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kimis-gloves · 29 days

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Runnin’ Home to You: Part 2 - read pt 1 & 2 on ao3

100 follower special!!

warnings: swearing, mostly fluffy plot and then they get it ON at the end, 18+/Mature Audiences. oral sex m!receiving, max speaking dutch😫

word count: 2681

Max and Charles stood there. Charles was lost in the depths of max’s eyes, unable to find any words to say to him in this moment.

“I’m sorry I came so late. I didn’t mean to disturb you this way.” Max forced out, still unable to piece together exactly what he was doing inside of Charles’s apartment.

As Charles guides them back to the couch, he’s wondering what max could be apologizing for. Max was more than perfect for Charles and Charles would open his door for max at any hour for any reason, even if it meant pushing aside his aching heart to help someone whoo was a friend first.

“It’s okay, max. I’m not upset that you came. I’m glad you chose to come here rather than doing something dumb.”

“I dont know where I went wrong with kelly. I thought everything was perfect. I gave her everything she wanted, but in reality, I guess she just wasn’t everything that I wanted.”

“What do you mean max?” Charles questions, he along with everyone else, was under the impression that Max and Kelly were the duo, together forever, through thick and thin.

“I mean, is she inst the person I love, she int the person I long for after a hard race or a long meeting? Shas not the one I crave to smile and laugh with. I don’t feel the way about her that I feel like I should. I messed up so bad by loving someone who I wasn’t in love with. I dont know what to do Charles. Im for certain the one I love doesn feel the same way, and it hurts so bad. All I want to do is to show him how much he means to me, but I’m afraid that doing so will destroy my bond with him.”

“He?” Charles muttered, not even meaning to as he was so caught off guard. Max Verstappen is in love with a man?

“Yes, he, Charles. Im in love with a man and he doesn love me back, big surprise!” max said with a forced laugh, which wasn’t a laugh at all. Charles could hear through the laugh. He could tell that max was struggling so he could only do what he does best.

“So tell me about him,” he mumbled, with so much care to hear who this mystery man is that has max on such a grasp.

“Wha- Oh. Him. Well, to put things short, he’s everything I wish I could be. To me, he is my definition of perfect. Every moment I spend with him is like coming up for air after almost drowning. When I’m with him, I’m truly myself and I don’t see myself being that way around anyone else. The way he stares at me when we’re side by side, the look of hope in his eyes, just begging for me to let him by one time, hoping for a chance at something..”

As max carried on, Charles began to wonder who this person could be, he almost starts to get jealous that this person has obtained so much of max, parts of max that Charles thought he would never see until his thoughts are cut short by something max says

“... And god does he look fucking stunning in red”

And that’s when it hit him. Max was in love with Charles, and Charles was in love with max.

–

When max saw how Charles looked at him after he accidentally blurted out a crucial part of Charles’s identity, he feels his breathing start to deepen and his heart race faster than he’s ever gone in his car.

“Well, he sounds like a catch,” Charles chuckles with a quick wink in max’s direction.

“Yeah.. he really is, I guess”

“So, what are you going to do about it? You can’t know for sure until you ask him yourself and honestly max? Youre amazing. You have the best qualities a person could have, personally and physically. He would have to be stupid to not feel the same way about you”

Max hasn’t noticed how close Charles really is to him. He can hear the soft sounds of air escaping from his nose. Charles’s silence is something he could drown in for an eternity.

“Max, you okay? Do you nee-”

That’s when it hits max. Charles was talking about himself, of course he was! How could he have not noticed all along, how perfect Charles was with accepting him into his home in the darkest hours of the morning. He cuts the blue-eyed darling off with something Charles finds to be unexpected from max, to be so upfront with what he wants.

Max cuts off Charles with a kiss, not as passionate as max had hoped but soft and delicate, enough to hopefully convince Charles to kiss him back.

And he does.

Charles cups his hands on max’s jawline, opening his lips ever so slightly to invite max in. max adds a touch of appreciation by embracing the kiss and tasting the freshness of Charles’s mouthwash. He can’t help to think to himself what kissing Charles would be like when his mouth tastes like max.

As they come back up for air, the heavy breathing and light pink flush on Charles’s cheeks drives max absolutely mad.

“That’s what I’m going to do about it,” max utters, barely over a whisper as he can’t believe he just kissed the love of his dreams, and he kissed him back.

–

He finally admitted it. Charles thought all along that he was just being delusional, or crazy. But he knew that the way max grabs onto his waist way too early for way too long for a podium photo, or the way max smiles and blushes while he’s spraying Charles with the champagne of winners. Even how he chooses to talk to Charles over everyone else when he has the chance to. It was so obvious, but everyone told Charles not to believe what he thought. Max enjoying the view as drips fall from Charles’s features a bit too much, looking more Charles than Charles ever has.

But max however, looks fucking amazing right now. Lips puffy and panting, cheeks covered in a mild blush, and looking at Charles like he might explode if he doesn’t kiss him again.

So he does. Charles goes back for the second kiss. More desperate than the first and both clinging onto each other with a deep need for each other on themselves. Max pushes Charles lightly to lie down on the couch, but Charles insists on taking max into his bedroom as he would rather not fuck his dream guy on something that would take impossibly long to clean up. He’d rather wash his sheets. Charles finds himself getting off track as he’s leading max down the long hallway towards his bedroom.

Max admires the art Charles has displayed on the walls, as he also noticed Charles’s beautiful piano in a separate room along the way, he’s wondering just how beautiful Charles would look spread out, bent over the thing he adores so much, but not nearly as much as he adores max.

As soon as they both step into the well-decorated room, of course Charles has better taste than I probably will ever have. Max is thinking to himself.

He’s standing shyly in the middle of Charles’ room as Charles, painfully slow, makes his way towards max, resting his hands on max’s broad muscles.

“Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to tell you how much you are to me,” Charles says, voice deep and rasped with desire.

“What do you mean?” max knows exactly what Charles means, he just wants him to say it so that it can be real.

“What I mean is, I have had my eyes on you for so long, our entire lives max. What I mean is I have watched you grow into who you are and I’ve only fallen harder and harder as times gone on. The amount of nights I’ve spent thinking about the way you touch me with what I was made to think was simple innocence, friendly rivals, was actually so much deeper, and that means more than anything to me right now. More than a championship, more than my seat at Ferrari. I will do absolutely everything to make sure you are loved every day and to protect you and our relationship. Whether that means pretending like nothing has changed in front of the media, I will do it because if it means I get to have these moments with you, then I will do it happy.”

“Charles, i don't know what to say or how to say what i want to”

“Dont say anything, just fucking kiss me right no-”

That was everything Charles needed. He didn’t need words from max to know he felt the same because the way max immediately grabbed onto Charles’s waist, the familiar touch feeling so much more intense right now than it ever has bin. It’s filled with need and want from max, almost as if he’s hoping to never let go of Charles for the remainder of his lifetime. His tongue diving deep into Charles’ mouth, tasting everything Charles had to offer as if it was his last meal. He quickly pushed Charles onto his bed, letting him get himself comfortable before putting his obviously larger body on top of Charles’s.

“Youre wearing too many clothes,” Charles demands

“Oh- Okay..” max stumbles back, balancing himself somehow on his legs, which felt like jello after hearing everything Charles had to say.

“We don’t need to do anything. I do not want to pressure you, but you should know I’m a virgin”

Max was surprised that he was shocked at his. He didn’t want to assume anything, but he had thought Charles would’ve used his beauty to his advantage by now.

“I was hoping someday, this.. Would happen. I guess I was right,” Charles said with that cheeky smile that always made max go crazy.

“Well lucky you charlie, I am too.”

“But I thought you and kelly-”

“Never, it never felt right to do it with her. But this?? This feels so fucking incredibly right, Charles. I can’t explain, i just need to show you..” and that he did as he quickly removed the remainder of his clothes. Charles finds himself staring in awe at max’s built figure. Broad shoulders and a perfect shape, thighs that could kill him if he wanted to. Max feels his desire as he mumbles.

“hall die eraf” - *take those off*

“English please, Maxie,” Charles giggles, but blushing at the sudden rasp max’s voice always has when he switches to dutch

“I said take those [clothes] off. I don’t like to repeat myself so I suggest you listen close, charlie.”

“Yes sir”

“Sir? Thats new,” Max hums

“Yes.. sir” Charles says in a more sultry tone, hoping to tease max as he drops his shirt off, leaving both in just their obviously sponsored boxers.

“Jij bent zo mooi charlie..” - you’re so beautiful

“Max.. I can’t understand you” Charles pouts as max takes a few steps closer to him, eyes roaming all over his lean but controlled figure. He really does look so beautiful like this, only for max too.

Max takes a moment to admire the Monegasque before he pulls him in for a deep kiss, this time not lasting long before max finds his hands trailing down Charles’s bare body, leaving soft but wet kisses along his jawline, smelling him in a way he never has before.

—

Before max could stop him, he found himself being pushed onto the bed by Charles, sitting as he watches Charles drop down to his knees, meeting the level of his thighs, he rests his head down on max’s thick thigh & max ruffles through his hair for a second before Charles starts to leave small kisses along max’s thighs, slowly leading up to where his boxers. Charles gives a max a look that speaks more languages than max can while he’s drunk. Max nods in allowment as Charles struggles to pull the tight boxers over max’s thighs and ass. Max’s already hard large cock springs out and Charles lets out a small gasp, in excitement and in worry as to how he’s going to fit all of the max inside of his mouth, let alone anywhere else..

Charles watches attentively as max’s cock leaks pre cum when Charles starts to lick the base of his cock.

“Charles, please don’t be a tease.. I promise we will have so much time to try things. I just want to feel you right now, please mijn liefje” - my love

“Yes, Max,” Charles spits as he takes Max's cock in his mouth. He sucks on his cherry red tip as he tastes the slightly salty taste of max’s pre cum in the back of his mouth. There’s nothing that tastes as good as max does, as well as there’s nothing that looks as good as max does. His breathing growing heavy as he takes in this fresh sensation that Charles was giving him.

“You taste so good, Maxie..” Charles hums before deciding he’s ready to attempt to fit max’s length in his mouth.

“You don’t have to take it all at once, i get it, its pret-”

“Youre so big, max, I fucking love it. I can’t wait to feel it stretch me out n fill me up with your cum” Charles says with a whine that leaves a chill up max’s back, worsening as Charles takes him in his mouth again, this time going deeper and deeper until he’s reached the slight fuzz of max’s cleaned up pubic hair. he smiles- or at least tries to when he feels the tickles against his face as he's mildly gagging on max’s cock, there's nothing that he could be doing right now that he would enjoy as much as this. he could live with max’s cock down his throat. After a moment of getting comfortable, Charles starts to move his head up & down along max, letting his dick lay flat and heavy on charles’ tongue. The more Charles starts to see how desperate Max is, the more he gives him.

“oh- fuck char- fuccckkk-“ max hisses as he cant even create a sentence when all he can think about is how fucking good charles feels on him.

Accidentally jerking his hips up, charles pulls off of him and continues to stroke his cock with his left hand and that's when max notices that charles has been jerking himself off this entire time, both are painfully hard for the other as charles gives max those doe eyes that drive him mad. It's not long before Charles goes back to sucking on Max's length when Max has to let him know that he's not gonna last much longer.

“charlie please, baby, i'm not gonna- hnnn- not gonna last much longer..” Max whines

Pausing for a second, charles says lewdly “please finish down my throat maxie, i need to taste every bit of you..” and with that max did. a warm surge of thick & sticky fluid runs down his throat and as charles swallows it max cant help but stare in awe at how almost innocent charles looks after he just fucked his dick like that. soon after charles finishes himself and finds himself laying with max, not a word said but they know by now that words aren't necessary. they already know.

