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hazelfoureyes · 2 months ago

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A Doe in Fall (Part 9)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things 📍 Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

Part 9 - Shiny Things

Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.

「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」

Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!

🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.

this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop

It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman.

“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm.

“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”

Charming.

“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.

An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”

“Why would I have more than one bed?”

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her?

The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.

How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.

“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?

Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.

“No.”

A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”

You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.

An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction.

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that.

“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.

She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”

Right.

A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock.

“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”

Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”

You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her.

“Love” her.

There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself.

Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move.

Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door.

A random memory flashed behind your eyes, washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value.

“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”

Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”

Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?

“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”

“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”

The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response.

“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.”

“Oh hey!”

You turned back.

“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”

The numbness blanketed you with a chill.

“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”

Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers.

She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.

An open palm waiting for your money.

You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin.

“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.

“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”

A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up.

A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”

You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back.

She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.

“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.

You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off.

“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms.

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”

Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”

She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”

“Clever.” “Handsome.”

You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.

“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.”

“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”

Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”

With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”

You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.

Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners.

“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”

That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.

You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”

“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!”

“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth.

But, Yes.

Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

Or, fine.

Yes, he was a man.

No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.

When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before.

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him.

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.

The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”

“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”

Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.

“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”

“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love?

And did that matter at all?

You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words.

Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours.

A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.

Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”

He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant.

“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.

Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens?

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely.

The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge.

“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”

You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”

Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”

Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe.

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.

“Further.”

“How far?”

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession.

The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful.

A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others.

The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.

“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”

Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust.

If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him.

Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below.

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough.

He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

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loveemagicpeace · 1 year ago

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🩵Ace of Cups Part 2🩵

✨People with 5th house placements or leo placements want someone who will give them a feeling of childhood and can do childhood things with them. Many times people they know from the past / childhood are closer to them. Because they really want to be able to share their childhood with someone or have someone who knows that side of them.

🎸Mars it has to do with your body parts and what people find most attractive about your body. Mars in Sagittarius - people will find your legs and butt very attractive on you. Mars in Capricorn- people will love your bone shape. Mars and Leo -people will find your hair attractive.

🧜🏽‍♀️Planets in your 1st house are related to your body and how you look. Each planet in the 1st house gives you something that others then see in you as physically attractive. And you also get the most compliments with it. For ex.: Pluto in 1st house-people are attracted to your sexual body, eyes. Moon in 1st house- many times people find your face beautiful, dimples in your face and many times these people have a moon face. Neptune in 1st house - many times people find your eyes attractive (they are usually mystical, dreamy). Uranus in the 1st house - people tend to find you as a unique, different person who has a rare beauty. Mercury in 1st house - people find very beautiful skin on you. Many times they find attractive hands on you. Jupiter in 1st house-people often give you compliments about your figure (in general), many times they find attractive hips on you - these people always have well-shaped hips and ass + belly. Venus in the 1st house - many times people see you as naturally beautiful. Maybe a lot of people like you without makeup. Mars in 1st house- many times you can get compliments on your eyebrows or muscles also neck. Saturn in the 1st house - these people have beautiful teeth, bone shape, often have an attractive collarbone and facial features in general. Sun in 1st house- many times they find beautiful hair on you.

🪴4th house placements / cancer placements differ in that when someone has planets in the 4th house, he will pay more attention to family, family life. He will have more of a feeling for people, and privacy will be very important to them.

🎶Cancer moon feels so many emotions -like every thing. Because this moon is subject to being able to express emotions, it is even more subject to feeling everything. They feel so much but they don’t talk much about it.

🌙Moon in synastry best placements in my opinion: moon in 1st house- because you can express yourself and show emotions to a person. Everything is seen from the outside and at the same time the person knows what you need emotionally. Moon in 4th house - the person gives you a sense of home and comfort. You feel that she will accept all your feelings and somehow you have a feeling of familiarity. There is a lot of connection that is emotional and intuitive. Moon in 7th house - because you feel that this person fulfills you romantically and gives you what you want. We rely a lot on the relationship they have.

🌊When you have 9th house placements places make you cry. When you leave some place you have tears in your eyes. Also you bond with people when you travel with them.

🦋Water/fire combination can make a person very intense and emotional. You feel a lot, but at the same time you want to put your emotions into something or through something (for example: sports, music, dance). Because the fire in you doesn't let you just exist, but forces you to do something.

🐚I personally think that people who have a lot of fire are not so emotionally cold, but just hide it with humor and fun. They look for entertainment to escape the emotions burning inside them. Sometimes it's hard to put all these emotions that burn inside you.

-Rebekah🦋🐚🩵

#astrology #energy #zodiac signs #planets #my notes #astrological houses #astrology observations #birth chart

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sanguineterrain · 1 year ago

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Hiii, discovered your fics on AO3 and they’re very my jam! If you’re still taking requests, could I suggest something where Jason rescues you, an angsty hurt/comfort? Maybe they’re pining for each-other and maybe confront/confess their feelings, or are already together, up to you.

No worries if not 😊😊 Thanks for the good words ❤️🖤

Hey I know you! Thanks for leaving nice comments over yonder 🥰 Idk if I really delivered on this prompt but I hope you like it anyway lol 😅 I combined this prompt with another I received about Jason and the reader fighting before the reader is hurt/kidnapped.

jason todd x fem!reader. tw: creepy men, crime alley, injured reader, jason shoots people (🎶whatta mighty good man🎶)

****

"If you don't know who this is, you shouldn't be fucking calling. Leave a message after the beep or whatever."

Beeeep!

"Jay, it's me. Can we please talk? You can't ignore me forever. I want us to fix this. I—" You swallow hard. "I miss you."

You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you think of what to say. You've already left three unanswered messages. There's no more for you to say. You just want things to be fixed.

You want your best friend back.

"Okay. Call me when you can."

You hang up and pocket your phone.

The fight was stupid. Jason doesn't respond well to being pushed, but you pushed him anyway. You wanted to know where he disappeared to at night. You were sick of the secrets, of always feeling like you were three steps behind, left in the dark.

If you really cared about me, you would tell me where you go.

Jason had stilled, expression cold.

I don't owe you anything.

Your voice had turned wobbly then.

Jay, don't I mean anything to you? I want you to trust me, I want this to be a normal friendship!

He'd put on his jacket and collected the few things he left in your apartment.

You're right. You deserve normal.

You haven't spoken since. At first, you thought Jason left for a few hours to cool down. So you gave him space.

But then hours turned to days, and now it's been a full week and a half since you'd fought. Last night, you broke down and cried. This is it. You've lost him for good.

Part of you fears the reality is darker than him just leaving. You've long suspected that whatever Jason goes out to do is probably illegal since he's always out at night.

What if you're called down to the police station to identify a body?

All those things left unsaid. Jason will never know you love him.

Screw this. You're going to his apartment.

It's late. It's really late, and this is actually not the best idea to carry out at eight o'clock at night in Crime Alley. There's a reason Jason always insists on hanging out at your apartment or at a cafe.

A man whistles at you down the street. "Goin' somewhere, girlie?"

This was a bad idea. Jason might be the one who has to ID a body tonight.

You can't remember which of these apartments is his. But you can't call him. He can't know you're here, not yet.

"You shouldn't be here, lady!" a kid shouts at you from a fire escape. "He don't like new people on his turf!"

You don't take the time to figure out who the kid means. Crime Alley is known for, well, crime. The sooner you can locate Jason's apartment, the better.

A group of men light cigarettes down the road. You pause and turn around. In the process, you stumble over a garbage can.

That instantly draws their attention.

"Well, what have we here?" one jeers. "You lost, sweetie?"

You run.

You don't care if it makes you look afraid—you are afraid, and you're beyond caring. You shouldn't have come here.

You turn abruptly. You have no idea where you're going, but maybe if you act like you do, you'll throw them off. You take another turn, then another, and you look behind you to check if—

Wham!

You crash into a body. A muscled body, one that forces you backwards.

White, glowing eyes that smolder inside a red helmet meet your own.

Jason's never warned you about the Red Hood. He just tells you to stay away from the area altogether. You don't really need to be warned about Hood anyway. You know what he's about. You know you've probably just sealed your fate tonight.

"What the fuck?" he asks, modulated voice rough.

"I'm sorry," you babble. "Please don't hurt m—"

Gunshots ring out, and you realize you've just stumbled into an active gunfight. With Red Hood.

Fuck your luck.

The gunmen have spotted you, and they take great pleasure in using you as a distraction; they fire at you instead of Hood.

He shields you with his body, blocking the bullets. It works until a flash grenade is thrown, and you're separated from Hood, ears ringing. You hit the ground hard from the impact, scraping your hands and arms.

Someone's arm wraps around your neck, and you're suddenly dragged backward. You scream, scratching at the arm, and a fist thumps your head. You blink at the pain, too dazed to keep fighting.

"We had a deal, Hood!" your captor shouts, arm tightening around your neck. "Let us go or she dies!"

"Negation's over," Red Hood snarls, and shoots all four men.

You cry as the shot echoes too close to your face and for a moment, you fear you've been shot too. The now dead man slips off of you, collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Your ankle protests when you step on it. In the chaos of the fight, you hadn't realized you sprained it. You trip and fall on your butt, scrambling away from the pooling blood.

"What are you doing here?" Hood growls at you, stalking closer.

You start to cry, edging backward.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your fight, please d-don't kill me—"

You press down hard on your wrist and that hurts more than your ankle. You cry harder at the pain, grabbing your wrist.

Red Hood gets closer, and you try to scramble away with one arm and one leg. He kneels down and holds your good arm in place so you can't move.

"I'm sorry!" you say again, tears thick on your lashes.

"Fuck," Hood says roughly, and unlocks his helmet.

Your eyes widen as he pulls it off.

"J—"

"I told you to never come to this area, and you come alone, in the fucking dark, without a weapon? What the hell is wrong with you?" Jason snarls.

"Please don't yell at me," you whisper, covering your face with your hands.

You're shaking, adrenaline turning your stomach. A moment later, you throw up.

"Shit," Jason says and puts a hand on your stomach to help you sit back up. "Shit, I'm an asshole. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

"I thought you died," you say, daring to look at him. "You weren't answering my calls, and you only go out at night. I thought..."

Jason immediately looks avalanched by guilt. He cradles you to his chest.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I should've—I thought it would be better, leaving."

"I didn't want you to leave," you cry, arms curling around his neck. "I love you so much, Jay. I was so scared. Don't leave me again."

Jason's breath hitches. You freeze, suddenly sure you've screwed it all up.

"Jay—"

"Y'love me?" he asks, cupping your cheek.

You nod emphatically.

"Even though I'm..." He gestures to the helmet.

"I'm just happy you're alive," you say. "I missed you so much, Jason."

His arms tighten around you. "God, I missed you too, baby. I was going crazy not talking to you. I'm sorry I ignored you. Wasn't right of me. But don't ever do this again, okay? If I hadn't been here—"

He takes a shuddering breath and kisses your neck. You nod against his shoulder.

"I promise. Just don't shut me out again, please."

Jason's quiet for a moment. You can feel him thinking.

"This isn't gonna be normal," he says. "If-if we do this. This is part of me. Who I am."

"I don't care," you say. "I love you, Jay. Every part. Whatever that entails."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #i do notttt like how this one came out but im lowkey struggling to write this week so. oh well 😔#inbox #blurb

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animehideout · 10 months ago

Note

Hello!! can you do a gojo x reader and like gojo is always on a lot of trips to kill curses and stuff and everytime he comes back home all he wants to do is just sleep with you and it starts making you think he only wants you for your body but she just keeps that thought to herself cuz she thought if she tells gojo he might end their relationship untill something happens and she finally breaks down leaving gojo to comfort her

Please and thank you!

My One And Only

Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader ( Reader thinks Gojo is using her for her body )

a/n: thank you anon for this request, I really hope you enjoy this one. And remember guys, don't bottle up your feelings, talk it out , communication is the key <33 love y'all and stay safe.

Warnings 🔞: SMUT NSFW MDNI / NOT PROOFREAD.

Song recommendation: I'll Be Good - Jaymes Young 🎶

♪I never meant to start a fire, I never meant to make you bleed.. I'll be a better man today♪

You sat on your bed, clutching your phone tightly after reading a message from your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru: { Get ready for me, princess. I can't wait till I get home and have you all to myself, all night }.

