#so ready to return to the circus

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is the Tibetan Monk

So! When Bruce was travelling the world, finding masters to teach him how to fight and investigate, he came across a strange building in Tibet.

He had followed rumors of an ancient Monk who lived atop a mountain just on the edge of a Village, who had learned how to conquer Death itself, and stole its secrets for himself. Hoping to find a new Teacher, Bruce climbed the mountain and found the home of that Monk.

What he found was strange though...

The building seemed much more modern than he had been expecting, built with metal and drywall rather than ancient bricks or stones as he had assumed. There was also a strange machine on the top of the building, and if he didn't know any better he would have said it almost looked like a spaceship.

Hesitantly, he knocked on the wooden door and waited.

The man who answered looked nothing like he had expected, but so far nothing had met his expectations so he wasn't really surprised at that point. He looked relatively young, in his late 20's or early 30's, and was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans. He had short black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin that didn't exactly match the tone of the other people living in the area. In fact he looked as if he could have been an American, rather than Tibetan.

Bruce introduced himself, explained why he was there, and managed to convince the Monk that he deserved his training.

It was unorthodox, certainly very different from the training he had recieved in the League of Assasins, but the Monk said that he was well suited for this style of training.

Under the monk he learned a variety of techniques. The ability to shield his mind from Telepaths, how to Astral Project, how to completely hide his presence from others, even from those with enhanced senses, and so much more.

By the time he was finished training with the Monk, he was confident that he could finally achieve his goal of saving Gotham from itself. He bid the monk farewell, and returned to his home ready to begin the legend of the Batman.

Meanwhile Danny had just sent his most recent student off after a few months of training.

He had to do this every once in a while. There were hundreds of Liminal and Ecto-Contaminated people out there in the world who didn't know how to manage their abilities. They didn't know how to innately seperate from their physical bodies so they could more easily feed on natural Ectoplasm, or how to shield their minds from the volatile stray emotions of the people around them thay may influence their thoughts.

It was dangerous for people with that level of Ecto-Contamination to live without knowing how to keep themselves healthy. So every once in a while, Danny would find a way to contact them and to teach them all they needed to know to stay healthy.

The "Centuries Old Monk" routine was an old favorite of his for this purpose. He would intentionally spread rumors where he knew they would hear, add in some incentive like "conquering death" to make sure they would follow those rumors, and than meet them and take them under his wing.

A few of his other favorite routines were the "Circus Act who knows more than he should", "Mechanic with great advice", and sometimes even just "Life Coach" for the more conventional cases.

And if he heard Bruce's story and decided to teach him how to use a few extra useful Ghostly Abilities, like hiding your presence or merging with Shadows, then who could really judge him? The kid had taken up a huge burden, he needed all the help he could get.

Besides, its not the first time he's ever done that.

...

Years later, Bruce met Dick and found out that he also knows how to Astral Project and Guard his Mind. He couldn't merge with the shadows or hide his presence nearly as well, but he could apparently slow how fast he fell and bend in ways even bruce couldn't.

Apparently he was taught how to do so from an old member of Haley's circus, who told him that they were meditation techniques to get "in the zone" for his trapeze acts.

Then he met Jason, who could also Astral Project and Guard his mind, and he could also heal faster than normal people and read other people's emotions. He learned from a Mechanic who used to live on his street, who told him it was just some street skills that would let him avoid the people who would hurt him or give him trouble.

Then Tim came in, also with Astral Projection and a Telepath-Proof mind, and he could apparently last for weeks on end with no food or even water, and could hide his presence from even Batman. He was taught by a butler his parents had briefly hired while away from home, though Tim's parents didn't know what he was talking about when he brought it up to them later. He was told it was just a way of "keeping his spirits up" when he was alone.

Stephanie had also been taught by an old Mechanic on her street. Same as all the other she could leave her body behind and guard her mind, but she could also read emotions and convince people to do what she said. The mechanic never gave a reason for why he was teaching her, but did say that it would help her gauge the people in her life easier. He left barely a week before Steph realized her dad was the Cluemaster.

Damien was, suprisingly, trained by the same Master that Bruce had been taught by. Talia had sent him up the mounting saying that his Father had learned from the man on the mountain, and he would as well. He was taught the same as all the others, though instead of merging with Shadows like his Father he was taught how to converse with Animals.

Cass had been taught by a man while she was running from her Father. He never said why, only that it would help her live a better life. She had the "normal" abilities of Astral Projection and Guarding her Mind, but she could also Merge with Shadows and Perfectly Read other people's emotions beyond their body language.

Duke was taught by a man who had also taught other members of "We Are Robin" during the cataclysm. He said it would help them survive their attempts at heroism, though he gave Duke extra training for some reason. He had taught Duke even more than he had taught the other Bats, alongside the now typical Astral Projection and Guarding his Mind, Duke could also talk to the Dead, See into the Past, and even Phase through Walls. With enough effort he could even Fly.

A few of his abilities were attributed to his Metahuman Powers, but he claimed that they were never that powerful before that man came along.

He also said that the man "Glowed" in a strange way. He was the only one who could see it among the members of We Are Robin, even the others he had taught.

Bruce had long since decided he needed to pay his old Master a visit.

[agreeewrites]

Bad Santa | D.M.

“Santa can’t be bad.” He grabbed you by the throat...“Sweet girls, however, always have a naughty side.”

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend Draco has thrown the Christmas party of the year, and wears a Santa hat to make you smile. But jealousy quickly throws a wrench into your festive evening.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut with a sprinkle of plot, he hates everyone but her, protective, arrogant, and possessive!draco, slightly toxic behavior, pda, dirty talk, sort of insecure reader?? (she just wants to be perfect for him even though he thinks she’s perfect 1000% of the time), Blaise is kind of a dick in this one sorry

You were running late to Draco’s Christmas party, but your red glitter eyeliner was not cooperating, and you were ready to start screaming.

You just wanted to look perfect for him, even though he loved nothing more than seeing you fresh out of the shower, bundled up in his pajamas. But this was one of the last parties he would throw at Hogwarts, and he’d worked so hard on every meticulous detail.

You refused to be the weak link.

There was a soft knock on your door, and your heart fell out of rhythm, thinking it was Draco.

“Come in!” You called, and Theo opened the door, a flute of wine in hand.

He let out a low whistle, freezing in place, forgetting that he definitely was not supposed to be checking you out.

You rolled your eyes, returning to your eyeliner in the mirror. “Eyes up, Nott. Would be a shame to see that pretty face without teeth.”

He shook himself and strode in, setting the drink on the table beside you. It was fizzy and a pale gold, with sugared cranberries floating at the top. “Yeah, yeah. Malfoy sent me to check on you, make sure you didn’t fall out the window or something. And he said to bring you that.” Theo gestured to the drink.

You smiled, taking a sip of the effervescent giggle water. “I’m perfectly fine. Tell Draco I’ll be down soon.” You set the glass down and picked up your liner brush, finishing the last line. You leaned back to make sure they were even and fucking finally, they were.

“You got it, Mrs. Clause,” he bowed and made a swift exit.

Mrs. Clause? You shrugged it off. Theo was always spouting random shit, anyways. You fluffed your hair and stood, straightening your black slip dress. An inch shorter, and it would be considered lingerie, but you wanted Draco to be unable to keep his hands off of you, and this dress would surely do the trick.

You slipped your hands into a pair of black, satin elbow gloves, and stepped into your black platform heels. For the final touch, a swipe of oxblood red lipstick, and you were ready.

The music was loud enough to feel through the floor as you made your way down the stairs, drink in hand, the party in full swing. The room was completely covered in green and white christmas lights, with dozens of trees decorated in Slytherin colors and tinsel snakes scattered throughout the room. Fake snow fell gently from the ceiling, covering everything in a sheen of silver glitter, though it wasn’t cold when it kissed your skin, collecting in your hair and eyelashes.

It was a wonderland, and your heart swelled with pride that your man made it happen.

You turned your attention back to the stairs so you didn't fall face first, and noticed Theo was waiting for you at the bottom.

”Really?” You teased, taking his arm when he offered it to you.

“Are you really surprised?” He muttered in your ear as he lead you through the crowd. “It’s a fucking circus in here.”

Despite your teasing, you were glad for his company once you got into the thick of the party. It seemed your housemates were pulling out all the stops for this one, already teetering into rager territory and it wasn’t even 10 o’clock.

“He’s going to crash out when he sees you,” Theo chuckled, puffing up his chest when some Ravenclaw boy drifted a little too close to you.

“That’s the idea.”

“Crash out indeed.” Draco suddenly appeared in front of you, stepping from the crowd like he’d apparated there, and you nearly tripped over your heels.

He was dressed in all black, like you’d discussed, his suit decorated with black lace and silver trim. But what really threw you was the velvet black Santa hat on his head, the fur trim and bauble like a silver wolfs coat. He looked…sinful.

“Draco!” You exclaimed, flush with excitement. “How did you—”

“Followed the broken necks,” he replied, his gaze roaming from the top of your head to the very tip of your toes with a predator’s gleam. “That’s all, Nott,” he said, an edge of command to his voice, and Theo dissolved into the crowd.

He extended a hand to you and you placed your fingers in his palm, butterflies rioting in your stomach despite having been with Draco for close to a year now. He pulled your bodies together, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other bringing your gloved knuckles to his lips for a chaste kiss.

“I’m speechless, baby,” he murmured, releasing your hand to catch your chin. He tilted your head up towards him, turning you just slightly to watch the shimmer around your eyes dance.

You reached up to flick the bauble on the end of his hat, grinning. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Let me see you,” he purred. He took your hand again and stepped back, spinning you in a slow circle as the snow fell around you. It was like there was no one else in the room, just you and Draco in a winter wonderland. “That’s simply unfair, darling,” he said, pulling you back into him. “Am I meant to fight off every student in attendance?”

“You’re so dramatic,” you snickered, pecking his cheek, and he chuckled.

“C’mon, let’s get you by the fire. It is winter, you know—”

You swatted his arm, letting him lead you through the crowd. Though, Draco had a considerably easier time with it that Theo did, the party-goers shifting apart like the Red Sea. In a few moments, you found your and Draco’s friends sitting in a circle of couches and chairs by the roaring fireplace. The largest arm chair, closest to the fire, was unoccupied, and you noticed two drinks sitting untouched on the table beside it.

A fire whiskey that was certainly Draco’s, and another frosty flute of giggle water with cranberries, presumably for you.

Your friends all greeted you with warm smiles and a wolf whistle from Pansy, and you broke free from Draco to catch up with her and a few of your girls.

“You have no idea, he was so bitchy when you didn’t show up at 9:30 on the dot,” Pansy whispered, giggling.

“Not at you, of course. He’s just never happy when you aren’t around,” another one of your friends muttered.

You glanced over at Draco, who was sitting in his seat, an ankle propped up on the opposite knee, fire whiskey in hand. He was watching you over the rim despite poor Blaise trying to talk to him, and you could feel his gaze like a caress over your exposed back.

“It was my damn eyeliner,” you chuckled, batting your eyes to show them, and they squealed. “Couldn’t get it straight.”

“That’s amazing! Where did you get it—”

“It makes you look like a crazy vixen or something. Slayed.”

“It’s flawless, well worth being thirty minutes late—”

“Thank you, thank you,” you flushed.

“Let’s go dance!” Pansy said, grabbing you by the wrist, and you turned to check with Draco. Not that you needed permission, just to let him know what you were doing.

“Go dance, baby. I’ll be right here, watching very closely,” he called with a smirk, waving you off.

You swallowed the rest of your drink as the girls dragged you out to the edge of the dance floor, where it wasn’t quite as crowded, and the boys could keep an eye on all of you in case anyone got any ideas. You let yourself get lost in the music and the movement, Draco’s watchful the eye the only thing rooting you to the present. Even from across the room, he made you feel secure as gold in Gringott’s, which was why you felt comfortable wearing a dress so revealing, or going to a wild party in the first place.

But, after an hour or so, you started to feel that longing tug in your lower belly, missing his voice, his touch. You grabbed Pansy, shouting in her ear over the roar of the music. “Excuse me, I have to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what I want for Christmas!”

“Ask for a million dollars!” She shouted back, breathless.

You turned and sauntered across the room to Draco, eyes locked on him, taking care to sway your hips in time to the music.

He set his foot down, patting his thigh with his free hand, a smirk lifting his handsome face. You stepped between his thighs and eased onto his lap, his arm immediately wrapping around your back to grip your thigh, the fat dimpling beneath the pressure as he hauled you closer.

“Hi, Santa baby,” you flirted, lifting your legs to rest them across his other thigh, your heels dangling towards the ground.

“I’d ask if you’ve been a good girl, but I think I know the answer to that,” he hummed, pressing his lips beneath your jaw and kissing downwards at a leisurely place.

“Does that mean ‘no’?” You giggled, letting the heat of his affection flow through you, warming your blood until a buzzy desire bloomed between your legs.

“Good girls don’t dance like that in an attempted murder against their boyfriend,” he chuckled, nipping at your ear before sitting up.

“Attempted murder” You gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “I would never.”

He passed you your drink, watching your lips as you took a long sip of the fizzy beverage. “I like that lipstick,” he said, softening his voice. “Is it new?”

You nodded. “Santa bought it for me at Hogsmeade.”

Draco laughed, the vibration in his chest making your thighs clench as your arousal continued to build. “Did Santa buy you that dress too?”

“Of course.” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his ear. “And what’s underneath it.”

His grip tightened on your thigh, and you felt something hard nudge against your hip. “I suppose Santa should let you take his wallet into town more often,” he muttered, a little raspier than before.

“At his own peril,” you warned, smiling.

“Whatever it takes to keep you right here, Mrs. Clause.” His hand slid to the nape of your neck, the tips of his fingers chilled from holding the whiskey glass, and he pulled you in. Your lips connected in heated kiss, tasting cinnamon and drunken cherries. His tongue brushed along the seam of your lips in a request for entry. You parted just slightly for him, a tease, before biting lightly at the tip of his tongue. He grinned, retaliating by biting your lower lip, hard enough to send a delicious flare of pain straight to your most sensitive parts, and you nearly cried out. He soothed the bite with his tongue, and kissed you softly before pulling away.

You knew that lipstick was worth the price tag; barely a ghost of smear colored his lips. He just looked thoroughly kissed, exactly how you wanted him to.

“Why does this party just feel like extremely elaborate foreplay?” Blaise droned, rolling his eyes at the two of you.

“Everything is foreplay to them,” Pansy laughed, flopping down onto the couch between Crabbe and Goyle.

“Jealous, Zabini?” Draco asked, leaning back a little further into the chair, his legs spreading wider so gravity shifted more of your weight into his body. He was so warm and solid, the feel and presence of him making your head go a little fuzzy. Or perhaps it was the giggle water taking effect.

“Sorry, Blaise,” you said, nudging his shoulder with the toe of your heel. “We’ll try to keep the pda under control.”

“I didn’t agree to that,” Draco argued, grabbing your ankle and tucking your foot back against his calf. “Let ‘em suffer.”

“Draco, don’t be cruel,” you scolded, though everyone knew you didn’t mean it.

“Cruel? Cruel would be denying everyone the sight of you. He should be thanking me,” Draco countered, his hand caressing up and down your shin, the other kneading the fat of your haunch.

“Ah, yes. Thank you for allowing me to watch you all but fuck your girl in front of the entire student body,” Blaise snapped, and you felt Draco’s energy immediately shift into dangerous territory.

“Just say you’re jealous and shut the fuck up, Blaise. You’re being a dick,” Goyle shot back, with a grunt in agreement from Crabbe.

“Baby,” you murmured, quiet enough that only Draco could hear you. “Ignore him. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you and ruin our fun.” You rubbed your gloved hand over his chest, feeling his heart pounding through his expensive shirt. He was glaring at Blaise, anger slithering through the blue of his eyes, promising pain.

“No, I want him to say what he means,” Draco said, his tone deceptively light, and you inwardly groaned. “Go on, mate. Tell us the truth.”

Theo made a ‘don’t’ sign with his hand, but Blaise was glaring right back at Draco, apparently foolish enough, or drunk enough, to take the bait.

“I wouldn’t parade my girl around like that, is all. Wouldn’t want another bloke seeing what’s mine.”

Draco was up in a flash, leaving you in a heap on his chair. Blaise jumped up too, but Theo got between them before they collided.

“She can do whatever she damn well pleases. And I’m not going to let some microdicked cunt make her think twice about it,” Draco growled, and your heart gave an ill-timed flutter, your pussy tingling anew. You knew Draco shouldn’t be so protective, and it’s gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion, but you couldn’t help it. You loved seeing Draco’s dark side come out on your behalf.