“Cha-“

“Quiet max, please. Its 5 in the morning, im fucking spent. Get some rest and we will talk about all of this tomorrow”

“Alright, Goodnight Charlie”

“Goodnight max”

With that, they both drifted to sleep with limbs entwined with limbs. heart beats & low, synchronised breathing filled the room along with an aura of belonging. This is where Max wants to spend the rest of his life, with charles. vulnerable and raw. all will be complete in the world of max verstappen as he sleeps, unknown to what would happen when he woke up.

thank you so so much for 100 followers! i appreciate every one of you ❤️ i really hope you guys enjoyed this, i had fun writing it:) please lmk if you would like to see more of this duo & look out for new content soon!

likes, reblogs, comments & kudos on ao3 are always appreciated ❤️❤️❤️

- Alex

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tennessoui · 4 months

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kit's january ko-fi fic: Anakitty AU

ugh i am so excited to be posting this on my kofi, i had such a blast writing this that i literally wrote 3k yesterday for it and 3k today in like. 3 hours. she's the definition of a silly little au becoming a fic!!

in this fic/au, anakin becomes a cat; meanwhile, obi-wan just happens to find a cat outside his doors that he decides to take in to care for, as he's a lonely old man now that his padawan has left the nest. good thing this cat is really affectionate and just melts when obi-wan gives it pets!

meanwhile anakin thinks it's a pretty sweet deal to be a cat forever if it means he has obi-wan's affection and attention and love and attention and pets and attention and, etc etc

here's a little snippet!:

“So you haven’t heard from Anakin in a few days,” Obi-Wan says carefully, brushing each slightly curly strand of the cat’s fur flat as he examines his grand padawan. “Are you worried about him?” Obi-Wan hasn’t heard from Anakin lately either, but the boy has been pulling slowly and carefully away from him for ages. For the most part, Obi-Wan has stopped reaching out, and their virtual communications have dried up. “Not anymore,” Ahsoka says, picking up her tea with an angry look at the cat. “How long has it been since he’s been like thi—I mean, since you last heard from him?” “Well, I couldn’t quite say!” Eleven days. “Though, if I’m being honest, the Council is close to drawing him up on charges for abandoning his troops without leave to take a holiday. I’m sure he will slip back into the Temple sooner or later.” “Wow!” Ahsoka’s voice is pitched much too loud and much too pointed to be natural. “Did you hear that, Anakin? You’re going to be tried for abandoning your troops if you don’t tell the Council you’re experiencing a bit of a setback soon!” The cat rolls onto its back with a loud purr, paws folded upward to allow Obi-Wan the maximum of tummy to scratch. Obi-Wan, knowing it's his due, scratches its tummy obligingly.

as a reminder for how these kofi fics work: i've uploaded the google document link into my gallery on ko-fi. to view the image and get the link that's in the image description, you have to be a monthly subscriber. it's $4 a month, and once you become a subscriber, you can read the 5 other ficlets i've uploaded! if you want to donate to get access, make sure the donation bar is set to "monthly" instead of "one time".

#kit's kofi #obikin #anakitty au #the au post that this is written from is linked at the top of the google doc too!!#and there's an ask linked that has a picture of anakitty #pulled unashamedly from google images #also i think it's been far too long since i explicity said but i appreciate the support so so so much #im really glad and thankful for any subscriber i get for this and always try to make the fics i write for kofi #be at least on par with the level of writing i post to ao3 #which is a step above fics i post on tumblr #you guys got me through grad school apps and. that's just amazing so thank you!!#i hope you enjoy anakitty!!

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rayrayor · 6 months

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Ok it’s a good day when maybe I don’t have a WIP update in writing but I get so excited cause it’s my fave brag . I love supporting our artists peeps here . And excited finding folks who do the art I drool over AND do commissions 💕

The Art Is Here

This piece is by the crazy talented @luluxa

I encourage you to zoom for details. It is uncanny that her eyes are the mirror image of Mickeys.

@darthvaders-wife in Popsicles with Papa gave us the adorable and wonderful Lily as a toddler conked out with her dads.

In Poptarts , thanks to Luluxa we have an awake and happy toddler Lily …

Slay it, all these artists just slay it 💕💕💕

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thatfancygirlinwhite · 3 months

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Planning the scenes for a potential fanfic. Try and guess what it'll be about!

-> WIPs list (above not on there, but, you know...)

And a rant below the cut!

So for those who may or may not know I was planning on writing Bark & Leaves first, except I got to a point after 14—bloody—k words where I was dissatisfied with the progression and overall how mundane the fic was. I will likely get back to it for many reasons, including the fact that I am attached to the relaxed world I've created and the dynamic between characters — just not now.

Instead I have delved into this other fic, which is definitely more along the lines of what I usually write/like to write (so fantasy, quests, magic...), and so far so good. We'll see how that goes, I haven't been able to write a lot recently, though I'm hoping that will change very soon.

And finally, my true love, Dark Eyes Stained Light, has not had a single. new. word. written for it. I'm a little worried I might never have time to properly finish it, and it's always in the back of my mind, begging to be done — it's just that I want it to be really good, everything planned out, character dynamics fully understood, world-building that makes sense... Basically I want to deliver.

And I haven't been delivering at all, due to simply not having time for it! It's definitely my greatest fear for when I finally start proper studies again: will I have time for such time-consuming hobbies? Especially since I don't want to fall into a situation where I start a fic only to never complete it, so even if the above has many words, as long as I'm not 100% sure I can finish it I might never post it.

Anyway, sorry for the rant. Hope this makes some people feel better about their own productivity, at least! Thank you for reading!

#thank you for your support #you guys keep me going!#the hobbit #bagginshield #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #ao3 fanfic #thorin x bilbo #progress update

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sleepychibi · 1 year

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Here are some of the sketches as promised guys! :DD I would post the newer ones (the ones I’m posting are older art 🤢🤢) , but they contain spoilers, so these are the ones I can only post for now. 😊🙏🏼I just want to say thank you guys so much for all the support and patience so far, I am really thankful and appreciate it so much. I really didn’t expect my story or receive so much support from the community, you guys are really sweet. 🥺🫶🏼💗💗

#ao3 fanfic #lmk macaque #lego monkie kid #ao3fic #lmk sun wukong #lmk wukong #shadowpeach #lmk shadowpeach #six eared macaque #lmk au #lmk au art #lmk fanart #fanart #art #thanks for reading #thank you for the support #intertwined #might delete later

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silawastaken · 1 month

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CRYING AND SCREAMING...

10k hits??? I'm going to actually explode

This is my second fic to get this popular, but it took months after finishing it for the blonde dazai au to get anywhere near this

Considering the soulmate au is still ongoing, this is absolutely insane

I'm so grateful to everyone who's been reading, this really did start off as a self indulgent idea that I wasn't sure I was ever going to follow through with and now I have actual friends so :D crazy what fanfic can get you huh

I don't know if this is actually as big of a deal as I'm making it, but I'm so happy and so glad that people have been liking it as much as they have

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j0kers-light · 1 year

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His Lighthouse: The Morning After (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

The Morning After

Image credit

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

The elusive 'morning after' a romantic night with a lover, whatever will Joker and Y/n get into? Now that they are set on dating and getting to know one another will anything separate them from that goal.

authors note:

Hello! Hello! I’m back with another update and I must say, I'm a humble girl at heart but I sob cry knowing that there's really that many people that enjoy my story! I intended this to only reach a few people, if any at all, yet here we are... It only makes me wanna write more! Did I mention this story is farrrrrr from over?

Taglist!

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angell

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

You were absolutely stunning.

A natural beauty amplified in the morning light. Joker was so lucky he woke up at odd hours of the night. He would have hated himself for all of eternity for missing this. You, fast asleep and looking drop dead gorgeous.

Sometime during the night you wiggled your way out of his hold and rolled over onto your back. Joker still kept you close, it seemed that he craved physical contact even asleep, and he threw a possessive arm over your waist.

You had created some space between the two of you but your face was the first thing he got to see when he opened his eyes.

Joker wanted to wake up to the sight of you everyday.

Your beautiful lips slightly parted to allow for soft puffs of air to escape. Your dark lashes fluttering every so often in a deep R.E.M., (he wished you were dreaming of him) and your soft skin was highlighted by a ray of sunshine flooding in from the window. You didn't like that and it almost roused you awake.

You grumbled and turned into Joker's chest resuming your slumber. Suddenly he became the teddy bear. My, how the tables turned in just a few short hours.

You sought him out for protection and clung to him in your most vulnerable state. That subconscious choice had Joker speechless. No one had ever relied on him before yet you did just that. Seeking out his comfort while vastly unaware of the reaction that tiny decision would forever have on him.

He took extra care not to wake you up as he located the room remote on the nightstand and programmed the automatic curtains to move and shield you from the rising sun.

You earned your rest and then some. Joker would make sure that nothing bothered you.

On top of being kidnapped, (and quickly rescued) you let Joker finally have sex with you. And the clown definitely made up for lost time. Freaking overachiever. He might've gone overboard yet he heard no complaints. You were exhausted both mentally and physically.

Joker didn't consider himself much of a savior but he would do everything in his power to keep you safe. Not much could disturb you in the penthouse but he wouldn't take any chances.

You entrusted Joker with your heart until he had to leave and shatter it into a million pieces.

But that was negative thinking. Who knows? Maybe he could find a way to lessen the pain before then.

Joker chose to focus on the positive. Live in the moment. That's all you have. He pulled you closer in his arms and fell back asleep, holding you tighter than ever.

You woke up disoriented, sore, and clutching a pillow for dear life.

You wiped your mouth knowing there was probably drool present with how well rested you felt. That was the best night of sleep you had in weeks.

Not much was said after Joker tucked the both of you into bed last night. You tried your best to say something heartfelt; you epically failed.

"You're stuck with me for five more months."

He said it with such confidence you wanted to believe it was true. That you finally had a chance with Joker.

Things were still unclear but hopefully you and Joker were on the same page going forward. Things seemed to be off to a good start. Joker physically slid right back into your life as if nothing had happened. It was the emotional aspect of things that you were worried about. You hoped you weren't moving too fast but then again there was a deadline here underlined in red twice.

Five months felt so short and the clock was already ticking..

There was so much you wanted to ask, experience, and talk about with Joker but right now his side of the bed was empty. You rose from your sleeping position, looking around the room for his presence and came up short. The room was quiet.

It was then you noticed the curtains were drawn but the sunlight still peeked out from the bottom. Dawn truly dawned on you.

It was the morning after and you were alone.

Greaaat, real classy. An empty bed totally screams positive relationship goals. You two were totally on the same page! You had the urge to toss a pillow in anger. How could you be so stupid to believe that Joker would take this seriously?!

"Don't overthink things Y/n. Maybe he went to the bathroom or some other lame excuse. Yeah, that would explain why he didn't wake up next to you after such a wonderful night together."

That's the lie you told yourself as you flung the covers back and stepped on the cold hardwood floors.

Fitting. It matched your current feelings towards a certain fugitive. You blinked back tears for even allowing Joker a chance with your heart. It really was just sex to him, no strings attached, and oh no...

You clutched your head trying to stop the bad thoughts from taking over but they kept appearing even as you struggled to breathe.

You needed privacy before this panic attack got too intense. You nodded to yourself and almost made it to your sanctuary but the aroma coming from your kitchen caught your attention.

It quite literally made you stop in your tracks to investigate.

You made your way through the archway that separated the common area of your penthouse from the private rooms. The sight that greeted you snatched every bad thought from your mind and tossed them straight in the trash.

"What are you doing?" You mumbled to your roommate.

Joker turned around so you could see the gaudy Kiss the Cook apron that Dick left a few BBQ parties ago hanging from around his neck. Joker opted out on wearing a shirt and his dark grey sleeping pants were hanging dangerously low on his hips, showing off muscle and V lines that you failed to notice before.

He brought the whole scene together by waving with a plastic spatula in greeting. "Hmm. Good morning Bunny."

Joker watched you sink into the barstool at the island counter wide eyed and speechless.

His green eyes scanned you from head to toe like he didn't see you every time he woke up this morning— which happened to be a lot.

He couldn't get over the fact that you and him were actually together. It was such a far fetched concept that it didn't seem real so Joker kept waking up in a cold sweat throughout the night thinking you weren't there. What if he didn't rescue you from the warehouse or worse? What if you died at that dumb charity event and his sick, twisted mind was making all of this up?

It wouldn't be the first time that his mind became his own worst enemy.

Joker woke up each time gasping for air hoping that his nightmare wasn't a reality, only to sigh in relief when he felt you in his arms.

He would squeeze you tighter (despite grumbling your displeasure of it in your sleep) and fell back asleep with his living teddy bear safe and sound. But the same nightmare would awake him again an hour later thus, repeating the cycle anew.

Broken sleep wasn't healthy but Joker was used to getting the bare minimum in order to survive.

He didn't want you to worry or worse, wake you. Joker had his demons and as much as he wanted to stay by your side and ignore them, solitude was the best remedy to clear his head. Well that and shock therapy, but he wasn't at Arkham Asylum anymore.

So he regretfully left you tucked in bed to roam the penthouse when he had the thought to treat you to breakfast. His thoughts always revolved around you. Funny how you caused his inner turmoil and was also the solution to rid them.

Joker couldn't get you out of his head though he feared the day he would no longer think of you.

A deafening silence in perpetual darkness. A different type of loneliness that Joker didn't want to return to. How could he return to his old ways after experiencing your blinding light? He would never be the same but that was something to worry about in the distant future.

He focused back on you, seated before him at the kitchen counter, trying to figure out what was going on. Joker cleared his throat and set about clearing the air.

"I had plans to bring you uh break fast in bed but it seems you're really too noisy for your own good." He eyed you briefly before turning around and flipping whatever he was cooking in the skillet over.

You blinked in shock as he set the utensil down and leaned on the counter, crossing his arms.

"How did you sleep?" He popped the letter p and waited for a response. You decided to answer his question with one of your own.

"You can cook?" You waved at the mess he made of your kitchen. "Like... actually.. cook?"

"Duh whatcha think I'm doing, Y/n? I got nothing on you but at least I can feed myself without burning the apartment down." Joker didn't break eye contact with you as he dragged the skillet off the burner and killed the heat.

A shiver ran up your spine. A man that could cook was a secret weakness of yours. It was hard to believe that Joker knew his way around the kitchen. Your mind was on tilt. "Uh I.. um.."