The words, the familiar message, never seemed to change. While you longed for a more thoughtful, romantic message, disappointment crept in every time you unlocked your phone. You understand his busy schedule and duty as the strongest sorcerer, exorcising curses and protecting others, but what about your feelings? Who protects them?

He's often away on trips, since the higher-ups depend on him for everything. You've always taken pride in his skills and capabilities, that earned the trust of others, making the world feel safer with his presence. But, your bed remains cold, your house feels empty, and he's not physically present when you're sad, need to vent, or simply want to share a laugh. The persistent feeling of loneliness creeps in, filling your mind with unwanted thoughts. Each night concludes with a heavy sigh, as you find solace in cuddling your pillow, questioning the nature of your relationship with him.

You meet once a week, you'd eagerly set the scene for cozy moments ; snuggling, watching a movie, going on a date, or simply chilling and talking. Yet, it always veers into having sex. You love him and want him as much as he wants you but you can't help the disappointment you've felt

“Is he using me?”,

the same thought echoes in your mind week after week. You wanted to communicate your feelings, but the words linger unspoken at the tip of your tongue, always swallowed back, completely offering yourself to him.

Night fell swiftly, the clock ticked so fast, and there you were sat on your bed, half naked, waiting like he told you. You could have refused, but you simply didn't. you missed him and craved the way he touches you, the way he makes you scream his name, the way your eyes tear up from how good and deep he's pounding inside you. The way air gets stuck in your throat when his big veiny hands circle around your delicate neck. You wanted every bit of it, there's no denying in that.

The front door swung open and closed, signaling Satoru's arrival. Your heart quickened, anticipation the long night that waited ahead

“Hey, baby..” he began,

placing his keys on the nightstand and giving you a peck. You managed a weak smile.

“Did you miss me?” he added, stripping himself. “Come on, join me for a shower and help me wash up”.

He gently pulled you towards the bathroom.Your back was pressed to his chest, as he left a trail of kisses on your shoulders and the back of your neck. The warm water relaxing each tensed muscle. You closed your eyes enjoying the sensation. The steam raising from the shower, created a gentle fog turning the bathroom into a cozy space. Too emersed into the cute moments of peace,

“Maybe tonight will be different, maybe he'll stay and won't leave after sex like he always does, saying that he needs to be at work again” you thought to yourself,

hoping that this night, he proves all what you've been overthinking for the last weeks in wrong, but shorty you were pressed against the bathroom wall, warm water still running. A surprised gasp left your mouth at the sudden movement. The cold wall that Gojo pinned you against sent shivers down your spine.

“I can't wait any longer” he whispered to your ear. He turned you and now you're chest hitting the wall, “bend over a bit for me, babygirl” he demanded, growing impatient by each passing second.

A groan escaped his mouth when your tighteness welcomed his hardened cock. A soft moan, slipped from your parted lips as he started moving. The rhythmic sound of water droplets echoed and mixed with the wet clapping sounds, and your moans. Your eyes rolled back, too needy for him as he fucked that spot again and again,

“I fucking love fucking you, I love fucking your body, this pussy is all what I can think about” he said panting.

Little did he know that what he said but turn you off so quickly. Your body, is it all what he wants? he didn't even say 'I love you', his sweet talk was all about what satisfied him, but enough,

“Can you stop please” you said out of the blue, making him look in confusion but kept on going,

“already tired? I've planned a long night for us..but if you want me to stop use your safe word” he chuckled.

“I SAID STOP” you snapped.

Under different circumstances, you'd find joy in his words. However, with all those unspoken emotions weighing on you, hearing him say something like that became your breaking point. He stood still, a hint of concern in his voice as he asked,

“D-did I do something wrong?” His hands rested on your hips from behind.

In that quiet moment, only the sound of the water stream filled the air before you spoke again,

“I don't want to continue, pull it out”.

“Hah is this some kind of joke? why on earth would I stop?”

“Because I don't want to”

“Dont lie to me Y/n, I know you want it, I won't pull out”

“Satoru...please” you said as you moved his hands from your hips.

His brows furrowed as he distanced himself from your body, pulling his length out of you, giving you what you requested. You cleaned yourself and then stepped out of the shower wrapped in your towel, while he observed silently.

Seated on the edge of your bed, you waited for him to join you.He carefully settled beside you, his gaze unwavering on your form.

“So, are you going to tell me why the hell you did that?” he asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Without meeting his eyes, you murmured, “Do you even love me, Satoru?” Your gaze remained fixed on the floor.

“What kind of question is this?”

“Just fucking answer it” you spat out in a harsh tone, catching him off guard.

“I do, of course I love you”

“Haha, funny. Why'd you lie? You just love my body, Satoru, don't you?”

“I love you and I love your body. Can you please explain it to me clearly? Cuz I failed to get your point”

“Oh is that so? okay then I'll explain to you, I'll explain to you how I've been feeling for weeks now, how I'm always left alone, how you always show up once a week, have sex with me and then leave as if I'm your fuck toy, I'll explain how you don't even care, cuz you only care about how to pleasure yourself... I'M NOT YOUR SLUT GOJO SATORU”You yelled.

Caught off guard by you, his blue eyes widened mirroring the disbelief that etched across his face. Your words hung in the air, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“A-are you serious?”

“YES I'M FUCKING SERIOUS, IF YOUR FEELINGS TOWARDS ME FADED THEN JUST SAY IT SATORU, BUT DON'T YOU DARE TO FUCK ME EVER AGAIN”

You broke down into tears, hugging your knees, wet hair falling on your face, chest still heavy even though you let out all of your concerns.

“No, no, don't cry, Y/n. Baby, look at me, please” he said softly, a hint of panic in his deep voice.

His fingers gently lifted your chin, making you meet his gaze. Kissing away your tears, he whispered,

“Don't ever think like this again. I love you, Y/n I always have and always will, and nothing can change that”

“Then why'd you leave? It feels like you throw me away everytime after getting what you wanted from me” you expressed with a quiver in your voice.

“I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. I never meant to hurt you. I was just scared they might harm you, which is why I minimized our dates”

“Who might hurt me?”

“The sorcerers working against me and the special grade curses. I would never forgive myself if something bad happened to you”

“You know I'll be fine. You don't need to overthink it like that. It's not even my point yet—”

“I know, I know, thats it's always us having sex? thinking that I'm taking advantage of your body? Why didn't you tell me earlier baby? We could've talked it out, I could've explained, we could've done something else... It's just that's how I express love to you, through physical intimacy. I thought you liked it, I thought you were enjoying it. That's why I didn't stop. And I'm sorry about that..” he whispered, looking down, visibly disappointed in himself.

Your gaze lingered on him; you believed him, of course, you just needed that reassurance.

“I thought if I told you you'd break up with me and leave–”

His heart ached, how could you possibly think of that when he loved you with each fiber in his body.

“L-leave you? my life is meaningless without you Y/n how could I ever leave you” he explained pain visible in his tone.

You shrugged, sniffling, looking at him with your teary eyes..

“Come here” he signaled for you to move closer.

His large arms enveloped you in a bear hug as you sat on his lap.

“I love you for you, for your personality, your mind, your laugh, for the way you find beauty in everything. I never meant to disappoint you, and it will never happen again. Next time, if something bothers you, just talk it out and don't bottle it up. I want you to be comfortable all the time, okay?” he exclaimed, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded slowly, further burying your head in his bare chest, your warm breath tickling his skin.

“How about we cuddle and watch your favorite movie? I'll take a day off tomorrow so we can spend more time together, and you're right; I shouldn't be overthinking that much. From now on, not gonna minimize any date, instead, I'll work harder on keeping you safe all the time...You're my one and only Y/n!!” he said with a wide smile, lifting your spirits once again.

You spent the night in each other's arm, eating popcorn and pastries, laughing and joking around, till both of you fell asleep... You indeed helped him learn how to treat you better, helped him express his love in other ways, helped him to take into account your feelings. Communication is all what both of you needed from the very beginning.

Satoru made a promise to you and to himself, to devote his life, strength and efforts to you and your relationship.

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blingblong55 · 9 months ago

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The sun and moon-Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

Okay, but I was on TikTok and you’re the only blog I know who really likes Makarov besides me and 🙈😭😫🥰🙈 if you know the audio, that goes like 🎶 me and the devil… walking side by side 🎵 it made me think of him and reader and just, like… idk. Becoming his queen and I just love the idea of him seeing all this (whether he saw it from the beginning or noticed it after a while/before anyone else) potential in you that no one else seemed to, and fosters that in you, making you two a power couple in your little dynasty. He may do the dirty work and have blood on his hands, but you’re just trying to do good and make the world a better place again, even if it’s by any means necessary. Idk. Maybe it’s also bc I also just love hades & persephone sm too and it also gives me the grumpy & sunshine trope as well in a way too but I thought I’d share bc I’ve been loving this thought so much 🥰😭🥰🙈 ---- F!reader, romance/fluff, established!relationship ----

A/N: making this honestly lets me be a little more creative so thank you! I just couldn't stop writing and I think this will be the best I've ever done

Russia is a place known to be cold, and really, for him this is what life is like. For you, on a different side of the world, it's more calm and beautiful.

In the world of cruelty, there exists a power couple like no other. Vladimir Makarov, feared and revered, walks the path of darkness, his hands stained with the blood of many. Yet, beside him stands y/n, his love, the queen of his heart and his guiding light. Together, they forge a new destiny, a dynasty built on strength.

He is a titan among men, commands armies with a flick of his wrist and leaves a trail of destruction in his wake. To stand in front of him, it so is in the presence of death itself yet, there is one who walks beside him, a figure shrouded in mystery and clocked in the endgame of your own making.

Y/n, they call you, a name whispered in hushed tones by those who have glimpsed her fleeting presence. To some, you're a beacon of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness, your mere presence enough to quell the storm raging within Makarov's soul. But who are you, his angel, who holds the heart of the most feared man in the world? Some say you're his queen, his equal in every way, gaze as steely as his own, resolve unshakable in the face of adversity. Others whisper of a love born from the depths of despair, forged in the fires of war, a bond that transcends time and space.

As the world trembles beneath the weight of their combined might, one thing remains certain: where there is Vladimir Makarov, there too shall be y/n, walking side by side, their destinies entwined in a dance of darkness and light, love and war.

Amid chaos and carnage that define their existence, Makarov sits by a window, looking out to the gardens. In the hazy corridors of his mind, he recalls the first time he laid eyes on you, a glimpse of beauty amidst the ugliness of war. "What's her name?" He asks one of his men. You stood before him, gaze unwavering, spirit unbroken. "Y/n, daughter of-" "go away," he says sternly and walks up to you. "As beautiful as day, Y/N," he takes your hand and kisses it. "Who are you?" Oh, that soft voice of yours that melts his cold heart. "Vladimir but you can call me Vovo," his accent rich and smooth.

There is something about you that sets you apart from the rest, that ignited a spark of curiosity within him.

"Makarov, war is on," a man walked into the room. "If you must excuse me dear, I have some…stuff to do," he walks out of the room as if it's just another typical day for him.

Days passed, and you were told to stay indoors since you didn't seem capable of winning a war, much less fighting one. And with one knock on the door, he walks inside, interrupting your train of thought. "C'mon, I'm not letting your beauty rot in this room," he says, extending his hand and you take it without doubt. "Where are we to go?" you ask.

"To battle my dear, but you'll stick beside me," he mentions, guiding you through the dark corridors.

And as he is called back to attention, the beautiful memory fades. As it fades and the present comes crashing back, Makarov is left with a sense of longing, a yearning for a time when the world was simpler, when he and you were just two souls bound together by fate. And though the scars of war may never heal, he takes solace in the knowledge that no matter what the future may hold, he will always have you by his side.

As the years go by, you two navigate the treacherous landscape of warfare. Where his iron fist strikes, you are the steady hand that holds the light for him to come back home.

You've learned a lot from him, from fighting to learning that not all his wrongs are from pure hate and cruelty.

It's a waltz, a dangerous, blood-driven waltz.

In the middle of all the turmoil in their line of work, there are moments of intimacy between you two, moments when they cast aside the weight of their burdens and simply exist in each other's presence. In those fleeting moments, they are not leaders of armies or the rulers of wars but two souls bound together by an unbreakable bond of love and devotion.

And though the world trembles at the sound of your names, Makarov and Y/N stand unwavering, their hearts intertwined in a dance of passion and desire. For in each other, they have found solace in a world consumed by chaos, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounds them.

