. He starts grinding against you, making you shudder underneath him because you’re still oversensitive. You’re not sure you have the energy in you for more than lying here, for hooking your ankles behind his back as he works himself to completion inside you, but just the thought of that has your pulse speeding again.

When he pulls away from the kiss to breathe, you reach up to try and adjust his hair, tucking the curls back once more, but you don’t actually succeed in anything other than making it look messier. 

“Lube,” you remind him, when he seems plenty content to simply stare at your face, blinking slowly. He jumps at that, snatching at the pile of things he’d left on the bed when he’d stripped off his clothes and shakes his head once he has the bottle open, tilted over to spill the gel into his palm. 

“So you want to witness my shame?” He asks archly, and that tone of his is all an act. You wonder how many times you fell for it, how many times he said exactly what you were thinking and you wrote it off, purely because of his tone and-

No. There’s no need to dwell on it, not now. 

“I have witnessed it,” you say instead, breathing out slowly as you reach for his hand. You slide your fingers through the lube and then reach down to prep yourself, watching his face all the while. 

Merrick looks gutted. He swallows, eyes intent on your hand, on your fingers, stroking and pressing into you and he snaps the lube bottle closed. He tosses it over the edge of the bed, pressing himself close again so your hand brushes against him every time your fingers move. 

“At some point,” he says hoarsely, and your eyes get caught on the gel starting to drip over the edges of his hands. “I would like to watch this. Just this, but—” He glances at you, gauging your reaction and joins in. You’re shaking again, watching his face, feeling his fingers move in tandem with yours, but the feeling is a lot and eventually you let him take over. Merrick breathes out when you pull your hand away, eyes flicking up to meet yours, and licks his lips. “We’re on a bit of a deadline,” he murmurs, looking just a slight bit disappointed by that fact. 

“Then hurry up,” you tease him, though it’s a little hard when he’s touching you this way. When he’s making your thighs tremble all over again. “I want you at least once before we get interrupted.” Before Gar gets back, before you have to crash for the night because you’re exhausted, before—Before you have to get up tomorrow, and possibly get back on the road to who knows where. This would be the absolute worst time for Roran to find us, crosses your mind and your heart speeds for all the wrong reasons. 

“Noted,” Merrick says, breaking through your thoughts with a smug smile as he removes his fingers. The first stroke of him against you has you clenching your hands in the blankets again. Just the wet slide of his cock against you is enough: lust sweeps over you in a tidal wave, your thighs shifting like they’re trying to spread, even though they’re open already.

When he takes himself in hand though, when he finally presses into you? You lose a few moments, just enjoying the heat of him, the feeling of fullness. 

Then he’s glowing.

There’s no hiding it from him this time. His eyes aren’t closed, and his face isn’t pressed into your neck, or your body, intent on bringing you pleasure first. Merrick blinks when the glow is cast on the walls. It’s not enough to blaze through the window and the closed blinds, but he sees it now, and his face turns an absolutely lovely shade of pink.

He doesn’t stop his movements, or try to stop himself from glowing. He takes a couple quick breaths and thrusts into you, gasping when you tighten around him reflexively. 

Merrick doesn’t do things by halves. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t pound into you, chasing after his own pleasure, he builds it between you. It takes long enough that when you realize time has passed, you’re fairly sure that Gar must have returned, but—But Merrick’s hands are sliding over your body and his hips are pressed against the back of your thighs, and you don’t have time to think.

He whispers your name and his eyes are so heavy lidded, he looks like he could fall asleep where he is. You think the only reason his eyes are even open is to watch you, to see the look on your face every time he pulls back, only to slide back in, leaving you languid and terribly warm. You’re going to ache tomorrow.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you see that Merrick is clenching his jaw, trying to keep the slow rhythm he’s got going, but his hips are stuttering. You tug him close, angling your legs until they’re tight against his ass and he groans, being so deep inside you. 

“I want you,” you murmur. “Merrick, I-” But then he’s nearly shouting as he comes, burying his face in your shoulder as he shakes apart and you can hear the front door closing. Merrick doesn’t bother trying to quiet himself, just pants against you until he’s finished, until he can sit up on his own. The smile he directs your way is mildly embarrassed, but mostly smug, especially when his pulling out leaves your legs shaking.