"Use your words Y/n." By the time you looked up, he was reaching to take something out of the cabinet. This domestic version of Joker had you weak in the knees. He didn't seem to notice.

"Do you like syrup on your pancakes?" Joker shook the bottle to gain your attention. You forgot to verbally say yes along with your nod, causing Joker to arch an eyebrow.

He slammed the cabinet shut and set the syrup down next to the plate of pancakes already cooked and ready to eat. You just now noticed them.

Fluffy golden brown cakes stacked high and glistening with melted butter like some fancy flapjack commercial. They looked too good to be true. Either this was a dream or Joker was trying to impress you. So of course you had to be dreaming.

You thought as much until Joker grabbed your chin from over the counter.

"What's floating in that pretty little head of yours hmm?" He loved that lost doey eyed look during sex but right now, not so much.

He slowly nodded his own head trying to urge you to speak with no success. You just stared at him so he let your face go with a sigh.

"AlrighTyyy then. Since you're incapable of speech, I'll talk. I found your pancake mix in the pantry and since you weren't, uh, waking up any time soon to make us anything. Tada." He gestured to his hard work. "It's.. it's magic. Now eat something so that brain of yours can start workin.' Here."

He scooped out the last pancake he made from the skillet onto your plate and dragged the larger serving plate closer for himself.

You were still speechless but glanced down at the fine china before you. It was your plum blossom set and it brought a smile to your face thinking back to the first time you served it to Joker all those weeks ago.

Funny how things changed but everything remained the same.

His pancakes didn't look poisonous and none of them were burnt either. (His first of many attempts were sitting at the bottom of the trash mocking him.) The ones before you looked perfectly normal and smelled yummy if your growling stomach had any say on the matter. Joker slid into the barstool next to you and loaded his own plate with food but kept an eye on you lost in thought. Did you hit your head or something? This silent treatment was unusual behavior even for you.

Right as he was preparing to force you out of your daze, you grabbed a fork and dug in. Joker would be lying if he said he didn't hold his breath waiting for your review.

You were chewing too slowly for his liking and he thought the worst when you suddenly glanced his way.

"These are delicious." You beamed.

"Well yeah. You did all the work, I just cooked the d__n things." So it wasn't as easy as he led you on to believe. Interesting..

You hid your mirth by hitting his arm. He bristled at the playful contact. "You know the rules, Joker."

It took him a minute to get what you were talking about but he rolled his eyes knowing all too well. "Sweetheart. I said a lot of bad words last night. Don't ya remember?"

He bit into his forkful of pancakes and smirked at your flushed face avoiding his eye. He dialed back his signature laugh into condescending chuckles, aimed at you.

"Don't go shy on me now, Y/n... you weren't last night when you kept begging me for more."

All the sinful things Joker whispered, groaned, and panted in your ear last night played in your head like a sports recap. You hated when he was right. You were practically begging for it but he didn't have to rub it in.

Joker turned out to be quite the sexual deviant and you just so happened to be his personal plaything until further notice.

You didn't mind. Joker took his job as a lover very seriously despite his apparent rough treatment of you. Another fact you discovered, Joker was verbal in bed. and he talked you through the most intense moments of the night with that silver tongue of his. Good Lord the things his tongue could do..

You cleared your throat, "I ah remember. But to answer your question, I slept very well and t-thank you for cooking."

Joker grunted in that weird way of his, this time it held a positive, don't mention it tone, as the two of you ate in silence.

You thought he would bring up what really made him ditch you in bed this morning but nope. Crickets. You honestly weren't surprised. Joker could avoid any topic when it benefited him. He wasn't the only one that ran away instead of facing his emotions. His 'I decided to cook breakfast' excuse didn't sit well with you.

You wisely kept that thought to yourself.

Thankfully Joker didn't seem to notice your lackluster mood (or so you thought) although he was rather quiet as the two of you finished up breakfast and he moved to collect the various plates and other tools he used.

As a peace offering, you volunteered to wash dishes and Joker immediately took you up on it.

He was dreading cleaning all of this crap. Why didn't you own a dishwasher? Probably another weird quirk of yours since you actually looked excited to manually wash dishes. He could tell by that ghost of a smile on your face. Yet your mood hadn't fully recovered.

Joker knew something was bothering you when you kept quiet as the sink filled with suds and hot water. He chose not to comment in case he was wrong with his assumption but when was he ever wrong? Uh never.

After you blindly handed him a knife to towel dry off, enough was enough. He felt insulted. You knew his track record with knives. Why hand him one? Before you could blink, Joker had you caged in between him and the kitchen sink with no way out.

Your soapy hands grabbed his arms on instinct. "J-Joker, what are you doing?"

Your eyes met his trying to understand what had gotten into him. His knowing gaze made you uneasy so you purposefully looked away.

"Oh. I see." Joker eyed you up and down, "Go ahead and get it off your chest Y/n."

You froze. How did he..?

"How'd I know you wanted to talk? C'mon sweetheart, that look on your face screams; I'm holding something back."

Joker watched you swallow and he glanced down at the marks he left on your neck. They were noticeable but still faint against your skin tone. He wished Wayne could see you all marked up and claimed. That annoying rich boy needed to know his place. Sometimes being a secret really sucked. Joker wanted all of Gotham to know that the two of you were together.

Would you be upset if he made an anonymous tv broadcast about it or leaked it to the Gotham Gazette? Joker knew saying anything would put you in danger but a man could dream.

There had to be a way. You stole Joker's attention away before he could think on it further. "I mean yeah I have questions but I doubt you'll answer them."

Joker visibly sighed. You didn't trust him in the way he wanted you to. Just what would it take?!

"Won't know if you don't ask, doll. Up you go!" Joker picked you up and plopped you down on the kitchen counter, ignoring your startled yelp.

He left you there shell shocked and mildly turned on to go drain the water in the sink. Dishes could wait, you were more important.

He dried his hands and yours before removing the apron he was wearing. Then Joker gave you his full undivided attention. Such a shame you were too busy ogling his abs to start asking him questions.

"Eyes up here princess." Joker said.

The endearment was new and it hit your core like an atomic bomb.

"Ohh Y/n! Did you just moan? I think you diddd." He walked up and settled in between your legs, smiling wide. Of course he noticed your reaction. Lovely.

Joker licked his lips in that distinctive way of his. He subconsciously missed his clown makeup.

You liked his natural bare face more. "N-No! I did not! Can you be serious for once?"

Rule number one: be careful what you ask for around Joker. His eyes clouded over and the temperature in the kitchen dropped a good ten degrees instantly. A serious Joker was scary. You were trapped on the counter with this unstable degenerate blocking your path.

And the danger excited you. His sharp eyes forced you to elaborate.

"I can't seem to understand how quickly you responded to rescue me. Don't get me wrong, I'm forever grateful, but Mac and Neo painted a clear picture that you never wanted to see me again. I mean, I went two weeks with absolute radio silence and that hurt Joker. I know I was the one who ran away.. but you let me go. Y-You encouraged me to! I know we sorta kinda settled things between us and I am willing to try this- try us out but..."

You stopped to take a deep breath. Your next words came out in a heavy sigh.

"How do I know for sure that your feelings are genuine? You said it yourself you suffered while I was away, that you still have voices and doubts in your head about me. It sounds like you're confused on how to proceed. You're still struggling with your emotions and I don't want to force you into something that you might not be ready for. If we need to slow things down or take another break I—"

"You are noT pushing me away just because you're the one too scared to jump all in." Joker cut you off.

His eyes were venomous green staring you down from his towering height. Even situated on the counter, Joker could make you feel so small. Deep down you actually feared him just a tad.

His palms squeezed your upper thighs as he came nose to nose with you. This is not how he wanted to tell you about his inner demons.

"None of that matters Y/n! I saw you get taken with my own eyes. What was I supposed to do? Sit back and watch as they killed you?"

He hissed the accusation in the combined space and you could smell the maple syrup enlaced with his words.

"Sounds like a normal Joker reaction to me." You commented.

Your response hurt more than it should. A few months ago that would have been true. But now? Now he had to feign indifference to save face.

"Sorry. Uh next time? when you get kidnapped, I'll sit back and take notes mkay? Whether you like it or noT, you're stuck with me, so no. I will not slow down ooor take a break. I have you all to myself and I refuse to let you go. Even if I don't know what I'm doin' you're not going anywhere."

By the end of Joker's speech his lips were hovering over yours. You could feel the truth and uncertainty in his words but you didn't have much to say as a rebuttal. He was willing to try something new despite the odds stacked against him.

Those expressive eyes of his held you hostage and you were unable to look away. They were begging for you to understand what he failed to say— what both of you were too scared to admit this early on.

So for now it was best left unsaid. Joker was leaning down to seal your lips with his when someone started banging on your front door.

Joker growled at the moment being ruined and was making his way to neutralize the noise when you ran after him.

"Joker, wait!"

You caught up to him near the dining room table. With a gentle hand on his chest you pushed him back. "You're a wanted fugitive, remember? Let me answer it."

He scoffed and pushed you aside. "Uh huh. A defenseless author with a target on her head wants to answer the door? You're asking for it now. Move."

He did have a point, however. "Joker I know that knock from anywhere it's not—"

"You got ten seconds to open this door or we're coming in!" A feminine voice hollered from the other side.

Joker eyed the door in newfound intrigue as the person began counting down. He returned your gaze when you answered his question. "It's Florence. Please. Go. Hide!"

Oh. A friend. Normal guests, not psychotic criminals trying to kidnap you. Joker was kinda disappointed.

Florence kept banging on the door in between her exaggerated countdown.

Your e/c eyes pleaded with Joker halfway between seven and five to leave. He almost put up a fight but retreated to his bedroom— out of sight, for the time being. You heard the bedroom door slam close and knew Joker wasn't in the best of moods after being interrupted.

He was finally opening up and giving insight to his inner thoughts and feelings until Florence came out of nowhere and forced him back into his shell. This tiny world you created with Joker in your apartment was just a façade. The world was still revolving and balancing Joker's existence and Gotham's would prove to be a difficult task.

Dealing with a grumpy Joker would be an even bigger one. That would have to be a problem to deal with later though. Right now Florence was on number three and louder than ever.

"Open the f___ing door Y/n! I know you're in there girl! We just wanna talk!"

Classic Florence to threaten you passive aggressively.

You took a deep breath and unlocked the door right as Florence got to one. To her left, Barbara was holding the only set of spare keys you had, save for the front desk copy downstairs and surprisingly Joker's set. How he came in possession of your keys was a topic to be revisited at a later date.

You greeted your friends. "Hey hi. What brings you—"

The Haitian woman shoulder checked you as she walked into your apartment. Barbara wheeled herself in, giving you a telepathic, 'she's pissed' warning glare in passing.

The redhead shook her head as you closed the door. You didn't have to read the room to know Florence was mad. You rubbed your aching shoulder. The message was well received.

Florence had her hands on her hips bringing attention to the body chain hanging snug around her waist. You saw the intricate beads, healing crystals, and evil eye charms attached to the gold chain, most likely made from a native from her home country.

Despite Gotham City's unpredictable weather, Florence wore a crop top and wrap skirt complete with impressive lace up heels. A vision as always and she knew it.

"Not you acting all cordial at the door. You almost died and I had to hear about it off the news! No phone calls, no text, f__k a letter would have sufficed! If Barbara here didn't fill me in, I would've thought the worst!" Florence listed off each offense she had against you with her long acrylics.

Each click of her coffin nails made you cringe. It was literal sorcery how she could braid hair with them.

You walked further into the room to confront Florence, more like de-escalate her ire.

"That was two weeks ago Flo." You mentioned. They didn't know about you getting kidnapped just yesterday. The less they know the better.

Barbara made a face before weighing in.

"It doesn't matter how long ago it was Y/n, we were so worried about you! It was terrifying to watch the news without knowing your whereabouts! No one heard from you until I got a call from Bruce saying you were laying low at his estate. You should have called us. We're your friends!"

She failed to mention that Bruce was first on the scene as Batman with his tech analyst Oracle on standby that fateful Friday night. Both were clueless as to where you disappeared to until you mysteriously appeared back at your apartment, otherwise unharmed the next day.

Your whereabouts after the gala attack were unaccounted for. Where did you go for the night? Better yet, how did you escape the carnage?

Things weren't adding up, hence Barbara here with Florence (blissfully unaware of course) trying to get more intel.

The billionaire mentioned that something was on your mind in the two weeks you stayed with him. Even worse, things fell flat literally out of nowhere and you were too eager to leave Wayne Manor. You refused to talk about it to him, maybe you would confide in Barbara.

Bruce said he dropped you off at your place yesterday afternoon and Barbara was determined to get to the bottom of things today. Florence was playing her part in the secret mission and rounded on you, agreeing with her redheaded friend.

"Exactly! Friends communicate but wait a minute, new information being presented. You stayed with the DILF?!" She looked at you both with a petty smile slowly forming on her face.

"Bruce is not a daddy." You crossed your arms with a dramatic eye roll.