"Vovo?" you say comfortably in his arms. "Любимая?" (darling) "Will there be a day where this will end?" "Yes, but until then, I'll just keep holding you close," his warm lips meet your forehead.

They've said before that Makarov reigns as a formidable figure, feared and respected by all who cross his path. His domain is a world of shadows and chaos, where darkness reigns supreme and few dare to tread. You, you're a vision of beauty and grace that was consumed by war.

As yet another storm is to come, you and him stand together. "Don't ever leave me, okay?" he pleas. "Like I ever was," you smile.

In the shadows, he lurks and in the sun, you dance. No evil, no war and no man can separate you from the other.

It's beautiful, how you can be so opposite. Vladimir was midnight and you were sunshine. He preferred a dark room and a sunroom. Dark clothes covered him and you with warm and beautiful colours. It's a peculiar kind of love and it's warm. Loving the devil, loving an angel. The same story is told just like Hades and Persephone.

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 10 months ago

Text

I Can Fix That... Pt. 3 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

notes: And the plot and smut continues hehe. In this installment I used Lady Arkham as inspiration. She is originally a DC character/villian. The backstories that I included here are all based on the original DC comicbook/nolanverse lore. I literally used Batman wiki for additional research.

Summary| Crane brought a woman home. That was definitely not something he ever anticipated that he would ever do. He needs to trust her and she's starting to have second thoughts. Was leaving Gotham the right thing for her to do? Yes, she likes Crane but does she like him enough? What is he hiding from her? Oh honey, he was hiding a lot...

Warnings| Fire, mentions of a gun, drugs, smut- fingering, teasing, masturbation, dubious consent, the word "r*pe" is used once, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving). Violence, death, insanity, overdose (no death), infidelity, murder, police violence, trauma, abandonment, general unpleasantness.

word count: 8086k

Lonely Day- System of a Down 🎵

Love Song- Jack Off Jill 🎶

Superstar- Sonic Youth 🎵

Please please please read warnings for this one- we're going over childhood trauma

The helicopter landed in an open field in the outskirts of the city. She and Crane climbed out and ducked beneath the blades as they crossed the pasture.

“We’re outside the city now. We’re safe here and depending on how Ra’s plan goes, we can stay here.” Crane looked down at the girl beside him. She watched the helicopter, distractedly, as it rose into the air and flew away. The field around them immediately quieted without the presence of the aircraft and they could hear the other breathe for the first time in a while.

“Where do we go now?” She looked around them at the expanse of pasture and wild flowers hidden in the dark.

“Over this hill.” Crane started walking and she followed, staying a few paces behind him. When they reached the top of the hill, she saw an old scarecrow standing in a field, empty of crops. The man was made of burlap and covered with rags. Straw exploded out of the scarecrow’s body. She looked at Crane who’d stopped to look at the scarecrow. Sensing her beside him, he glanced back at her and clenched his jaw. He gave no explanation or story and she didn’t want to ask because she didn’t want to cause him more pain. They walked a little farther and as they did, a large house came into view. Crane pointed it out to her with a sneer, directed at the house, not at her, “and there’s my father’s house.”

The lights inside the mansion were on and it leaked light across the landscape that separated them.

“Is your father home?” She asked and he chuckled darkly.

“No, I had the housekeeper open the house for us. Just like with the helicopter, I find it is always useful to play your cards carefully. I was suspicious of Ra’s because I’m suspicious of everyone, even you,” he nodded down at her and she frowned slightly. “I don’t make friends easily, they often disappoint me.” He smiled at his own self-effacing humor.

“Have I disappointed you?” She asked him. He turned his icy blue eyes to her and shook his head.

“No but we aren’t friends,” he laughed lightly and looked back at the house in the distance.

“No? Then what are we?” She pouted a little, looking down at her feet and then to his face.

“We’re more,” he answered evenly and began to walk again. She blushed and hurried to follow him, hiding her smile. Crane even smiled, blocking out the bad memories of the place they now found themselves in. He was no longer scared of the scarecrow but the memories he associated with the figure in the field did little to comfort him. They walked on until they reached the front gate and Crane typed in a passcode on an elaborate screen. The gates were black iron with sharp spikes fixed to the top and they opened with a long and droning squeak. The driveway changed to gravel as Crane led her up to the front door and he pulled on the lion’s head door knocker, releasing a loud door chime inside the house. One wing of the house, she noticed, was burned.

“You’re right, I’m starting to realize that I really know nothing about you.” She looked up at the large gothic mansion above her.

“That,” Crane turned his head to her and sighed as if it were obvious, “is what a second date is for.”

The front door opened and a man in a tuxedo greeted them coldly, reminding her of Crane.

“Welcome back, doctor.” The butler deadpanned and Crane pushed past, wiping his feet in the entryway. She followed suit and nodded to the butler, smiling excitedly.

“This is Miss —; Miss Y/N Y/L/N.” Crane gestured his hand carelessly between them and continued on into the reception hall. All the walls were carved from solid wood into even square panels.

“Welcome to the Crane House, ma’am.” The butler bowed his head briefly and followed them. She nodded her head in thanks and became immediately enraptured by the spooky house. “Shall we serve dinner now or would you like to change?”

Crane turned and cleared his throat, his eyes trying to focus on the room without his glasses. “We’ll change first, Hobbs.”

“There are clothes laid out in the bedrooms.” The butler bowed and disappeared behind a swinging door. She turned to Crane and laughed.

“What the hell is this place?” She asked in a bewildered whisper. Crane chuckled, finding the girl adorable in her amazement.

“This is my childhood home.”

“So this is where the famous Dr. Crane was raised. I’m intrigued.” She batted her eyelashes and ran up some of the stairs, her fingers trailing the thick banisters. Crane smiled and followed her.

“Do you like seeing this side of me? Does it thrill you?” His voice prodded her heart and her legs became wobbly.

“Everything about you does that,” she stood one step above him and cupped his face. She ran her finger down his angular cheekbone and swiped across his wide chapped lips. She kissed his neck and beneath his jaw before finally kissing his lips.

“For now,” he whispered as she pulled away. They climbed the rest of the stairs up to the second floor and Crane led her down a tight hallway. Animal heads were mounted on the walls and she studied them with a mixed sense of appreciation. Crane pushed open a door with a crystal doorknob.

“This is your room,” he swept his hand through the room and she gasped in awe. The one room was nearly the size of her entire apartment in Gotham. The walls were painted with elaborate murals. She stepped hesitantly into the room and twirled, wanting to see every inch of the place. Crane looked on from the door, his lips spread into a smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” he laughed and she ran into his arms, smiling.

“I love it! I am officially living out one of my dreams.” She pulled down on his collar and kissed him. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and kissed him deeper, her fingers now brushing across the soft skin on his neck. Crane sighed through his nose and found her waist, resting his hands on the indents of her hips. The excitement of the day prompted a sense of adventure and need inside her and she communicated that through her kiss. She bit playfully on Crane’s bottom lip and moaned (intentionally) against him to fluster him. She felt his body shutter from the suggestive sounds she made against him. Her cunt throbbed wantingly and she could feel her heartbeat in her upper thighs.

“Mhm!” She hummed and caught her breath as Crane’s hands slipped to the base of her back.

“You never get tired, do you?” He muttered against her huskily and she shook her head.

“No, Dr. Crane.” She whispered with a soft whine and licked his bottom lip before kissing him harder. She felt his cock twitch on his pants as he pressed himself against her.

“Good, because neither do I,” he bit the point of her jaw gently and kissed over the hickies he had already made on her neck the night before. He looked all rumpled and hot in his suit after the action of the day and she desperately wanted to undress him. She wanted to fuck him like a normal couple, not tied down to a mortuary slab where she couldn’t even touch him. God, she wanted to touch him. She dragged one hand down to his crotch and cupped his cock through his pants. She rubbed her hand against the half-hard bulge and moaned pitifully as if she were the one getting touched.

“You’re pathetic,” Crane smirked and pulled her head back gently by her hair. She nodded with a pleased smile, happy that he saw her for what she really was and what she really wanted. He kissed her hard, taking her breath away, and sucked on her tongue so deep she felt like she might choke. When he pulled away and dropped his hold on her neck, his lips were pink and his eyes heavy with lust. She knew her face was flushed and that it turned him on but instead of acting on it, Crane leaned back against the door jam and jerked his head at the bed.

“Hobbs laid out some clothes for you. I hope they fit, I went through your closet to find your size but I trusted Hobbs and his wife with the shopping.” He smirked, proud of himself for leaving the girl so horny, it made him even harder. He left the room and closed the door, his erection still pressing against his pants.

She went down the stairs and looked around for the dining room, turning her curious head left and right. The clothes that had been laid out for her were simple and elegant. A long black dress with a boat neck that she wore with the burgundy stockings set beside it. She’d worn her black mary janes and run a brush through her hair, knowing that would be enough to help her look put together. She followed the sound of a crackling fire and polite conversation through a far door. Crane looked up as she entered and looked her up and down, his eyes sticky against her curves.

“What do you think?” She gestured to her dress and gave a slow twirl. The butler and his wife stood to the side, watching her with small, pleased smiles. Crane leaned forward, resting his elbows on the white tablecloth.

“Apparently, my housekeepers have extraordinary taste.” He smirked and stood as she walked to her place at the table on his right.

“High praise,” she smiled at Hobbs. As they sat together, Hobbs served their dinner of smoked ham. She took a long sip of the gin martini from her glass and swirled the stem with her wrist.

“It’s hard to believe that we were in Gotham just an hour or two ago.” She took in his body dressed in a black suit without his usual tie. His face was clean and he’d refreshed his hair with some gel, the smell was comforting.

“Tonight could have ended very differently…” he looked at his food. The butler and his wife left the room, going back into the kitchen.

“Thank you for what you said this morning,” she flicked her eyes up to his. He looked back and caught his breath. She looked stunning and he felt the need to pinch himself to remember where they were and how they’d gotten there in the first place. He remembered telling her to do as he said because he wanted her to live and he worried that Ra’s would go back on his word, and as he suspected, Ra’s had, just not with her.

“I’m just glad that we came to our agreement when we did, before Ra’s. I’ll admit that my desire to keep you alive was more selfish than chivalrous because I needed you for my own reasons.”

“Like what?” She raised her eyebrow and cut a piece of meat. It melted on her tongue and she swallowed it slowly, watching him.

“I have plans for Gotham, plans that would involve you,” he cocked his head towards her, adding, “of course. I don’t know yet how Ra’s plans will play out but I suspect that he will fail. Batman will think that he’s saved the city from ‘bad guys’ but,” he leaned in closer, “I’m not so easily defeated and I suspect that we’ll run into each other again.”

“Are you sure that you can trust me with these plans of yours,” she opened herself up to him and stood, looming over Crane in his seat,” these plans that also include me?” She rested her knee on the edge of his seat between his legs, straddling his thigh. Crane looked up at her calmly, unmoved by the position of her knee against his crotch or the heat of her cunt hovering above his thigh. Crane watched her for a moment, letting a heavy silence fall between them before inhaling and shifting his torso closer as if he were going to whisper something to her.

“Like I told Ra’s,” he started quietly, his eyes dark and harsh at the candlelight table. His hand squeezed the bottom of her thigh above her knee, she gasped quietly, “I’ll make sure that I can trust you…” his hand snaked up the inside of her thigh beneath her dress. He pulled the edge of her stocking away from her thigh and let it snap painfully back against her skin. “Won’t I?” He asked darkly as his forehead creased slightly. She gasped again as his hand found her underwear and stroked her clothed cunt. “Won’t. I?” He sneered and she remembered to nod. “Answer me,” he snapped and brushed his fingers past the crotch of her underwear, spreading the wetness between her legs with the pads of his fingertips.

“Yes,” she hissed breathlessly, closing her eyes as he rubbed her cunt, creating a dangerous friction.

“You’re pissing me off, detective.” He growled and roughly began to finger her, shoving two fingers harshly inside. She yelped and looked down at Crane, his eyes flashed.

“Why, Dr. Crane?” She wrapped her fingers around the base of his neck, her thumb sitting right below his adam's apple. She smiled when his other hand gripped her thigh harder. She moved her hips on his fingers and he watched with interest as she dripped around his fingers. “How can I fix it for you?” She purred against his cheek, moaning softly as he fingered her and teased her clit with his thumb. She began to pant and instinctively moved her thighs together as the pleasure became too much. She squeezed around his fingers and her hands tightened around his throat, about to cum.