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” Blaise replied, shoving into Theo to try and reach Draco. Theo shoved Blaise backwards and Draco managed to get around him, grabbing Blaise up by the collar. You got to your feet, fear pumping through you, but Theo blocked you before you could intervene.

“Now, I’m going to give you the opportunity to apologize to her on your own, or I will force it out of you,” Draco said, his voice menacingly low. When Blaise tried in vain to free himself, Draco shook him hard, nearly hitting his head against the stone fireplace. “Now, Zabini.”

Blaise’s eyes met yours, wide with fear, but deeply angry. “I’m sorry, y/n,” he hissed through his teeth, venomous as a hex.

Draco pushed him hard, throwing him onto the ground. He loomed over the prone boy, raising his wand.

“Draco!” You shouted, managing to get around Theo is his shock. You got between Draco and Blaise, throwing your arms around your boyfriends neck and pressing yourself to his front. “He’s not worth getting expelled,” you hissed in his ear, his eyes feral and jaw set. “Please, please don’t do this.”

You felt him soften, just a fraction.

“Merlin, I’m sorry, okay!” Blaise shouted, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, y/n.” Sincerity softened the Blaise’s voice, and Draco finally lowered his wand.

You applied some pressure to Draco’s front, trying to get him to move, and he took a step back, an unspoken acquiescence. You grabbed his hand and dragged him through the sea of onlookers and up to his dorm, his hand a vice on yours.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Draco lunged, crushing you against the wall in a fervid, desperate kiss. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the race of his heart, and knew that he needed an outlet for his temper.

“No one talks to you like that,” he growled against your neck, biting at your skin while he wrapped your legs around his waist. “I don’t care if it’s my friends, my father, or bloody Minister of fucking Magic.”

“Yes, Draco!” You cried out when he ground his hardening cock against your clothed cunt, your eyes rolling back at the friction.

“You’re mine,” he said, his lips releasing from your skin with a pop. “Mine to spoil, mine to dote on, mine to touch, kiss, fuck.”

“Fuck, yes. All yours.” You pulled off your gloves and dug your fingers into his platinum hair, knocking off the Santa hat in pursuit of another scalding kiss. He obliged you, tangling his tongue with yours and loosing a low groan. He peeled you off of the wall, not breaking the kiss, and tossed you onto a bed.

Not his bed, you realized almost immediately.

“Draco—”

“Just want to leave a little gift for Blaise,” he said, kissing down your chest while his hands pushed up your skirt, revealing the g-string you bought just for him. It was black and trimmed in diamonds, nothing but mesh covering your puffy, drooling lips. “Look at you,” he cooed, softening further. He lowered himself to rest fully between your legs and grazed his thumb over the mesh, feeling the wetness soaking through. “You bought these for me?”

You nodded, chewing your lower lip and resisting the urge to press yourself into his hand.

“How very considerate of you, darling,” he praised, hooking the fabric with his middle finger and tugging it aside. He pressed a kiss to your clit before swiping a languid lick through your slit, finally relaxing back into his usual, calm demeanor. He always settled like this when it was just the two of you, your body laid out all for him, like it appeased some ravenous beast inside of his chest.

Between your legs was where he made his confession, where he bared his soul and sought forgiveness for his trespasses.

“M’sorry for being such a brute,” he murmured against you, sucking lightly at your clit.

“I love when you stand up for me,” you said, your words tangled with a soft moan as he continued to lap at you, so soft it makes your chest ache.

You felt him smile against you before sitting back on his heels, your slick glossing his lips and chin. “That why you’re dripping for me? Did it turn you on when I got angry?” It was a rhetorical question. He knew it turned you on when he was set off, as it had resulted in many a shagging in broom closets and empty classrooms. “Or was it the Santa hat?” he teased, getting up and grabbing it off of the floor.

“Draco, come back,” you whined, reaching for him while he put the hat back on his head. He was toying with you now, seeing how worked up he could get you before either of you snapped.

If there was one thing you knew for certain about Draco Malfoy, it’s that he loved the chase. Perhaps it was the Slytherin in him, the desire to scheme and plot, to coax out their prey before they strike.

He grabbed your ankle and tugged you the edge of the bed, your hips flush against his. “I’m here,” he soothed, running his hands over your thighs and spreading your legs a little further for him. “Baby, that makeup…” his eyes danced over your face. “Lose my train of thought when you look at me like that.”

You sat up, inching your hips closer to his, feeling his hardness pressing against you. “You like it?” You asked, batting your lashes while you push his jacket off of his shoulders, the blazer landing with an umph onto the floor.

“I do.” He reached up to ghost his fingers over your face, brushing your fake lashes with the gentlest touch, tracing over your nose, your eyebrows, your lined cupid’s bow. “You’re beyond beautiful, darling.”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss underneath his jaw, sucking lightly at his pulse, and he heaved a contented sigh, his hand sliding into your hair. With deft fingers, you started to undo the buttons of his shirt, kissing down his pale chest as you went.

“How do you always manage to disarm me?” He asked, scratching gently at your scalp, watching you through heavy lidded eyes. “I was so angry, then you just—you just chased it away with your sweet little self.”

You preened under his gentle touch, loving that only you got to see this side of him, that there was a Draco you didn’t have to share with the rest of the world.

“I like myself better when I’m with you,” he murmured, tightening his grip on your hair to force you head up. “Like I’m not all bad.”

Your heart cracked, affection making it swell a few sizes too large. “Draco, you are not bad,” you shushed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pecking his lips. “You’re wonderful, and I love you. All of you.”

He smiled, catching your lips in a deeper kiss. “I love you too, sweet girl.”

“Even if you’ve been a bad Santa,” you tease, flicking the bauble at the end of his hat.

“Santa can’t be bad.” He grabbed you by the throat and shoved you back down, looming over you with a cheeky smirk on his face. “Sweet girls, however, always have a naughty side.”

“Not me!” you giggled.

“Back talk, hm?” He slid his hand down to the top of your dress and pulled it down, freeing your bare breasts. He laved a tongue over one of your nipples, making your eyes roll back when he sucked it between his teeth, biting gently.

Your hips bucked up involuntarily, a cry falling from your lips when your clit ground against his length.

“Where'd my sweet girl go? All I see now is a needy slut.” He lightly slapped your tit he'd just been nursing, making you jump and keen, a deep pulse of arousal making your pussy drip. “You know what sluts get for Christmas?” He asked, undoing the buttons of his trousers. You felt his cock spring out, scalding hot and solid.

You shook your head, already half dumb from his hot and cold teasing, zeroed in on the feeling of his cock nudging against your drooling entrance.

“Fucked,” he growled, and slammed himself to the hilt, splitting you down the middle.

You cried out, arching off the mattress when he withdrew and slammed back in, rebuilding you only to shatter you once more. Your pussy made the most obscene sounds, sloppy as it gripped him. He loosed an unintelligible stream of curses, fucking into you with all the fervor he had when you initially fled the party.

“Fuck, Draco,” you cried, muffling yourself on Blaise's now tousled quilt.

“That's a good girl, cry all you like. I want him to know exactly how hard I fucked you on his bed.” He leaned over you, grabbing one of Blaise's pillows and tucking it under your lower back, elevating your hips so he could hit a new, more intense angle.

“Mmph, so deep,” you whined, stars dancing being your eyes, the coil in your stomach winding tighter with every graze of his cockhead against that ruthless, spongy place inside of you.

“Gonna make a mess of this perfect pussy. Shit, love—so fucking tight f’me,” he groaned, throwing one of your ankles over his shoulder and biting at your calf. “So fucking pretty taking my cock,” he mumbled between kisses along your shin, holding your ankle in a bruising grip to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

You were getting so close, swallowing scream after scream as he pounded you.

“Gonna come for me, sweet girl? Can feel you squeezing harder, soaking my cock.” He released his grip on your hip to smear his fingers over your clit, rubbing back and forth at brutal pace, letting you hear just how wet you were. “C’mon, baby. You're so close—oh fuck.”

You came with a scream, biting down on the quilt in a feeble attempt to quiet yourself as your orgasm tore through you, forcing a gush of moisture from your pussy.

“Merlin, baby. That's perfect, you're doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he praised, sounding a little starstruck, and more than a little excited.

It was like he replaced your blood with fire whiskey, burning, bright, dizzying. You were soaring, awash with bliss as he fucked you through it, moving slower to savor the way you fluttered around him.

You blinked your eyes open, bleary and a cockdrunk.

“There she is,” he cooed, setting your leg down and leaning forward to kiss your cheeks, your nose, your lips. “You alright?”

You nodded, stretching your arms overhead like a tired kitten.

“Not done yet, lovey. C’mere.” He slipped out of you, ignoring your whine of protest and tugged you to the edge of the bed. He tossed Blaise's pillow, now soaked with your release, onto the floor. “On your knees, darling.”

You happily obliged, lowering yourself to the ground and grabbing at his cock before he had a chance to sit. He chuckled, letting you lap at his messy shaft, loving the taste of you smeared on his skin. Marking him as yours.

“All yours, baby. Don't fret.” He stroked your chhek, staring down at you with a lovesick smile. “Look at me.”

You flicked your eyes upwards as you start working your mouth down his cock, taking him about halfway before retreating. He was flushed and breathing hard, his black button down open to reveal his muscular chest, littered with love bites you left behind. The Santa hat was still on his head, slightly askew from the thorough fucking, and his blue eyes were blazing.

He groaned, hand tightening on the sheets. “Baby, your eyes. Got me in a chokehold,” he rasped, hips rocking forward in time with your head.

Evidently, the eyeliner was very much worth it.

You wrapped your hand around the base and increased your pace, close to gagging yourself on his length, your eyes fixed firmly on his reactions.

His head lolled back on his shoulders, throat bobbing as he moaned, mouth falling open. “Fuck, m’already close.”

A trill of pride washed through you and you pushed even further, his head nudging the back of your throat and making your eyes water.

“Shit, thats it, angel. Just like that. Open that pretty throat for me.” He fisted your hair and stalled your movements, his cock buried in your mouth and cutting off your air. “Fuck!” He cried, pulling your head back and grasping his cock, pumping himself against your tongue as the first rope of release splattered against it.

You stuck your tongue out, letting him fill your mouth with his spend while he moaned and cursed, his whole body bowing around you with the force of it.

He milked himself dry, heaving a loud exhale followed by a sly smile, and gripped your chin, tilting your head up for him. “My sweet girl,” he cooed, swiping up a dribble of cum from your chin and feeding it between your lips. “Swallow.”

You did, swallowing down every bit of cum before opening your mouth for him, sticking out your now clean tongue.

He grinned, scooping you up into his arms and raining kisses over your face and neck. “So fucking perfect. How did I get so lucky?”

You giggled, dizzy with delight, and wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling into his shoulder.

"You wanna go back to the party?" He asked, and you scoffed, earning a relieved smile. He tucked an arm under your knees and hefted you into the air, carrying you across the room to his bed. He laid you down and rummaged through his trunk, finding a pair of pajamas you liked, before walking back over to you.

You loosed a big yawn, eyelids heavy, and he chuckled.

“Fucked out, hm?” He teased, pulling the dress over your head and tossing it aside before replacing it with one of his Quidditch t-shirts.

You answered with another yawn, flopping back onto his fancy, silk pillows.

He shimmied a pair of boxers up your legs before tucking you into his quilt, the smell of his expensive body wash wrapping around you as you settled.

He clicked his tongue. “Face towards me, sweetheart.” You turned your head, eyes closed, and felt a cool cloth wipe across your cheek, your eyes, your forehead. Diligently, he removed your makeup inch by inch, careful to not pull or tug. He even let your lashes soak off, counting to thirty under his breath before removing them, instead of just tugging them off. When he was finished, he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Your makeup was lovely, but you are so beautiful as you are “

You hummed in appreciation, eyes still closed, and puckered your lips for a kiss, which he happily provided.

Then he stood and you could hear him moving around the room, picking up your trail of items and righting the room.

“You aren't really gonna leave that on Blaise's bed?” You mumbled, peaking at him over the covers.

“Oh, I certainly am,” he replied, fluffing it up and setting it back where he found it. “Maybe he'll keep his mouth shut next time.”

You rolled your eyes, snuggling back down into the pillows. You wanted no part of their twisted drama.

A few moments later, you felt the covers lift and the bed dip, and Draco’s warm body wrapped around you, shirtless and in sweatpants. He nuzzled into your neck, taking a deep breath.

“You never told me what you wanted for a Christmas?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the curve of your shoulder.

Your brain was sluggish, trying to piece together what you wanted. But you could only think of one thing.

“Dark chocolate frog,” you mumbled, and he burst out laughing.

“Then you'll have an army of dark chocolate frogs, my love.”

Thank you sm for reading!

[demon-at-peace]

DC + DP Danny/Dick

Danny and Dick are protectors. Both would destory the world for the people they love. They need someone to talk too, aka I found this ship again and wrote a long thing.

Danny met Dick outside the library. Babs hadn't been there and they'd recently had a fight. He was walking out when he met Danny. Danny was honest, painfully so, they'd been friends for not even sixth months when he'd revealed his identity as a former vigilante.

Dick didn't tell him about Nightwing. Not yet, maybe though, eventually. Maybe not, they were just friends after all. Danny would get him coffee, or more accurately cream with caramel sauce. He's laugh at his puns.

Dick after showing of his acrobatic tricks one time became Silly Bird. Danny said it was "because you fly idiot, literally, like a Birdy, and your silly of course." Dick was once again a bird, but the name wasn't what his vigilante name was, it was light loving, like how his mother would call him robin.

But meeting up became an issue. Dick couldn't help but feel guilty really, he canceled constantly, because of patrol, or a fight or some other issue.

Danny would wave it of, he'd laugh, and say "Silly bird, I don't care, your my friend, you have other commitments, and I know it's not just you cancelling, because you always apologize and reschedule, plus it means I don't have to pay for my coffee." So Dick relaxed, Danny had other stuff too, he'd cancel plans, apologize and reschedule.

It was two years after they met that Dick told Danny he was Nightwing. He was ready, he liked Danny, they were close, but Danny would be mad, and it would be the end. Danny's face had been shocked, absolutely stunned. He'd left the apartment. And Dick cried. He wished he hadn't told Danny. It was three hours later when there was a knock at the door, and Danny dripping stepped in.

He said sorry, he apologized for panicking, and through rushed apologizes they forgave each other.

They started dating three long years after they met, they were at a circus, Dick loved them, he loved the tricks and the familiar noises, besides he would never see the acrobatics shows, or the clowns. Danny made sure of that. They'd been walking home, Danny clutching a Nightwing Plushie when Danny had stopped and stared at Dick.

"I think I like you, as more than friends." It was simple, a statement, and Danny looks ready for rejection. But Dick, he felt the exact same way. Because Danny never asked for anything, nothing but time spent with him. The time with Danny was easy, fun, and when they had arguments, they always talked through them.

So like a soldier going to war he said "I do too," and Danny beamed. Suddenly they were kissing, and Dick was barely thinking as he kissed Danny back. Later curled up on Danny's couch they watched a show together. Almost like nothing changed, but something had.

Danny still cuddled with him, he still laughed, he still talked with him. He also brought him roses, and heart shaped chocolate. He left love notes about. Danny also kissed him. Dick decided Danny gave the best kisses in the world. He did the same, he put in his all, and Danny returned his affection just as eagerly.

It had been two years since they started dating, they kept it under lock and key. Dick liked that too, he'd thought Danny would demand to meet the family, but he'd simply laughed and said, "you didn't want them in our friendship, if you don't want them in our relationship that's up to you Silly bird."

Except now their anniversary was coming up their three years together, and apparently everyone was having issues. It was tomorrow, they had plans. Yet so far it had been all hands on deck. Or all available hands. And they didn't know about Danny, because he hadn't wanted them too. But he wanted out, he had stuff to do, roses to buy, presents to wrap.

His phone rang, the familiar ringtone of California Girls echoing throughout the cave. He grabbed it in an instant checking the caller, and sure enough it was Danny. Normally he wouldn't take Danny's calls in the cave, he'd leave, and then they'd talk. But he was too tired for that.

"Hi," Dick greeted as he picked it up.

"Who is it?" Jason called out curiously looking up from the files. Yeah Jason was here too, it really was an all hands on deck thing.

"None of your business!" Dick screeched at him. Before turning back to the phone as he heard Danny's laughter.

"Silly bird, how are you doing?" Danny asks softly, dick groans he can practically hear his smile.

"Fine, I mean i'm tired, but Danny I'll probably be here late," he sighed, he could hear the sadness in his voice.