“Have you decided yet?” You hear from the main room of the cabin, followed by bags being set on the small kitchen counter. 

You raise your eyebrows, wondering what exactly Gar means. Merrick’s shoulders tense up a little though, and you think back to what was happening before the two of you started this much needed romp in the sheets.

“...What does he mean?” You finally ask, sitting up slowly and glancing around the room. You’re going to need to clean up, and never have you wished more that Faerie glamour or magic came with a quick spell for messes. A quick snap of your fingers or the wiggle of a nose would be quiet and unobtrusive right now.

“Give us a moment,” Merrick calls out and gets off of the bed with a sigh. “I’ll—Let me help you, first,” he says, focusing on you after a moment. “Once we’re both clean we can discuss it.”

Gar gives you both the asked for privacy. He retreats to the other empty room so you and Merrick can dart into the shower. It’s barely big enough for the both of you, but the water is hot, and the pressure isn’t horrible. Once you’re both cleaned up and clothed, all three of you find yourselves back in the main room, sitting around the small pot belly stove, a fire crackling inside of it. 

“So?” You find yourself asking, when neither of them make a move to fill the silence. “What are we deciding?”

“Not we,” Gar says, lips twisting wryly. “Just Merrick.”

“What is Merrick deciding then?” You ask, exasperated with the non-answers. You know you’re going to have to deal with this regularly, now that you know what both of them are, but it’s still irksome. 

“I need to decide what I should do about Roran,” Merrick finally murmurs, letting you take his hand when you reach for it. “We always have the option to end his life, but I would rather not,” he says, directing his stare straight at Gar. “I want to convince him.”

Gar stares at Merrick, resigned, like he’d never expected another answer. Maybe he hadn’t. According to Faerie standards, or maybe just Gar’s standards, Merrick is apparently easy to read. “Then you’re going to have to figure out a way to draw him in that doesn’t involve cutting my head from my shoulders. He won’t be lured in by us just standing around again either. He’s going to be eager to get us apart, to take you hostage, if need be,” Gar reminds you, with a tip of his head in your direction. 

“If he finds me first-”

“I’m going to con—” Merrick starts, and then he’s knocked to the floor, with Gar straddling his prone body and holding a shaking hand over his mouth. You’re on your feet with a shout.

“Don’t make promises you’re not sure you can keep,” Gar bites out. Your heart is racing. You didn’t even see him move, he was just—there. “Don’t leave yourself open to even the possibility of lies. You know better, Merrick. You know better. Don’t let sentimentality cloud your decisions.”

“How about we calm down?” You ask, knowing you likely sound a little silly. You know they can’t lie, you know it does something to them, but it’s- You hadn’t quite realized it was all so serious. The lying. 

Gar gets off of Merrick and points a finger directly at you, still staring at his friend. “You have someone else to worry about now. Someone who cares, deeply. You don’t know if you’re going to convince Roran. Try, sure. But don’t—” Gar cuts himself off, and takes a deep breath, letting it out very, very slowly.

“I’m not tired,” he says after a moment. “But you two probably are. Get some rest, I’ll stay up and keep watch.”

That, more than anything else in the last hour, feels utterly surreal. Keeping watch is something that happens in fantasy novels, out in the wilderness, waiting for bandits. You don’t keep watch in an Airbnb, in modern times, waiting to see if a lonely Fae assassin shows up on the doorstep.

“That’s a good idea,” Merrick murmurs, and lets you pull him up to his feet. He still clasps his hand on Gar’s shoulder as he passes, like he doesn’t mind in the slightest that Gar just knocked him to the ground with nary a thought. They’d been close to the fire too, and worry makes the scene play out differently in your head. If Gar had taken one more step forward- You can’t let yourself get angry or defensive about this. They’re faeries and no matter how long you’ve known them, how much they care, you don’t know everything that’s at stake.

“I’ll come back after I grab a few hours rest,” Merrick promises, and escorts you back into the bedroom you’d both claimed as your own. You want to protest, to say you can take the next watch, but even with the Sight now, you’re not sure you would even have a chance of alerting them if someone like Roran showed up. What you’d witnessed in the square, and what you’d seen just now in the main room spelled it out all too well: Human eyes simply can’t move fast enough.