“Behave,” he whispered seriously and removed his fingers before she could finish. She groaned in frustration and held his face between her hands.

“You’re such a tease, Jonathan.” She scolded him and he smiled.

“And you’re a horny little slut.” He whispered close to her lips and she shook her head, smiling giddily.

“I’m just a horny little slut for you.” She ran her tongue across his lips, dragging it up to his nose. She let go of his face and plopped back into her chair, crossing her legs pointedly. Crane rolled his eyes and raised his fingers to his mouth. He sucked her juices from his hand as she watched and then finished his drink, ignoring her when she whined with lust.

“You’re like a dog,” he rested his elbow on the table, “you think you’ll get what you want if you whine enough.” He delivered the sentence with a knowing look and returned to his food. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much that turned her on. She huffed and tucked her hair behind her ear and finished her martini hungrily. She finally had a moment to glance around the room and when she did, she saw a beautiful fire burning in a stone fireplace.

“That’s beautiful,” she gestured to the fireplace carved with cherubs. Crane looked and nodded.

“I think so too. We haven’t had fires in the fireplace since I was a child. You may have noticed that part of the house was destroyed.”

She nodded.

“That’s because the house almost burned down when I was…” he frowned as he thought, “five or six?” He shrugged and sighed, looking into the blazing fire. “My father never let us use the fireplaces after that. It made for cold winters,” He flicked his eyes up to hers and she shivered.

“I can imagine,” she thought back to her childhood in the orphanage, freezing at night during any season that wasn’t summer.

“The house will be a lot warmer now,” he said casually and allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips.

“What happened to ‘behaving ourselves’?” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow in fake disapproval. Crane chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he lied and they went back to eating when Hobbs entered with dessert.

iii

It was nearly 2am when they finally climbed the grand staircase to return to their rooms. There was a large common room that separated the two wings of the house on the second floor. The wing to their right was burned and stood empty.

“Where’s your room?” She furrowed her brow as they walked down the hallway, passing the laundry chute. Crane pointed to a room at the mouth of the hallway, near the top of the stairs. Her’s was at the opposite end of the hallway. She smiled and spun around, facing her side of the hallway. She let him watch her walk away, moving her hips as loosely as she could manage. When she opened her door, she turned slightly and gave him a closed-mouth smile, her eyes teasing him. He crossed his arms and leaned against his door, his expression unreadable. She closed her door and did a few extra happy-spins for good measure. She kicked off her shoes and explored the bathroom, finding herself in a mood for a bath after not showering the night before. She turned on the bath’s faucet and filled the large tub with hot water. As she undressed, she spotted a row of cosmetics set out for her use, and included in the assortment was the shampoo that she used at home. A small part of her found it scary that Crane had obviously gone through her home to find the things she liked but more than that, she felt honored that he had planned his backup plan with her in mind. He’d asked the housekeepers to prepare her a room and stock it with clothes and shampoo, all just in case she came with him. He’d imagined her coming with him, and that nearly made her cry. She slipped into the hot water and scrubbed every inch of her body, trying to remove all of the sweat, dirt, and debris that had stuck to her skin over the past 24 hours. She washed her hair with the mint shampoo as Crane had guessed she used correctly before. The suds ran down her hair and between her shoulder blades as her hands worked the shampoo into her head. She ducked her head beneath the water and watched as her hair floated out around her head. When she came up for air, her hair stuck to her back and she sighed pleasantly.

The bathroom was cold when she left the security of the hot water so she quickly wrapped herself in a thick towel and brushed her hair. She rubbed lotion into her dry skin and toweled off her hair. The housekeepers had given her numerous sets of pajamas in different styles. She guessed Crane had decided against going through her underwear drawer, what a gentleman. She liked soft lounge pants and t-shirts so she changed into the dark blue set they had provided for her and unmade her bed. The wide windows on the side wall looked out on the field and she could just barely see the outline of the scarecrow. The house itself had a strange and suffocating feel. She wondered what Crane may have endured here, what secrets he hid inside himself.

She bit the inside of her cheek and found the gun that she’d brought with her from Gotham. She hid the gun behind the headboard of her bed and sat with her knees pressed up to her chest on the mattress. She wrapped her arms around her legs and shivered, goosebumps rose on her legs and she rocked back and forth, resting her head on her knee like a child. Should she feel guilty for betraying her precinct? Should she worry about Sgt. Gordon and Gotham itself? What had Gotham given her? How had it protected her? She felt torn between a route of righteousness and one of passion. Crane offered her a path to her own future set outside the laws of society where she could create her own identity. She didn’t want to be the good girl cop anymore, she wanted to be everything else and she wanted Crane.

Crane was testing her. He wanted to see how badly she actually wanted him, how much she would fight to be with him. He needed her to be obsessed, foaming at the mouth at the thought of him. Maybe he was psychotic, sure (he was). His father certainly was and it usually runs in families. Crane’s manic obsession was her and he needed her, but before he could trust her, he had to be sure that she was totally and completely loyal to him. He knew she had her gun and he assumed she’d suffered more internal dialogue since escaping Gotham (he was a psychiatrist, so of course he knew these things). If he pushed her away would she cling to him more or feel the need to betray him? He had to admit that this test was grueling for him too. He didn’t think that he was capable of love or real attraction, he was a psychopath, literally. He’d studied himself as much as he had the subjects in his textbooks in school and he checked all the boxes but this- this- was a new development that he didn’t quite understand. It almost made him angry when he thought of the power she could wield over him if he got too close. She’d spoken so much of trust and he wanted to trust her. He did. But he’d trusted Ra’s, he’d trusted his father and at one point in his life he’d trusted Sgt. Gordon. Those relationships had not ended well. Then this prissy young detective comes along and confronts him with feelings he didn’t think he could have. That was why she was the subject of his fear toxin reaction. She’d found a way to matter to him and losing her had already become his worst fear. He wanted… oh god there were so many things that he wanted from her. He hoped that it wouldn’t take much longer because he was starting to lose patience.

She stared at the ceiling above her bed and tried to touch herself. She didn’t have her vibrator and Crane had made a point of pushing her away, so she was left to rough it out with her hands. She hadn’t been stuck with just her bare hands since college. Her vibrator had obviously spoiled her and she felt nowhere near as much pleasure without it, though Crane had come extremely close the night before. She dug her heels into the mattress and bit her lip, concentrating as hard as she could on Crane. She remembered the way he spoke to her as he fucked her, how calm and direct he’d been with her body. They both had needs and desires and he hadn’t let insecurities or formalities stand in the way. Her body was craving a release that she’d teased it with twice already that day and she couldn’t fall asleep without trying to appease it. After ten minutes of heavy breathing and a sore arm she collapsed in frustration across her bed. She desperately wanted him and nothing was going to cut it unless it was him inside her. Something- anything. She groaned into her hands and kicked the blankets off of her.

The door handle creaked and Crane shifted in his half-sleep haze. The bed moved around him and he was startled awake by the girl, straddling his hips. He kept a smile from his lips as he looked up at her.

“What the hell are you doing?” He got out before her hand clamped around his mouth. She shushed him.

“Listen here, Crane. Since we have an understanding,” she used his word for their relationship, “I’ll tell it to you straight. I want you. I need you. I have very few needs because I’m a simple girl, but right now, you’re one of them. I’ll ask you nicely and if you humor me, I won’t cause trouble.”

“Trouble?” His voice was muffled against her hand as he raised his eyebrow.

“I have a whole round of trouble tucked away behind my headboard.”

“Nice threat. So, you what? Want to rape me?” He propped himself up on his elbows.

She hooked her finger around the collar of his black t-shirt and sighed.

“You have such a dirty mind. Why do you have to make it sound so perverted?” She held his chin tightly in her hand and dragged her other hand down his chest stopping at the waistband of his pants.

“That’s what it is, detective.” He cocked his head to the side and rested it on his shoulder. “Are you really going to do that to me?”

“Says the man that strapped me to a slab and drugged me three times,” she held up three fingers to stress her point and shifted her hips on his crotch.

“We both have problems, what do you want me to say?”

“That you’ll fuck me,” she started to grind her hips and he withheld his sinful exhale.

“Oh?” He said instead, “what if I’m too tired? Fucking is hard work.”

“Then let me do it,” she shrugged with a smile, “I’ll make us both feel good.” Crane raised a skeptical eyebrow and smirked.

“You really didn’t get enough at dinner did you?” He teased and she shook her head.

“You have no idea.”

He watched her rub herself against him and then slowly allowed his eyes to meet hers. She moaned just looking into his eyes and he laughed.

“Ok, let’s see how you do.” He allowed her casually and watched as she bounced happily on his lap and scooted down to his knees. She pulled down the blanket and worked her hands below his waistband. He was already hard and she scoffed, pissed that he hadn’t admitted how turned on he was too. He smirked as she pulled his cock out of his pants and rolled her tongue around the tip. When she took him in her mouth he sighed softly, his mouth open as he watched her give him head. She swirled her tongue around his length and she bobbed her head up and down. She sucked and dragged her mouth slowly over him until he bucked softly into her mouth. She felt her stomach get hot with excitement and she worked harder, humming against him as she took him deeper. Crane clenched his fists and groaned. She pulled her mouth to the top of his cock and sucked hard, teasing his climax which she could tell was fast approaching. His forehead was creased and he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his head to fall back with a low gasp.

“Fuck alright, that’s enough,” He sat up again and smirked, “get what you want out of me.” He panted and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She licked her lips and crawled off the bed. Crane watched her as she stepped out of her bottoms and straddled him once more, naked from the waist down. His erection rested against her stomach and he swallowed, staring at her bare cunt.

“I hope you like what you see,” she whispered and removed her top. Her breasts shifted slightly against her skin as she moved and her hair fell around her in a sultry mess. “Because it all belongs to you now,” she pressed her hands against his stomach for balance and leaned closer. “But this,” she looked him up and down, landing on his beautiful eyes and smiling, “this belongs to me.”

“Silly girl,” he barely shook his head as his eyes trained on her, “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“We’ll see about that,” she shrugged and bit her lip as she lowered herself onto his cock. She whined in relief and moved her hips slowly. She was so wet he could her himself move inside of her as she fucked him. Crane’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he released a tight breath.

“Fuuuuck…” he hissed and she squeezed around him, nearly orgasming just by hearing the pleasure in his voice. She panted breathlessly as she started to move up and down, her hands balanced on his navel where there was a thin dusting of hair. He thrusted up involuntarily and they both moaned. She sped up slightly, moving her hips back and forth. Crane’s hands found the fleshy handles of her hips and dug his fingers into her skin. He had laid back completely making it so that he had to raise his head when he wanted to watch how she snapped down on him. She let her head fall back and moaned loudly as his cock hit the right place each time. The pleasure was so good between her legs that her release felt like the desire to pee. When her climax snapped, her eyes rolled back and she gasped, riding it out and enjoying the pressure of him inside her as it carried her through the high. Her climax triggered his as he felt her cum around her.

“You’re going to cum inside me,” she panted and whimpered through the sensations.

“Is that an order?” He gritted out, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips. He was trying to hold off his orgasm but as she nodded and squeezed him again, he let himself cum inside her with a loud groan. She sat for a second longer as he finished and finally moved off. She cleaned him off, sucking his swollen cock and swallowing all of the excess cum and discharge that had collected along his length. He covered his face with his hands as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are you going to leave it in?” He asked in a deep, tired voice.

“Your cum?”

“Yes, are you going to leave it in you?” He removed his hands and watched as she crawled up the bed to sit beside him.

“Do you want me to?” She let her hair fall around them and he twirled the end of one of the pieces.

He thought for a moment before nodding his head, “yes.” She curled up beside him and draped her leg between his. He exhaled slowly and wrapped his arm around the back of her head, resting his hand on her shoulder. She rubbed her nose against his chest, breathing in the clean smell of his t-shirt. Crane closed his eyes and waited as her breathing became more regular and slow. She started to fall asleep, her hand clasped against his ribs. When she was asleep, he propped himself up on one arm and watched her. Words couldn’t describe how good that was, what she did for him. It was better than their first time when the roles had been reversed. He liked that she could touch him and explore him with a needily innocence like a horny teenager. Crane thought about his cum still sitting inside her, collecting around her inner-thighs. He kissed her as she slept deeply, licking the salty taste from her lips and swallowing. She made a noise in her sleep and he drew his hand around her perfect breast, admiring her body in the dull glow of the moon. Gotham would be no match for them once they were united. No one could stop them, not even themselves. Once they started they could never stop, they had to take everything from each other. His head fell back into his pillow and he kissed the curve of her throat before allowing himself to fall asleep beside her. He’d never slept with a woman after sex. She was the first.