"Do you want to be? You know you can ditch them, Silly bird, you're far too sacrificing, I can pick you up if you want?" Danny chides. Dick groans.

"Sure," the answer chocks himself, but he doesn't regret it. It's their anniversary, he doesn't care about keeping Danny a secret, it's been due to tell them for a while anyhow.

"Be their in five sweetheart," Danny chirps and Dick can't help but smile.

"I'm leaving B! Got plans!" he calls out. He stretches his back cracking, and he runs a hand through his hair. "Hey Babs how do I look?"

"Terrible, and why exactly are you leaving?" she answers dryly.

"Danny would kill me if I didn't get a good night's sleep before our anniversary, anyhow gotta go!" he slips out of the cave before anyone can say something.

He reaches the front easily , and as always Danny is early, griinign at Dick as he sticks his head out of the car, "Silly bird ya ready?" he asks, ignoring the bats that followed Dick out.

"Who are you?" Jason demands and Dick buckles his seatbelt.

"His boyfriend," Danny answers with a Midwestern smile, "BYE!" he screams as he spins the car out of the driveways o quickly even Dick is shocked.

"How are you doing Birdy?" Danny asks as he drives out of the manor like a bat out of hell. (pun intended)

"Great," Dick grins, "How are you doing?"

"Never better," Danny smiles happily.

--------

idk what that is, I like it tho, anyhow yeah fell back down that ship, cause I ship too much stuff. Actually writing this actually made me less of a ball of angst so yay!!! Anyway I hate daylights saving stuff, like I woke up too early. I was supposed to have more sleep!!!

Edit: hi I wrote a second part and it's here

[aninipanin1]

How about Young manager with ADHD (continuously gets lost within Blue Lock, interrupts Ego using the PA system (accidentally) about trivial things, misplaces objects, rather naive etc),,, lol

LOST SHEEP

Notes: I personally do not have ADHD and my knowledge about it is quite small, so please forgive me if I misrepresent it here! I do not have any intentions of doing so, and if I do make some mistakes, please let me know! I am genuinely interested in being much more knowledgeable about this topic. Thank you!

"Y/n-chan...? What are you doing there..?"

Hiori asked, blinking at the rather bizarre scene in front of him. The midfielder just finished his daily training routines when he stepped inside of the laundry room to place his laundry basket.

But when he did walk in, he found their precious manager crouched down, hugging your legs as your eyes focused intensely at the small window of the washing machine, eyes boring at the spinning clothes inside the contraption.

In fact, you were too focused to even notice or hear the music of the other machines that alerted the room about how the process was done. You were just sitting there, staring, eyes blinking rarely, as if the rotation of the washing machine was a rare circus show to your eyes.

Everyone in the facility knew of your...tendencies and are more than understanding and ready to help you return your attention to whatever you were currently doing. Hiori was no different as he approached your crouched figure and lightly held your shoulder to take your attention back, but he made sure to be gentle enough to not scare you.

"Y/n-chan, earth to Y/n-chan. Are you okay?" He said in the softest voice he can muster, his hands supporting your crouched figure that almost lost its balance. You looked a bit dazed still from your previous episode, blinking at the sudden interruption. Turning to the blue-haired player, you tilted your head.

"Hiori-kun? What are we doing here...? What's happening?"

"Everything is fine, Y/n-chan. You just got a bit distracted with the washing machine." He explained, raising one of his hands to your hair, softly patting it in a comforting manner. He guided you up from your position and helped with the laundry that had long been done.

"Oh, I didnt notice that the rest were done..." you said in realization, looking at the washing machine with wide eyes. Hiori, who could not help himself, pinched one of your cheeks.

"Its fine, let's just get the rest of the laundry and hang it up, yeah?"

'Geez, she's too cute to be even real...' he inwardly gushed.

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Ego said, glaring at a worried Anri the moment he received the news. Apparently, you have been missing for more than an hour now, with no one from any stratum knowing where you were or even seeing you pass by.

"I'm a little worried. We all know how she gets when she's super distracted."

Ego sighed, rubbing his temple and not even adjusting his glasses that fell off the bridge of his nose. Out of everyone in there, he knew, especially how you can get. Being the one you always worked alongside with, there were times when you would be too focused on something trivial like a moving object or a rather miniscule detail that you would end up forgetting everything you were currently and supposed to be doing.

Now, most of the time, he encourages this. Ego cannot count how many times you ended up helping him and the players as a whole because your fixations on even the most minute of details always ended up being the root cause of a problem.

Hence, why, starting then, he always trusted your mini hyperfixations, no matter how dumb it may sound. You were naive, yes, but you are also a genius, something most people around you know of. So, early on, Ego trusted these said instincts and fixations and revolving them into something that would benefit everybody.

However, there are times like these where those hyperfixations end up disadvantageous. Somehow, you always get lost in the worst times in the worst places possible. Once, the whole facility literally had to work together in order to find you, only for Niko to find you crawling around the storage room near the cafeteria, chasing a ladybug that got your attention while you tried to find your way around the facility again.

There was no time for that kind of thing, however, seeing as to how the day after tomorrow was the last games for the Neo Egoist League, and the staff desperately needed to arrange everything and anything under the sun to make sure the games and livestream are all smooth sailing.

And, they definitely needed you, the overall manager of the teams, there.

"What do we do, Ego-san?"

"I'll look around in my cameras. Try to find her in the usual spot and rooms she crawls and runs on, or those rooms that have a lot of things she can fidget with." He sighed, feeling so done with everything that happened that day.

"Okay. I'll ask help from the rest of the staff."

Just as they were about to start looking for you though, the PA system was suspiciously turned on.

"Huh? It's not even 12 in the noon yet."

Anri said, confused, but all their questioning were answered when they heard the loud feedback of the mic before hearing small scratches and fidgeting noises in the mix. There were even times when they heard some buttons being pushed about. Ego sighed again, but it felt more like a breath of relief.

"That's her. Get that problem child and bring her here." Ego said, spinning his chair to face the cameras. And would you know it, when he went back through the CCTV cameras' previous footages, he saw you in the PA room, fidgeting with the buttons of the system. If he were to be honest, he felt a huge sigh of relief that you were not doing anything that may have harmed you of sort.

After a few minutes, Anri opened the door to his office but alongside her was Don Lorenzo who was smirking as he held you by the scruff of your jacket. Carrying you like a lost kitten, while you only blinked at the predicament you were in, constantly asking Anri about what you were supposed to do again and just babbling stories to Lorenzo and Anri.

"The lost sheep is here." He said, bringing you on the ground as carefully as he could, nodding along to whatever you said about how microphones actually worked and how you were just curious and wanted to experiment if your knowledge and hypothesis were actually real or whatever your mind was thinking about currently.

"Y/n." Ego said a bit sternly, making you stop talking as you looked at the man.

"Try to bring someone with you when you go on your little adventures sometimes." He said before turning his swivel chair once again to face the many monitors, turning his back to you.

"Okay, Ego-san!" You cheered happily, not even bothered about what had just transpired as you went back to your notebook to continue writing and working.

'This girl is going to be the death of me. This is why I don't want kids.' Ego thought, shaking his head.

"Rin-kun. Have you seen Mr. Boba?"

"Hah?"

Rin said, his usual frown in his face. But, this was more of a frown of confusion. He knew you had the habit of naming normal objects with names you found either fitting or adorable, by your standards of course. So, when you approached the striker about a supposed 'Mr. Boba,' he had no idea what the hell you were even looking for.

"Mr. Boba! He has tons of dots that's why he's Mr. Boba." You insisted, your face in a frown because you can't find what you were looking for at all and it was starting to thin your patience a bit.

"Look, I don't know what your Mr. Boba is. What even is it? Is it a hairpin of a boba, or a keychain?" Rin asked. He really did want to help you find Mr. Boba, but you were not exactly helping your case as you kept insisting Mr. Boba was Mr. Boba.

That was until Karasu and Shidou entered the field that helped him and you.

"Y/n-chan! Hi! Why are you sad?!" Shidou asked as he jumped to hug you, before frowning himself, not liking that you were clearly upset by the look at the frown on your face.

"What's wrong, Y/n-chan?" Karasu added, patting your hair.

"Did Rinrin over here make you sad? I'll beat him up for you if you want, Y/n-cha-"

"Shut the fuck up, lukewarm idiot. I didn't do crap." Rin intercepted Shidou, feeling the veins on his head pop.

"No, no, Shidou-san. I just can't find Mr. Boba. What do I do? I need him." The frown on your face deepened into a pout. Karasu was confused as hell who was this Mr. Boba you were talking about. He turned to Rin, who only glared at him.

"I dont know who the hell her Mr. Boba is."

But, Shidou seemed to understand who your Mr. Boba was as the grin on his face widened and he pulled your phone out from your jacket pocket and extended it to your hand.

"Mr. Boba!" You cheered happily at the phone.

"Silly Y/n-chan. It was in your pocket all along!" Shidou said as he pinched your cheeks and stretching it. Meanwhile, Karasu and Rin were just left confused to the side, wondering how the hell was a phone comparable to a boba.

"That's Mr. Boba? What the hell. I don't see it." Karasu commented, but Shidou only stuck his tongue out at both of them.

"You all are blind losers. Can't you see the phonecase design? It has black circles in the bottom and since its a clear case, you can see the (f/c) of the phone! So its like boba." Shidou explained, pointing out the small design of the phone that somehow made it look like a boba in both your and his eyes.

"Yeah! Like Shidou-san said!" You cheered as you hugged the male, thanking him sweetly for helping you find your Mr. Boba.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Rin said, facepalming as Karasu just laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Rin-rin! You can't say that to Y/n-chan!!!"

"Who said I was also talking about her?"

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Since everyone in the Blue Lock facility found out about your disorder, they became much more protective of you overall.

You are waiting in line for food? No, youre not. Everyone is letting you get your food first.

You have bad time management? They'd help with that. They'll be your personal alarm clock.

You are feeling so bored and want to fidget with something? They'd let you play with their hands while they listened to Ego's damn lectures.

It's all about maintaining your attention span yet enabling you to become a better person as a whole. To improve your mental health and also make you feel that you are more than your disorder.

But, of course, they can't help but spoil you every once in a while. No biggie!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[burningembers91]

Rare - The Salesman x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Freak of Nature

On Display

A Game of Cat and Mouse

Crime of Passion

Synopsis: The Salesman wants to play a game with you. But when he changes the rules, so do you

A/N: I am immensely proud of this series. It’s unlike anything I’ve written before and I love exploring the darker sides of characters. This particular fic is probably my favourite so far. I wanted to thank everyone for the frankly mind boggling love I have received on all my fics so far. Thank you ❤️

It had been two weeks since your mysterious man in the grey suit had saved you. Two weeks since you’d given in to your desires. The day after he fucked you so hard that your bed slats broke, an entirely new bed arrived. One with a plush, cream, fabric headboard and a mattress that felt like you were sleeping on a cloud sent straight from heaven.

His heroics in the alleyway, the transition from something psychological to physical had changed the dynamics of your relationship. He didn’t want to admit it, but he could feel himself falling under your spell. It was a constant struggle to maintain the upper hand, to continue the illusion that you were entirely at his mercy. But you both knew it was a mutual torture, that each of you had the other twisted so deliciously around your respective fingers. The other night he had come so close to telling you his name. It had been so long since he’d spoken it, he wasn’t entirely sure he knew what is was anymore. But there was something about you, something deliciously dark bubbling after your soft, shea scented skin. You could be the death of him, this beautiful femme fatale. He wasn’t quite ready to relinquish control to you though; he still wanted to try and break you.

You received a phone call one day, requesting your attendance at an incredibly high end dress store in Myeong-Dong. As you made your way through the doors, the eye watering price tags made your jaw drop. You could never in a thousand lifetimes afford a dress like this; but you knew someone who could.

You were whisked into a private area, where several women with tape measures took measurements of your body. They didn’t speak to you, didn’t answer any of your questions. You were there less than five minutes, after being instructed to return to the store the next day to pick up your purchase.

“But I didn’t order anything,” you exclaimed, “can you just tell me what’s going on.”

“Our client is very discreet,” the store manager responded. “Please arrive promptly tomorrow to collect your purchase.”

You couldn’t text Mr Grey Suit to ask him what he was up to. You still weren’t privy to any personal information about him, including his phone number. He didn’t come to see you that night, leaving you to stew in your own thoughts about what he could have possibly ordered you.

The next day, you arrived at the time requested, and were once again greeted by the store manager who handed you a dress bag, with a note attached. I will see you tonight, 7pm. DO NOT LOOK IN THIS BAG UNTIL THEN. I will know if you do. You headed home, desperate to look inside the bag. You didn’t dare though, you had absolutely no doubt he would know if you took a peek.

Your grey suited man arrived at your apartment at 7pm sharp. He nodded appreciatively at your immaculate hair and makeup, cupping your chin in his hand as his eyes explored yours.

“Tonight,” he explained, “you will do exactly what I say, when I say it. If you disobey me, you will be punished. If you perform satisfactorily, you will be rewarded.”

“If I perform satisfactorily?” You scoffed. “I didn’t realise I was a circus monkey.”

He wiped his thumb along your lower lip, smearing the lipstick you’d applied not 10 minutes ago.

“You will do exactly what I say,” he growled. “Now, get dressed into the gift I gave you. And clean your face up. You have 5 minutes. Do not keep me waiting.”

You did as you were asked, presenting yourself like a piece of meat on a platter for him. He nodded approvingly, his hand trailing down the burgundy silk of the evening dress that fit you like a glove, the one he’d had made especially for you. You were a vision, an angel sent straight from heaven. He wasn’t going to tell you that though; he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.

He took you to the most expensive restaurant in Seoul, where a private room had been set up especially. The staff were very discreet, and he’d need exactly that for what he hand in store for you tonight. You sat down opposite him at the small table, classical music quietly playing through the speakers. The room had no windows, lit only by the dimness of the candles dotted around the room.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” Mr Grey Suit said. “I’d expect you to eat every single bite.”

Champagne arrived, followed by oysters. You hated oysters with a fiery passion, but you forced yourself to finish every single one. You refused to show your distaste for them, refused to grimace as the slimy substance slid down your throat. Next up was steak, rare, the meat still oozing blood into to your plate, seeping into the accompanying potatoes. Your stomach turned; you hated red meat. You hadn’t eaten it since you were 10, the smell of it sending your stomach churning.

“I can’t,” you whispered, the metallic smell of the dead animals blood seeping into your nose.

“Are you disobeying me?” He asked, tutting as he tucked a linen napkin into his shirt. “I’m supposing you want to be punished then?”

“Please,” you choked, “anything but steak. I can’t, it’s the smell.”

“Stand up.” He told you. You stood to attention, ignoring the rising bile in your throat. “Come here.”

You did as you were told, your breath hitching as he pulled up your dress to your waist.

“Bend over,” he instructed. You obeyed, hearing the sound of his steak knife slide through the fabric of your lace underwear. You cried out as a sharp, swift slap was delivered to your right cheek, quickly followed by another, and then another. Each hit was harder than the last, tears streaking your face. The mixture of pleasure and pain was exquisite and yet so unbearable.

“Will you do as you’re told now?” He asked, his breath slightly ragged. You were soaking wet as you nodded, and he to resist sliding his fingers inside you. He was supposed to be punishing you after all, not giving you what you wanted.

You sat back down, the skin of your ass stinging as it made contact with the leather chair. Mascara smudged your cheeks, your face flushed. You looked down at the rare steak, then back up your mystery man. He was smiling so smugly at you; he clearly thought he’d won this little game. You smiled sweetly back, picked up your knife and fork, and sliced into the meat. You did your best to ignore the blood that seeped from it. You hardly breathed as you ate, swallowing the bile that continued to rise. A flash of anger contorted his usually handsome features; you were besting him yet again.

You proudly showed off your empty plate, sweat peppering your forehead from the immense effort. You refused to show you him how unwell you felt, choosing to down your glass of champagne to remove the metallic taste from your tongue. He begrudgingly poured you more, both of you smiling as you tried to figure out the others next move.

“What do I get then?” You finally asked, when the silence became too much.

“I’m sorry?” He said, dabbing the corner of his napkin as he surveyed you.

“You said if I did everything you asked, you’d reward me,” you reminded him.

“Ah,” he chuckled, “but you didn’t do everything I asked.”

“Yes, I did,” you snapped back. “I wore the dress, I ate the oysters and the fucking steak!” Eating that piece of meat had almost made you sick, but you’d done it. And he was reneging on his end of the bargain.

“But I had to punish you before you would eat he,” he smiled.

“And I did,” you hissed back at him, fists clenched under the table. “You can’t do this.”

“I can do whatever I want,” he whispered.