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

...turn the page?

#exophilia #faerie boyfriend #fae boyfriend #faerie x reader #fairy boyfriend #male faerie x reader #d.darling writes

[konigsprinzessin]

heaven | elias kötz x (gn) reader

a/n: i love blitz with all my heart i'm also a sucker for sweet endearing moments with my favourite comfort characters ( i mean, who isn't?) his personality is a goofy little sweetheart , sorry i don't make the rules.

gentle fingers brushed through my hair. the sun was shining through the blinds and the birds who resided in the valley bellow chirped as the sun was finally in the sky. i opened my eyes only to be greeted by a pair of sparkling blue ones staring back at me. startled, elias shot back slightly a confused look on his face which soon turned into laughter erupting from the both of us.

"guten morgen." he whispered in native tongue, his fingers still combing through my locks. i noticed that his hair was messy and ruffled like he must've been playing with it prior to waking me up. a smile crept upon his face a few seconds later and his arms were stretched outwards the smooth yet fluffy cover of the bed moving down his torso. "like what you see?" he joked exhaling through his nose before yawning again.

i rolled my eyes at his humour. "do you have training again today?" it was a rare occasion to have elias' at home for the whole day without being interrupted by a call from rainbow requesting for elias' to come to the training station for however long they may have needed him.

"i hope not. there's a new recruit from hamburg and he's awful" he groaned. "he can't even figure out the difference from right and left." he rubbed his temples, the though of the new recruit clearly annoying him despite not even being in the same vicinity as the new comer. "i would've know last night." he turned on his side facing me. "that means we have all day to spend together" he smiled, his thick and muscular arms wrapping around my torso.

i closed my eyes and smiled into his hug. enjoying every single second of the moment.

as we laid in complete silence listening to the birds and the occasional car zoom past our little apartment. heaven was the perfect word to describe this moment.

a few minutes later elias adjusted and grabbed something from off the bedside table suddenly missing his sweet, warm embrace. he sat up slouched over and turned on the television which was conveniently paced in front of the bed on the wall. this placement of the tv was perfect for times like these when we wanted to nothing by be lazy. the channel automatically turned to some german speaking lady and i could tell it was a true crime show judging by the body bag and multiple crime scene photos.

"oh my love, let me explain something to you incredible." elias suddenly piped up with excitement and happiness in his voice.

" the translation?" i hummed back earning another giggle from the german.

"yes, i will but there's something else." i could hear the smile in his voice. "dom and i figured out a way to link our cable to the other tv's in the house." he chirped "and sometimes it shares what each other is watching."

i really didn't understand but i was to tired to ask for clarification.

"so, dom was watching some true crime show." he concluded. "nothing new." he spoke under his breath.

elias started to ramble on both in english and german before i had enough.

"elias, leave the show on and come cuddle me again. i miss your warmth." i confessed before two arms swarmed me in comfort.

#rainbow six siege x reader #rainbow 6 #r6s #r6 #r6s blitz

[inadaydream99]

hello! if it’s okay, could i please request a skz reaction where they reject you but end up regretting it because they realized they really you? if it’s too much, maybe a member of your choice? thank you so much! and please do not rush! take as much time as you need!

Hi, thanks for requesting! I made this quite fluffy, but a few are angst and I also did all members because I couldn’t pick just one 😂 I really hope you enjoy!

Chan

The humiliation was real. Being rejected is more embarrassing that you think, especially when it’s by one of your friends.

You’d had a crush on Chan for a very long time. You’ve just never said anything until now in fear of rejection and, as it turns out, you should have just kept your feelings to yourself.

You couldn’t even look at him as you heard him mutter “I’m sorry.”, nodding your head in responce as it hangs low.

It’s been a few days since then and you’ve not stopped replaying the scene in your head since. Your mind is literally torturing you, making you cringe and you just end up stuffing your face into your pillow in a weak attempt at repressing it.

Just as you’re finally about to fall asleep you hear a knock on your front door, whining as you sit up on your bed before dragging yourself to see who could possible be visiting you.

Your breath hitches when you open the door to reveal Chan stood on the opposite side. He looks nervous, swinging back and forth on his feet impatiently. Your eyes lock instantly and for a minute you feel like you are dreaming.