They woke up late in the morning and dressed warmly, both wearing sweaters and long pants. Crane had traded in his suit for more casual wear though his attire was always oozing with old money aesthetic. After a breakfast of eggs benedict and black coffee, Crane asked if she wanted to see the house.

“Of course,” she smiled and nodded excitedly. There were some questions she still had for Crane and she had her own list of theories and thoughts that the house inspired inside her. She worried what the house would reveal and more importantly, what it may say about Crane. She wondered if he had lived a childhood similar to hers, one of trauma and violence, even if he had lived in a huge mansion with every monetary item he could ever desire.

They started outside the house, walking the grounds. The exterior of the house was set in elaborate stone carvings. The roofs were made of dark terracotta, framing widow peaks at the top of many of the towers. Crane watched her reaction as they rounded to the side of the house with the destroyed wing, still black from the burning. She could even still smell the charcoal made from the house’s old paneling.

“Your father never rebuilt it?” She asked, curious. Crane studied the crumbling structure and shook his head.

“No, he died before making plans for a renovation.” She looked at him quickly and met his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“But you understand.”

She nodded slowly, “I was an orphan, I never knew my parents.”

“So was I.” He clenched his jaw and looked down at the ground.

“Your mother?” She asked hesitantly.

“She died, here, in this wing.” He pointed to the second floor of the burned wing. “That was her room.”

“You were young then too,” she remembered and he nodded. “Do you remember your mother?”

“Some things but nothing that brings me much comfort. I remember how she died and I remember how my father mourned her.”

“So she died in the fire?”

“Yes,” he nodded and folded his arms across his chest, “she was trapped inside after the fire started. They weren’t able to save her. My father was never the same after that.”

“When did your father die?”

“Before I went to college…” he trailed off and they stood in silence for a moment. “He was a chemist, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know. Did he teach you?”

Crane chuckled darkly, “I guess you could say that. He used me for his experiments.” He scowled. What he had said back in Arkham came back to her mind and she risked asking more.

“Jonathan?” She started.

“Yes?” He asked, his voice hard and protective like a layer of ice.

“What did he do to you?”

Crane swallowed and turned away from the house, forcing her to hurry behind him to keep up. His hair was tousled by the wind as he walked through the icy field. As the slope curved downwards, he finally started to speak.

“He was the one who first came up with the idea for the fear serum. After my mother’s death he became obsessed with it and started to test it on himself like a lunatic. It messed with his head and made him relive my mother’s death over and over again until he finally had to stop and find a new subject. His new subject became me.” He darted his eyes angrily around the ground as he spoke, spit flying from his lips. “He would give me the toxin and at the time, it was 10x more dangerous. He used me to gauge the body’s reactions to fear and kept track of what the brain imagined during that state of panic. He wanted to create a cure for fear, a way to remove the body’s reaction to it. At some point he made a breakthrough in the case using people he’d kidnapped and found a way to remove a person’s ability to be afraid. He used it on himself and after that, his natural instincts became mute. When I was sixteen he brought me here,” he stopped suddenly and she looked as he gestured at the scarecrow hanging from its perch, “and he administered the drug one last time.”

“What happened?” She whispered, her blood going cold.

“I overdosed on the serum and hallucinated that the scarecrow was alive but the fear I felt was multiplied from the large dose of toxin. Your old boss, Sgt Gordon, found us out here having come to arrest my father for kidnapping and murder. Because my father no longer feared anything, he charged Gordon and Gordon shot him. He died where we’re standing… and I watched it. I watched it all happen.” He stared at the scarecrow, his face set. He didn’t show any emotion as he recounted his father’s death, his own trauma.

“What did Gordon do?” She stepped closer but left him a small circle of space, a safety net.

“He took me to the hospital and once I recovered, they brought me back here.”

“You were so young,” she whispered sadly, wanting to cry for him.

“So were you, weren’t you, when you were left at the doors of Gotham’s orphanage?” She nodded.

“I was a baby.” She hugged herself and stared down at the ground beneath them.

“That’s why I think we’re so similar. We raised ourselves- you and I.” He smirked, “it would explain our similar psychology.”

“The fact that we’re both deeply disturbed? Sure, I’ll give you that,” she laughed lightly, her nose burned in the cold air.

“Mm… deeply disturbed,” Crane sounded out the words with a soft hiss.

“Psychotic?” She offered.

“Psychopathic.”

“Deranged.”

“That’s not a medical diagnosis I’m familiar with,” he looked down at her, taking in the profile of her ruddy cheeks blistering in the wind.

‘But not far off is it?” She smiled and looped her fingers in the front of his sweater, her hands brushing the hard muscle beneath.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I’ll have to conduct more thorough examinations.. I’d kill to have a look inside your head.” His fingers traced her hairline and pulled gently on her hair.

“I have a few ideas for other places you could examine,” she teased and he smirked, coming back from his temporary emotional lag.

“Intriguing offer, detective.”

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” she returned his smirk and pulled him away from the scarecrow. He followed her. “Why did you choose the scarecrow as your alias?” she brought the conversation back and his forehead creased again as he thought.

“I was forced to face my fear and after I returned here with just Hobbs and his wife to keep me company. I decided to take back the power that the scarecrow took away from me that day. Embracing my fear made me stronger, more powerful,” He answered seriously and she nodded.

“Why did you improve your father’s fear toxin if you knew what it was capable of?” She asked quietly, watching for his reaction.

“I made it because I knew what it was capable of. People like us have suffered, we’ve been wronged, we’ve been abandoned and ignored. There are people in this world who have the privilege of never being afraid because they have nothing to fear. I made it originally to use on the city’s elite, the people who think they’re better than me because they think they’re wealthier than I am, smarter than I am. Ra’s distracted me from my plan and I know now that I was right from the very beginning, Batman and his like need to be dethroned. We can be the ones to do it.”

She looked into his eyes and kissed him, drawing his face down to hers by the rough collar of his sweater. His lips were dry from the wind. When she pulled away he held her face between his hands and looked at her seriously, his nostrils flared.

“Do you still trust me after everything I just told you? Do you still want to be with me?” He asked her calmly, a dark glint in his eye. She dropped her head to the side and he caught it easily in his palm.

“Yes, yes.” She nodded.

They walked in silence, their hands brushing against each other and their hair blowing in the short gusts of wind.

“There’s still something you should know,” Crane began as they crossed through the door into the grand entry hall.

“Like how you learned to ride a horse?” She joked but Crane didn’t smile. His face was hard again as it had been before. Her smile faded slowly and she felt her heart shutter and drop. “What?” She whispered and Crane left without another word, so she followed him hesitantly. He led her down into the basement, taking a stone staircase hidden behind a wall panel that also served as a door. Their steps echoed in the small space, electric sconces burned along the creepy passage. Finally Crane stopped at the door at the bottom of the stairs. The door was made of solid steel and Crane had to enter a passcode to open it.

“Through here,” he guided her through the door and closed it behind them. The room was large and cave-like, lined with bookshelves and lab equipment. She gave an appreciative gasp, taking in the room that served as Crane’s office and private lab. “This was my father’s lab and when he died, it became mine.” He walked around to his desk and rummaged through one of the bottom drawers, removing a few small folders and placing them on his desk. He rested his knuckles on the cherry wood surface and sighed, finally meeting her eyes since they got back to the house.

“Back to our topic of trust, I should tell you that I did a little snooping, if you will, into your past when we first started crossing paths. I wanted to know who I was dealing with, which is why I did this and now that we’ve ended up here together, I feel that it’s only right,” the word tasted bitter on his tongue, “to show you what I found. I’ve always told you that we’re alike, that we understand each other but I’ve never explained why. This is why I know we’re alike, Y/N.” He opened the front flap of each folder and pushed them down to the front of the desk. “You should know what happened to you as a child, the things they never told you at the orphanage.” He waited as she swallowed and looked between the papers and Crane.

“What do you mean?” She whispered, “the things that happened to me?”

“How the Wayne family ruined both of our lives.” His voice was slow and dark like syrup and it took her a few seconds to process what he was saying, what he was implying. She looked down at the folders again and took a step closer. When she reached his desk, she scanned the documents with blurred vision. “What… what do they say?” She rubbed her eyes and stepped away. Crane took the first folder, his jaw clenched.

“Y/L/N, Y/N was born into the Arkham family, the founders of Arkham Asylum. Her parents were known to have had numerous disagreements with the Wayne family over the inappropriate use of the criminal justice system by moving people whom the Waynes didn’t like into the asylum. The Arkhams did not believe that the Waynes should have had the right to imprison their political enemies and opponents and tried to inform the public. The message to the press and other government officials was intercepted by the Wayne administration and destroyed, though one draft of the letter was salvaged from the Arkham’s trash and archived in the police station, it was never investigated. The Arkhams, both in their early 30s, were found dead a week later in their home. With no other living relatives, the baby, named Matilda Y/N Arkham by her parents, was discreetly handed over to Gotham orphanage by people closely connected to Wayne following the murder.” He paused, his eyes flicking up. She had gone white and her hand was clamped around one of the shelves on a nearby bookshelf. She looked up at him when he stopped and tried to speak but nothing came. He still waited, giving her time to speak but when she didn’t, he continued.

“My private investigator found this from government records, including records still housed in Gotham orphanage. They knew this whole time and never informed you even after you became a legal adult. They never investigated your parents’ death and Thomas Wayne, the father of Gotham’s famous playboy, Bryce Wayne, never paid for his actions. He continued to imprison his enemies and without your parents there to run the asylum, it fell into its current state. Nothing I could have done with Arkham would have ever salvaged it after what Wayne’s administration did. So, you see now why I said that we were alike in so many ways. The Wayne’s have too much power even now and someone needs to do something about it.” Crane sighed and walked back to the front of his desk and leaned against it, his eyes lowered to the ground. She inhaled deeply.

“You said something about Wayne ruining both of our lives. What did he do to you?” She asked him, her face red from stress and emotion.

“He killed my mother,” he answered evenly and they met each others’ eyes. Her questioning eyes prompted Crane to explain. “He visited my mother whom he’d been seeing for a few months. She wanted to end things because she had me and I was getting older, and her marriage was starting to improve; she no longer wanted to be his mistress. He got angry and locked her inside her bedroom and then he lit a fire, right outside her room. He left before anyone realized what had happened. They found the key in her bedroom door, still inside the lock, locking the door from the outside. They knew that something had happened and the people in the police department knew the rumors, the secret love affair between Mrs. Crane and Mr. Wayne. There was a whole case but the police commissioner closed it and it was never solved. My father was a good man before that day, my mother’s murder drove him insane. For years it led him to do things that he shouldn’t have done. Wayne had a hand in my fate too, setting up my parents’ demise. I would have ended up alongside you at Gotham’s orphanage if Hobbs and his wife didn’t agree to look after me for those last two years before I was old enough to be my own guardian. Thomas Wayne died when I was eleven and yet, he still managed to kill my father from the grave. So, we’re connected by a chain of discord welded together by the Wayne family.”

“Yes…” he whispered and sank down into a dusty armchair. “So my real name is Matilda Arkham?”

“Technically speaking, yes.”

“And so that means Arkham Asylum also belongs to me?”

Crane smiled with his wide lips closed, “technically.”

Realization clicked in and she couldn’t help but laugh. She covered her mouth with her palms and laughed hysterically. Crane smiled down at his feet and scratched the side of his face. Though she suddenly realized that her entire life had been a lie, she laughed because now, everything made sense. And by some disturbed twist of fate, she and Crane had been bound to be together all because of Thomas Wayne. She pulled herself from the chair and looked at the family picture included in one of the folders. Crane leaned over her shoulder, breathing calmly against her neck. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she studied the picture. Lying in the arms of a woman with strawberry blonde hair, was her. Her father held her foot in between his fingers, smiling down at her with brown eyes. She’d seen their portrait in passing in the asylum and yet she’d never placed why they managed to look so… familiar. They’d been celebrated psychiatrists in their time. She looked at Crane, still leaning against the desk beside her, his blue eyes were trained on her face. So that’s why she had a thing for psychiatrists, she realized.

“Are you ready to hear my plan now,” he asked her with a smirk, “... Miss Arkham?”