You looked him up again, his smug face looking entirely slappable in that moment.

“And so can I,” you decided. “Goodnight.” Throwing your napkin down on the table, you headed for the door.

“Wait!” His voice was desperate, panicked. He didn’t want you to leave. You stopped in your tracks, turning slowly to face him. He looked uneasy, wondering why his game wasn’t going the way he wanted.

“Fine, you sighed, “I’ll stay, but you’re going to play one of my games now.”

You fucked him on the floor of that private dining room, straddling him as you pressed the steak knife to his throat, the one he’d used to slice off your underwear. He quivered underneath you, entirely at your mercy as your slick, tight walls swallowed him again and again. He came with a strangled cry, thrusting his hips up into you as you drained every last drop of his seed.

Leaning down, you planted a single tender kiss on his lips.

“Goodnight, Mr Grey Suit,” you whispered. Standing up, you left him lying there on the cold marble floor, his cock still hard and his breathing ragged.

He had seriously underestimated you. What had started as a game of control, was now something entirely new to him. For the first time in his life, he was entirely at someone else’s mercy.

[batsandbirdbrains]

The Flock

Based on this lovely addition by @lemonfizzyy

Dick is Peregrine (18)

Jason is Rook (15)

Tim is Sparrow (11)

Damian is Robin (still in training) (7)

Timeline for yj moves way up. Dick was 13 when all the season 2 shit happened, it was still just the og team but the reach shit was happening. Dick ends up getting ripped apart by the JL for plans he came up with that saved everyone, and even though no one died, they’re so hard on him for what happened. And Dick just gets pissed. And he packs his shit in the middle of the night and leaves. Goes back to Haly’s Circus, who mostly tours Europe and Asia now. They stop in America every couple years.

And while he’s performing in the circus, he becomes the Skydancer, named after his mom’s act before she became a Grayson. He’s an instant hit. Everyone loves him.

And on the side? He takes on a new hero name: Peregrine. He mostly protects the circus and anything that might harm them. Stops smuggling rings, human trafficking rings, mob families that try to extort businesses like the circus. Things like that. He's careful about when/where he goes out - it's not at every stop the circus makes, and sometimes he hacks a zeta to go to a different city, especially if it's to revisit a previous stop because he hadn't quite wrapped up all his business there.

Then after a year, he runs into a kid named Jason. He ran away to join the circus, and Dick takes him in. Teaches him how to be an acrobat, and eventually Jason joins the circus and the two have an act together. Dick is still mostly solo as the Skydancer, but he has some duet stuff with Jason to get him on the roster. He informally adopts Jason, and everyone in the circus refers to Jason as a Grayson now.

Jason eventually finds out about Peregrine, and insists he help. Dick trains him, passing on the name Robin while he’s still in training. He trains as Robin for a few months before Dick allows him to come out with him at night.

Once Jason is ready to soar, he picks the name Rook. He likes that a rook is both a bird and a chess piece.

Then a little boy named Tim is forgotten by his parents at a stop near the circus. Dick and Jason spend days trying to figure out how to get him home, but Tim doesn’t actually want to leave. This is the most fun he’s ever had. Plus, his parents left him in a foreign country, and their vacation was supposed to end shortly after Tim got left at the circus. They aren't coming back. Tim doesn't really want them to come back. He's happier with Dick and Jason. They end up adopting him too, and now there's a third Grayson brother in circus. He doesn't join the acrobat act right away, Dick wants to train him properly before allowing him to perform in case he gets hurt. For the most part, Tim helps out the workers who sell popcorn and souvenirs.

Tim is Robin for longer, considering he’s so much younger. After at least a year and a half of training, he too graduates from the Robin mantle. He becomes Sparrow.

Then there’s another little boy who’s running from something horrible. His name is Damian and he’s five and he’s terrified. The brothers take him in without question. A fourth Grayson brother now roams the circus, and no one bats an eye. Dick takes care of his brothers, looks after them, and treats them as if he's known them all their lives. They all return the favor.

Damian is still Robin, because he’s so little, and Dick can’t wrap his head around how Bruce ever let him out when he was only a few years older than Damian. It’s absurd.

But it's now been two years since Damian joined the family, and the League of Assassins is after them. Damian is the son of Talia al Ghul, they figure that much out fairly quickly. But Damian had never actually met his mother, not that he could remember. It's why he had no problem leaving the League and latching onto Dick. Dick is nice. Jason is nice. Tim is nice. Dick trains him to be an acrobat and to work on his self-defense and never ever hits him or screams at him. Sometimes Dick might raise his voice, but it's usually because he's scared one of them will get hurt. He gets angry sometimes, but very rarely is it at one his brothers. And if it is at one of the brothers, it's usually because they were doing something stupid that they knew they weren't supposed to be doing in the first place.

But Dick is now only 18, and he has no legal claim over any of the boys, and he certainly isn't a match for the entire League of Assassins. As much as he loathes to do it, he eventually packs the boys up and hacks a zeta to get them all to the Watchtower. They need help. They just had a brutal fight with the League of Assassins the night before, and they'd been on the run for weeks, not wanting to drag the circus into any of this mess. Dick is tired and he's hurt and he's desperate to keep his brothers safe, and even if the heroes in the Justice League can't stand him, he likes to think that they won't turn his brothers away just because of him. They're innocent, after all. They don't deserve to be hunted like animals.

They're all wearing their vigilante suits (modified circus costumes, really, but Dick managed to find a tailor that would use Kevlar), and they're all wearing domino masks. Damian, as Robin, is in one of his acrobat costumes. It's green and red and yellow, and he has on a mask and one of Dick's hoodies on (bright green with a faded circus logo - it's old, and each brother has stolen it at some point to claim for himself, it's Damian's now). Dick even went so far as to hack the zeta to announce their vigilante names, but it wasn't until Robin was announced that the JL members really made themselves known.

Except, it wasn't the Robin they were expecting.

"It's the Flock," they hear someone whisper, and Dick pulls his brothers closer to him. He's seen the name before - the Flock - it's what their fans call them. What newspapers call them. He thought it was kind of dumb, really, but the boys thought it was funny. Jason, when he was still new to being Rook and the name was first thrown around, thought it was hilarious "because it sounds like fuck, Dick!" and Dick had just rolled his eyes. It had become something of an inside joke for the boys to use the phrase "what the flock" instead of the usual "what the fuck" whenever they were out on patrol. Dick will never admit he thinks it's funny; he has an image to uphold as the responsible older brother, after all.

But now Batman is standing in front of them, scowling at them. Dick pushes his brothers behind him, but he holds Damian tight in his arms. He'd figured it out fairly quickly after the Talia reveal that Bruce was Damian's father. He has no interest in passing over his baby brother, though. He's here solely for protection.

"The League of Assassins is after us," is all Dick says. "We can't take them on our own. And I refuse to let my brothers be taken by them."

"How did you even get up here?" someone asks. Dick can hear Tim and Jason huffing behind him.

"How the flock do you think?" he hates that he slipped up with that stupid phrase, because now Tim and Jason are laughing and it's going to make them look like they're taunting the Justice League. Shit.

"Robin," Batman starts, still glaring, but Dick cuts him off.

"Peregrine," Dick snaps. He hikes Damian up a little further against his hip and says, "He goes by Robin, now."

Several people seem to come to the same realization at the same time, and Dick is actually a little surprised. He didn't think he was all that subtle about graduating from Robin to Peregrine when he left and joined the circus, but it seems Batman hadn't shared all of his information. Typical.

"You've been missing for five years," Batman starts again, but Dick just shakes his head.

"Does it really count as being missing if no one wanted me around?" he questions. "I wasn't hiding. You knew exactly where I was. You just didn't want me here."

Batman says nothing. Dick almost wishes that Bruce would continue arguing with him, because the silence is worse. It means Dick was right. He had been hoping he wasn't, this whole time.

It's Superman who steps forward and asks for more information on why they're there. Dick explains again that the League of Assassins is after them, that he knows they can't take on Ra's and Talia on their own. That he wants protection for his brothers.

They're offered protection on the condition that Peregrine rejoins the team, along with his brothers. Dick isn't happy about it, but he obliges.

"Fine," he says after a long discussion with his brothers. "But Robin is still in training. He doesn't go out in the field until I say so. And that won't be for a few more years."

"He's capable, isn't he?" Batman asks. "You said he'd been trained by the League."

"He's seven," Dick spits. Then he turns to Superman. "And I want legal custody of all three of them. We've been a family for years, and I want it in writing and legally recognized."

"We can arrange that," Superman promises.

None of the brothers let anyone else know that Damian is most likely Bruce's biological son. They won't risk him trying to take custody of Damian.

A few weeks later, the brothers are all legally Graysons, and Dick has custody of all three of them. They're living at Mount Justice for now, but Dick and Jason are looking for a place in Happy Harbor to settle down. They're given a stipend by the Justice League, but Dick still wants to get a day job. There's a gymnastics studio in Happy Harbor, maybe he can be an instructor. The other three will have to start school eventually, though, even if Jason insists he can get a job and skip high school. Dick refuses to humor that idea.

[prlssprfctn]

"Who Is Afraid of Little Old Me?" is so Jason Todd core, and you are READY for this conversation.

'The scandal was contained

The bullet had just grazed

At all costs, keep your good name

You don't get to tell me you feel bad'

You tell me it is not about that one time Batman had finally faced Red Hood, with Joker being between them - as a reminder and a choice - ended up throwing a batarang in his neck (while Jason barely hurt him) and never told anyone else about this?

Is it a wonder I broke? Let's hear one more joke

Then we could all just laugh until I cry

And you tell me this is not about Jason's death? About his last minutes with Joker, about how they forever imprinted in the core of his memory, to the point that sometimes he laughs at them instinctively, until the realization doesn't kick in?

So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street

Crash the party like a record scratch as I scream

"Who's afraid of little old me?"

I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean

"Don't you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth"

Who's afraid of little old me?

Well, you should be

Is it not Red Hood who is back again, trying to return to Manor to remind others what happened to him?

So tell me everything is not about me

But what if it is?

Then say they didn't do it to hurt me

But what if they did?

… I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me

You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

Had Bruce and Dick ever wanted to hurt Jason, both in the past and in the present? No. Did it still happen? Is Jason still the one to live with these memories, unable to explain how it makes him feel? Yes.

So all you kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs

I'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

That I'll sue you if you step on my lawn

That I'm fearsome and I'm wretched and I'm wrong

And if I say it is about Jason and all the kids that came after him that doesn't fully know who he is, but heard stories of Red Hood and violent Robin? They don't know a little boy who thought Robin gave him magic, the boy that died a hero — but they know Red Hood. And they heard of what a doomed, angry Robin he used to be.

And you hurt me

And you taught me

… You caged me and then you called me crazy

I am what I am 'cause you trained me

What is it if not Jason's POV towards Bruce? He is the crazy one now, a killer, a wrong one (not to mention these comics, where they actually threaten to send him to Arkham or Blackgate), but he is his father. His mentor. Still.

And some additional parts I want to add, because I think that they speak volumes too:

- "But my bare hands paved their paths, you don't get to tell me about sad"? I can't fully explain to you what I mean by putting this quote, but it is about Jason, crawling out from his grave (literally) and it is about everyone who stepped on the Robin path after. It is about his family making his death and grief about themselves at some point, leaving him nothing;

- "If you wanted me dead, you should've just said. Nothing makes me feel more alive" just one sentence — it is Jason about the batarang incident;

- A little detail, but I heard a lot of people complaining after the song's release that "Who is afraid of little old me?!" parts were at first loud, and they expected it to get to the full scream, but only ever got it becoming weaker, almost a whisper-like. And it is so Jason, too. Because he returns to scream, to yell, and he does at first. Until his anger washes out under disappointment and realization that he will never be chosen in a way he chooses people. And he doesn't scream anymore. Just whispers.

[hbatfam98]

I have a headcannon that Batman is The supportive father.

In the normal sense that he would support his kids in whatever path they choose (vigilante, doctor, anything that's not a straight up war criminal really), supports and funds all their hobbies and passions and after seeing how hesitant the first kid to come out to him was, had pride flags hanging in every corner of the batcave, made pride pins that were safe to wear with their vigilante uniforms and maybe even brings back rainbow batman for a day if any of his kids were having a really hard time.

But also, he absolutely refuses to critique/scold any of his kids in public/in front of others.

Dick skips school because a travelling circus is coming to Gotham and claims his absence is because of a family emergency? (He doesn't know how to explain to Bruce that yes it will hurt to see the performers but it would also feel like returning home. That even though he loves his life now he still missed being in the circus) When the school calls Bruce that night, Bruce lectures Dick on the importance of honesty and "next time just tell me you want to go to the circus chum, I'd have sorted it out. I hope u had fun kid and... if u want, only if u want, we could go to one together sometime? I heard there was a show in Bludhaven next week..." Then the next day Bruce drops Dick off at his class and walks into that school sobbing, blubbering about how his emotional support cat had died and it was a miracle Dick was able to return to school so soon.

Bruce gets called down to a fancy store because Jason, who was wearing his old clothes, got accused of shoplifting? Bruce is there in seconds lecturing the store owner about how disgusting it was to judge his son based on his clothes, until littleJay tugs on his shirt and whispers "I did it." After which he lectures the store owner for having the checkout at the wrong place in the store, that's why his precious boy got confused! (And in the meantime discreetly slips Jason a $200 bill) "Did you even ask my kid if he had the money or did u just assume huh? Oh you didn't ask? Well why don't you ask him now Mr.Prick?" and Jason gleefully shows him the bill. Then in the car ride back home Jason admits that he was trying to steal the pretty pen because he wanted to give Bruce a nice present for father's day but he didn't have enough saved up and Bruce lectures him on honesty, trust and "I don't need an expensive gift sweetheart. Having u with me, to celebrate father's day with and knowing that u wanted to do something nice for me is all I need. .. the second best gift would be if u would give me a private showing of ur big speech in your school play?" (And that's how the tradition of Jason performing some monologue from his current favourite play every father's day started)

And the lectures/scolding for his kids only happening in private carries over to their vigilante life too. Batman will point out any mistake made by JL, in front of the criminals they are currently in the process of apprehending. Reading any post mission report he wrote feels like being back at school and getting back an assignment covered in red ink.

Then the younger heroes start joining. Now, the batkids are trained well - they make fewer mistakes than most of the JL - but mistakes still happen.

Nightwing makes the wrong judgement call and one of the criminals almost gets away. The JL members hold their breath as Batman drags the criminal back, ready to step in if he's too harsh. "Sorry Bats, I thought it was the right call to make" Dick mutters disappointed with himself and all Batman says is "it happens." The next day Batman advices Nightwing on what to consider when making those decisions and how to train yourself to make them in the moment. The post mission report just reads "one criminal slipped away but was apprended moments later. More manpower would have been optimal for this mission"

In the middle of another mission the rushed voice of Oracle comes through the comms, "they've hacked our comms, I wasn't fast enough to stop them. I am turning comms off now so our communications aren't compromised." *Click* The JL have to rely on silent communication and guesswork to complete the rest of the mission. Once it's over, Batman pull out his cellphone, "Oracle, we have completed the mission. Everyone is safe. Do u need help regaining control of our comms?" When they make it back to the watchtower, Batman stays by Oracle's side and they figure out what the weak point was and how to keep it better protected. The post mission report just reads, "Comms was compromised. JL should train in silent communication to be better prepared for such circumstances."

Older JL members are so jeealouss. After these incidents, when he was lecturing one of the members post mission he hears some of them mutter about favouritism. But it wasn't exactly favouritism...

Which they realise when Kid Flash, sent to scout out a location beforehand misses a hidden latch. In the middle of the 'negotiation', goons spring out of the secret room and attack. Once they are all tied up, Batman stalks over to Kid Flash - whose adrenaline was coming down and it was dawning on him that this only happened because he missed something. "I'm so sorry Mr. Ba-" "Show me your arm kid" Batman says as he folds up Wally's arm so he can better examine where Wally had skinned his elbow when he fell during the fight - it wasn't even really bleeding. Still Batman is thorough in making sure it is properly disinfected and bandaged up and when Wally tries to apologise again during this he says, "It's a secret room kid, it was meant to be easy to miss." When they're back at the watchtower, Batman pulls Wally aside to lecture him about how it's better to slow down and take a few extra seconds when needed, and then hands him a file with all the tricks Batman had learnt to spot things that are not quite right more easily. The post mission report just reads, "was ambushed by 5 attackers, they were subdued in 8 minutes. JL should have more trainings in responding to ambushes."