"Girl you crazy!" Florence cackled but stopped when she noticed something peculiar. "Hold on... Oh my god." She gasped.

Barbara jumped in her chair and looked around. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

If she looked further into the kitchen she would've seen the mess Joker made of it. You clearly didn't have any time to clean or hide the evidence of him being here before their unexpected arrival. The fact the mess was there made you panic and try to keep their attention isolated in the living room.

"You f__ked him!" Florence screamed.

Your face turned deadpan the exact moment Barbara spoke out. "Wait who??"

Florence rolled her exotic eyes. "Y/n had sex with Bruce Wayne! It's written all over her face."

"I d-did not!"

She scoffed, "Tuh the devil is a lie. You had sex with somebody and ya boy Wayne seems to be a biter." She poked your collarbone that was riddled with marks. Your pjs put them on full display and you slapped a hand over them.

"I-I uh.." You turned to Barbara for help but she seemed to be processing this new information poorly.

"I I I. You're stuttering Y/n. Was the sex that good you can't form sentences? Is he still here?" Florence followed your gaze and looked over her shoulder.

You made a panic induced noise that diverted her attention back to you and away from the archway leading to the bedrooms.

"Bruce isn't here because I didn't have sex with him! I was still in bed when you banged on my door like the freaking GCPD." Your state of clothing sold the story but Florence wasn't buying it judging by her pursed lips.

"Mmhm. You took a shower and didn't wrap your hair beforehand. Any woman with some common sense would protect her textured hair before showering unless she's too preoccupied by getting dicked down. I can see the water damage Y/n. You ain't slick." Florence tapped your nappy hair that was sticking out from under your silk wrap.

Busted and Florence looked smug as you struggled to make a witty response.

Barbara broke the silence, sounding a bit hurt. "Y/n.. did you really have sex with Bruce?"

You turned towards the redhead and sighed. It was easy to forget Barbara had this weird, complex relationship with the billionaire. If she wasn't so flirtatious and coy with Dick you would've been convinced she had a thing for Bruce.

Either way, you heard the betrayal in her voice and felt obligated to set the record straight.

"No, I did not Barbara." You glanced at Florence when she snorted. "Look. I said what I said. Believe me or not that's up to you but I have no reason to lie."

Barbara slowly nodded her head but both of you eyed Florence when she burst out laughing.

"That dick must've been grade A to have you this twisted. You look like you barely survived a one night stand with a sadist." Florence snickered and fell on the couch in stitches.

She was having way too much fun roasting you. She was right about the sadist bit. Joker did get carried away...

"She has a point Y/n. They look painful but regardless— I'm so happy for you!" Barbara squealed.

"Our girl is finally getting dick. Took her long enough!" Florence added in between wheezes.

"Oh my god." You groaned at your friends ganging up on you. You made your way to the couch and sat down next to Flo.

After a while their laughter simmered down until Florence could speak without giggling.

"Okay nah forreal. I can squeeze you in for an appointment. Your hair looking a lil rough baby." Florence patted your natural hair professionally. "Did he pull the braids out or something? What happen?"

You swatted her hand away. "See you ain't right. If you two are done hounding me, I'd like to relax for the rest of the day."

Joker was bound to be pissed with how long they were hanging around. He was not a person to keep waiting but you couldn't kick them out without raising suspicions.

"Oh? He wore you out these past two weeks and now you're trying to kick us out. Rude. We came over to invite you out for a girl's night." Florence propped her heels on the coffee table and Barbara nodded her head, situated in her favorite spot next to the accent chair.

Behind her you spotted Joker's ridiculous panda suit he left on the floor when the two of you arrived late last night.

It was riddled with scratches from the spray of bullets Two Face's goons made in retaliation to your rescue. A cold sweat ran down your spine hoping they didn't see it. How could Joker be so careless?! Oh right, he thought it would be just the two of you in the penthouse for the next five months. You weren't a recluse for crying out loud!

Although few in number, you had visitors and many deliveries that stopped by. You mentally shook your head and diverted your attention back to Barbara who clapped her hands in glee.

"You can rest later Y/n! C'mon, we haven't hung out in ages!"

Flo admired her acrylic set and added her two cents in. "Red is right. Plus you deserve some fun after your brush with death."

If only she knew just how true her statement was and how recent. You wanted to agree but..

You glanced towards your guest bedroom where you knew Joker was bound to be eavesdropping. Florence's stunning beauty blocked your field of vision.

"Unless you really do have a dick appointment with a tall handsome billionaire you not telling us about." She sang.

You spat the denial out through your teeth. "No, I don't."

Barbara snickered behind her hands and the motion caused her many bracelets to clink together. "Perfect! We'll make it a true girl's night and invite Morgana!" She whipped her phone out and began typing away. "Wait, what time does she get off work?"

"Three." You and Florence said at the same time but you added more to your sentence. "So this is a thing. Like we're actually going out tonight?"

"Yes but there's a catch. I was invited to a club by one of my clients." Florence said with a grimace.

Barbara looked up from her phone not understanding the issue. "Okay? Wow! That's amazing Flo. Which one?"

"Euphoria."

You and Barbara shared a look. "I've never heard of it, is it a new club or something?" You asked.

Florence turned her head and mumbled something off to the side. Her odd behavior was irking Barb who had enough and raised her voice. "Spit it out Flo!"

"It's in Atlanta aight! The club is in Atlanta." She huffed out.

"Like.. Georgia?"

"As in, almost nine hundred miles away, in a different state than us Georgia?"

Florence rolled her eyes at the two of you pestering her. "Y'all so childish. Yes, that Georgia. I flew down to braid his hair a few times and he always invited me to his club for bottle service as secondary payment. Wasn't interested before, but we could use a little bit of fun on his dime. Plus I'm tryna get drunkity drunk tonight."

You snickered seeing Barbara process this new information. She was the brains of the group. This would be interesting.

"How are we going to get there, Florence? Traveling with me and a wheelchair isn't the best thing in the world, I'd tell you that."

Florence quickly replied. "It's just a suggestion d__n. He has a jet so it'll be personal care for you and your equipment, I promise. It beats staying here in Gotham. Just about all of the warehouses and strips are closed due to that explosion last night."

You stopped laughing.

"Oh good point. Dad's been so busy handling the situation on top of the National Guard I didn't get to talk to him this morning." Barbara mentioned.

Were they talking about the bomb Joker caused to save you last night? It sure sounded like it. You tensed up in your seat and remained quiet.

"See? It makes sense to travel elsewhere since Gotham City nightlife is temporarily shut down. This is what happens when an idiot blows up a perfectly good liquor factory. We have to party outside the state!"

They were definitely talking about the warehouse Joker demolished. Barbara and Florence spoke in the background about tonight's travel details but you were stuck in your own world.

It was insane to recall but you were kidnapped less than twenty four hours ago and Joker's 'heroic actions' had citywide consequences. Most of the nightclubs in Gotham were housed in warehouses so it was sound logic to shut down the rest to protect the public from any other repeat hits or copycats.

Would it be too suspicious to turn on the tv to watch the news coverage mid conversation? You didn't expect any survivors, but you needed to know what lengths Joker went through to get you back.

Even if they were criminals beyond saving, their deaths somehow felt like your responsibility.

"I can't believe I'm agreeing with this.. Usually I would stress my dad's strict citywide curfew but technically it doesn't apply if we fly out of the state. Morgana's not answering her cell so she must be busy with an order. I'll fill her in later. How about we meet back here around, oh let's say, a quarter to eight then drive to the airport?"

You were still on the fact they were talking about last night's traumatic event to even acknowledge they were making plans without your say.

You reentered the conversation with a stage cough. "Um excuse me? Hi. The owner of the meetup spot wishes to speak. Do I have a say in the matter or...?"

"Nope." They both said.

You were overruled two to one. What was the point in trying to stick your ground?

You finally got to glance at the clock. It read a little after eleven am. For someone who went to bed super late and woke up extremely early, you had a ton of energy. But did you have enough for a girl's night? Would you have enough to face Joker after this and tell him you were leaving? You were way too young for this kind of stress.

You'd have grey hairs by the end of the year. Florence ended your worrisome thoughts when she stood up with a flourish.

"Alright I'll call and tell him that we're a go. Now you!" She rounded on you with a pointy coffin nail. "I want that hair washed and presentable to match your sexy outfit that you'll wear tonight. And if you fail to be ready at eight pm, I will personally cockblock your plans with Wayne. Have I made myself clear?"

Florence stood over you looking every bit the assertive girl boss she was. You nodded your head to appease her. "Yes ma'am. I'll be ready."

Neither her or Barbara looked convinced. You were notorious for rain checks after all.

"I mean it Y/n/n." Flo warned.

Barbara sent you another telepathic message, this one, sucks to be you, before they both made their way towards the door. You held it open, waving goodbye and promising to be ready at eight o'clock.

You closed the door with a soft click that did nothing to muffle your heavy sigh. Somehow you got roped into a jet setting night out. Just what were you going to tell Joker?

You could write a thousand speeches, captivate an audience with your riveting tales, but when it came to finding a way to tell Joker about tonight's plans, you came up short.

He would not take the news well, that much was certain and you really didn't want to put a wedge in the already fragile relationship. You liked Joker a lot but your pre-existing friendship with the girls was important too.

Who took more priority in your life? You rested your head on the front door, at a loss on what to do.

"Going somewhere bunny?"

You screamed at the low timbre caressing in your ear. You doubted if Florence and Barbara were out of earshot yet but you honestly did not care. Your roommate was a sneaky devil that loved to scare people, i.e. you.

"Joker, you got to stop creeping up on me like that! My heart is racing!" You placed a hand over your chest to try and calm the tempo down.

Joker could care less. He heard every word you said and had a bone to pick with you. He crowded your frightened form to the wall and eyed you down with that mysterious gleam you had yet to decipher. You couldn't tell what he was thinking until he spoke.

"Soooo you're leaving. Again." He growled.

Okay he was Pissed with a capital p.

You had two choices here. One, play the victim card or own up to the plans and hold your ground. You chose the higher ground.

"Oh that. Well you already heard but Flo, Barb, and I are doing girl's night. I can't back out or they'll get suspicious. I mean.. they already think—"

Joker cut you off. "That you're screwing Gotham's most favorite upstanding citizen, Bruce Wayne? Yeah I hearD. I'll let that slide solely on the fact that the Commissioner's daughter was sooo worried about your sex life she failed to notice incriminating evidence right in her face."

He stepped back to pick up his bulletproof panda suit off the floor and shook it playfully. "It's comforting to know everyone associated with the GCPD is dumber than a bag of rocks."

You didn't find his comment funny.

"Don't insult my friend right to my face, Joker. That's what you not finna do."

He enjoyed hearing your Blüdhaven dialect come out whenever you were upset. It was a different side of you that very few got to see.

You noted his aloof demeanor and decided to agitate the bear since he wasn't mad like you thought he'd be. "Meanwhile I'm surprised you're not more upset about their 'accusations'. A lot can happen in two weeks."

You quoted Joker's own words right back at him, much to his displeasure.

Joker's grin fell and so did the panda suit from his grasp. It sank to the floor with an audible thud as he approached you once more. "Watch it Bunny."

You pursed your lips. "Or what? You'll spank me?"

"Do you want me to?"

You could tell Joker was serious. He didn't stutter nor did he crack a smile. If your eyes weren't glued to his, you would've seen his hands balled up into fists and shaking by his side. This version of Joker was unknown to you and it was wise to tread carefully. He was unpredictable and visibly on edge.

You let out a shaky breath. "N-No! Look. I'm not running away.."

"Then why did you agree to go out clubbing in Atlanta? That's the very definition of leaving!"

Joker was trying to ebb his emotions but it was proving to be difficult when you stood there acting like you were innocent.

Didn't you see your hypocritical actions front and center? How dare you paint him out to be the villain here?! He shouldn't be punished just because you were scared to take a leap of faith. You talked up a good game about giving this relationship a shot but you ran away at the mere drop of a hat. It was not fair.

You should be the one questioning your feelings toward him, not the other way around. He stood firm on his feelings, (even if he was relearning them day by day) you were the one uncertain. You were the one who was afraid.

Joker couldn't help you overcome that fear, at least not in a healthy manner. However tough love was a tried and true approach to these situations...

"Why?" Joker growled again as he invaded your space.

He didn't care if you were claustrophobic. He couldn't even think straight let alone notice how his actions were affecting you. You backpedaled further into the kitchen and was creating some distance until your back hit the pantry door next to the stove.

Then you were caged in, standing before a raging lion.

Arms you previously admired and clung to throughout the night were walls of steel, blocking your escape. Joker's tall frame blocked out the light, plunging you into a dark void where you were an innocent mouse and he the Cheshire Cat licking his fangs in anticipation.

The shadows made his facial scars harsher somehow. More sinister than you'd care to admit.

Joker repeated his question yet your brain failed at forming the right words to answer. Your silence was not what he wanted to hear. Joker asked you again only this time, he shouted it.