#cillian murphy #cillian fanfic #smut #fanfiction #cillian x fem!reader #young cillian murphy #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #batman begins #dc scarecrow #hot scarecrow #lady arkham #dc comics #dr crane

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ronance4everbrainrot · 2 months ago

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Glassheart and Ronance incorrect quotes.

(because I can do whatever I want Uwuwuw)

Chloe, on the phone: Uh. . Hey, Red, i uh, I’ve been stabbed.

Robin: WHAT? WHERE ARE YOU?

Chloe: Wait- You aren’t Red. Sorry- I didn’t mean to call you-

Robin: NO, WHERE ARE YOU? IM COMING THERE. IM NOT GOING TO LEAVE SOMEONE ALONE THATS BEEN STABBED.

(that's how they meet)

---

Red: You have an impressive pain tolerance.

Nancy: Thanks, it's the trauma.

(yeah)

---

*Something crashes*

Red: Shoot-

Robin: *running into the room in a panic* WHAT FELL?!

Nancy: *walking by the room calmly* What died?

Chloe: *checking on Red* Are you hurt?

(added Chloe myself)

---

Chloe: Did it hurt when you fell-

Red: From heaven? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt-

Chloe: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs.

Red: ...

Chloe: You just laid there for 15 minutes.

(what's with the Hearts and falling down stairs?)

---

Red, texting Chloe: *sends a voice message*

Chloe, texting back: I’m a little busy, is it urgent?

Red: No, don’t worry, just listen later.

*later*

Chloe: *presses play*

Red's voice message: THERE’S A FIRE-

(Red tried to bake. She didn't get her Mom's baking talent)

---

Red: You’re like an oyster. Not appealing on the outside, but your insides are worth a lot of money!

(Basically what she said to Uliana)

---

*The gang when they drop food on the floor*

Nancy: Aw man. *Throws it away*

Robin: Five second rule!

Red: Foolish germs, thinking they can stop me!? *Eats it off the floor*

Chloe: *Sobs on the floor*

(🎶Appetit for destruction, a girl's gotta eat🎶 yeah. Idk)

---

Robin, looking at Red: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

(You need one yourself)

---

Robin: And what did we learn, Red?

Red: Tackling someone isn’t the correct response to being asked a simple question.

(Omg, she actually did it)

---

Red: *heading out to see Chloe*

Robin: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

Red: I think I crossed that line when I got a date.

(Give her some slag. She's a lesbian in the 80s)

---

Nancy: If you really want to get back at a man, scare him with a pregnancy test. I’ve got a whole box of old positives at my house.

Red: You’re an American treasure.

(doing bi girl shit, scaring the men away)

---

*Chloe and Red are fighting*

Robin, taking aspirin: I have a headache! Can you guys just be cool?!

*Chloe and Red start fighting while wearing sunglasses and riding skateboards*

(let me change that real quick)

*Chloe and Red are fighting*

Robin, taking aspirin: I have a headache! Can you guys just be cool?!

*Chloe and Red start sword fighting while singing a song*

(they are having the Fight for their lives)

---

the end. Hope you liked it.

Them interacting already doesn't make sense. So don't question anything. I mean it's literally incorrect quotes.

Ok bye Uwuwuwuwuw

#rise of red #chloe charming #glassheart #redcharming #charminghearts #red of wonderland #princess red #red of hearts #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #ronance

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glazedsnail · 1 month ago

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Gus Invests in a Karaoke Machine

I woke up this morning and thought this very normal thought:

What song would the bachelor.ette.s sing at karaoke?

Not what they like to listen to, not what they'd want to sing in any normal state.

What they would belt out with a buzzed heart.

So here we go:

Harvey -

And he's absolutely CRUSHING it, everyone in the saloon is floored by how Harvey chanel his best Tim Curry. They're stuck to his lips for every notes with antici... ...pation.

He even shakes his hips, straighten his leg, put on the greatest show. Walk over the patrons, flick their chins, he's not much of a man by the light of day, but by night... Oh yeah. Even grabs Shane's pint in the process, sits on the counter to drink off it. How 'bout that?

Unfortunately he doesn't remember much the next day and wonders why people started calling him Dr Frank-N-Furter for a while.

Elliott -

Starts with a whisper from the heart, making the townspeople think aww he so shy, but then he just FLIES and SWINGS from the chandelier. He IS the bird, he IS free, and he clearly doesnt care if he sings off key.

Beating to the sound of his own untuned drum.

There's a lot of hair flip, and the scream inside that he was hiding FLIES OUT.

His throat hurts the next morning, but he sings for love ♥

Shane -

He wasn't going to partake, but when he heard the few notes from the song coming on as Gus put the machine on Shuffle he simply HAS to grab the mic and DESTROYS it with all his heart.

Oh so you think you got him figured out? THE SEASON'S CHANGING BITCH. Don't you try to save him. He's your HELL he's your DREAM.

The saloon is stunned. He doesn't sing well (like, at all) but damn his heart and soul ARE in it, and it shows. When he's done they're all a bit lost but damn the applauses come soon enough.

He forgets all about it each time.

We wouldn't want him any other way.

Sam -

He tries to pull Seb in, he wants to get Seb to sing with him. He wants to sing Kiki Dee's part solely but he ends up singing both, weirdly harmonizing with himself?? Like it's almost spooky how good he switches from one voice to the other.

A lot of ooh-hoo ooh-hoo but damn this man has a built-in pitch checker, each notes is hit with the precision of an opera singer. He puts the light in your life.

The song ends but he continues with an endless loop of:

Don't go breaking my / Don't go breaking my / Don't go breaking my / Don't go breaking my (please someone take the mic from him)/ Don't go breaking my/ Don't go breaking my...

Sebastian is almost sad he didn't get to sing with him after all but they make it a point to sing it every Karaoke night from now on (and they're perfect, everyone comes in just cause they know this will happen.)

Seb -

Are you a man? Cause I'm a biitcchhhhhhhhh.

Everyone is taken aback, flummoxed, even. How does Sebastian move that way? Who taught him? How flexible is this man? With all due respect, everyone's in heat?? I mean look at him. Rev his engine til you make it purr??

Robin and Demetrius are a bit....puzzled but, man, look at the way he moves. Don't try to give him shit he earned the right to be like this...

Get in loser for the...JOYRIDE micdrop

Immediately acts like absolutely nothing happened. Everybody else follows.

Alex -

Lots of pouting and squinting, finger pointing and shuffling. Each time poiting to a different person, making their heart flutter for a bit.

TELL ME WHY - and everyone else joins in.

He's the bad boy of the backstreet, he is your fire, your one desire. His hands on his body, a lot, A LOT. Is he singing to himself?! That's a lot of body touching...Alex calm down. Pull your shirt down.

His shirt is on the floor by the end of the song, and grabs it to wipes himself with it like he's James Brown. He's having fun and is that not what karaoke's about?

🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶🧑‍🎤🎶

I'll do bachelorettes next.

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thelambliesdown1974 · 3 months ago

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Okay but like walking across 🚶‍♂️ the sitting room 🐒🪑 I turn the television 📺 on 🔛 sitting beside you I look into your eyes 👁️ as the sound 🎼 of motor cars 🚗 fade in the night time 🌝 I swear I saw your face change 😲 it didn’t seem quite right 🤔 and it’s hello babe! 👋 with your guardian eyes so blue 👀 hey my baby 👶🏼 dont you know our love ❤️ is true 🫂 coming closer 👬 with our eyes 👁️ a distance falls around our bodies ⬅️➡️ out in the garden 🪴 the moon 🌙 seems very bright 💡 six 6️⃣ saintly shrouded men ✝️ move across the lawn 🏡 slowly the seventh walks in front 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️ with a torch 🔦 held high in hand 🤚 and it’s hey babe! 👋👶🏼 your suppers waiting for you 🍝 hey my baby! 👋👶🏼 don’t you know our love ❤️ is true 🫂 I’ve been so far from here 🌄 far from your loving arms 😘 it’s good to feel you again 🥰 it’s been a long long time ⏳⌛️… hasn’t it🤔…………………… I know 🤓 a farmer 👨‍🌾 who looks after a farm 🌾 with water clear 💧 he cares for all his harvest 🥕 I know 🤓 a fireman 👨‍🚒 who looks after the fire 🔥… cant you see he’s fooled you all 😈 yes it’s him again 🤯 can you see he’s fooled you all 😢 share his peace ☮️ sign the lease 📑 he’s a super sonic scientist 👨🏻‍🔬 he’s the guaranteed eternal sanctuary man 🙏 look! 👀 look into my mouth 👄 he cries 🗣️ and all the children 👧🏼 passed down many paths 🛤️ I bet my life you’ll walk inside 🚶‍♂️ hand in hand 🧑‍🤝‍🧑 gland in gland 😵‍💫 with a spoonful 🥄 of miracle 🕊️ it’s the guaranteed eternal sanctuary 🙏 (we will rock you 🪨 rock you 🪨 little snake 🐍 we will keep you snug ☺️ and warm 😊…………………… wearing feelings 😁 on our faces 💁‍♂️ while our faces took a rest 😴🛌 we walked across the fields 🌾 to see the children 👦🏼 of the west 🧭 but there was a host of dark skinned warriors 🤺 standing still below the ground 👇🏻 🌎 waiting for battle! ⚔️ fights begun they’ve been released 😡 killing for for peace ☮️ bang bang bang! 💥 bang bang bang! 💥 and they’ve given me a wonderful potion 🧪 but I cannot contain my emotion 😭 and even though I’m feeling good 😌 👍 something tells me 🧐 I better activate my prayer 🙏 capsule 💊 todays the day 📆 to celebrate 🎉 the for have met their fate 🪦 the order for rejoicing 🥳 and dancing 🕺 has come from our warlord 🤴…………………… wandering through the chaos 🥾 the battle has left ⚔️ we climb up the mountain of human flesh 🗻 to a plateau of green grass 🏞️ and green trees 🌳 full of life 🕊️ a young figure 👦 sits still by a pool 🌊 he’s been stamped human bacon 🥓 by some butchery tool 🔪 he is you 🫵 social security 🧑‍⚖️ took care of this lad we watch 👀 in reverence as narcissus 😌 is turned to a flower 🌸 a flower? 🌸 …………………… if you go down ⬇️ to willow farm 🌳 to look for butterflies 🦋 flutterbyes gutter flies 🪰 open your eyes 👁️ it’s full of surprise 😲 eye one lies like a fox 🦊 on the rock 🪨 in the musical box 🎶📦 there’s mum and dad 👨‍👧👩‍👧 and good and bad 😇😈 and everyone happy to be here 😋 there’s Winston Churchill dressed in drag 👠 he used to be a British flag 🇬🇧 plastic bag 🛍️ what a drag 🙄 the frog was a prince 🫅 the prince was a brick 🧱 the brick was an egg 🍳 the egg was a bird 🦅 have you heard 👂 yes! We’re happy as fish 🐟 and gorgeous and geese 🦢 and wonderful clean in the morning 🧼 we’ve got everything 🤑 we’re growing everything 🌱 we’ve got some in ⬅️ we’ve got some out ➡️ we’ve got some wild things 👹 floating about 🕴️everyone 👦👩🧑 we’re changing everyone 😧 you name them all we’ve had them here 👈 and the real stars are still to appear! ⭐️🤩 feel your body melt 🫠 mum 👩 to mud 🪱 to mad 😡 to dad 👨🏻 dad diddly office ✏️ dad diddly office ✏️ you’re all full of ball 🏀 dad 👨🏻 to dam 🦫 to dumb 😛 to mum 👩 mom diddly washing 🧽 mom diddly washing 🧽 you’re all full of ball 🏀 let me hear you lies 👂 we’re living this up 🆙 to the eyes 👀 mama I want you now! 😩

#radio waves #genesis

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driverlando · 2 months ago

Note

🎶 lando or max you choose 🫡

Sex Sounds (Lil Tjay) ── Max Verstappen x reader ✧.*

Max had been thinking about you ever since the early hours of the morning, when the two of you had finally collapsed in each other’s arms, utterly spent. The way you moved beneath him last night, the way you gripped him, pulling him deeper, had been replaying in his mind ever since. Even now, as you slept beside him, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way your face contorted in pleasure when he hit that perfect spot, or how your breath hitched every time he stroked deep inside you.

He remembered how you kissed him with such urgency, as if you needed him as much as he needed you, your lips meeting his every thrust with a fire that left him breathless. The memory of you, riding him so well, with every roll of your hips pushing him closer to the edge, had him captivated. He could still feel the way your body tightened around him, could still hear the way you moaned his name, driving him absolutely wild.