(Edit: the Kid Flash one only happens if Flash is not with them in the mission cos Flash would have been by Wally's side in less than a sec taking care of him)

Batman never wanted children (not just his) to be so afraid of his reaction that they wouldn't come to him for help if they had made a mistake. Yes, they will have to suffer through lectures if they made a mistake that could have been easily avoided, but that will always only happen after everything gets sorted out and everyone is in a safe place again. Soon, much to the confusion and shock of older JL members, young heroes, though hesitantly, regularly go to Batman to ask for advice.

[sowhatwereyousaying]

A Promise - Part 3

summary: Your lunch date continues as the two of you navigate through the attention, chaos and your own clashing personalities.

warnings: age gap (reader is in their 20s and gong yoo is in his 40s); fake dating, pr

I should have known lunch wouldn’t be normal.

Not with Gong Yoo. Not with the media circus breathing down our necks. And definitely not when the waitstaff gasped the second we walked in like we were royalty.

“This was a mistake,” I muttered, tugging at the sleeves of my totally-not-date-appropriate hoodie.

“Nonsense,” Gong Yoo said, placing a hand on the small of my back like a seasoned performer. “We’re a perfectly in love, totally natural couple. Just act normal.”

“Normal people don’t have to pretend to be engaged.”

“Details,” he said with a smug little smile.

Before I could object, we were being ushered to a ridiculously romantic corner table with candles, fresh flowers, and a window overlooking the view outside

I turned to him. “Did you plan this?”

He lifted an innocent brow. “I have no idea what you mean.”

I did not believe him.

The waiter approached, visibly trembling. “M-Mr. Gong Yoo! It’s an honour! A-and Miss…” His eyes flickered to me, recognition dawning. His pupils dilated. “Oh my god. You’re… her.”

I gave him a weak wave. “Hi.”

The waiter clasped his hands together dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m serving Korea’s most beloved couple.”

Gong Yoo, the absolute menace, just smiled and said, “Neither can we.”

I kicked him under the table. Hard.

He barely flinched.

“Should I bring out champagne?” the waiter asked eagerly.

“No need,” I said quickly. “Water’s fine.”

“Actually,” Gong Yoo mused, tapping his chin, “do you have anything to celebrate a whirlwind romance?”

The waiter practically levitated with joy. “Of course! I’ll bring our special for today”

I was going to strangle Gong Yoo.

As the waiter scurried off, I turned back to him, glaring. “Would you like to be murdered now, or after dessert?”

He propped his chin on his hand, utterly unbothered. “Murdering your fiancé in public? Bold choice.”

I scowled. “I’m not your fiancée.”

He sighed theatrically. “Tell that to the hundreds of fans outside.”

My stomach plummeted.

I peeked toward the restaurant’s entrance—sure enough, a horde of people were gathered outside, phones raised, waiting for their next dose of drama.

I groaned. “Oh my god, they’re filming us.”

“Then we’d better make it convincing.”

Before I could react, Gong Yoo reached across the table and took my hand.

Casually. Effortlessly. Like he’d done it a million times before.

I froze.

His fingers were warm, steady, and ridiculously confident.

I should have pulled away. I should have yanked my hand back and reminded him that this was fake.

Instead, I just… sat there.

“You’re blushing,” he said, voice silky with amusement.

“I’m not.”  “You are.” “I’m literally not.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “It’s cute.”

I yanked my hand back so fast I nearly flipped the table.

“Stop that.” “Stop what?”

“Whatever you’re doing.” I narrowed my eyes. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

He smirked. “And you’re not?”

I was going to lose my mind.

The waiter returned, placing our drinks in front of us with a bright smile. “Here you go! A special cocktail for a special couple!”

I grabbed mine, ready to chug the entire thing out of sheer secondhand embarrassment.

But then—just as I brought it to my lips—Gong Yoo spoke again. “So, if we’re stuck having a meal together, we might as well make it interesting.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Define ‘interesting.’”

“Twenty questions.”

I blinked. “What?”

He leaned back, swirling his drink lazily. “You get to ask me anything. I get to ask you anything. No lying.”

I hesitated. “And if I don’t want to answer?”

He smirked. “Then you take a sip.”

It wasn’t the worst idea.

I exhaled. “Fine. You first.”

His eyes twinkled. “Why do you think I’m handsome?”

I nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, utterly smug. “You got drunk and kissed me. You must have found me attractive.”

“I was drunk.”

“And?”

I groaned, grabbing my drink and taking a long sip.

He grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

“Okay, my turn.” I sat up straighter, ready to destroy him. “What’s your biggest fear?”

For the first time, his smirk faltered.

A shadow flickered across his face, brief but unmistakable. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“Being alone,” he said, casually, like it was nothing.

I blinked, taken aback.

It was the first real answer he’d given me.

For a second, I saw something different in him. Not just the playboy, the celebrity, the man who thrived on attention—but someone who, deep down, had the same fears as anyone else.

And maybe, just maybe… someone I could actually like.

He tilted his head. “What? Surprised?”

I shook my head slowly. “No… just didn’t expect that level of honesty.”

He smirked, but it was softer this time. “Like I said. No lying.”

The conversation shifted after that.

Somehow, between the chaos—the fans outside, the waitstaff watching our every move, the ridiculous romance of the setting—we started talking, really talking.

I learned that Gong Yoo could cook surprisingly well, that he hated wearing socks, that he had once contemplated quitting acting to move to the countryside, and that he loved fishing above all else.

He learned that I hated early mornings, had a ridiculous fear of pigeons, had a job that I loved but paid waayy too less and that I once auditioned for a reality show and completely bombed.

It was… fun.

By the time the meal was over, I had laughed more times than I could count.

And for the first time since this mess started, I thought… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being fake-engaged to Gong Yoo.

Unfortunately, reality came crashing back way too fast.

As we stepped outside, the crowd of fans and reporters exploded with excitement. Cameras flashed, questions were shouted, and someone even threw a flower bouquet at us.

I barely caught it in time.

Gong Yoo turned to me, grinning. “Looks like the universe approves of us.”

I scowled, shoving the bouquet into his chest. “I hope you’re allergic.”

He laughed—a deep, genuine sound that resonated even above the clamour—effortlessly wrapping an arm around my waist, guiding me through the crowd like we’d done this a million times before and for a moment, we ducked into a quieter side street away from the press frenzy.

In the calm of the narrow alley, with the city’s hustle muffled by brick walls and distant traffic, the adrenaline faded, and reality set in. I found myself glancing at him, really looking, and realizing that Gong Yoo had shared pieces of himself I hadn’t expected beneath the charm and the notorious playboy image. He wasn’t just a celebrity contrived for the tabloids; he was a man with fears, dreams, and quirks much like anyone else.

“You know,” he said softly, leaning against the wall as we waited for our ride, “I never imagined a day like today. Not like this, anyway.” I met his gaze, and for a moment, the chaos around us felt like a distant echo. “Neither did I,” I admitted. “This is insane… and yet, not entirely terrible.” He chuckled, a sound both teasing and tender. “Perhaps the universe works in mysterious ways.” I smiled, feeling an unfamiliar warmth. “Maybe"

As the taxi pulled up and we stepped inside, the lights of the city blurred past the window. Amid all the absurdity—a drunken kiss, a fake engagement, a chaotic lunch that turned unexpectedly genuine—I realized that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t entirely opposed to this wild ride after all.

And while the future was as unpredictable as ever, at that moment, I allowed myself a small hope: that what began as a scandalous accident might just lead to something real.

a/n: I will literally never stop thanking yall for giving this fic so much love, like every time yall like it or reblog it or comment on it, I literally FEEL SO HAPPY like omg. Also Gong Yoo has a meet and greet tomorrow in japan so NEW PHOTOS YAYYAYAYYAY. This chapter was fun to write, i know I wrote a few cheesy things in but like honestly you can't blame me for being sucha dork lol. Let me know if this speed ig is like ok or like you want me to go faster, cz I am absolutely clueless. I hope yall eat this part up in 15 mins like yall did with the last one lmao.

taglist (I FEEL SO GRATEFUL): @preppyfella @muchwita @shadow-tumbler @dyingswanpavlova

[mr-walkingrainbow]

CALLING ALL MONSTER HIGH FANS. I JUST MET GARRETT. AND I WAS ABLE TO SCAVENGE SO MUCH LORE AND CONFIRMED HEADCANONS TO YOU. THIS IS ALL SAID BY GARRET OR CONFIRMED. I HAVE SPOKEN TO GOD AND HE HAS SPOKEN BACK

#1. Robecca and Venus were implied and ARE dating!!! He said it was like. Just like other monsters they had tried putting hints and characteristics into monsters that we could see and relate too. (He also said it outright down here. Lol I got all the proof guys!)

2. They never actually came up with Jane Boolittles Origins. And yes Dr. Morou and Dr. Boolittle raised her. But it was always a thing to them they'd say ‘oh well get back to this’. And then they never did. When asked; he genuinely doesn’t remember what they had planned for her.

3. a REALLY big mystery solved and lore dump guys. This one’s juicy. I KNOW HOW SPECTRA DIED. I KNOW HOW SHE DIED. AND WHAT THE TRAUMATIC STORY WAS FOR HER. I ACTUALLY FUCKING KNOW! Y’all ready? Drumroll…. It was, a, CAR CRASH! Yes you heard me. THE VONDERGEIST FAMILY ALL DIED IN A CAR CRASH. I think he said he she just came with her family off skirts and they got into an accident. I’ll reblog this with the video of him saying it!

4. Toralei lives in a monster high housing/boarding building when she is not attending school. This place is used for kids who do not have a place to go too, or if their home is too far to return to easily. I think there was an error somewhere where she mentioned parents? I mentioned that to him and he was very confused/didn’t remember. Reconfirmed that if she wasn’t in the monster high housing area. She would have been in either Jail or The streets.

5. Robecca was not rebuilt for 100 years due to Misogyny. Also because it had to go into the lines of her ‘mysteriously’ disappearing for her to have her comeback. I asked about how it was low key such a dark story, and he mentioned that since technically Monster high was the ‘horror’ genre. He was able to get away with things like that.

6. the Vampire Heart mystery! So remember how in Friday night frights we all see Ghoulia place a Robot Heart into Robeccas chest. Something that is very clearly not the Vampires heart? But then suddenly in Frights camera action it’s there? Well, technically that’s an official Error by the crew. He actually said he noticed it, and told management and stuff like ‘won’t people notice it?’ And they were all like ‘nah it will be fine no one will notice’. But then we all clearly did lol. He also said that because if this, he came up with the idea that the Vampires heart was ENCASED in the Robot heart we saw in Friday night frights. Ergo, explaining how Robecca had two hearts in one body! (It’s also confirmed Hexiciah placed the Vampires heart into her while he was building her. Which would explain why she didn’t remember it was their).

#7. Gooliope Jellingtons Origins. I asked what her origins were. And basically, she DOES NOT have any parents. She was CREATED IN A LAB. Which apparently didn’t treat her right. So she ESCAPED the lab and ran away to the circus! (Or blobbed away?) because he also confirmed, she was the blob. Or based off the blob. She wasn’t actually like. The daughter of the blob. She WAS the blob itself.

#8. Kiyomi Haunterly is Gay! I know this is was already somewhat canon and said before. But I asked and he confirmed it that she was in fact, Gay. And he tried to show it in her diary.

#9. We’re reaching some only implied/supported things. Not fully confirmed or intended. But Kala Mer’ri has BPD. I asked about if she has anything like BPD cause I relate and saw that a lot in her. He replied that he did try to make attributes for each Character specifically so we could related to them like that. And that it was to also make sure every character wasn’t a carbon copy of another. Basically. He didn’t like. Outright say ‘yes. She has bpd’. But he also didn’t disprove it. And he reacted positively to the idea and supported it.

#10. Robecca Steam has ADHD. It’s basically the same as above. Although he did like the note that I (someone with adhd) specifically had the same traits with Robecca, even more specifically, that we both are ALWAYS late. And can never keep track of time to save our unlife.

11. Dedyet DeNile Origins. He actually completely forgot about Cleo’s Mother eventually being reunited. I had asked how she had ended up in that same weird time loop Tomb thag Hexiciah was stuck in. (Which they were eventually freed by Robecca in her SDCC diary). He said he completely forgot about that. And genuinely didn’t remember anything about it. I basically re-explained the whole thing and he was very interested. Unfortunately. Not to much origins to go on.

11. here’s a canon one! What happened to Aamanita Nightshade after she left the DeNiles in the tomb. It was kinda funny, but he basically was like ‘Amanita went up and was just like ‘Peace!’’ And then never came back.’ She goofed around a bit, buuut it wasn’t entirely like her fault? She quickly went back to sleep after breaching the surface. So yeah. She was not awake for long. She quickly went back into flower mode until she woke up again at the Gloom and Bloom party.

12. He’s working on another one of his Monster prints! He sells them on his online shop here

He’s currently working on Toralei!!!!! He said he was working on her on the way over. And that he was trying to go in Order of the G1 doll releases. He mentioned he had only done Skelita out of Order because she was like ‘that one’ who was INSANELY popular with fans when she came out. Especially in Mexico. It’s also why she was the only Funko pop made who was not part of the main ghouls.

13. Random. But he actually didn’t create each backstory individually by himself. In the beginning he did A LOT. Like Frankie was the first backstory he ever created. And it got more help and divided as more and more characters were introduced.

14. he has read every single diary for every monster. Cool little fact cause DAMN theirs a whole bunch of them.

15. everything in the Ghoulfriends book series is CANON in the monster verse.

And that is ALL FOLKS! I had held those questions in for about 7-8 years. So it was everything to me to have them answered and confirmed! I really tried to ask everything that was a huge mystery to us monster folks. And I hope you guys are excited to see all these new CANON facts!!!

I’m sorry if this is not everything. Just like Robecca. I forget stuff pretty easily. I’m wracking my brain for every little detail. Unfortunately my father didn’t record as much as I would have liked. But he did get some perfect key moments! And I’ll make sure to reblog with those moments as proof of confirmation!

I love y’all! Make sure this goes viral so every monster high fan gets to hear the news!

Signing out, I’m Tumblr Spectra Vondergeist, and I report the news.

[notsodelirious]

I just read your knight dick grayson x royal gn reader and I’m absolutely inlove with the forbidden love between the two. I need the sequel so badddddd

Knight Grayson means so much to me💔

idk if this is what people mean when they say write a little every day but here you go!

Synopsis: Dick finds you in your room while you’re getting ready for a ball celebrating your engagement

notes: SFW, also reader is mentioned to do a couple of feminine things (wear earrings, being led in a dance, etc) but that’s just bc I’m a trans guy who likes wearing earrings (reader is still gn)

tags: forbidden romance, knight!Dick Grayson, Royalty AU, bittersweet ending, political engagements, just abt 1k words, no use of y/n

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (current) | Part 4

“Your Highness? You called for me?” Dick called out through the door as he knocked before carefully pushing the door open. He stumbled when his eyes fell on you.

It was the night celebrating your engagement. Your father had thrown a ball in honour of it, and as much as you despised the idea, you didn’t kick a fuss: it was too late anyway. You would be married in 3 months time and it was too late for any tantrums to change the course of that. You’d received your orders and begrudgingly, reluctantly, you would fulfil them.

You stood in the middle of your room, absently neatening your attire—the maids had already helped you dress in all your royal regalia an hour before, before leaving you to collect yourself while they finished the preparations to welcome guests.

“Oh, Sir Grayson,” you said softly, feigned nonchalance as you turned away from the mirror to look at him. You tried not to blush under his gaze as his eyes roved over you, up and down before a gentle rose brushed over his cheeks too. “Come in. Close the door.”

He did so, shutting the door behind himself hastily, quietly.

“You look stunning,” he said as he approached. He rested his gloved hand on your waist, as he took to admiring you up close. He was also dressed in his finest, black and blue wrapped around his body, a heavy coat draped over his shoulders like a cape. It was customary of all knights in attendance to wear, but it was so distinctly him. He was gorgeous.

You held up a pair of earrings which he carefully took from you. He tilted your chin up before he opened the first earring to slip it into place. He tilted your head again to put the second earring in, holding your face as if admiring the jewellery and not the love of his life. “Ready?”

“Will I ever be?” you said softly as you turned to look back towards the mirror, where you could see the both of you stood side by side. Complimentary, paired like sword and shield, an image you knew in your heart to be true. But it was all just an illusion and soon you would separate again.

Dick didn’t say anything as his grip on your waist tightened just a little, and if you let yourself indulge in your delusions, you could almost imagine it was possessive. With the care he’d use to handle a delicate flower, he reached down for your hand as he stepped in front of you, holding your body close to his.

You couldn’t help but smile; you grasped his hand firmly in return, resting your other on his shoulder.