“Do you believe in second chances?” He breaks the shocked silence, a relieved smile growing on his face when you nod yes, still in a daze.

“Then I’d really like to take that chance. I regretted letting you go without telling you how I really feel.” Chan continues, slowly becoming more confident and bubbly with each passing second.

“I guess you’ll have to tell me now then.” You tease with an elated grin on your face.

Minho

Minho hated himself for pushing you away. He hated himself for being the reason you are upset. But most of all he hated himself because he is so madly in love with you and he ruined any chance to tell you.

That is until he has an epiphany while moping around. If you won’t listen to him or respond to any of his messages, then he’ll just have to find a way to win you over, a way that you can’t ignore.

“I may not show it often, but you mean everything to me!” Minho shouts up to you from the middle of the street.

It 2am and freezing outside, but he doesn’t care. He’s finally been able to get your attention by throwing pebbles at your window and playing your favourite song on full blast through his speaker, what a cliché moment.

“I’m in love with you.” He shouts at the top of his lungs.

The cheesy grin on your face can’t possibly be hidden. You never thought you would ever see Minho do anything like this. Risking everything just to tell you how he feels.

“I love you too!” You shout back, letting all your worries go and just living in the moment.

“Can you two be quiet!” You hear a voice shout out. One of your neighbours must have grown tired of all the noise.

You both snicker at one another in giddy amusement, feeling like devious kids. Partners in crime.

You signal to Minho that you’ll be down in a minute, rushing out of your apartment and down the stairs to meet him in the blustering wind. Ready to start a new chapter together.

Changbin

“I never want to be the reason you’re hurting.” Changbin takes your hand in his, pleaing for forgiveness from you.

What had started off as a lighthearted conversation amongst the group had turned sour pretty fast. It all started because Seungmin asked Changbin if he would ever date you in front of everyone. It wasn’t intentional on Seungmin’s part to cause an argument, he thought it was quite a funny question to ask because you and Changbin have been best friends for so long. But when Changbin said “no” without even a seconds thought you were deeply hurt. Was there something repulsive about you to him?

“Then why did you reject me in front of everyone?” You defensively retort. You’re not impressed with him right now, and rightly so. But you can see the genuine regret he feels which makes it hard to stay mad for very long.

“Because I panicked... I didn’t want you find find out how I feel about you like that.” Changbin mumbles, feeling nervous in his confession to you. He knows that he has to be honest with you now because he can’t stand the idea of losing you completely.

“How do you feel about me?” You encourage him to continue, your body language becoming less defensive as you relax your shoulders.

“Like you’re the only person who’s opinion I care about, that you light up any room you enter instantly... that you are the only one I ever want to be with.” Changbin’s words are heartfelt and you can tell it’s taken a lot of courage for him to say them.

“I feel the same about you.” You manage to respond whilst holding back tears of joy.

Hyunjin

“So I overreacted, I do that all the time!” Hyunjin throws his hands up defensively, his excuse falling on deaf ears as he rants away to Minho.

“But you still rejected (Y/N), regardles of how you feel now.” Minho looks up from his phone to see Hyunjin’s reaction.

“Then what should I do?” He whines, dramatically falling against the table in distress. At least he’d finally stoped pacing the room.

“You go and appologise?” Minho sarcastically states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Hyunjin just mimickes him, annoyed by his lack of sympathy towards the situation. Though anyone would feel agitated when it’s all Hyunjin has gone on about for the last few days.

You stand in shock having answered the door to reveal Hyunjin and after ten minutes of him apologising and begging for you to give him a chance to redeem himself (a little too loudly for comfort), it’s your turn to speak.

“It’s gonna take a while to redeem yourself, but maybe we can try.” You agree, rolling your eyes playfully when Hyunjin crushes you in a tight hug, repeatedly thanking you for a second chance.

Jisung

“I did the one thing I promised myself I’d never do...” Jisung sighs in defeat. He can barely look you in the eye as he faces the consequences of his actions.

You’d initially been disheartened when he rejected you, but he was sympathetic towards your feelings and gently let you down rather than being too harsh. You even smiled through the pain and embarrassment, agreeing to not let it ruin your friendship.