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft, golden glow over the room, but all Max could see was you. You shocked him with how deeply you made him feel, how every moment with you left him slipping further into a kind of love and desire that he never anticipated. He wasn’t just thinking about you; he was completely consumed by you.

As you stirred beside him, your eyes fluttering open to meet his, Max felt a wave of warmth rush through him. Your sleepy smile sent a jolt of need straight to his core, and he couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss you, his lips lingering on yours as he remembered the way you had completely blown him away the night before.

“You’ve been on my mind all morning,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with the lingering desire that hadn’t left him since the moment he touched you. You smiled against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, ready to lose yourselves in each other all over again, the memory of last night making every touch feel electric.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 smut #max verstappen smut #max verstappen drabble #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic

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gojoswhitebabydolllashes · 3 months ago

Text

Let death be kinder than any x-men

Logan howlett x reader

---

ERRRRM I WOULD SAY DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SPOILERS BUT WERE IN DAYS OF FUTURE PAST🦅😃

Warnings: I still don't know 😭 the reader makes a massive mistake. Idek if this is how xaviers powers work but wtv. Major Canon divergence. 🎶 represents when Charles is talking to reader in their head.

I know that sometimes I ask for too much sometimes. And I think today I did. It really does depend on how you define mistakes.

I knew Charles would help me. How did I know that the 21 year old version of my old professor 60 years in the future would help me? Because I just knew Charles Xavier like that.

"You want me to what?" He scratched his jaw.

"I want you to get inside logan's head and tell me what he's thinking of," I gulped and leant against the wall.

I could only tell that this would have consequences beyond my understanding. Beyond perhaps what anyone could really understand.

"I can try. I would ask why you need this, but I already know," he grinned with his lips high to his nose.

I scoffed a laugh and looked out into the city through the trees. Dark lights and fireflies. Night-time and fireworks. Onyx that encased sparks of all colours.

"So you'll help me?"

"Of course I will. What else do have to do in this damn world?"

🧠

There was this one time at the mansion when I punched Scott summers in the mouth for telling Logan he was a coward. I let him drip blood on the floor and make noises of pain as he held his painful jaw that would be bruised and red by tomorrow.

"Don't you ever fucking say that shit again"

It was a warm night, though still cool enough for a bonfire. Even though we were supposed to be in the middle of a fight with the sister of the man, I was sitting beside and saving the other mutants, we had collectively agreed, Wade and I, that a night to sit here wouldn't hurt. And convincing Logan was not easy, but he pulled through with an offer of whiskey.

After a while, Wade passed out, and Charles was minding his own business on the grass, when we asked what he was up to he replied 'I'm on the phone' but he had no phone in sight, and it took Logan a few seconds to realise.

I didn't know what to say to Logan. I didn't feel like saying anything or if anything would even work. He probably doesn't want to say anything either. After our altercation in the void, I didn't know what the fuck was going on anymore. I wanted to ask about it, but I was afraid his answer would be exactly as I thought.

"I didn't mean it" he said suddenly "what I said in the void, I didn't mean it"

It had genuinely shook me that he was first to bring it up.

"Oh," I said. "I was gonna ask you what happened, but I wasn't sure if anytime was going to be right"

Logan chuckled. For an unknown reason, he just did and sipped his drink. "Anytime after I die is perfect for these kinds of things"

I tried to smile and act like I was cool but in reality I was dying inside. I was screaming kicking and crying and throwing up and tearing adamantium bars off jail cells.

"I don't know what came over me," he admitted. "The truth is in my universe my wife was experimented on by scientists. Fuckin mad men"

I couldn't tell in the light, mostly because I wasn't looking at him but I could hear it. He started to tear up. I could hear the tightness in his throat, the strain on his voice.

"And-" He stuttered.

"And do you know what the worst part is?"

I don't.

I should. I feel like I should. But I shouldn't. I couldn't. I didn't want to know. Or did I?

🎶 "You do"

"What's the worst part Logan?"

"They did it right in front of me. Right in fuckin front of me!" He lurched forward and slashed one of the trees, causing it to fall in threes.

He panted. Growled. Boiled with rage that set the ground alight in metaphorical fire. Raging flames, like wildfire. Upset and grief that acted fuel.

"It's not your fault, logan" I said softly

"BUT IT IS!" He yelled back at me.

He put his claws away and sighed, looking away for a moment to catch his breath "I'm sorry"

"It's alright" I replied

Logan rubbed his face "Let's call it a truce. I swear I won't try to turn you into shredded meat again" he held out his hand.

"Sure. No shredded meat" I put my hand in his, shaking it.

They were fucking hairy and calloused. And heavy. Maybe the world's manliest hands. And veiniest. Fuck what am I doing?

"No shredded meat" he repeated

And we both laughed

#deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #xmen #xmen x reader #wolverine x reader #marvel #hugh jackman

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literatetrashpanda · 4 months ago

Text

Tagged by @junkseries

rules: put your music library on shuffle, then list the first five songs that come up in a poll to let people vote for which one they like the most! 🎶

Tagging: @howlingnia @hazbin-helluva-itch @abby5577 @awesomely-alfy @soldtosatanforonecornchip

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rosewaterandivy · 1 year ago

Text

pynk like the inside of your

summary: feeling burnt out from marathon recording sessions at the studio, can only mean one thing: steve with some chinese takeout to the rescue & maybe some hanky-panky.

a/n: My blog is 18 +, minors DNI; get ready for a cunning linguist 👀.

🎶 i wanna fall through the stars getting lost in the dark is my favorite part / let's count the ways we could make this last forever🎶

A few weeks after your beach date with Steve, found you face-down on the plush carpet from sheer exhaustion in the vocal room at Paramount Recording Studios.

Efforts to record in your home studio were a waste, especially since you kept getting distracted by your phone and one Steve Harrington. At least renting studio space had the threat of money down the drain should you fail to record anything.

In fact, the past few nights had you pulling all-nighters at the studio— laying vocals, toying with a few melodies on various instruments, and editing a mix or two. Thankfully, you’d managed to sneak out briefly today for a much-needed soak in your bathtub at home, followed by a nice nap. One ear was covered by a pair of Sony headphones as you recorded a particular line (with the same sweet shock of when Adam first came), the sound engineer turned as someone entered the control room.

“Oh shit,” Steve said in apology, baseball cap and sunglasses perched on his newly shorn hair, a tote bag slung over one shoulder with a bag of takeout in another.

“No worries, man,” the engineer reassured him, turning back to the controls. “I’m heading out after we lock this, so she’s all yours.”

He watches as you sing the chorus, eyes closed and one foot keeping time against the carpet. Steve can’t help but bite his lip at how cute you look, an overlarge t-shirt and bike shorts with damp hair a stark contrast to the sheer power of the voice pouring from you.

“Jesus,” he mutters, more to himself than anything, and earns a chuckle from the sound engineer.

“I know, right?” He fiddles with a few levels, fingers gliding up and down the board. “It never gets old, witnessing her work.”

“I can imagine.”

You pull the headphones from your ears to see Steve chatting with the engineer, Jack, in the booth. Setting them down against the music stand to your left, you skip to the control room with a small smile.

“Did I know you were stopping by?” You perch against the doorframe, fingers curling around the cool metal plating.

Steve smiles back, lifting a bag stamped with a familiar logo. “Surprise?”

It’s only then that you realize how famished you’ve become. “Pad Thai tofu with—”

“Veggie spring rolls and like, a thousand packs of soy sauce?” He laughs, “Yeah, special delivery.”

You step into the room and nuzzle into Steve’s side. He drops a quick kiss to your head as the engineer packs up for the night. Saying your goodbyes and relaying your thanks to Jack, you wait for the telltale click of the door before dragging Steve back into the studio and collapsing on the couch.

“You,” you say, removing chopsticks and packets of sauce from the bag, “Are a godsend, Harrington.” Distracted by the promise of perfectly seasoned Pad Thai and a full belly, you don’t notice how Steve stills at your feet.

It had been a long week of recording sessions, so you’re not exactly firing on all pistons. Completely understandable, given the circumstances.

But not for Steve.

“Sweetheart,” he says, rubbing your temple. “C’mere for a minute,” and pulls you up for a proper kiss.

And it’s positively perfect. Steve kisses like a goddamn dream and in no time at all has your brain leaking from your ears— the promise of food forgotten.

You grip his chin, counting enthusiastic flecks in his eyes. Gorgeous and green-gold and all that mouthwatering darkness slowly simmering behind it.

“What,” you chuckle at his impatience, “You want me to sit on this pretty thing?”

His eyes light up at that. “Mmm, definitely not opposed. Gonna let me take care of you, sweetheart?”

What an obscene image: Hollywood’s Favorite Leading Man a slobbering and breathless disarray, coming up for air, licking the gloss of your cunt off his lips.

You smirk, “Oh, fuck yeah.”

He could live here. Stay pressed up against you forever—screw contracts, press tours, award shows.

Steve pulls the t-shirt over your head, palms your breasts with one hand and tugs your shorts down with the other.

He kisses along your neck and jaw and flicks his thumb over a nipple quick and gentle until you shiver and arch into him.

Steve follows the curve of your body— your collarbone, your shoulder, your belly, then places your hands in his hair, his hat flung somewhere across the room.

Your fingers automatically card through, curling softly to move him where you’d like him best. Slowly, he falls to his knees, spreading your thighs until you step apart.

You sigh his name, breathy and high. You say it again, pulling his hair when he sucks at your clit, fitting a finger in to the knuckle until you squirm.

He trails sloppy lines up your slit, delving in with his entire face because he wants you all over it—wants to be marked. Wants your scent and come and the bright blush of his cheeks in celebration, like declaring to all who worship him that he worships something else.

Who baptizes him with her kiss and cunt and he’s hungry for it—hungry for salvation because he’s exhausted of always being the idol.

You carved him into yourself.

Made space for all of him and loved on him with your whole, beautiful heart.

He guides you forwards until you’re sitting on the edge of the sofa, thighs spread and dripping, breathing heavy, eyes half-lidded with pleasure he caused.

Your soft skin is gorgeous and glistening. Your pussy is shiny with his spit.

“Steve,” you say, focused and sharp, curling one finger at him. “Get your mouth back on me, now.”

Pride swells up in his chest. What he wouldn’t give for the world to know this: America’s golden boy, crawling on the floor, stupid with desire.

And for all their idolatry, for all the pieces they take of him and scatter to winds, he’ll always still be yours.

And Steve thinks, as he returns his face to your sex, his cock throbbing between his own legs but he ignores it for now— he’s not important, for now— that if you were to ever tell him to stay in between your thighs forever, he just fucking might.

Two orgasms later, because not only is Steve good with his mouth and eager to please, but his hands, dear fucking lord. And a not-so small part of you feels vindicated at that.

You’re up to toss the takeout bag, plastic crinkling under your grasp as you open the door to the control room. Only to stop short when you notice a familiar red light still illuminated from your earlier recording session.

Had that been on the entire time?

Trash forgotten by the door, you’re quick to sit down and isolate the track in question. Looping a headphone over your ear, you press play to confirm your suspicions.

“Yes,” you sigh, voice languid with lust. “Fuck yes. Steve—mmm—"

Not realizing the volume or paying heed to Steve’s entrance, you nearly jump out of your skin when his hands knead at your shoulders.

He chuckles lowly, watching as you all but melt under his touch. “You’re gonna send me a copy of that, right, honey?”

#modern!actor!steve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #stranger things fan fiction #modern!au #Spotify

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crappymixtape · 2 years ago

Text

this is how it ends

You went with everyone to kill Vecna, into the Upside Down, and you knew the risks, but none of you thought it would go this far – will you get to tell Steve how you really feel before it's too late? | ( 2.8k, LOTS of angst, trauma, mentions of blood and violence, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

T H I S I S H O W I T E N D S 🎶 prospekt’s march, coldplay

Everyone dies.

You know that. We all know that. But you didn’t think it’d be like this. Didn’t think it would happen so soon. There was still so much to do, but then again maybe you’d done enough.

You’d done what you were supposed to at the Creel house, had lit Vecna’s ass on fire. Nancy dealing him the final blow with her sawed off shot gun, but when you’d all gone down to see, he wasn’t there. The only sign left was a burnt and smoking outline in the lawn and then the ticking had started.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Four chimes. Four deaths.