He guided you through the dance, shoes brushing against soft carpet as you stepped to silence of your room.

“Didn’t know you could dance,” you said teasingly, but not loud enough to disrupt the fragile quiet that had settled over the room.

“Ballroom lessons come included when being raised by Bruce Wayne,” he smiled back as he continued to lead the dance. “Why are you surprised?”

“Guess I didn’t expect the circus brat to know how to dance.” He laughed softly, dark locks falling in front of his face when he ducked down low. You couldn’t help but look up at him, the hand in his leaving so you can cup his face. Ocean eyes meet yours before his lips brush against yours. His hair was soft between your fingers as you tugged him down closer, mouth moving against his, as if he were your only source of oxygen.

By then your dance had slowed to a stand still. You pulled away, eventually in need of hair.

“Thank you.” Your words were soft, barely above a whisper while you wrapped your arms around his neck. He held you close in turn, holding your hips.

“It’s my honour, Your Highness.”

The sway that you resumed, a lazy shuffle more than anything, kept you close. You rested your head on his shoulder, while you let his hands roam where it never would be decent for any man to lay his hands. You hated the thought of moving away from this, from him, but the throne wasn’t yours to keep and your father’s knights not yours to keep.

“I’ll be here when you come back to visit,” Dick said, almost as if he were reading your mind. He placed his cheek against the top of your head as you continued to sway, nothing like the formal waltz before.

You shook your head. “Don’t wait for me,” you replied. “Find yourself a sweet girl who can give you the love and family you deserve.”

His grasp on you tightened again, holding you against him.

“I fear even if I tried, it’ll always be you.”

You chuckled wetly as you pulled away from him. The pads of his fingers brushed away your tears and he smiled down at you softly.

“I love you.”

You tilted your head to kiss his palm.

“I love you too, Dick.”

You both startled at the sound of a knock at the door. It was time to go.

He held his arm out to you.

“Ready?”

You took hold of him, bitter acceptance and love blooming in your throat.

“As I’ll ever be.”

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

Hope you enjoyed! <3 so far, this series has been SFW but I’m ngl every other sequel I’ve thought of is NSFW and idk if that’s something people would be into for this AU—to be seen <3

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

The fruit shop was doing great, contrary to all the doubts Eli once had. Watching the business bloom and thrive had turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

What was a bit of an issue, however, was the idea of putting up posters of all the Hostel boys above the shop. While it was fun and catchy, some women had clearly gotten the wrong idea. Even the older ones didn’t leave him alone.

You often teased him, calling him the local DG, with women of all age groups flocking to the fruit shop, less for the fruit, more for the chance to catch a glimpse of him. It made him flustered. But deep down, were you using humour just to hide your own hesitation? He wondered.

You reassured him time and again that this is how things work, and it’s not as if anyone could steal him away. Still, the nagging worry lingered. Maybe it was also because, even though he was doing better now, he still couldn’t carve out enough proper time for you, and this daily circus only added salt to the wound.

It was only when Warren took over for the day that Eli finally got some time with you. You’d come back from the park with Yenna, and the little girl, exhausted from playing, had fallen asleep the moment you tucked her into bed.

“Did you guys have fun?” he asked, checking on Yenna before gently leading you out of the room.

“Yes! It’s full blossom now, so Yenna kept chasing butterflies. And there were other kids too,” you beamed.

You both settled on the couch, shoulders brushing. You pulled his hand into yours and asked, “How was work today?”

“The usual,” he sighed, “though today some customers were fighting about whether watermelons are better than green grapes.”

You tried to contain your laughter, but it spilled out anyway. “Seriously? Were they fighting over their favourite fruit or like fans over idols?”

Every day brought new ridiculous stories from his fruit shop, and they never failed to surprise you.

“Sally and Hudson handled it,” he added between your giggles. Then, with a dry expression, he continued, “But one lady also asked Hudson for his number. He had to remind her that asking a minor for his number is illegal and criminal.”

You clutched your shirt as you laughed harder. At least someone had the guts. Hudson might be a businessman through and through, but he never compromised on ethics.

Leaning into Eli, you rested against him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Once your laughter settled, you kissed along his jaw and asked softly, “How do you deal with this every day?” Then with a small chuckle, “I know it’s helped you a lot, but sometimes it really does feel like a circus.”

He ran his hand along your back, resting his head against your shoulder and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. The nagging thoughts returned, lingering in the back of his mind. This circus wasn’t just noise anymore, it had started to touch things close to him. Right in front of you.

“You really don’t have any problem with all that?” he asked quietly.

You snuggled closer, reassuring, “Of course not. I haven’t laughed this much in ages, especially because of things like that.”

“And when I open my flower shop, you’ll be the star opener,” you added playfully. “So be ready for more of this madness.”

He laughed and kissed you as you rambled on about the future, imagining how chaotic it might get, how you’d juggle both college and your small flower shop. He listened closely, eyes never leaving your face.

“Thanks to you, I really feel like I can pull off doing both,” you said, smiling with heartfelt sincerity.

He brushed a strand of hair from your face and replied, “No, you shouldn’t thank me. It’s going to be your hard work.”

“Of course,” you said, “but you’ll still be the star opener. Don’t forget that. And after that, I’ll send Yenna flowers every single day.”

“She’ll love that,” he nodded, and you both smiled.

The golden evening sunlight filled the room, wrapping everything in a calm glow. You kept talking about what-ifs, about dreams and futures. You liked how relaxed Eli had become lately. You knew why. And though he still had a long way to go, still carried some ghosts of guilt and lingering doubts, but it was okay. You were just happy he could think for himself now. Happy that the burden wasn’t as heavy as before.

Wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, comfort, and silence, nothing else needed to be said. Nothing needed to be added.

Until....

“Eli Jang. 0 points.”

You both flinched at the sudden voice.

Annoyance flickered across Eli’s face. As much as he had softened lately and allowed himself to be more affectionate, he had also become more openly vocal about what and who displeased him. The man in front of him was high on that list.

“My shift is over,” Eli said flatly, his grip on you firm.

“The owner of a business doesn’t rest just because their shift is over,” Hudson replied, matter-of-fact. “They don’t stop until their empire is built.”

Eli’s jaw clenched, clearly more irritated. And you? Well, you weren’t complaining at all, because, if you were being honest, you lived for these hysterics.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Beyond the 305 || LS2 {4}

Summary: Australia GP - need I say more?

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, implied smut, angst

WC: 2.8k

One || Two || Three || Four

There really was a new appreciation for the effort Logan put in everyday for not just his team but for you too. You never understood how exhausting it must have been for him to balance his training and race preparation, media and sponsor duties, and flying home to you every spare moment. Now that you were travelling with him full time you finally got to see just how much added pressure it had put on him.

The London apartment, no, flat, as they called it here, was spacious enough for two people and one large dog, but it was a quarter of the size of your home in Miami. It took some getting used to, walking the length of the space in a matter of seconds or catching your toe on the furniture to avoid stepping on Sooty’s tail. But you wouldn’t change it for the world when you got to curl your body around Logan’s every night and wake up to his kisses.

“What’s your plans today, sweetheart?”

The sunrise here was watery and pale compared to Miami but it still managed to catch the blonde streaks of hair on Logan’s head. He was already dressed and ready to go for his morning run and you could hear Sooty’s paws on the wooden floor as he paced by the front door with his leash between his teeth.

“Not a lot. At 3 I have to take Sooty to the V.E.T.S,” you spell out knowing the black labrador would start sulking if he heard the word. “He has to have some extra shots now if we want to take him to Shanghai.”

Everything took more preparation when you didn’t have the usual support people around. There were different certificates needed for Sooty and new regulations for each country. It wasn’t like you could just drop him off at Dalton’s for the week. The usual help was across the Atlantic and Lily would probably be happy to have Sooty except she would be able to take him to her uni classes. Your big baby needed companionship or he would whine and howl to get attention.

“I’ll come with you,” he said with a kiss before grabbing his AirPods from where they were charging beside the bed.

“I thought you had your podcast today?”

“It’s a long flight, Alex figured we could record it on the way.”

You smiled at the thought of going to Australia for the first time. You pictured warmth, beaches and sun like you were accustomed to. It was more exciting than the other destinations so far this season. Your smile faltered as you remembered you really needed to finish packing for the evening flight and you tossed the blankets back.

“You can go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he said as he pulled his shoes on. “It’s only 6.30.”

“If I don’t finish packing now I will lie awake stressing about it anyway.”

The suitcases were already on the floor of the closet, his clothes folded neatly inside. One half was William’s team uniforms, the other were his personal clothes. The second suitcase only had a garment bag with a cocktail dress for a night out before the circus began.

“I thought you said you started?” he asked as he grabbed your waist and looked over your shoulder.

“I did start,” you pointed out. “Just didn’t get much past there. Someone distracted me.”

Logan’s hands started to roam your body exactly like they had the last time you tried to pack. “You should have more self control,” he teased.

“I’ve never been good with that around you.”

Logan turned you in his arms and grinned. “And I’m goddamn glad.”

His head started to dip down and his lips were already pursed for the kiss he was more than happy to distract you with, when Sooty started to cry at the front door. A deep groan exhaled as he dropped his forehead to yours, the moment stolen from him.

“I’m coming, Soot,” he said over his shoulder before looking back at your lips. “I’ll see you in an hour, honey.”

Logan stepped away with hesitation in his eyes and your hands fell back to your sides as you sent him a flirty wink. “Run faster.”

His lips kicked up and he returned the wink. “Yes, ma’am.”

—

Logan found you sat on the floor in the closet when he returned with a sweat soaked shirt in his hand and a very happy dog at his side. The smell hit you as Sooty bounded into the room and you understood why he was so happy when you almost gagged.

“Sorry, sweets, he rolled in something at the park.”

“Something seriously dead,” you coughed, waving your hand to try to get some fresh air. “Oh my god, Soot, that is rancid!”

Logan caught his collar before he could jump onto your lap and started to guide him out of the room. “Come on, buddy, showertime for both of us.”

The water started running and you heard Logan’s soothing voice through the walls as he calmed Sooty down. Like most dogs, he loved water but hated baths. While they were busy, you finished off folding the last items you were taking and closed the suitcase with a satisfied huff, just in time to hear your name being called.

“We’ve got a runner!”

You dashed out of the room and grabbed an old towel from the linen cupboard before making chase. Logan’s towel hung precariously low on his hips and he struggled not to slip as he ran through the flat behind Sooty. Your laughter filled the room as Logan tried to herd Sooty into the towel you held open, but he was too agile and skidded out of your reach. Logan wasn’t as lucky and failed miserably as he tried to avoid the collision.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” he gasped as he pulled you onto his lap and felt your body for any bumps.

“I’m fine.” Your giggles grew as Sooty bounded back over and shook out his fur. “At least we don’t have to dry him now.”

Logan laughed, holding you tighter as he realised his towel had been lost and he was sitting naked beneath you. He swallowed deeply and your eyes started to follow a rivulet of water as it rolled down his chest.

“Soot, time for a nap,” he ordered, his voice dropping with the heated look in your eyes. Paws padded across the floor before his cuddly toy squeaked under his head and Logan rose to his feet, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you back to bed.

Pillowy kisses warmed your neck as Logan’s hands lifted your shirt up, breaking away only long enough to pull it over your head. Dropping to his knees, he dragged your leggings down and left sweet kisses on your hips before he kissed his way back up your body.

“I love you,” he whispered as his lips finally met yours and he stole your breath with his tenderness.

“I love you too, always.”

He smiled at the promise. “I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer until your bodies were flush together and you felt his hard length press to your core. “Or you could just hold me.”

—

The atmosphere was jovial and Logan was relaxed going into race week. Oscar had escorted you and Logan around his hometown with Lily, showing the best spots to eat and the quieter beaches to visit with Sooty. The boys hadn’t been able to resist karting at the track Oscar had learned to race after media day ended. They had tried to get you and Lily to join but you were happy to play referee to their on-track battles.

“Logan looks more relaxed this year,” Lily commented as you both enjoyed a lemonade ice block in the shade of a tree.

“He’s got some experience now but I think that’s going to come with its own pressure. People are still expecting a lot from him, I just hope he has a car that can help him meet those expectations. He was just starting to get the hang of the last one and then the season was over.”

“It sounded like the car was going to be better this year from what Osc said.”

“I'm sure that’s what Alpine told Gasly and Ocon too,” you said with a laugh.

“Serves them right,” Lily giggled. “Alpine, not Pierre.”

“What about Estie Bestie?”

Lily wrinkled her nose at the nickname. “I only met him a couple of times but I definitely wouldn’t call him that.”

It took a lot for Lily to struggle to find something nice to say about someone, she was the sweetest, most soft spoken woman you knew. So it was enough to suggest he was someone you probably wouldn’t go out of your way to meet anytime soon.

“I do wish the guys would include Lo more. I know it hurts him to see pictures of the others getting together. Not that he says anything, he’s too polite,” you said with a sigh. “He was so happy when he was invited to play padel at Testing.”

Your eyes found his blue helmet as it raced around the track, neck and neck with Oscar’s orange one. It was amazing what he could do when given an equal piece of equipment, you would never have been able to tell that they were on opposite ends of the driver standings when watching them call a draw at the finish line.

The boys abandoned their helmets and dropped to the grass beside you and Lily laughing about something Oscar had said on the walk over. Sooty was in heaven as he rolled onto his back and welcomed the fresh hands for belly rubs.

“We should get a dog.”

Lily didn’t look impressed at Oscar’s suggestion and you distracted yourself by offering Logan some of your ice block before it completely melted.

“Just something small, like a Jack Russel,” he continued. “They can’t be that hard to look after, right?”

You barely contained your laugh as you shared an amused look with Logan that he returned, but Lily caught it.

“Just ask them,” she pointed out. “It’s like having a child, isn't it? I’m studying, you’re working and travelling, who will look after it?”

“It is a full time commitment,” you agreed. “And it takes a lot of planning to have everything prepared for travelling. I actually think a child would be easier, they only need a passport to get on a plane.”

Logan nudged your knee with his and winked. “Should we test that theory out?”

“We haven’t even set a date for the wedding so calm your loins, babe,” you said with a pat to his thigh that triggered Oscar to snort.

“Okay, no dog,” he conceded, a relief to Lily’s ears. “You guys wanna get dinner?”

You were about to take up the offer but Logan shook his head and said, “we have somewhere to be.”

“We do?”

“I didn’t ask you to pack a nice dress for it to get left in the hotel. I have something special planned,” he teased. “And no, I’m not telling you, it’s a surprise.”

Try as you might, he didn’t give you a hint of what he had organised.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

Logan was struck by your beauty and his luck as you stepped out of the room in a dress that accentuated all of your features. His mouth went dry at the thought that he had the pleasure of spending the rest of his life with you.

You stepped closer and ran your palms down the clean lines of his dress shirt that had the top two buttons undone. The baring of skin showed the necklace he wore, a gift from your first anniversary. He had far more expensive pieces of jewellery but he favoured that one the most because it came from you.

“Are you sure we have to go? You’re too handsome for your own good.”

His eyes traced the peek of your tongue and it rolled across your lips suggestively and he felt his pants tighten. He did debate cancelling it all to take you straight back to the bedroom you had left but he finally wrestled his thoughts back under control. “Unfortunately, but I might cancel dessert and have you instead.”

A town car was already waiting at the front of the hotel and as it drove along you watched the city as the sun set and the street lights brightened. Melbourne was beautiful.

“We should set a date for the wedding,” Logan suddenly said as the car pulled up at the city waterfront. “Everything is so uncertain this year but you’re the one constant in my life. If I lose everything else I’ll survive, but I will always need you.”

You laced your fingers with his as you stepped out of the car and thanked the driver. “You’ll always have me, wedding or not.”

He smiled and kissed your ringed hand, leading the way to a yacht moored at the pier. “I know, but I kind of look forward to calling you my wife.”

“Kind of? I hope you’ll have more enthusiasm with your vows.” Your words were light and your smile teasing before you released his hand to board the private boat.

The light mood lasted well into the night and your heart was as full as your stomach when the boat finished its harbour cruise. You wished that mood could last all weekend, but the universe had other plans.

yourusername

yourusername date night with my favourite human @/logansargeant 💙 thank you @/lilyzneimer for babysitting our boy, Sooty, not Oscar.

You knew that look of defeat when he emerged from James’ office, it saturated his soul and leaked out through his pale blue eyes. You could count on your hand the number of times Logan had cried in front of you and your heart ached at the thought of adding another to the tally. Without a word, laced your fingers with his and walked back to the privacy of his driver room. The door shut, the sound as muted as the mood, and you opened your arms to let him fall into your embrace as he confirmed the rumours were true. Logan’s hands clutched the back of your shirt in his fists and he buried his face in your neck. “Alex is racing.”