You cowered away and he preened at the fear rolling off of you. Almost a month ago, he would have killed to see fear overwhelm your features, yet seeing it today, it was all wrong. Just wrong, wrong, wrong. He never wanted you to fear him but that dark, ugly side he tried so hard to tame, wanted— no needed to force you to see their way of thinking.

Fear was the only way. It was the only emotion Joker knew and perfected and so he used it well.

You whimpered when Joker's fist careened into the pantry door mere inches from your face. It almost drowned out his demand for answers. Almost.

You didn't know how to respond when he was like this.

Granted you were still emotionally drained from last night, (and from this morning when you woke up alone) you easily lost the battle against your emotions and let a tear slip out.

His world stopped spinning.

It was as if Killer Croc ripped Joker's heart out and shredded it into confetti paper. Joker feared nothing but the moment he reached out and tried holding your face in his hands- when you flinched away- he felt hollow inside.

He was scum, lower than dirt for invoking your tears.

Joker's hands hovered in front of your face, trembling from the thought of touching you, of invoking your fear of him more, he couldn't stomach the sight anymore. He did this. No. That horrid- evil side of him that he tried his best to hide whenever he was around you, did this.

It wanted your blood, your terror, your very life if you were foolish enough to give it. Joker knew he was a monster; it was common knowledge and he wondered daily why you allowed him to dwell amongst your beauty and kindness. All he ever did was cause you pain.

Perhaps he should leave. He couldn't hurt something out of his reach, so he nodded to himself and began to turn when your weak, watery cry stopped him.

"Wait! Please."

Joker's world began spinning again, one hesitant inch at a time.

He was the one that cornered, frightened, and made you cry so why was he the one acting afraid? Joker was scared to see your face, to find disgust there directed at him. Maybe today would be the day you came to your senses and kicked him out of your life for good.

But no. His Bunny was too merciful. Your hands mirrored his previous intentions and held his cheek like glass. Your hands were so warm on his scars it made him dizzy.

"P-Please.. I'm sorry. I promise I'm not running away! Don't ever think that I'm running from you or from u-us. It's just.. um my friends and I rarely have the same schedules and if I don't go tonight it'll be months before we get to hang out as a full group again. And with you in my apartment for the next five months I want— No, I need to spend time with them before I give you all of my attention. You deserve it! I'm so sorry Joker, I have to go, please don't be mad at me!"

You burst into tears and clung to his chest. He blinked in awe that his fear tactic worked. Finally you explained your actions! Although he hated the method he used, it all worked out in the end.

You feared Joker just a smidgen more than you previously did and in the future he would use that to his advantage. Joker sighed to himself. He was ashamed for even manipulating you like this, but as he wrapped his arms around you and shushed your hiccups like a baby– he knew.

The seed was sown; You knew better not to anger him again.

Joker was used to making people cry and he hardly cared if they never stopped. It was part of the job description as Joker monopolized people's fear of him for his grip on power.

That is until he made you cry. Then, it was a problem. One that he couldn't seem to fix.

You two had slid to the kitchen floor where Joker sat with his back to the counter and you in his arms. He looked every bit a grumpy cat.

No matter how many times he patted your back or mumbled out at "There, there Bunny." or rolled his eyes each time you apologized he groaned, "Stop saying sorry and stop cryin.." you didn't.

You would simply tear up more and cling to him tighter.

This was Joker's atonement. His legs had since fallen asleep from your weight on them and he watched the time tick by on the stove's interface. Sooner or later you would tucker yourself out, right? Joker was by no means religious but he considered praying to something if it finally dried up your tears.

He was seconds away from shoving you aside and doing something more useful with his time- but once he raised a hand to caress the back of your head, it all stopped.

Just like that, you stopped. He was mad at himself for not thinking of it sooner. You secretly loved your hair being played with despite your strict 'no touching rule.'

You whimpered differently and shuddered in his hold as your gentle sobs came to a stop.

All was quiet until you looked up into muddled green orbs. Joker appeared to be absolutely bored but his eyes softened when he saw your puffy face staring up at him. Even with tear stained cheeks, you were beautiful. He didn't know if he was allowed to kiss you but nothing could stop Joker when he wanted something.

Right now, he wanted to kiss those pretty lips of yours. He wiped your lash line with the pad of his thumb and angled your head better to see him.

"You feelin better doll?"

You bashfully nodded your head. Your emotional outburst was so embarrassing now that it was over. To think you cried in front of Joker of all people! Ugh, you felt so pathetic.

Yet the way Joker's eyes regarded you like you were the most interesting thing in his world, it gave you a bit of hope. Who cares if your writer's mind over romanticized the moment?

Joker arched an eyebrow at your spaced out gaze and huffed gently. "Still not using your big girl words. I wanna hear you use 'em." He tapped your temple once, then twice to taunt your brain.

"I-I ahem.. I feel better. T-Thanks for letting me cry all over you." You wiped his chest that did little to absorb your tears. His muscles looked good wet. You cleared your throat after thinking that wild thought.

"Something else still on your mind?" Joker asked while tipping your head back with a lone finger. He had a sixth sense in reading your mind.

This relationship would be so much easier if he actually could, but alas. He was still pretty accurate at times.

"No. I just feel stupid for crying in your lap like some spoiled brat." You grumbled.

"Hmm, you do acT like one so no harm done." He laughed after seeing your annoyed scowl. "Now that your uh.. tantrum is over. You wanna relocate this chat somewhere else? Like.. not on the floor?" Joker shifted his knee and you both heard the pop it made after being in the same position for too long.

"Oh my gosh! Your leg! I'm so–"

Joker took that time to shut you up with a kiss. You tensed up for a millisecond but melted like wax soon after on his velvet lips. Unfortunately he broke the connection off prematurely and you failed to stop the whine that escaped your throat.

Joker chuckled once and pecked your lips, unable to deny you of anything. "If you apologize one more time, I'll give ya something to really be sorry for."

You barely had time to digest that warning before Joker abruptly stood up with you still in his arms. The sudden change of motion threw you off. He held you steady as you adapted to standing on your own two feet once again. You thanked him once the room stopped spinning.

Then you saw the state of your kitchen. Dishes were still lying around that weren't cleaned the first go around and it was slowly creeping towards midday. You had too much to handle before eight pm.

But one task at a time you told yourself. "I should finish cleaning and make us lunch before I start getting ready."

Joker's arms tightened around you after hearing your intentions. All that crying and you were still leaving? It didn't make any sense to him. You knew exactly what he was thinking and backed out of his arms with a sigh.

"I'm still going, Joker. You can go one night without me. I can cook you dinner before I go and I'll be back before breakfast. But I do need to go grocery shopping beforehand. I doubt there's anything in the fridge."

"There isn't." Joker confirmed.

You nodded and rocked on your heels in awkward silence. Your statement hung in the electrically charged room. Joker didn't help the situation by staring at you unblinking. Two pools of emerald bore into your soul and you crumbled like a cookie. Staring at Joker was like playing with fire. You had to look away to save yourself.

"Alrighty then. I guess I'll g-go get ready–" You made it around the island counter, headed towards your bedroom when Joker grabbed ahold of your arm.

"Uh where are you going?" He asked.

Did the man have separation anxiety or something? Regardless, your eyes traced from Joker's grip on your skin, up along his muscular arm to his eyes. Surely he wasn't hard of hearing.

"I just said I need to go grocery shopping. Geez Joker. It won't take me long and I promise I'll be back before you know it. I do have to change though." You glanced down at his firm grip, willing him to let go.

"You're not going anywhere without me."

Unfreaking believable. Who was acting like a spoiled brat now? Did all logic fly out the window this morning? You were literally speechless, gaping up at Joker until he explained himself.

"Both of us are going to the store." He sounded so sure of himself you wanted to believe it was possible. But this new level of insanity Joker cooked up was maddening.

How did he survive this long making these rash decisions?

You made a face and waved your hands wildly in a state of confusion. "Joker, you can't be serious. You're a wanted fugitive! There's an active manhunt for your recapture! Not to mention the explosion you created last night to rescue me has the entire GCPD force on go mode. The last thing you need to do is go outside."

Joker crossed his arms and stared you down. His facial expression was proof he didn't care about the authorities or their frivolous manhunt. His dramatic eye roll was a big, 'I don't give a f__k.'

You looked Joker dead in the eye and made an iconic hand gesture, "One does not simply walk into a supermarket with a reputation like yours."

Joker didn't get the pop culture reference. "Uh.. I'm not wearing any makeup." He pointed to his bare face. "So yeah, yeah I can."

He brought up a good argument. Joker did in fact look like a completely different person without his signature clown makeup. He could probably avoid detection if not for his scars. You were biased towards them but any other person would openly stare if they saw Joker's face. His hair alone would instantly raise alarm.

"That doesn't change the fact you're still.... well you." Joker arched an eyebrow at your choice of words so you quickly retracted your statement.

"I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT! I meant.. um green hair, drop dead gorgeous guy, oozing dangerous vibes, plus your uh.."

You gestured vaguely at your mouth. Joker just blinked.

This field trip must mean a lot to him if he truly forgot that his appearance was a major problem with attempting to blend in with society.

Self acceptance was always celebrated here, but not everyone has an elongated smile carved onto their face. You struggled saying that in a positive tone but you couldn't beat around the bush.

"Good Lawd this is pointless. Since you won't take no for an answer, you're putting a beanie on to cover your hair and I have a face mask around here somewhere to cover your scars. If I could, I'd put a brown paper bag over your head." You sighed wistfully.

His pointed glare dared you to try.

"Joker, this is still too risky." You trailed off and scratched the back of your neck, overthinking this idea since he wouldn't. Was his separation anxiety worth him potentially getting arrested?

You glanced up when Joker scoffed flippantly. Apparently so.

"Risky is my middle name, Y/n! I go under-cove-rrr more times than I'd care to admit with no issues. Gotham Citizens are annoyingly ignorant when it comes to being observant." The dark gleam in his eye had you believing him for a second.

Yet it wasn't enough. "I don't know.."

He hated hearing the hesitation in your voice. Joker was running out of excuses so he took you in his arms and held fast to your shoulders shaking them none too gently.

"Hey. Y/n. Look. Look at meee." You gazed up at Joker with doubt still clouding your e/c hued eyes. He took a moment to admire your beauty before he jumped back to the matter at hand.

"Nothing bad will happen. Can you- oh I don't know, trust me for once?" He cupped your face and stared straight into your soul.

Time slowed down whenever you stared at Joker. There was something about those electric green eyes of his that simply drew you in. His lips loomed closer and closer until they met yours with a rare gentleness that you never expected Joker to possess. Joker's kiss felt lighter than the pancakes he made for breakfast.

His tongue clashed with yours fighting for dominance- swirling like the butter and syrup on your plate- until you gave Joker full control. He licked the root of your mouth in victory and ever since you were a goner.

Joker pressed up against you- all hard edges and a festering heat. The combination made you weak in the knees yet Joker couldn't erase the narrative from your mind. This trip to the store was definitely risky and it went against your logic as an author.

Every character you read about or created never exposed themselves in such a way. They were smart to avoid detection at all costs until the coast was clear.

They weren't arrogant, thinking themselves untouchable and they never taunted the authorities. Joker was doing that and more. In Joker's case, his recapture was inevitable because Batman always tracked the clown down.. but not this time.

This time, Joker was under your protection and you dared the caped crusader to steal him away from you. You made a silent vow to keep Joker hidden the day you half-dragged, half-carried him into your apartment, unconscious and bleeding.

If Joker was going down, so were you. And so you elected yourself to be the brains of this duo.

You seriously wanted to boycott this dumb idea of his. There were so many what ifs floating around in your head. If you spent the same amount of time thinking about the cons you would have known they were moot points since Joker was already determined to go.

He said it himself Gotham citizens were ignorant to their surroundings.

Barbara and Florence were living proof of that. If they were more observant they would've blown the whistle on your 'hide a fugitive in my apartment' quest a long time ago. Barbara saw right through your little white lie about adopting a cat but didn't press the matter any further.

You proudly wore a necklace of love bites and bruises that Florence pointed out although she didn't grow concerned when you denied it wasn't Bruce's doing. Who else did it then Florence? You mentally rolled your eyes. It was kinda sad just how little your two best friends cared. You might need this girl's night more than you thought.

And to get there you had to appease Joker. Your thoughts were abuzz as he pulled away from your lips for air. He swiped at the string of spit connecting your mouths with his tongue and rested his forehead against yours.

You didn't need more persuasion after that doozy of a kiss. You trusted Joker to some degree and it was high time to give him more credit where it was due. All you had was his word and a pinch of hope that this trip wouldn't backfire.

You played with the strands of hair on the nape of Joker's neck to gain his attention. He already knew you would cave in but your following words just solidified his theory.

"I hope I don't regret this. Get dressed loser, we're going shopping."

And that's how you ended up grocery shopping with Joker.

The mere thought was insane but sure enough, you glanced to your right and the notorious criminal stood next to you reading the nutritional facts on a bag of chips in fake interest. You had to smack his hand when he tried to open the bag in the middle of the store.

He threw death glares at you for hitting him but eventually tossed the half opened bag into the cart.

"I totally regret this." You grumbled and pushed the cart away from Joker.