But that was almost a year ago now. You have moved on from your crush on Jisung and recently started seeing someone new.

So when he suddenly confesses that he has feelings for you, you aren’t too sure how to react. Initially you feel mad because you feel loke he is messing with your emotions. But the longer you have to process the information, the more you understand where he is coming from.

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re not happy, but seeing you with someone else hurts.” He continues, finally mustering up enough courage to look at you and take in your reaction.

“I don’t know what to say...” You sigh, watching as Jisung takes a deep breath and nod his head. He looks like he is preparing himself for rejection, just like he did to you, and that’s what makes it so hard for you to do.

“Regardless of my feelings towards you, I’m with someone else.” Your chest aches from seeing his solumn face, it’s just as painful being the rejector.

“Can I just know... if I’d not rejected you last year, would I still have a chance?” Jisung’s voice is shallow and weak, his eyes glossy from all the unshed tears.

You can no longer speak, feeling absolutely terrible, so you just nod yes, shooting him a meek smile.

Felix

Felix holds the cake outstretched in his hands, sending you a pleading smile. “I’m sorry.” He apologises, a hopeful look on his face.

You can’t help but crack a smile, laughing at your goofy friend.

“Felix why do you have a cake?” You raise your brow. Truthfully, you find the whole situation hilarious, only Felix would do something so endearing and sweet like bake you a cake when he wants to make things up to you.

“A good way to appologise is with cake.” He states like it’s a well known fact. “And I was kind of hoping that you’ll love the cake so much you’ll give me a second chance, because I really like you (Y/N).” He continues, catching you off guard. You’d never expected him to change his mind after rejecting you.

“Well, it is a really pretty cake... but are you sure?” You act coy, not wanting to give your feelings away in case he has another change of heart.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He admits confidently, an elated grin on his face when you accept the cake and grab his hand, dragging him into your apartment.

Seungmin

“I will fix what I have broken.” Seungmin is so determined to get you back that he almost sounds angry. Even Hyunjin flinches a little at his words, watching silently as Seungmin marches off to find you.

After having confessed to Seungmin a couple of weeks ago, you hadn’t spoken to him since. You just felt too embarrassed and awkward to face him and so your friendship crumbled.

“(Y/N) we need to talk.” Seungmin comes striding into your work, making the small office fall deathly silent.

“Seungmin I’m working right now.” You whisper, your eyes darting around the room self consciously to make sure no one is watching you.

“But it’s important.” He states, shooting you his best puppy eyes so you’ll give into him.

“Ugh fine.” You cave, ushering him into the empty room next door so you have some privacy.

“I like you.” Your eyes grow wide at his confession. Had you heard him right?

“But... you-”

“I know and I’m so sorry. It made me realise that there’s a part of me missing when you’re not around.” Seungmin anxiously explains. His demeanour has done a 180 degree flip now, he looks timid and nervous as he wait for you to process the information.

“I wish you’d realised sooner, but I guess better late than never.” You tease, feeling your heart skip a beat upon seeing Seungmin’s face light up with the most adorable smile you’ve ever seen.

Jeongin

“Caught off guard was an understatement.” Jeongin reasons, trying everything he has to get you to forgive him. But he’s the reason you’re heartbroken, he can’t keep playing with your fragile emotions like this.

“No, you had your chance. I can’t believe you have the audacity to make excuses like this. You humiliated me in front of all my closest friends.” You remain strong, your face void of any emotion, regeardless of how difficult it is to see Jeongin like this.

“Just give me a chance to make it up to you.” He begs. It’s almost pathetic how desperate he looks right now.

“Goodbye Jeongin.” You snarl, slamming the door shut in his face. Jeongin stands defeated on the opposite side of the door. He knows this is what he deserves, but it’s never nice to get a taste of what you dish out to others.

#stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids oneshots #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids requests #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop drabbles #kpop oneshots #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #skz fluff #skz oneshots #skz angst #skz drabbles #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz

[aberfaeth]

fuck it! comfort fic rec list, inspired by @gukgaksupremacy everyone say thank you abby. not organized in any way and for that im so sorry

i hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain by BookNerd8 aka my dear friend chloe | G | 1k | Guns N Roses

im putting this first because otherwise you might miss it and ur simply not allowed to miss it. no context provided you just *breaking news tornado jail brennan voice* you must read it, please read it, read it now

If You Could Let Me Inside Your Heart by @featherquillpen | G | 2.5k | Leverage

poetic fucking CINEMA!!! this fic is genuinely the most compelling group character study i’ve ever read in my life like the way the team dynamics are portrayed through the lens of psychic magic....its is just art and its so beautiful

Be Gay; Solve Crime by @phonecallfromgod | T | 9.2k | American Vandal

honestly all of anna grace’s fics are incredible but this one in particular is so comforting to me. the slice of life peter sam shenanigans is so well written and the whole thing is just very goofy very soft!

only a full house gonna have a prayer by @iasmelaion | T | 3.5k | 17776

this fic has it all: aliens! the voyager satellites! humanity’s enduring capacity for love and kindness! nine ten and juice are so endearing and funny. also this introduced me to thin blue flame so thank u op for that

on this winter’s night with you by @grasslandgirl | G | 1k | Dimension 20 (The Unsleeping City)

literally i think about this fic once a week. it is possibly the warmest piece of literature to exist ever in the world. sofia and dale deerwatching is something that can be so personal and special and dear to me

A Lock of Your Hair, For Science by moemachina | M | 2.3k | iZombie

i can only wish to ever in my life write dialogue as good as this fic. every single line is absolutely golden and its just. yknow that gifset i reblog every other month of major and ravi being really soft and stupid. this fic has that energy exactly and its so funny and delightful

Hat Trick by @cauldronoflove | T | 14k | American Vandal

sam ecklund a friend to all! this fic takes the lil detail of the truck stop hats and spins a story of friendship in all its different shapes and forms. sam and peter are so sweet in this but so is sam with everyone else like its so wonderful for real

Reggie Horowitz Rekindles the Light by americanhoney913 | G | 4k | Julie and the Phantoms

jewish reggie jewish reggie jewish reggie! for real this fic makes my little jewish heart sing it’s so kind. reggie and the boys, reggie and julie, reggie and ray! all of his relationships are portrayed with so much care and love and it just makes me so so happy

but if i say i’ll see you ‘til the end will you promise to take my hand? by @enobarias | T | 2k | Leverage

a lil postfinale parker POV! parker is so wonderful in this fic, her voice is so strong and well written, and the ot3 in general is just clenches fist soooooo good. tbt to when i found this before watching the finale and thought it was a fix it fic ahahahahahhhahhh

this untitled fic by @handcoversheart-76 | G | 2k | American Vandal

its literally about peter and sam sharing warm sweaters u cannot get more up my ally comfort fic wise!!! the dialogue is so good and theyre just so sweet with each other i am going to cry

if not for love by @eternalgirlscout | M | 5.5k | The Penumbra Podcast (Junoverse)

then love for pitys sake!!! genuinely the best pre-s2 finale jupeter reunion concept to ever grace the planet. it takes reconciliation slowly enough to feel earned without feeling too painful and just. <333 peter nureyev my beloved

the game is already lost by @altschmerzes | T | 9.2k | The Adventure Zone (Balance)

taako receives affection the musical! this fic is all about hugs so naturally it feels like one big long bear hug to read. it is so warm and sweet and the last chapter especially i reread alllllll the time 

major triad by @joeslie | G | 4.6k | Julie and the Phantoms

extremely sweet ot3 get together fic! reggie’s pov in this is so earnest and goofy and in LOVE!! chicken soup for the brain soul for sure

flew like a moth to you, sunlight by @gendermybeloved | G | .5k | Dimension 20 (Fantasy High)

pushing my poly bad kids agenda but this fic is genuinely sooooo warm and beautifully written! the prose is literally like sunlight and its just. UGH i love them i lvoe them

Richie Tozier is famous and loves his boyfriend, OK by @teashoesandhair | T | 63k | IT

im literally not even an it person im not a reddie person but every single second of this series is so beyond delightful. its like a media series so its told in the format of comedy specials and mean tweets and wired presents: and its SO funny and sweet!