Your heart broke at the despondent tone and you drew soothing circles across his back. He had known it was a possibility going into the meeting but had hoped his principal wouldn’t put him in a position to give up his seat for the race. Unfortunately his prayers had gone unanswered.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” you murmured as his tears hit your shoulder. “I can’t believe they are even allowed to do this.”

“James didn’t want to ask, but he’s right, Alex has the best chance for points - his history shows that clearly,” Logan rasped through the lump in his throat. He felt humiliated, disappointed and angry all at once, but he was expected to grin and bear it for the team as a united front.

Your brows knitted together and you cradled his face in your hands so you could look him in the eyes. “He gave you the choice?”

Logan shrugged. “I mean, it didn’t feel like it, but I did say yes.”

“Yes means nothing if it’s under duress,” you stated bluntly, a familiar fire warming your stomach at the thought of his kind nature being taken for granted. “Just say the word, baby, and I’ll take him to church.”

Logan shook his head and the gaping wound that had been cleaved into his chest closed a little at your protective nature. He knew you would march right back into James’ office and argue until you were blue in the face, but he feared it would only make things worse for his future prospects in the team. This was his battle to face and he was going to play the long game, even if it took playing the fool for one race.

“I know you would, sweetheart,” he said with a sniffle, wiping his eyes and swallowing down the emotion. It would have made his father proud. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said with a kiss, tasting the salty tears on his lips. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just…stay with me?” Logan took a few steadying breaths and rested his forehead on yours as he screwed his eyes shut. “The cameras, I can’t deal with them alone. I can already feel them zooming in on me, wanting a reaction.”

You draped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair with a reassuring smile. “Let’s disappoint them all then. Shall we?”

He took a deep breath and forced his lips to tip up into a hesitant smile that slowly grew more substantial the longer he looked at you. “Yes, ma’am.”

[wildshadowtamer]

Fuck it, reverse headcanon time

(Taking popular fanon and applying it to a different character out of spite. This time; Batfam)

-Jason is the batkid who knows ASL. He learnt the LOA-regional-variant back at Nanda Parbat after his voice wouldnt work post-pit, and kept using it once his voice returned because theres a lot of Deaf and mute kids in crime alley. And if the modulator in his helmet breaks and he cant take it off for any reason, he can sign. He holds classes for his goons so they learn it too.

-Babs is the coffee fiend. Her family already has addiction problem (smoking from Gordon, drinking from her father, arguably also coffee from Gordon) that runs in it, so of course she got hooked on caffeine. She actually went to college, and she has to deal with these six dumbasses over comms. She needs a heavy coffee for that.

-Signal is the sugar fiend. He finds his powers are more effective if he has a lot of sugar. His dentist is crying.

-Dick knows so many swears it once actually gave a rich guy a heart attack. He was a circus kid travelling all over the world, he knows more swears than the entirety of the batfam combined.

-Bruce listens to taylor swift. Hes a rich white man with a private jet and too many exes. He is a swiftie. He will take this secret to his grave.

-Steph is actually the favourite robin amongst the rogue gallery, except Black Mask. This resulted in Black Mask losing a scary amount of rep amongst the mob/rogue communities, because as far as they know, he killed Their robin, the villain's kid who had her One Bad Day like they did, but survived in a way they didn't. They do not know Spoiler was the girl Robin.

-Out of all the batsibs, its actually Duke (assuming hes 18+ by that point) who wins a public poll of "which Wayne heir is hottest". Dick is relieved he lost for once.

-Tim is the flirt. Dick is a flirt too, but Tim is A FLIRT, and worst of all, he forgets hes doing it half the time. Hes so used to talking in innuendos and flattery for his public image that he uses it on his teammates too. All of his team has had a crush on him before. Kon is down bad.

-Cass can, will, and has smacked someone for talking shit before. She'll do it again. Her siblings will not stop her, they are cheering her on. The minute she has enough grasp on speaking to learn verbal sassing, as opposed to body language sassing, she sasses the fuck out of them while doing so.

-Duke does drag. Jason's criminal empire he stole from Penguin has a bar he renovated into a drag bar. Duke performs there, with Bluebird and Batwoman as security in case any bigots show up.

-Damian is actually the fem one of the batboys, it just takes him a while to realise it bc Expectations and Social Pressure. Flatline, whos mostly masc, bought a bunch of dresses and skirts she keeps in her house for him to wear, before he was ready to tell anyone else. Of course, his siblings were fine with it, and Steph & Cass were thrilled to have another person to take dress shopping with them. Bruce spent the day recalculating his mental pictures of Damian's future prom photos and wedding photos. Damian is like 14 by that point, but that wont stop Bruce from finding the best dress tailor in Gotham.

-Cullen is the favourite Batkid, because he isnt a vigilante and has no intention of becoming one. Bruce is so glad at least one of his kids- even if hes not legally his- is normal.

-Steph needs glasses. She doesnt tell anyone until she gets hot-purple glittery (if that color isnt a thing, she paid Lucius to make it a thing) framed glasses and just. shows up to the manor in them. Turns out she was working virtually blind before.

-Bruce was the one who started Dick's whole pun thing, because he used to say silly catchphrases too. Rock and roll while throwing a rock wheel at someone is Dick's favourite example. He still says them in his head. (The first part is basically canon from the golden age)

-following up on that, both Bruce and Dick used to randomly start singing during fights. This is, hilariously, canon to the golden age, and i petition we bring it back. Give me Batman humming songs under his breath while on stake out. Dick training Damian to fight to a song beat.

[vaokses]

Anger, a daughter (Pirtir, Ch.1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: You return to Dragonstone after nearly two years away, having done what was expected of you and secured your mother's standing with the Great Houses. The safety that you felt after once again doing what was expected of you is taken once you learn that in your absence, your family arranged for you to marry Aegon.

Word Count: 4.5k 

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Threats of violence. The usual Targaryen incest stuff.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother’s claim. It is mentioned she has Valyrian features (the hair). She rides Vermithor. She and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King’s Landing. How relevant or impactful that ‘thing’ was depends on who of the two you ask. I’ve stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King’s Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry. Mysaria left for Dragonstone with Rhaenyra, but is still the information broker of the first season, just working from afar. The Reader has spent nearly two years touring Westeros, as her mother did, in search of a husband.

A/N: No Aegon or any of the greens yet, but I wanted to set up some things, so this can be considered a prologue of sorts. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!

Title is from the "anger, a daughter" by volatilepoetry (link to the piece here, I couldn't find the author's socials)

“Cousin.” You greet with a wide smile, taking the riding gloves off as she comes closer, a mirror of your own smile on her lips. 

“Sister,” Baela greets in kind in well-practiced Valyrian, at your reprimanding glare answering with a defiant one of her own. She grabs your hands in hers, smile wide and mirrored in your own face. “I thought you would return to Dragonstone, at the end of your…tour.” 

“Even I tire of politics, of playing,” You admit, linking your arm with hers and letting her guide you towards the Driftmark castle. “I wish to rest for a while, before I am to report back to f-…to Daemon. I hoped our grandmother would grant me a few days here?” 

“I’m afraid it won’t be possible,” She tells you, pulling from her belt a rolled up message and offering it to you. “A raven brought this shortly after dawn.” 

You immediately recognize Daemon’s handwriting, as well as the parting message he directs at his daughters and you in place for a goodbye. Fly, daughter. 

Your sister is needed at home, tell her to return to us at once. You must ready yourself to fly to Dragonstone at my command. I’ll send word. Sōvēs, tala. 

“So, who did you choose? Whoever it is, you made father angry.” 

“Your father.” You correct, but she pays it no mind, as she always does. 

“So, who will be the lucky man?” 

You turn to face her as you both stand in the base of Driftmark’s stairs. 

“I didn’t choose anyone.”  

Of course, a Tyrell knight caught your eye and your attention for a while, and you could use the strength of the alliance marrying Vaemond Velaryon’s son would bring, or Rickon Stark’s. You even considered the proposal of Hobert Hightower’s grandson, if only to see your mother breathe fire at the mere idea of it, were you to propose such a union. 

But the tour was never organized for the purpose of finding you a husband, this you knew from the beginning. It is the reason you agreed to such a circus in the first place. As Rhaenyra’s first-born child, heir to the Iron Throne and future Princess of Dragonstone, you were sent throughout Westeros to remind the noble Houses of the pledges they made, of where their allegiance is to lie if they hope to remain on the Crown’s good side. 

What foolish Lord you couldn’t charm with a well-placed smile or compliment, Vermithor’s presence in their city would remind promptly of the risk of turning on your House, of undermining your mother’s claim. What wouldn’t bend to your will, you would remind how quickly you could break. Such was your task, what was demanded from you, and you played your part as you have always done. 

It matters not if by the end of this tour, after twenty months away from home -though a part of you reminds you it has been much longer than that, it has been over three years-, donning whatever face was deemed ideal to realize your objective; you cannot really remember who it is you were before it all. It matters not if it has been months since you’ve been able to meet your own gaze in a mirror, in fear of seeing a stranger -or worse, a familiar face, your mother’s, your father’s, Lady Mysaria’s- looking back. 

Your eyes meet Baela’s, and you whisper, “Have you heard I am to marry?” 

She hesitates, and that is enough of an answer. You shake your head, step away, stumble over your own feet. 

___ 

You almost feel a young girl again, in the worst possible way, dragged like a dog on a leash after your mother as she departed King’s Landing, gritting her teeth at your cries and answering with soft caresses of your silver hair to your promise that you would never forgive her for taking you from your home. 

Now, over three years later, you are to be dragged back to the city that saw you be born, away from your mother’s side, from your brothers’ and stepsister’s sides. And the people responsible for arranging for such a thing are set on hiding, on ignoring you since your return to Dragonstone. 

For a time, especially since your aunt’s death and Aemond’s claiming of Vhagar, you believed your mother and Daemon kept you unmarried, kept you here, so that if war were to break out, they would have you and Vermithor to send to battle, to which he is no stranger. You believed if you would one day have to marry, it would be to defend your own claim, offering your hand in exchange for an army, to a man that would know to bend the knee before his queen and before his wife alike. 

You believed they kept you near, they let you remain unbound and unmarried, because you served a purpose while free. You believed by playing your part as was demanded from you, twisting and turning to fit into whatever face you were expected to wear, you would have some control over any of it, you would be safe. How foolish, childish, those notions were. 

Since Vermithor flew you into Dragonstone, your mother has secluded herself in her rooms, and you have only Daemon to ask for answers to the madness that brews past the safety of the island. 

“I do not wish to leave. I will not leave, unless you tell me what awaits me in King’s Landing.” 

But you know, some part of you knows, and that part of you is gnawing at you, at your composure, at your resolve. 

Daemon shrugs one shoulder, “Why? It was once your home. That shithole of a city saw you be born, after all.” 

“My home is, as has always been, Dragonstone.” Lie, lie, lie. You remember the halls of the Red Keep better than you know the halls of this very castle. 

“Then you must be used to homesickness by now. Five and ten years raised in King’s Landing, nearly two years touring Westeros. You have spent…what? A year settled here?” 

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t much care, walking past you to pour himself a cup of wine. He lifts an empty cup your way to offer a drink, but you hold your ground, and insist, 

“I detest games, Daemon.” 

“You sound like your mother when you talk like that,” He quips, with cruel humor, chuckling at a joke that only amuses him. You turn to look at him with narrowed eyes and jaw set tight, and he lets out another mad little chuckle, “You also look like her when you glare like that.” 

“I only ask that-…” 

“When in your life have you asked for only one thing?” 

“And yet you have always indulged me. Indulge me now,” You ask, walking to him, forcing the tension in your shoulders to loosen and your face to reflect the softness of the child he has always had a weakness for. What is expected, what is needed, if you are to win this particular battle. Your mother, your brothers, they are to be faced with callous strength, with a temper and a certainty you inherited from the man who made you who you are; but the man himself is to be faced with the pleading eyes of his daughter, with the docile manners of a maiden who needs his guidance, his protection. And so, you show the face required to get the upper hand. Quietly, softly, you plead, “Do not insult me or my intelligence by acting as if I cannot understand whatever game is being played.” 

“You wield lies effortlessly,” He concedes, head lolled to the side as he considers you, “But you should know better than to try with me.” 

You allow yourself a smile, despite yourself, and let go of pretenses. Even so, you aren’t sure if the face you show Daemon now is an honest one, or merely yet another mask to try and gain his favor. 

Shrugging one shoulder as you lean against one of the stone pillars, you admit, 

“It was worth a try.” 

“It is more of an instinct than a choice by now, I’d say,” Daemon corrects, taking a few steps in your direction. You don’t miss the fact that he has positioned himself between you and the door, a physical reminder that whatever he is about to say is as inescapable as this room. “A useful instinct, now that you are to marry.” 

Your refusal is immediate, “No, I’m not.” 

At his answering look, halfway between surprise and anger, you wonder absently if this is the first time you’ve denied him since he married your mother. 

“You are aware this is not a request.” 

“I’ll feed to Vermithor whatever man you try chaining me to. You are aware this is not an empty threat,” You tell him. It feels good, to admit such a thing, to promise such a thing, because it feels true. “I told you I wouldn’t marry unless the war demanded it.” 

“It does. You are to avoid war, and marry my brother’s son, Aegon,” He promises, and he knows it, you see it in his eyes, that at the uttering of a single name your threat is made null. You realize then why it is your mother hides from you. “It is done, a deal has been brokered with my brother and his wife, y-…” 

“You have no right to make arrangements in my name.” You blurt out, a desperate attempt, not unlike a cornered beast lashing out and wounding its own maws as it bites the approaching spear. Now this, shamefully, terribly, this feels yours. This anger, this desire to hurt. With all the venom of a lifetime of wasted deference, of useless loyalty, you ready yourself to speak a lie once again, “You are not my father. Whore out your sons to the Hightowers if you wish, but you have no right t-…” 

Your words die in a gasp as Daemon hurls the cup in his hand at a wall and advances towards you, quick strides until he stands before you, towering over you with quickened breath. He doesn’t strike you, never has. But it is no less of a threat. A warning not to step out of line, a reminder of what your lies protect you from. 

A twitch in his expression, a glimpse of a snarl, before he warns, 

“Careful now.” 

“We both know there are things my mother won’t forgive,” You answer, “It is you who ought to be careful.” 

“She has approved of this union.” 

You doubt it. You want to doubt it, need to. It is one thing to try and link the warring branches of the House of the Dragon by joining Jacaerys, kind and gentle Jacaerys, and your sweet aunt Helaena. 

It is another to send her only daughter, her heir, to one of Alicent’s sons. 

Still, because some part of you, small and still in the carriage as it drives away from King’s Landing, grasping your mother’s hand in yours even as you curse her and her choices, cannot stand the thought of standing corrected, of being made to face that for the security of her claim Rhaenyra would give you away to a man on the far end of the Crownlands; you do not voice an argument, and instead clarify,  

“I was speaking of what you are threatening to do with your hands,” Daemon leans back with a thoughtful hm that does nothing to hide the way he still bristles at the faintest reminder of powerlessness. Careless, you push forward, insist, “Let us wait, let me stay, and…” 

“And what, hm? Let war come to us? Let those vipers continue to undermine your mother’s claim? Let them put Otto Hightower’s pawn on the throne our forebears forged?” 

You are shaking your head before he is even done speaking, and you can only offer a sigh as an answer, a plea as a retort, 

“Let me fight.” 

“You will fight as I see fit that you do,” He answers, simply, carelessly. “You will play your part, as is your privilege, your duty.” 

“If I had been a son, y-…” 

“I have had a lifetime of hearing your mother speak the same nonsense. I will not hear it,” Daemon interrupts, before leaning closer and reminding you, cruel, mocking, “You are not a son.” 

“I ride the second largest dragon in the world, I-…” 

“Then you should find it easy to tame a smaller one,” Daemon promises, not without cruelty. “We will depart in a month. The betrothal will be officially announced then, with us all in King’s Landing. Plenty of time to say your goodbyes.” 

“There have been…whispers of a royal event for months now. I didn’t know, I-…” 

“Did you think they were setting up a tourney for one of those shits? Or that my brother had somehow managed to sire another child?” 

You shake your head, but your heart races and your breath quickens, because how could you not see it before? 

You served your purpose, without faltering, without question. You amended the bonds your mother’s carelessness and her husband’s viciousness had broken, you strengthened the claim her mistakes had weakened, you lied and charmed to protect your brothers from the fate she imposed upon them. And now your use is through. 

The reward for your deference is a noose around your neck. 