He said nothing but followed behind you, secretly keeping an eye out on the various shoppers and all available entry and exit points. Just because he told you he went undercover with ease didn't mean he was lax with surveillance. Joker was vigilant while maintaining a level of calmness. A shame you weren't in the same boat.

Your nerves were one thousand percent since the moment you two left the apartment and it was noticeable from how your heels tapped on the epoxy floors to your shifty eyes. Every sound made you jump. You still couldn't believe you agreed to this.

After explaining to Joker that you were quoting Mean Girls and not deliberately calling him a loser, (you knew better) you both went your separate ways to get dressed.

You spent half of your thirty minutes taming your hot mess of hair into a pineapple bun and tied it strategically with a scarf. It paired well with your designer halter top and black skinny jeans that made your backside look phenomenal. You chose to wear printed Louboutin heels to polish off the look and eyed yourself in the mirror celebrating a job well done. Until you saw the bruises on your neck.

Joker's 'handiwork' was on full display but nothing a little concealer couldn't fix.

Adorning bracelets and a pair of hoop earrings as finishing touches, you considered yourself ready to go. Joker didn't know what to say when he opened his bedroom door and saw you in the hallway applying another coat of clear lip gloss to those plump lips of yours.

Your smoldering gaze rooted him to the spot.

"I uh thought we were going to the uhh... store?" He managed to say.

You looked ready for a date not for running errands. Joker looked down at his scruffy jeans and grey long sleeve shirt feeling vastly underdressed.

You on the other hand were practically drooling at Joker's choice in clothes. All he needed was a jean jacket and he would be any woman's bad boy dream. Since when did ripped jeans look so hot? You fiddled with your hair scarf hoping you weren't visibly sweating.

"You weren't kidding when you said you went clothes shopping. I ah... you look.. wow." You stuttered in Joker's direction. Your heels clicked loudly on the hardwood floors as you sauntered over to him.

Just a change of clothes and Joker had completely transformed himself. He let a few strands of his hair peek out from underneath the dark beanie you gave him. The pop of green was the only color in his monochromatic attire. Maybe this disguise would actually work.

He had you fooled. Joker looked like a lead guitarist of a metal band and an incredibly hot one at that. He let you run your hands over his clothed chest, while holding back an amused grin. "Answer my question Bunny." He reminded you.

"What question?"

Joker shook his head. "If we go together it'll draw more attention, 'specially if you keep that on..." He cooed. He didn't have to crane his head to see that booty from the front. You could make anything look sexy but this fit of yours was killing him.

"Right.. yeah perhaps I can meet you there? It's the EverFresh on Yale St."

That would explain your dressy outfit. Only nannies of prominent families and the upper elite shopped at EverFresh. Their prices were inflated but the quality of food lived up to the company's name. Joker knew you would blend in with your outfit. Everything made sense.

Not much else was said when the two of you left your apartment and rode the elevator down to the main floor. You were sweating bullets thinking someone would identify Joker but alas, no one batted an eyelash. Other than a fleeting glance at him for wearing a face mask, Joker roamed freely amongst the public.

This was actually working. The realization was terrifying.

He could've been anywhere all these years. It made his reputation that much terrifying. Joker whispered in your ear to relax right before he disappeared into the foot traffic outside of your apartment complex. Then you were alone.

Despite his reassuring words you felt like everyone was watching you. One guy stared longer than you liked on the subway (it didn't dawn on you that you looked hot) and it raised your hackles until you heard someone subtly clear their throat a few distance away.

The subway car was packed but out of the corner of your eye, you could see the dark handsome figure of Joker holding onto the ceiling handle. His grip on it highlighted his bicep in the tight grey shirt he wore and the lady standing next to him was definitely enjoying the view. If only she knew those arms could snap her neck and the nearby populace in the blink of an eye.

Joker's green eyes glowed in the overhead lights before the subway went through a blacked out passageway. The staring contest pursued even in the dark. Keeping an eye on Joker helped calm your nerves and you let out a shaky exhale until a robotic feminine voice announced the station's arrival.

It wasn't far of a walk out the subway terminal into the blinding organic and healthy food market, EverFresh.

The place reeked of superiority. It made you want to gag but you mentally prepared yourself and rented a cart to begin your shopping. This wouldn't take long and you reminded yourself you were nothing like these people.

EverFresh was the only store you knew of where a pre-screening background check was mandatory before obtaining a membership and also where sweats were banned. You wished you wore your Saint Laurent YSL logo heels instead.

Sticking out like a sore thumb wasn't ideal right now. Yet none of that mattered when Joker entered the store five minutes after you.

Somehow he bypassed earning a stink eye from the greeter when he failed to rent a cart or handheld basket, however, Joker did gain the eye of every housewife, nanny, private chef, and female employee present.

There was an air about him that commanded attention while warning people not to stare for too long. It was apparent he didn't belong here but no one questioned Joker's authority. He naturally found you on the bread aisle and strode up to you with confidence.

Unfortunately you didn't see him toss a loaf of whole grain wheat into the cart but you heard his dramatic greeting, "I see you started without me, Princess."

A middle aged woman, (a politician's wife by the looks of it) sent jealous daggers into your back.

You thought bringing Joker along to the store would put him at risk with the cops but, oh no. His sexy, mysterious aura was gonna get you in trouble with the jealous shoppers. Joker was better off coming as the wanted man he was instead of this wickedly good disguise.

Joker chuckled at your dilemma and only made matters worse by following behind you like a dark shadow. From an outsider's perspective, he appeared to be your personal bodyguard but he was anything but. You grabbed a few more things before turning down the breakfast aisle when Joker decided to act a plum fool.

Your heels echoed on the spotless floor as you combed through the vast selection for the various items on your list. Since Joker was with you, he could help carry the majority of the load so you could buy in bulk. You were scratching an item off the list when you heard your name across the way.

"Oh Y/n can I please have it? I promise I've been a very good boy."

You slowly turned around to find Joker holding up a box of Cocoa Nuts and Frosted Flakes, shaking them aggressively. You were surprised that Colomy's brand of cereal was even in stock here but stared at Joker in disbelief. Whatever happened to keeping a low profile?

He swore your left eye twitched. You were just about to scold him when another shopper walked by getting an eyeful of Joker. She giggled out a hello, he paid her no mind.

"Please Bunny?"

Her scoff was louder than the gossip she'd start about you. Your membership would take a few points for sure.

Steam was coming out of your ears you were so embarrassed.

"You are acting like a child. Yes, you can get them! Anything to shut you up." You scanned the area making sure no one was getting too suspicious. If anyone were listening in, it sounded like a nanny discipling her charge. If only Joker was an adolescent and not a full grown man with a twisted sense of humor.

This was the first trip to the store that no one had asked if you needed help or huffed at you to move out of their way. Usually a store associate would have bothered you by now. The lack of customer service put you on edge.

Joker invading your personal space and practically purring in your ear didn't help relieve your paranoia either. "Thank you Mommy." He said while tossing both boxes into the cart.

You never felt more embarrassed in your entire life. You wished the floor could swallow you whole. And so everything came back full circle.

"I totally regret this." You grumbled and pushed the cart away from Joker.

Yet he never left your line of sight. He stayed glued to your side even while you struggled to reach things on the top shelves and made sexual innuendos as you chose between two pieces of meat.

"Hmmm. Why not get that one Y/n? We both know you like thick pieces of meat." His words made the tips of your ears tingle and it flushed beet red when a blonde standing next to you gasped in shock.

She looked Joker up and down, no doubt about to shoot her shot but you tossed both packets of meat into the cart and hissed at Joker to follow you.

He did, but not before winking at the blonde. No matter how many times you told him to behave he would say or do something attention grabbing and shoot your stress levels sky high. He was doing it on purpose now. You were about to reach the floral section when you rounded on Joker.

"Stay right here and watch the cart. Do not walk off, do not flirt with another shopper.. again.. and please don't eat anything I haven't paid for yet."

He rolled his eyes and gave you a lazy army salute, which was his way of saying, 'I will make no such promises.' He was already looking for something to get into by the time you turned around.

Your attention focused on the florist center which took up a decent size of the market. It alone contributed to the sweet, inviting smell that wafted throughout the store.

Arrange me Not owned leasing rights within the supermarket but their primary location was a blooming success in Otisburg. And with good reason. Their work was amazing with each bouquet arranged with a personal touch for the expected recipient. They made common flowers works of art and you were lucky enough to know the owner.

Morgana planned on expanding to a third location in New Gotham by the end of the year. She could put old Pamela Isley out of business if the botanist turned super criminal ever returned to an honest living.

Regardless, you knew your friend was here in person today based on the more elaborate, premade bouquets on display. You walked up to the counter and decided against ringing the bell placed there.

It was too noisy, the florist mentioned time and time again.

"Morgana you busy?"

You didn't have to wait long before curious brown eyes shot out from the back followed by a dazzling smile when she recognized her current customer. Morgana had her long silky hair done up in a high ponytail today with a wreath of wildflowers acting as a makeshift hair tie.

If her hands weren't caked in dirt she would have hugged you. "Never for you Y/n! What will it be today? Lilies? Garden roses? Ooh! Peonies are in right now and I have a full crate that I can ship over from Otisburg to—" You stopped her rambling with a gentle wave.

"I'd love any arrangement you make Morgana but that's not why I'm here."

"Oh." She scratched her face, leaving a streak of soil there. "Did something happen again? I haven't checked my phone today."

Out of all of your friends Morgana was the most level headed when it came to your life drama. She didn't panic like Florence or Barbara would and it was one of the reasons why Morgana was the only person you texted after you woke up underground in Joker's bunker.

You hated having favorites but you could tell Morgana anything simply because she wouldn't overreact or care about the information. She was truly a free spirited individual. Which meant you could be as blunt as you wanted— no harm done.

"No, nothing bad happened. Flo, Barb, and I are doing girl's night. Barbara texted you the full details but I wanted to make sure you knew before your shift ended. We're meeting back up at my place at a quarter till eight. Florence got this client of hers that's flying us out to Atlanta."

Halfway through your explanation Morgana wiped her hands and face clean with a cloth and rounded the counter to stand by your side. It was acting as a barrier from giving you a hug. She pulled away with a laugh after hearing the end of your sentence.

"Oh she been giving that man pussy!" You joined in with her peals of laughter.

"That's what I said because ain't no way he's offering to fly us all out free of charge! He owns a club so I guess he's paying for everything else tonight. We just gotta come as we are."

"I have yet to turn down a man's money. Consider me in. What's the dress code?" Morgana asked. Unfortunately, you were just as clueless.

"Uh I don't know." You checked the group chat but nothing was mentioned. "I mean it's Atlanta so probably hot girl summer. Florence mentioned she wanted to get drunk so. There's that."

Morgana sighed to herself. "That means someone gotta stay sober to watch her Haitian a_s. We are not getting kicked out of a club again. I nominate you this time." She rolled her eyes when you muttered, well duh, but continued. "But say less I'll be ready. Is Cindy down?"

You totally forgot to include the businesswoman! It was quite last minute and you hadn't talked to her since visiting her office with Bruce two weeks ago.

"I doubt it."

Morgana hummed, "Won't hurt to invite her just in case she can pull a miracle." Out the corner of her eye she saw a client come up with a pickup ticket. "Ooh gotta go girl, but I'll see you tonight!"

She waved you off and greeted her new customer before coming out the back with a massive centerpiece bursting with spring florals. The lady gushed over the piece and struggled holding it with her two arms, it was so huge. It was absolutely beautiful and after seeing it you turned to Morgana—

"I'll bring you a bouquet when I come over tonight." She knew you too well. You walked back to where you left Joker and the cart with a content smile.

You killed two birds with one stone; informing Morgana of tonight's plans while shopping for groceries, all without an incident. Maybe tonight wouldn't be as bad as you thought. That is if Joker let you go.

The man had separation anxiety and boarded a boat down the river of denial. You didn't want to anger him or ruin whatever that was growing between you and him. Everything would work itself out, you thought to yourself and rounded the corner, only to arrive at an vacant spot.

"Where..." So obviously you weren't tripping. You left Joker by the wine and spirits section near the checkout yet he and your cart full of food were gone.

You frantically looked around but other shoppers were milling around minding their business, blissfully unaware. There was literally a madman on the loose and they went about their day as normal. Joker was nowhere in sight so you did the same thing your mom did whenever she lost you in the store.

You went up and down each aisle searching.

You couldn't call out Joker's name— wanted criminal and all— bummer right? Each aisle came up empty. You didn't spot a black beanie anywhere. You didn't hear any screams of terror nor did you see a crowd of women lining up for his number. He simply vanished. Your stress levels were over 9000.

"Excuse me miss? Did you lose something?"

You whirled on the store associate who stopped you on your fourth trip around the store. She took in your dilated eyes and distress, hoping you'd explain.

"Miss?" She put a halt to your panic with a comforting smile. "What seems to be the problem?"

"My cart! I left it right here and... and.." You choked out.

"Miss Y/L is it? Your membership card was authorized for a purchase over twenty minutes ago. I assumed your bodyguard went on ahead with the groceries since he opted in on a home delivery service."