Yesterday is Here by @cirrus-grey | T | 53k | The Magnus Archives

time travel shenanigans! jonmartin x2! elias bouchard eat my shorts etc! i read this as it was coming out weekly and it was an unparalleled experience. this is a delightful fix it and also a wonderful examination of the archival staff’s relationships!

Fundamentals of Self-Awareness by Rainbowcat | M | 4.2k | Community

goofy and sweet and hilariously written. the study group in this is one big stupid (incredibly stupid) family and troy and abed’s relationship is written so well it makes my heart so warm for real

#i could honestly go on forever but im cutting myself off here #also if there are any authors on here who i couldnt find the tumblr accoutn of who u know pls let me know and ill edit! #please check all of them out if u have read the source material #but also read the first one regardless. u dont have to know a single thing abt guns n roses. my friend chloe sure didnt and she wrote it #c.txt #rec list

[ponds-of-ink]

Random Springbonnie Headcanons Before Security Breach Confirms or Denies ‘Em

Early Concept Fredbear’s

*I wanna joke and say it’s William’s OC before OCs were a thing but… That might be right? Ultimate Guide said Will prided playing the guy, so okay.

*Anyway, Springy was more tricky in early test runs. Always messing with Fredbear when not performing with him. He meant well, but maaaybe he was jealous. Idk.

*Had a crush on an unseen character that young Will based off of his future wife. Fredbear would tease him for said crush, which Spring would be annoyed by.

*William probably voiced him, due to the production team being small. He gave Spring a more cartoonish version of his own voice, Think like Sister Location but with more energy and slightly higher. Younger, too, I guess?

*Spring always chose the lower part for singing in harmony. Fredbear’s voice was deeper, sure, but young Henry could sing higher when needed. Gonna say Will would’ve been bass in the high school choir.

Prime-Time Fredbear’s/Pre-‘83 Incident

*Will was determined to still play Spring even though Freddy Fazbear’s became a thing. So, he worked with the company to tweak Springy and keep him on the roster. (To say Will was a bit salty, though, was an understatement.)

*Toon!Springy was properly created around this time. Although the animatronic was more goofy when performing, the cartoon version was more jumpy. Let’s just say there were weeeird inconsistencies, character-wise. Yes, that includes the smug poster boi.

*Because of this, smart kids could properly tell when Will was performing or not. Will’s Spring was more clever and polite, though still acting like a sugar-hyped bunny doing somersaults. Meanwhile, normal Spring definitely had the first two traits removed. A shame he took a huge break post-‘83. Those kids could‘ve saved lives…

Post-‘83/Aftermath

*Was used for a bit before being retired. Those who weren’t involved in Will‘s crime spree definitely noticed Spring was a bit more… twitchy. Like, conscience-fighting levels of twitchy.

*Will made sure Spring’s AI was shut off before putting on the suit. That way, nothing interrupted him while doing his “work”. He basically turned that Spring-lock suit into an actual mascot costume, by some miracle.

*After the Springlock Incident, the AI just… shut off. Like the incident done keeled off the character and Will all at once. Will tried to revive it as Springtrap so he could channel the voice box, but it never really worked. I guess it did work in the fact that it responded to the lure Fazbear Fright had, but nothing much else.

*Thankfully, the Springtrap suit was abandoned somewhere shortly after the Fazbear Fright fire. In pieces scattered about a dingy room, sure, but it was there. Fazbear Entertainment saw this version and salvaged it after it shut down and was bought out by its current new owner.

*So, long story short, Springbonnie lives on much like William does. Hopefully, he’ll be up on stage with Fredbear soon. If the museum thing really is in the Pizzaplex, then maybe—just maybe— he can finally perform one last time. And, to be honest, William probably wouldn’t mind that at all.

*Also, if SpringBonnie was aware during any of this stuff, he’d be trying to act as Will’s conscience every step of the way. And Will, knowing him the best, would 100% agree on Springy being highly salty about everything. Yes, including the locks going off. Very much so the locks going off.

#spring bonnie #fnaf headcanons #william afton #why can I just see spring-bon grumbling like #you just haaad to wake me up at three #all because some floating kids wanted to chat with you #i know you fear death and everything #but can you n o t hide inside me #and then forget to check the crank?? #you gave me a sore throat for t h i r t y y E A R S #HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PERFORM NOW? #etc etc