“You had me travel the entire continent, entertaining countless proposals from the most insufferable of men and breaking bread with the most boring fucks alive, while you planned on giving me away.” 

“The tour was never meant to find you a husband, you knew that. A future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, birthing children for a…a…Tyrell? Or a Stark?” Daemon asks, as if the mere idea is unfeasible, ridiculous. “You are the blood of Old Valyria, and as wretched as that little cunt is, Aegon is my brother’s. A Targaryen.” 

You do not care for his tales of superiority, you do not care for those fantasies. Instead, you merely insist, “You plotted against me, while I was far from home.” 

“No. There is a plot, but it was not against you. If anything, this was done in your name, for your benefit,” He argues, pragmatically. Daemon leans closer, head bowed to meet your eyes. “Everything I’ve done has been to secure your claim, to ensure your ascension after your mother’s.” 

“To ensure your blood sits the Iron Throne.” 

He doesn’t deny it, and you don’t expect him to. The faintest of gestures of his head towards the door orders you to walk. You follow the unspoken command, for what else can you do but obey, and walk towards the door. 

“It is settled.” He calls out after you. At the absence of your answer, of your compliance, Daemon barks a call of your name. An order, a threat, even if it isn’t voiced as one, making you stop in your tracks. “You are a loyal daughter, and you know better than to forsake your duties to your mother. You won’t betray her.” 

“What you are asking of me is betrayal,” You argue, turning to look at him over your shoulder. “To marry our enemy, to lay with him, what is that if not a betrayal of my mother, of her claim?” 

“It is a sacrifice,” He corrects, but such appeasements, such manipulations, better suit Lady Mysaria. He has too much pride for the deceit to work, and so the lie stumbles in his tongue, rushing forward a truer sentence, “And I don’t ask.” 

___ 

Lady Mysaria finds you in the eastern balcony overlooking the sea, welcomes herself into the room and walks towards you, stopping only a few steps behind you She doesn’t announce herself nor ask for permission to speak, and you know better than to expect her to do either, after years of knowing her as your parents’ advisor. 

“I’m guessing you do not come here bearing good news.” 

“What would be good news to you, Princess?” 

“A freak dragon-riding accident leaving my future betrothed somewhere in the depths of the Narrow Sea?” You ask, rueful smile curving at your lips. 

“You speak as if you wouldn’t grieve for him.” 

“I would not grieve Aegon, or any of them, for I do not know the people they have become in these passing years.” 

“Is that why you ask my spies about him when they reveal themselves to you in your travels? To know the man he has become?” 

You sometimes wonder why you bother arguing with her. Not once have you been able to hold the upper hand for more than a breath. 

“I asked once.” 

You were wary, and far from home, and the flutter in your chest when Alasdair Tyrell laid a crown of Dragon’s breath on your lap -after his victory in the tourney organized to welcome you into the Reach- had felt familiar but wrong. Nostalgia and something else, something far more stupid, overwhelmed you, and you summoned one of Lady Mysaria’s spies, sent with you as a handmaiden, and asked her to tell you what she knew about how Aegon fared, who he had become in these passing years. 

You told yourself that while you knew better than to reach for a past and a bond long gone, neither could hurt you, so many years removed from the girl you were, so many miles away from what you once called home. And it didn’t, the past didn’t hurt you. What could have been did, however. 

“I will concede that you have learned to request information more subtly, but it does not mean you don’t ask, Princess.” 

“No, your spies offer information freely. Information I do not ask for,” You argue, but she breathes a short little laugh in response. It irks you, unsettles you, and you find yourself arguing further, explaining further, “I wanted to know if he was well, long ago, a-…” 

“And my spies told you he wasn’t.” 

“And so I never asked again.”

“It is a smart choice, to feign ignorance, but you should know better than to attempt to hide something from me.” 

“I have hidden nothing, for there is nothing to hide.” 

She hums lowly, considering her words with a sly smile on her lips. 

“You must refrain from defensiveness if you are to lie efficiently, Princess.” 

You grit your teeth but refuse her the satisfaction of knowing she prodded at a still-unarmored part of you. Instead, you bow your head as you did when you were barely five-and-ten and she had issued her first lesson on how to survive a world such as this. 

“Of course, Lady Mysaria.” 

“I would have expected you to be relieved, if nothing else, at the revelation of who you are to marry,” She muses. If she understands the threat written in your eyes when you turn to look at her, she cares not for it, and presses on, “You were quite close when you were younger.” 

“I was close to all of them.” 

“I mislike repeating myself. You cannot hide things from me, Princess.” 

You take a breath that feels a tad too shallow, you grit your teeth until you hold yourself under control, you hold your tongue until you’re certain it won’t betray anger, sorrow, something else. It feels invasive, unbearable, like fingers prodding at a well-hidden wound. 

“It was nothing. A passing infatuation of youth.” 

“Passing fancy,” She corrects. “The words the Queen used were passing fancy. If you are to shield yourself with the words of others, do so properly.” 

The troubling and annoying thing about sharing a home with someone that trades secrets is that none can be kept from her, and the frustrating thing about counting amongst those closest to you the person that taught you to lie and deceive is that you find it impossible to fool her. And with no secrets, with no lies, there is no fun in playing the game anymore. 

“What is it you mean to ask, Lady Mysaria?” 

“Aren’t you at the very least relieved? Contented?” 

You shake your head. 

“I do not know who Aegon is any longer. Who I-…” The revelation stumbles in your tongue, remains sealed past closed lips. The admission that you have forsaken yourself somewhere in the road to this day is something she might know already, but you refuse to admit aloud. “I have spent the last two years on lands foreign to me, many of them hostile to me. I am…I am wary, and I do not wish to do so again. I am tired of feeling…defenseless.” 

Mysaria lets silence linger for a few moments as you both watch your brothers’ dragons at flight in the skies above you. 

“You want war,” She states, “You deem fire and blood the only future in which you are safe.” 

It is a truly horrifying talent that she possesses, that uncanny ability of hers of digging under your skin until she finds the truer face out of all you wear and brings it to light in all its ugliness and its monstrousness. 

But perhaps that is why you can allow yourself to speak in honesty now, for the first time since you left Dragonstone for a royal tour, or perhaps for the first time since you left King’s Landing. 

“In war, me and my dragon are useful here, defending my claim. In war, I remain unbound, able to fight back,” You tell her, not caring about considering your words, about guarding your back. Turning your head to look at her, you argue, “In times of peace, I am sent away. Twice over, I have lost my home for the sake of peace.” 

“Hm,” Mysaria muses, and when she walks past you towards the balcony, you cannot help but follow. Your eyes seek the horizon, while the White Worm’s linger on Arrax and Vermax playing in the clouds above you. “You will not find yourself without allies, Princess. A spider can spin a web anywhere in the world, it needs only time.” 

“Speaking of time,” You start, straightening yourself and turning on your side to face her. You bow your head, in goodbye and in something else, something closer to gratitude than your hurt and your pride let you admit right now. “I fear our time together has come to a close.” 

“Your family isn’t leaving for King’s Landing for another two days.” She argues, but she knows, you are certain she does. It is no coincidence, that she has come to find you now, that she has come to say goodbye. 

Because honesty comes easy with her, you admit, “I dislike feeling like prey.” 

You could swear there is the beginning of a smile curving softly at her lips, but Mysaria merely bows her head and whispers a wish of, safe travels, Princess. 

___ 

Daemon approaches, you know him by the cadence of his footsteps by now, as you stand on one of the cliffs near the castle. He says nothing, joins you in watching as Vermithor stands before you, proud and stubborn, head held high despite your request that he bow it to allow you to climb onto his saddle. 

“Are you two having a fight?” 

“The old brat doesn’t want to leave the Dragonmont, and thinks we have a choice in the matter!” Your last words, hissed in Valyrian as you argue with the old dragon, make Daemon chuckle. “If I ask that Silverwing fly with us, y-…” 

“You know better than to ask that from us.” 

“He doesn’t want to leave her side. Vermithor, sweet thing, I feel for your broken heart, I truly do. But I won’t go by boat, much less carriage,” Vermithor answers with a huff of steam, and flaps his wings slightly, a warning that he will shake you off like he would a bothersome fly if you attempt to mount him regardless. You heave a sigh, “Stubborn fuck.” 

Vermithor understands the Common Tongue, you are certain he does, for he lowers his head for a moment as if to taunt you to try, and the call that echoes from deep in his chest truly sounds mocking. 

“It is your own restlessness, your own fear, that make him refuse you. You do not wish to leave, and so he doesn’t want to take you there.” 

“I did not want to visit half the places we did during my tour, and yet he took me anyways.” You argue, and though for a moment you think to ask him if he will try to stop you, you refrain.  

Daemon somehow knows that you have decided to take flight to King’s Landing tonight, and he has chosen not to stop you. Perhaps he understands the restlessness that has only grown in you since you were told of your betrothal, as perhaps that same restlessness consumed him once, when he was also young and sent off to marry for duty. 

“You weren’t afraid during your tour.” Daemon argues, but you shake your head. 

“Of course I was afraid. I did it anyways, because…because it was what you and mother demanded from me, but I was terrified,” You admit. Perhaps it is the darkness and quiet of a night in the vast openness of the Dragonmont, perhaps it is the defeat that clings to your very bones like the most bitter cold, but you do not care for lies, for masks, right now. “I haven’t stopped being afraid since we left King’s Landing.” 

Daemon turns to you, but you cannot look at him. You dread to look into your father’s eyes and see disappointment at your admission; you dread to see anger at your weakness. Most of all, however, you dread to see a shadow of regret, at what he’s done, at what he has failed to do. 

For it wouldn’t change a thing. You would still be sent off, you would still be given away, you would still be left with no control over any of this. 

At your silence, Daemon turns back to look upon the Bronze Fury. 

“And yet you do not want to return. And your dragon defies you because of it.” 

“He took me there once already, you know. A month or so before the tour began,” There’s a ghost of a smile playing at your lips as you share the memory. “It was…the worst storm I can remember, and he had us fly right through it. I cursed his name until I was hoarse and once it was over, I demanded he take me home at once. He took me to King’s Landing.”

"Did you land?"

"Of course not. It is hostile territory."

“It is your birthright,” Daemon promises. It used to feel liberating to hear him reaffirm your claim and your mother’s. Now it feels heavy. The weight of a crown you do not yet wear is entirely too great, and you bow your head. Daemon continues, “It was Vermithor who called to you, who allowed you to claim him. Vermithor, a dragon who only ever bonded with Kings.” 

“But I am no King,” You argue, returning your gaze to him. “For I am not a son.” 

Thank you for reading, i hoped you liked it! I would love to hear your thoughts on this!

Next chapter >>

[demon-country]

One of the saddest parts of the stolitz miscommunication debacle to me is that for all his bluster and all his denial, Blitz never managed to fool anyone into believing that there were no feelings involved and he was doing it solely for the book, including Stolas. That is, until Ozzie's, at which point he finally fooled the one person who he didn't even think he needed to.

For all we talk about how Stolas let his fantasies of romance run wild, which caused him to accidentally run roughshod over Blitz (especially at first), he wasn't exactly wrong, in the end. Blitz did develop feelings for him, and given how excited and enthusiastic he was that last full moon, their nights together were probably the only times he felt safe actually showing that. Because he could always tell himself and everyone else that it was just an act, he was just giving Stolas what he wanted and keeping him satisfied enough that he'd let Blitz keep the book.

Stolas thought, up until Ozzie's, that Blitz enjoyed their deal just as much as he did. Because Blitz did. If Blitz was showing up basically every moon as hyped and ready to go as the time we saw him, it's not really a surprise that Stolas didn't catch on to the times when Blitz was actually unhappy and uncomfortable because he felt objectified. After all, Blitz snaps at and is abrasive to everyone, and any annoyance probably seemed pretty par for the course, especially for someone as oblivious, ignorant, and autistic-coded as Stolas. But Stolas also got special treatment on top of that, and it's easier to focus on the stuff that stands out rather than the stuff that doesn't seem too far off from Blitz's standard behavior. He got times where Blitz was genuinely happy and comfortable and excited to see him, we literally see that in the memory fragments and Blitz's behavior during the last full moon. He got times where Blitz seemed to find him so hot he'd grab him and turn things sexual on a dime (Truth Seekers and The Circus). He also got times where Blitz was caring and attentive, and where Blitz accepted care and gentleness during aftercare (because there's literally no way that didn't happen, not getting aftercare after BDSM scenes can be legitimately traumatizing for both the Dom and sub).

Like, that's not to say that Stolas shouldn't have taken the numerous hints that his condescension and baby talk were highly unappreciated, because yeah that shit was very uncool of him and ignorance doesn't excuse it. But look at how Blitz gently caresses Stolas' cheek in Truth Seekers. Look at how thrilled he was to be with Stolas again in The Full Moon. Look at the photo Stolas has of the pony drawing Blitz seems to have made while at his palace. Look at the memory fragments where Blitz is so fucking into kissing him or gleefully showing off toys or making that big shiny eyed blep I'm dying to know the context of. How else was Stolas supposed to take all that every full moon and however many nights Blitz came over outside of that, and not be convinced that his feelings were returned?

Because they were. Not immediately, of course, but the were. They were on the same page about that. There were plenty of things Blitz didn't like, related to Stolas' unconscious racism/classism. There was plenty of "things for [Blitz] to teach and [Stolas] to learn". There were plenty of things that went unsaid and unheard and misinterpreted on both sides. But the love was there, Stolas didn't make it all up. It wasn't the perfect fantasy he was initially picturing (although I'm pretty sure that illusion didn't actually last very long, not with how dejected he looks in a few of the memory fragments and at the start of Ozzie's), and Blitz had a lot more hidden under the surface than Stolas knew about (although he did know Blitz had walls he hadn't seen through yet), but the love was there. You don't have to know everything about someone to start falling in love with them. Blitz couldn't fool anyone, but he especially couldn't fool Stolas, who he showed his heart to again and again thinking he was safely hidden behind the alibi of the book deal.

Until Ozzie's. Until the disastrous "date", after which Blitz couldn't hide the hurt he felt thinking that all Stolas wanted him for was sex, when Blitz wanted more. Except Blitz didn't say that last part. So all Stolas got was Blitz ignoring him on their date, Blitz rejecting his offer to go inside, and Blitz tearing up while saying in a wounded and borderline angry voice that their deal was strictly about sex, which finally clued Stolas in that his actions hadn't been taken as cute and flirty like he had intended, they had just served to hurt Blitz and convince him that all he wanted was to use Blitz.

Blitz's pain changed everything for Stolas. He stopped flirting, he stopped calling him Blitzy save for one time, he stopped most of his interactions with Blitz, and he started trying to give Blitz outs. He looked at all the times Blitz was annoyed at him, at how umbalanced their deal was, and at how it may have been just as cruel of a chain as the one binding him to Stella, and quite correctly came to the conclusion that the deal needed to end and Blitz needed to have a way to do his job without being dependant on Stolas. But he also looked at all the memories of Blitz being happy with him, and all the times Blitz showed up excited, and came to the incorrect but reasonable conclusion that it was all probably just an act Blitz put on to keep the book. Just like Blitz had been hoping to convince everyone of.

And then Stolas ended the deal, and Blitz couldn't figure out why so he started to panic. The deal was his safety net and his shield; it was the only way he felt he could get something close to the real relationship he wanted, it was what allowed him to be open with his feelings, and what gave him the courage to let some of his walls down. It probably felt like such a betrayal that Stolas would take it away.

Even though he was the one who dodged all of Stolas' offers to talk, out of fear that things would become complicated if they talked about it, out of fear of rejection after Stolas hid during their "date", and later out of guilt and shame for how he failed to save Stolas. Even though he was the one who was hiding behind the excuse that it was all just for the book. Even though he was the only one convinced that Stolas could never care about him for anything other than sex. Even though Stolas flat out told him he cared about him and wanted him to stay, just without the deal in between them. Even with all that, Blitz still couldn't see Stolas ending their deal any way other than Stolas abandoning him and rejecting him and taking away the only way he has ever been able to openly show that side of himself.

It was more than just his self-hatred talking, it was more than just his insecurities getting the better of him. It was a perceived betrayal of trust and an inability to see how much the deal limited their ability to get what they both actually wanted. The reason it hurt him so much was because Stolas hadn't actually been wrong. Blitz did care, Blitz did enjoy their deal, Blitz did want Stolas just as much as Stolas wanted him.

The tragedy of it all was that the love was real, but the only ones who were convinced it wasn't was the two of them. So it's a good thing the story isn't over for them yet, because I couldn't take that ending for them. After all the shit they've been through in their lives, they deserve their happy ending together, they deserve to have their mutually requited love be realized.