Screw the GCPD capturing Joker. You were going to kill him yourself.

Did he know how much delivery services cost?! Scratch that. What was he thinking leaving without you? The man couldn't follow simple instructions and did he have to take your purse with him? At least you had your phone and apartment key in your back pocket, however your anger for a green haired clown was at an all time high.

You had to save face in this uppity store so you faced the store associate with a tight lipped smile of your own.

"Is that so? Well, I guess he got impatient while I was off browsing in the flower section. Thank you for your help."

She returned your smile and moseyed off to assist another customer, leaving you stewing near the exit. Joker better have a good excuse after pulling a stunt like this. It was gonna be a long subway ride home as you plotted about all the many ways to get even with the Crowned Prince of Crime.

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4awny · 2 months

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I hope this reaches the right people.

Writing can be sooo hard sometimes, but when it's done, you get such a rush and have this great big sense of achievement like you just created a masterpiece or something. It's a great feeling!

#thank you for supporting me #i shall do my best to support you too #south park #ao3 #kyman #crenny #writing

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gravehags · 2 months

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if you told me in september 2022 when i first got into ghost that i would have written almost 40 fics for this fandom, the majority which are smut, and put them on this website for the public i would have shitted, pissed, thrown up, cried, then passed out (in that order) because what the fuck

#like i posted 2 arcane fics to ao3 but before that i never shared my fic writing with anyone #literally only 2 people have seen my stuff prior to this #thanks for the support you guys lmao

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aeoneskova · 3 days

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Next chapter of Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy is up!

Only one more left to go now omg

It feels like there’s a lot I need to wrap up in the last chapter, as well as an epilogue. If I decide to move the epilogue to a separate chapter tho it’ll be posted at the same time as the last chapter don’t worry I won’t keep you waiting any longer

Hope you enjoy! It’s a longer one :)

#good old fashioned lover boy is nearly finished!#only one more chapter left!!#perciver fic #thank you all for the support!#percy weasley #oliver wood #harry potter #ao3 #fanfic

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bardic-inspo · 2 months

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Midnight Chimes

Chapter One: You Look Different in the Daylight

Pairing: Astarion x Cursed! Tav

✨Full Chapter List ✨BG3 Fic Masterlist ✨

Series Summary:

It’s easier for Astarion to believe Naomi tastes so sweet because she was his first. Easier to ignore the fact that every undead in vague proximity yearns for the same blood that’s sated him night after night. Easier to pretend her music is arcane as any other bard’s, and not divine enough to wake corpses from the dirt. Easier to pretend Naomi is simply a bard, and not something more akin to a siren. One that's slowly realized she's not just another sailor, after all. Easier to bury the fact that he's already stupidly in love with her. Like she wouldn't just raise that out of the ground, too. A curse rears its head. A devil comes calling. Astarion fights for his freedom from Cazador. He and the rest of their merry little band fight to save Tav from the doom she feels she's fated for.

Chapter CW: None

A/N: First couple chapters have some time jumps, and then the story falls into a linear progression. (This is a cross-post from my prior (now defunct) sideblog and AO3 account). Dividers by @cafekitsune.

✨ Click here if you prefer to read on AO3 ✨

“Don’t often see your sort on this side of the street.”

The innkeep’s talking about drow. Like the twins. The Flophouse’s most recent newcomer is Seldarine, just like them. Pretty as the pair of them, too. All twilight skin, some pale shade between blue and violet, and moonlight hair that would glow silver with it if he could get her back outside. Astarion could tell her that while he twirled one finger in the strands and wrapped her dwindling life around another.

Darling, you make the stars so pitifully dim. It’s futile, the way they’re shining now. Not like you.

But she’d have to shed some layers to fit in at Mamzell Amira’s establishment. The drow’s armor is light and leather. At least it’s fitted enough to get a figure for her figure.

Astarion catches the flinty edge of her glare as she turns her cheek, ever so slightly, his way. Sharp as a knife. His stage smile echoes back with an edge just as keen. She might be new in town, but she gets the innkeep’s meaning well enough not to like it.

Must’ve been the tip of a blade that cut that scar curling from her cheek across the bridge of her nose. It’s hairline thin, but it interrupts the freckles powdering her face. No one’s paying her to hang over them like drapery at Sharess’ Caress. Not with that trace imperfection.

Astarion could do it. Pay her enough attention to get her loose, dangling, vulnerable. Play the role of the valiant hero. Spring forth to defend her honor. Show her about town, like a gentleman should. It’s a gambit he’s run more times then he can count.

It would go something like this: sweet words about city secrets she hasn’t seen to lure her back into the starlit streets. A pretty view, perhaps of the Chionthar glimmering, to get her eyes wide. A promise of a better one, somewhere secluded. A heated whisper to get her blushing. His breath on her skin, to start a shiver. Promises, promises tumbling out of his pretty mouth. His name, falling out of hers.

And it would end in blood, like it always does. What a night she’d have. Her first in Baldur’s Gate. Her last alive.

Her life flashes before Astarion’s eyes in a glint of golden light. Sudden, vivid, then all at once gone. Someone else spots his prey and takes a swipe before he can.

The prey, it turns out, bites back.

“Argh -- get your hands off me!”

The garbled cry of indignation doesn’t come from the drow. Her grip latches to the arm of the would-be thief and wrenches it around, forcing his hand to open. Her coin falls back, neatly, into her own waiting palm.

She tosses away her hold on her assailant in the same manner as pitching trash. The thief -- a rather burly half-elf -- cowers, cradling his throbbing hand. A hiss leaks out of him, sending a shiver down Astarion’s spine. The noise is too familiar. Too much like vampiric skin simmering in sunlight.

Astarion grimaces, a twist of pity sinking in his gut. Not for the thief, and not for her, either. For their star-crossed evening, or the fleeting notion of it, stolen away by someone else’s sticky fingers fishing into her back pocket. For a measly pair of coins, she’d bought her own life back. With a twist of a wrist, she wrenched her fate from Astarion’s nimble hands.

It’s for the best, really. Thanks to the thief, Astarion knows better. She’s too clever. Too quick. Too cunning. Violet eyes cut across the room to his watchful ones. Maybe she’d have seen through his schemes, too, and made good on the promise in that look of hers. Like she could spear him straight to the paneling behind his head, same as the curled fliers nailed near the door.

But alas, now he has to do horrible things to someone else.

Astarion’s stomach turns as he sets his sights to the Flophouse door. Finding what he needs on the other side of the street, yet again, sounds like the opposite of fun. Someone drunk, naive, unsuspecting. He thought the drow checked those last two boxes. Astarion’s eyes drift to the thieving half-elf, now stooped and sulking in a seat as far from the drow as the room allows.

Someone has to pay. It won’t be Astarion, under Godey’s biting blades. Not again. Not tonight. He’ll take his chances with whatever happens while he’s under someone, anyone else.

Astarion’s fingernails drag into the woodgrain of the table before he shoves from his seat. He lets his chair scrape back loud enough to scrape the thief’s eyes off the floor. By the time Astarion’s sauntered over to the vacant chair at the half-elf’s table, the other man’s eyes have oozed, messy and lustful, all over Astarion’s best assets. Most of them, anyway.

With one click of his tongue, like the tug of a leash, the stranger’s wide, blue eyes snap to Astarion’s. Good boy.

“Tough break,” Astarion nearly purrs, letting the words roll slowly off his tongue, letting his hips drop slower into the seat. “Not as tough as you, I’d wager.”

The other man scoffs, as if without a care. But he wets his lips before speaking, like he needs to test them first. “Shouldn’t be,” he says gruffly. “Should be, if someone’s lived their whole life somewhere, they shouldn’t have to settle for scraps while all these foreigners come rolling in.”

“You’re so right,” Astarion croons, leaning in to prop his chin with his hand. “And you should say it.”

And he does. In excess. Punctuated with chest-puffing, peppered in curse words and vaguely political bleating. Almost like he’s practiced this little diatribe as much as Astarion’s recited his best hooks. His mark seems pent-up, at least, in one sense. Before Astarion can allude to another, his ear catches on the more civilized conversation happening over at the counter.

“I’ll need a name, then,” the innkeep -- a surly dwarf -- prompts.

The drow swallows. “Tav…riel.”

It’s nearly two words, with the amount of hesitation in between. The innkeep asks again.

“Tavriel?” He mutters. She nods. He eyes her warily, scribbling the name down into his book. “You some sort of bard or something?”

“Sure." If you want me to be, the careful lilt of her voice says.

“Never heard a flute I was fond of,” the innkeep prattles irritably. The offending instrument is strapped near the drow’s waist. “Too pitchy.”

“Sounds like you’ve never met someone who knew what to do with it.”

Astarion perks a brow. It’s near enough to one of his usual lines that he stores it away in the back of his brain for later. It needs refinement. Not his fav-

“It’s not my favorite, either, but it’s easier to travel with,” Tavriel says.

“You any good with it? Can’t say I’ve heard of you.”

“Mm, you probably wouldn’t have,” Tavriel says, unperturbed. A clever sort of smile creeps onto her lips. “I’m a killer with a fiddle. Not sure anyone’s lived to tell the tale.”

Well, what a tease. Astarion’s never heard of a bard that didn’t very desperately want to be heard of. What else would she be, could she be, if not a bard? Maybe a rake, if her claws weren’t so cutting. Teeth are far better for that sort of delicate work.

She swipes the brass key from the counter. Astarion watches until her boots disappear up the stairs and she’s gone. His mark never notices Astarion’s attention was anywhere else. Suppressing a tired sigh, Astarion slips back into his shtick like a sword in a sheath.

Time to get to it, before the darkness runs out.

“Oh, yes, darling. Fuck those foreigners. But…wouldn't you rather with a real Baldurian?”

Astarion’s stomach swoops, harder than it bucked on the fall from the nautiloid. It doesn’t matter how hard he runs for the trees, for the sparse and insufficient shade they might cast. Doesn’t matter that his legs pump as fast as his exquisite body allows. He should be burning by now. Should be dead, at least twice over.

If he had a heartbeat, it’d be hammering in his throat. He feels the pressure all the same. Every swallow comes as a choke, even as he staggers to a stop in the meager shadows.

Astarion’s eyes dart towards that scorching orb hanging, searing, and ominous overhead. The light glints back like a damn guillotine. Any moment now, the drop will come. This farce will end. This figment of freedom, the barest wisp of it, will evaporate. Ashes will be all that’s left in the wake of two centuries of pure, utter, shit.

Ashes do fall. They drift in fat flakes from the sky, coating the beach in soot. The acrid tang cloys with the spray of saltwater in the air. But his body’s still whole enough to tremble. Astarion turns his palms over in silent awe, watching his own skin alight. The flames don’t come. Only…

Warmth. Dainty as a first kiss. Across his throat, flooding his cheeks, his chest, his every inch. A smile as faint as a ghost dares to grace Astarion’s lips.

He hears his own shaky, unbidden laugh like it’s that of a stranger. It came from someone else’s body, surely. This is someone else’s body. His would’ve been in cinders, barring some very, very belated divine intervention.

Or, apparently, an illithid invasion. The up close and personal kind.

Astarion rips his gaze away as it begins to water. Scorch marks stain his sight for a full minute after. Inkblots of bright, burning color. It’s as he’s blinking rapidly that he sees her, picking her way up the slope, past the wreckage.

Astarion’s seen her before. He’s sure of it, now that she’s nearer. Now that he can see her in the full, unadulterated light of the sun. (The sun. The sun. The fucking sun!)

Outside of the nautiloid’s bloody glow, her hair’s white as frost. Her complexion’s less rosy, more violet. Out here, she could be a normal drow.

He tenses, picking up the faint prickling of voices in the distance. She’s not alone. Astarion doesn’t recognize the other woman, a half-elf with a black, chained braid dangling down her back like a whip.

But he remembers the drow. She was on board that blasted ship. She knows about the damn worm lodged behind his eye socket. Maybe they both do. His fist clenches on the hilt of his blade, still tucked in its sheath.

As Astarion watches from afar, magic wakes in half-elf’s palm, vivid and blinding. It sears into the bare cerebrum of some crawling creature snapping at the drow’s heels. The creature utters a shrill screech before it slumps over, steaming. His eyes narrow. Seems the pair of them are chummy, at very least, if not co-conspirators. He creeps back further into the brush.

Both of them will pay. They’ll have to. At least half as much as Cazador will make Astarion pay for this…this…impossible escapade.

It can’t last. Astarion’s brow knits in with the stiffness in his jaw. Certain doom surrounds him like the sheer sides of a cliff. One one hand lies the inevitable, excruciating plummet into ceremorphosis. Astarion’s skin crawls with the thought. The final destruction of his body. The devouring of his mind. Someone, something else, stealing his entire self and reshaping him into a tentacled puppet.

On the other hand, Cazador would never settle for being outdone by some squid-faced freak. He’ll get creative for this. More than he ever has before. Astarion’s teeth grate against each other.

This can’t last. Oh, but it has to.

Another glow of magic, dimmer this time, catches his eye. It blinks and fades from the drow’s gloved fingers like a firefly. But it has the same radiance as the earlier spell. The same radiance as the delightful glow seeping over his skin. Though, thankfully, the sunshine has proven far less lethal. A dead trail of intellect devourers lies in their wake.

They’re clerics, then, he thinks with a swell of distaste. Fools, but capable ones. Though, the drow is perhaps less of the latter. Still, she’s hardly a victim. The both of them could very well be villains, emerging from the smoking wreckage of their mothership. They’ve come close enough, he can hear the sand crunch beneath their footsteps. Hear their heartbeats, still quickened from their fight, pumping the blood of thinking creatures through their veins.

Astarion sucks in a steadying breath. Not because he needs it to live. Because he needs to perform.

“Help! Help, I need some help!” He bellows.

Their pace hastens to a jog up the hill. In a matter of moments, their wary eyes latch to his plaintive, pleading ones.

“Hurry!” He gasps, panting for good measure. “I’ve got one of those brain things cornered! There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

The stronger-looking one -- the half-elf -- hangs back. She might be the smarter one, too. The drow isn’t so bothered by brains or caution. She comes within an arm's length, eyes wide and doey. She scans the brush for danger like she isn’t the prey, one hand wrapping the hilt of her rapier.

“There,” he says, slipping into step behind the drow as her feet tamp down the brittle grass. “Can you see it?”

She doesn’t see the knife drawn in a flash. Not until her back hits the dirt, and the blade bites against the pretty flesh of her throat. Astarion tumbles down with her, keeping a vice-grip on the dagger. Her pulse practically leaps against the knife, smacking in a wet, sumptuous rhythm. The back of his throat burns, raw, ragged. Thirsty.

The urge rips through him, sudden and staggering. Astarion bites back a breath, just to bite something. The drow shifts beneath his blade, grunting in indignation.

“Shh, shh shh. Not a sound,” he hisses, soft as velvet. “Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours. And you,” he growls, louder for their little audience. “Keep your distance. No need for this to get messy.”

The half-elf isn’t half-convinced. “I need her alive,” she snaps, light flaring at her fingertips as she dares a step closer. “Stow that blade, or I’ll show you just how messy things can get.”

But one step is all she dares. Astarion’s eyes narrow wickedly. His captive has value. Good to know. “Promises, promises. But I have other business, I’m afraid.”

His gaze hardens on the drow, who’s gone so sweetly still for him. “Now, I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod.”

Wordlessly, she complies. Good girl.

“Splendid. And now you’re going to tell me exactly what you and those tentacled freaks did to me!”

Her eyes flash, defiant. “We were prisoners, too!”

Astarion’s lips curl with a snarl. “Don’t lie to me -- AH!”

His own memories burst like blisters in his mind’s eye. Dark streets and darker alleys with darker endings. Unlucky souls, lured away, alone, to their fates. Except he isn’t alone. Astarion doesn’t know how, but he’s certain. She’s in his fucking head.

The connection snaps and shatters as sudden as it came. Astarion recoils, reeling as the remnants sting between his temples. “What was that? What’s going on?!”

“Stalker,” his captive spits scornfully.

“I--what?”

“You were in Baldur’s Gate,” the drow huffs. “Fraygo’s Flophouse.”

Gods, you’ll have to be more specific, he nearly sighs. But the slice of violet eyes cuts him short. Astarion’s brow pinches in thought.

“You sat there and stared at me while I was nearly robbed. Not so helpful then. Kind of acting like the opposite right about now.”

It’s ringing bells, but she doesn’t have her flute. She didn’t have that silver symbol, hanging around her neck, back in the Gate. She said she was a bard back then, and she looked like far less of a cleric when she said it.

And Astarion hadn’t noticed the tattoo curving with her left cheekbone. Little birds in flight. He wonders, fleetingly, what on earth could have possessed her to mark her own pretty little face with such a thing.

“AH-- urgh!”

Her hand grips his wrist and twists harsh enough for his vision to flood with white. His eyes burn. By the time he blinks to clear them, his own knife pokes the hollow of his throat.

Cute trick. The same fate her would-be thief suffered, he remembers ruefully. Before Astarion suffered the thief, and the thief suffered what Astarion baited him for.

She scrambles backwards, gaining as much distance as she grants him. They stagger to stand, dust caking his doublet, and dirt streaking her leathers.

“We’ve been wormed, too,” she says, stance softening. “The tadpoles can connect our thoughts. We’re trying to get rid of them. If you’re done trying to stab me, we might let you tag along for the ride.”

“We will?” Her companion mutters skeptically.

You will? Astarion wonders, equally mystified.

She turns his knife once, twice, thrice between her fingers, like she’s playing a parlor game. When the spinning stops, the blade end rests in her gloved palm.

“I’m Naomi,” she says, offering him the hilt of his own dagger like it’s a handshake. Tentatively, Astarion takes it.

“Tavriel,” he mutters faintly, the name swimming out of the depths of all the others to the forefront of his memory.

She shrugs. “If you’d prefer to stay on a surname basis. ‘Tav’ is fine, too.”

Impossible starlight seeps between the thinning veil of clouds above. Silvered blades of grass glint like so many knives under a shimmer centuries in the making.

Astarion lays beneath the clearing sky, his back cushioned by damp, flattened grass. Warmth radiates across his chest, where another impossibility rests her cheek. His free hand strokes idly, thoughtlessly, through her ivory hair. The motion comes easier than breathing ever could’ve.

This -- the two of them, tangled here -- is centuries in the making, too.

They lay fully clothed and content. His other hand wraps Naomi’s waist, tucking the heat of her against his skin like a blanket. Cuddling, of all things. Something in him still balks at the notion. Yet, here he is, yet again.

It’s something they get to do, now, when he wants to. There’s yet to be a night he hasn’t, in the weeks since he stammered out his confession and Naomi laid her hand in his.

He wanted something else to be real between them, too, tonight, when he discovered his favorite drow had wandered away from their merry band of misfits. He found her doused in the starlight she looks so good in, sat on some rock between the gnarled trees, ever oblivious to the small war she started between Astarion’s mind and body.

If there were more life in the trees, it might’ve been reminiscent of another night spent together, after the tieflings’ celebration simmered down into quiet, sleepy cinders. If it were a night like that, he’d have his hands on the small of her back, where she arched it in a stretch. He’d have the rest of her lilac skin soaking Selune’s evening shine, not just the lovely length of her neck above her collar, and that succulent slice peering from between her breasts. He’d have her pliant. He’d have her gasping.

And he’d be free. Of his trousers, at the very least. A flare of yearning ached so earnestly beneath his ribs. Memory and loathing speared it down, sharp, only moments later.

The sound of frantic scrubbing put that battle to bed, for now, and sparked a new one. She was at it again. After Shadowheart already tried to put an end to it in the camp. So that’s why she snuck away.

Astarion cleared his throat pointedly, eyes drifting to the black stains of spellwork scrawled over Naomi’s arms. The marks didn’t let up. Neither did she, until Astarion stayed her hand, and took it in his.

“Really, darling,” he chided. “At that rate, you’ll rub yourself bloody.”

He expected an eyeroll, at least, if not a snicker. But her throat merely bobbed. “They haven’t faded since our fight at the portal.”

“Oh, that was only, what? A few days ago?”

It’s normal, Gale told her. And Shadowheart, too. Well…some of it is. In a paraphrased sense.

“It’s never hung around this long before,” she said, frowning. “I’m not even sure what spell it’s from. There were so many of them, and they all rushed me at once--”

“They were trying to close the door on Halsin and Thaniel,” Astarion said, matter-of-factly. “And we stopped them like the good little heroes we are.”

Sure, their less-than-living foes seemed to aim in one particular direction, at one particular target, during the whole hold-the-gate ordeal. But they barely clipped her barely half the time. Naomi’s fleet-footed in a fight. And what she couldn’t dodge, she fluted away with that cute little ditty that steers their enemies’ arrows elsewhere. The purpling bruise at her shoulder is an exception. Her cutting words were keener than whatever wounded her.

Besides, none of them came away from the past few days without the marks to show it. But those who survived Ketheric Thorm’s final, bony bout are in far better shape than the general’s dusty remnants. Even after they had to jump down that gods-forsaken pit into rancid hell just to kill him for good. The thought alone stirs a shiver down Astarion’s spine, still.

“Now,” he said, steering her by the shoulder, “come keep your frigid lover warm and look at the good you’ve done.”

So, they set aside the notions either of them had in mind, and settled instead for…this. A piece of peace, resting among the patchy tufts of grass grown over a rooftop in what used to be Reithwin. Naomi stares up at their handiwork. The scatter of stars isn’t so different from the freckles dusted over her nose, nearly hiding the thin scar that angles over the bridge of it.

A muted glow leaks over the so-called shadow-cursed lands from the crescent cut of the moon hanging overhead. The first, hard-won taste of what this place could be now that it’s free from its curse. It’ll be different in the daylight, just like Astarion was when he stumbled into it after two hundred years apart. But they’ll be on the road again before they see it glaze over this place.

On the path, at last, to Baldur’s Gate. And to Cazador. To vengeance, absolution, ascension, and all sorts of fairytale words that were once greater than Astarion’s imagination. Now, they’re bloody nightmares in his own arsenal, two hundred years of them, on the cusp of release. Now, they’re promises. Dreams with teeth.

It brings to mind the first burst of blood on his tongue, from that soft neck that nuzzles so near him, now. With that first taste came color, life, and heat where there was only frailty and feebleness before. What fresh sweetness will Cazador’s blood bring, painting Astarion’s hands, pooling like a cloak at his feet?

A whole new world of it, he’s sure. One that’s his to claim. His to share and shape as he sees fit.

Astarion breathes in, not because he needs to, but because he wants the trace scent of lavender in his nose as Naomi’s hair tickles the tip of it. Her heartbeat flutters down from her earlier anxiousness, pattering into a steady rhythm. He feels its mark against his ribs and thinks, for the first time, he understands what might possess lunatics like her to get tattoos on purpose.

That little rhythm should settle there, at his side. Always. Like the little music boxes she’s so fond of. She didn’t take the one she found in Moonrise Towers, so Astarion did. It’s been by her bedside ever since. He sees the little glimmer of it, every night he slinks into her tent.

A gentle, but insistent tug pulls at the corner of his thoughts. He peers down at his present company with an arched brow. Her eyes are peacefully shut, but the mischievous smile gives her away.

Hesitantly, Astarion lets his head roll back to the earth, and his eyes slide shut, too. All right, love. What is it you want to show me?

The tadpole connection hums, all at once familiar and foreign. Listen, she says back, with the same smile in her thoughts as on her lips. He lets the connection pull him through and stifles a soft sound of awe in the back of his throat.

Quiet. Blessed, blissful quiet. Like none she’s ever known.

Naomi’s ear rests over his heart, but it doesn’t beat for her. Not literally, at least. He’d still heavily negotiate any figurative sense of the matter. But it doesn’t matter that it isn’t beating. It’s not what she wants. Not what she…needs.

He feels the ache of it, as she lifts her cheek, briefly, and music flits, frenetic, though her mind. Spells and stanzas and half-remembered rhymes in mangled cacophony. She lays her head back down, and lets out a long breath. Astarion echoes the sound, unbidden, as the connection withdraws, and he’s left with the pluck of her heartbeat in his head again.

It’s never quiet. Not in her head. But it can be. With him. If he hadn’t prayed so hard to them already, he’d swear the gods gifted him this woman. Astarion knows better. The illithids did.

She shifts with a sigh that echoes in his own ribs. He follows the motion and finds her staring at her palms again. Like she could will away the sooty stains. They might pass for evening gloves, if they didn’t look so veiny. But they don’t hurt. He’s asked her.

Precious thing, what on earth is wrong with you, to think there’s anything wrong with you?

“You--” Astarion stammers, brow furrowing as he begins again, incredulous. “What in all the heavens above and hells below could have ever possessed you of the notion that you’re cursed?”

The softness in his throat, his whispered words on fogged breath, curling quiet into the night air, that’s entirely her doing. Her undoing of so much of what Astarion thought was in his nature.

Naomi looks up at him, with an aged sort of sadness brimming beneath the quiet huff of her laugh. “It was all the dead people, dear.”

Astarion scoffs. “Darling, I’m hurt that you could think of my fine company as anything other than a blessing.”

“You are my silver lining,” she breathes back, as if her words themselves were fragile lace. Astarion feels the delicate brush of them over his neck. It grows suddenly taut, choking the notion of other words right out of him.

When his head rolls back to the ground again, something, perhaps that useless heart of his, is trying to punch its way straight through his chest. He feels winded, like he took a tumble without featherfall. Like she smacked him with a damn brick.

He is as much her unintended consequence as she is his. One that might’ve been impossible if fate was otherwise. Resplendent light, only made possible by ravenous shadows.

Silver linings.

And you are mine, he thinks, only to himself, as his hands find her hair again. Aren’t you?

#thank you all for the patience and support as I cross post from AO3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #bg3 #naomi tavriel #midnight chimes #my writing

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