And then the ground had opened up, torn and ripped and swallowing everything into the burning, hungry, vine-thick gashes.

Not dead.

“We gotta get outta here! Get back to Eddie’s!”

Steve grabbed your hand and pulled you out the front door as soon as the shaking had stopped, racing after Nancy and Robin as they took the stairs by twos. You could hear the howling and baying of dark creatures in the distance as you ran through the Upside Down, lungs sucking in the air that was still thick with ash, suffocating, and all you wanted was out.

When Eddie’s trailer came into view you felt relief starting to wash over you.

Please let us get out.

You don’t know how your legs were still carrying you, but you pushed them even harder.

Please let us get out.

Nancy and Robin got to the door first, fighting against all the wire and mesh to try and get inside. “It’s us, Jesus! Open up!” Robin fisted the fence in her hands and shook it hard.

Afraid of what was trying to get through Dustin and Eddie didn’t open the door right away, but after hearing Robin’s voice they fumbled with the locks and makeshift enclosures finally yanking it open. You could hear them yelling as you and Steve sprinted after them across the road into Eddie’s yard.

“Dustin, Eddie, go! Go!”

“What happened??”

“I dunno, he’s gotta be hurt or something, we lit his ass on fire, but he’s not dead. We gotta get outta here.”

“Max.”

“I know, I know. C’mon, Steve!” Robin practically pleaded out the door at the two of you as you ran up on the trailer.

“Christ, we’re coming! C’mon, babe, you next,” Steve scrambled up the steps and moved to take your hand, but when he turned around you weren’t where you should’ve been at his side. Brows knitting together in confusion, his chest tightened with panic, and then he looked up.

You don’t know how or why it’d happened, but it did. You had been so close. Eddie’s trailer was right there. The gate was right there. All you had to do was crawl through it, but instead you were still out in the ash. Out in the thick, suffocating air with a demobat wrapping its tail around your throat and squeezing so tightly little pinpoints of light pressed against your vision.

You saw the look of horror on Steve’s face as he realized what was happening and the scream that came from him was enough to bring tears to your eyes. Were you going to die? Because that’s how Steve was acting and you weren’t ready to die, you weren’t ready to go. There were things left unsaid and the regret gnawing at the pit of your stomach felt like it was going to swallow you whole.

Steve!

You thought you were yelling, but nothing was coming out. Only strangled words dying in your throat as the demobat squeezed impossibly tighter. It flapped its wings and pulled so hard you felt your feet lift from the ground before everything tipped sideways and you slammed into the rough ground. You were dizzy with the lack of air as you fought against the panic that was now spreading like a fire within you. Fingers scrambling, your hands tried to pull at the bat, nails scraping against the desiccated creature’s skin, but it was useless. It was too tight. Too strong.

Everyone dies.

A soft, dark shroud started to close in at the edges of your vision, wrapping you tightly in its warmth and you felt yourself slowing. Suffocating. Your arms and legs moving like you were stuck in molasses and it felt like eons since you’d taken in a breath. You would’ve killed for one right now, even one filled with ash, but it didn’t come. Blinking slow you watched as forks of red lightning cracked the sky in two above you.

Please let us get out.

But as the demobat tail constricted around your neck again you started to accept the fact that maybe you wouldn’t. Tears streamed down your cheeks. Washing away the soot and dirt and mud that had gathered there. You wondered at the warm feeling spreading through you and the power it had to take away the pain that had been screaming at your neck.

Your eyes were getting heavy, but you didn’t want to close them, not yet. Where was Steve? Even if you weren’t going to make it, please, all you wanted was to hold his hand. See his face. The deep brown of his eyes, long dark lashes as they swept across his cheeks, the secret little constellations of freckles and moles that dotted the line of his jaw and down his neck and shoulders. Your Steve.

I love you, you thought and you wished you could’ve told him, but it was getting harder to keep your eyes open and when they finally closed you didn’t think you would open them again.

“God dammit, die! Fucking die!”

Steve was a mess as he sprinted back across the lawn and into the fray of demobats. He would’ve gotten to you sooner, but the swarm was thick and with Dustin on the other side there were only four of them able to fight now. Swinging his heavy axe through the air he was a blur, cutting down the dark creatures like it was nothing, the thought of losing you pushing him to keep going.

Robin, Nancy and Eddie didn’t hesitate to follow after in a frenzy, helping to keep them off of Steve. Off of you as you squirmed on the ground, but there were a lot and it was taking too long.

“Steve, there’s too many of them!” Nancy yelled, tears welling up in her eyes, but Steve refused to hear what she was trying to tell them.

“I can do it!” he yelled back, cutting through four more in one swing as he saw your eyes flutter closed. “No! Don’t go, not yet, please not yet!”

“Shit, shit, shit. Robin! Nancy!” Eddie followed close behind, trying to give Steve coverage as he reached you. “He’s got it, he’s got it!”

With a guttural sound, almost animalistic, Steve cut down the demobat that was cinched tight around your neck, cleaving it in half, and as its tail went limp he scooped you up into his arms.

“Sweetheart? Baby. Please, baby,” he was begging you, pleading you to stay with him, but you weren’t breathing and he felt tears coming on. “C’mon, stay with me, stay with me,” he sobbed, putting you back on the ground, lifeguard instincts flinging themselves forward as he started CPR.

One, two, three. Breathe.

“Babe, please,” his tears were falling onto your cheeks, your lashes, your nose as he continued compressions, gave you the very life from his lungs.

“Steve, we have to get out of here!” Nancy shot off the last of her shells and threw a look at Robin and Eddie.

Everyone dies.

“Stevie boy, I don’t know how much longer we’re gonna last!” Eddie called out to him, not even trying to cover the desperation in his voice, but he didn’t have to ask again as Steve gathered you up in his arms and lifted you both off the ground.

“I got a heartbeat!” Steve wanted nothing more than to just hold you close to him, to be still for just a minute, but he had to get you out.

“Shit, okay! Let’s go. Go!” Eddie turned and shoved Nancy and Robin back toward the trailer as the bats twisted in a cyclone, preparing their final assault, but somehow it never came.

Whether higher power or miracle, as Robin says, you all made it back through the gate to the other side, but when you all landed it wasn’t the happy reunion you’d imagined.

“We gotta to go to the hospital, Steve. We can’t fix this,” Dustin’s voice sounded far away as Steve heard him talking in the back of Eddie’s van.

“Steve?” this time it was Nancy. Putting a hand on his shoulder she squeezed and took his chin in her other hand, turning his face to look at her, “This is beyond us.”

He wanted to be strong for you, wanted to tell you everything would be alright, but as he watched your chest rising and falling in short, stuttered breaths he knew Nancy was right. Squeezing his eyes shut tight he pulled you into him, wrapped his arms around you and told Eddie to go to the hospital.

Everything was a blur as the van pulled too fast into the ER parking lot. So many people, so many bodies.

“Get this one in right away on a vent! Lacerations on the neck and multiple wounds to the torso!” a team of first responders surrounded Steve as soon as he lifted you from the van, shoving an oxygen mask onto your face.

“Sir, we’ve got it,” one of them said, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Sir, please, we don’t have time for this!” and one of the nurses pulled you from his arms, Robin having to wrap her arms around Steve’s as he tried to grab after you.

“Wait, please! Let me go! Please let me go too!” and Steve fell apart as he watched them carry you into the hospital. There were no gurneys left. The sea of other people that had been hurt in the wake of Vecna’s assault on the earth was overwhelming.

“Steve, you did everything you could,” Robin’s voice cracked as she tried to reassure him and he collapsed into her, sobs wracking his body.

“I’m gonna go ask what room,” Eddie’s voice was thick as he tried to hold back his own cries, trying to find something to keep him going, to keep the adrenaline from leaving, but it was hard. It was too much.

Too much for all of you. The heavy weight you’d carried all this time. The deaths. The horrors. The injuries. The blood the sweat the tears the heartache. All culminated in the ground ripping open and swallowing you into the bowels of hell.

Everyone dies.

“Lucas? Oh my god–”

“Lucas! Is she–”

“Max?? Oh shit, Max!”

And that was it, no one could do it anymore, no one could hold it together. Lucas, bloodied and broken was carrying Max, just like Steve had carried you, and when Steve saw the same pleading look in the younger boy’s eyes he felt everything unravelling.

Please let us get out.

“Multiple broken bones here! Tachy as well! Get her in a room now!” a first responder snatched Max from Lucas as he fell to his knees, sobs shaking him as he buried his face in his hands.

“Max! Max don’t go! Save her, please save her!” Lucas cried out as Nancy rushed forward to envelope him in her arms and she started to cry too. And then Eddie. And Robin. And finally Steve and they all held onto each other like it was all they had left. And it was in a way. But this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the end. Not like this.

Beep, beep, beep.

Mechanical sounds cut through the deepest sleep you’d ever had. Was it sleep? Or had you died?

Beep, beep, beep.

Your eyelids felt so heavy and your brows knitted together as you put all your energy into opening them. It took everything you had to do it, but slowly the world swam into focus, unconscious melting away into conscious.

You felt something hooked up to your arm, felt a mask covering your nose and mouth, felt a monitor squeezing your finger. A painting of fruit on the wall. Windows covered with slatted blinds. A clipboard at your feet. The hospital.

“Steve?” came out weak, but you found your voice and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

Everyone dies.

But not you. Not like that.

And then a warm, steady hand pressed into yours and the painted fruit disappeared behind the sweetest thing you’d ever laid your tired eyes on. A long sweep of lashes, deep brown eyes, the soft curve of his lips, and my god that smile. Even when it was pushed beyond exhaustion, sad, and weary, it still lit your heart on fire.

“Baby? Jesus, baby you’re awake. I–I thought I’d lost you, I thought I’d lost you,” he buried his head into your side, crying softly in relief, and let your blanket soak up his tears as his hands tightly squeezed yours.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” you teased weakly, trying to smile, but your throat tightened with a sob of your own.

Lifting his head he pulled a hand away from yours to gently tuck your flyaways behind your ear. “Shit,” he laughed, voice wobbling as he cried, “You’re telling me.” His brows were knitted together, disbelieving of what he was seeing, fingers tracing the line of your brow, down your cheek, the soft curve of your chin. “You were really gone,” he said barely above a whisper.

Squeezing your eyes closed you felt yourself fighting a losing battle with your own emotions and tears silently fell from between your lashes.

“I tried to say it,” you confessed through your tears, “But I–”

“Oh, sweetheart. Say what?”

Lifting your arms they shook with the effort, but Steve leaned up to hold you fast, hold you steady, and you smiled despite your crying. “I love you, Steve Harrington.”

And god the look on his face then. He bit his lips in between his teeth, fighting back the sob that was pushing its way into his chest, and shook his head. He sucked in a breath and leaned down to press his forehead against yours and whispered, “I love you too.”

“You’re awake??” Dustin’s voice jolted both of your eyes open and Steve sat straight up, hastily wiping his arm across his face at his tears, and fixed the younger boy with a look.

“Christ, Henderson," his voice was crackly from crying, "It’s a hospital. People are healing.” Still Steve. Still the babysitter.

“Max is too!” Dustin didn’t listen and plowed through Steve’s protests, “Holy shit, you had us all worried. Like, really worried.”

“Wait, Max is awake?” Steve didn’t even bother to try and mask the surprise and relief in his voice.

“Yeah, well no, but yes. She’s breathing and vital signs are all perfect, but–“

“But what?” you asked, afraid of the answer.

“She’s in a coma. The doctors don’t know when—if—she’ll wake up.”

Silence gripped the three of you tightly and you felt a knot in your stomach take hold.

“She didn’t have a heartbeat for over a minute,” Dustin said quietly and you looked down at your hands, at Steve’s fingers tangled up with yours and couldn’t help the guilt blooming in your chest.

“But she’s still here, and so are you,” Steve recovered quickly, trying to reassure you, trying to find the light in the dark and you looked up to meet his eyes.

“She’s just next door when you feel up to it,” Dustin said, giving your arm a soft squeeze. “Buddy, if you need anything too let me know,” he clapped his hand to Steve’s shoulder and smiled a small toothy smile before going back out into the hallway, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

You sat in the quiet for a moment, Steve still holding your hands, and everything hit you like a ton of bricks.

Please let us get out.

“Take this thing off,” you grumbled, anger and grief and frustration overwhelming you as you untangled the oxygen mask from your ears, yanking it down over your chin.

“Babe–”

“I’m fine!” your throat tightened, tears welling up against your lashes as you pushed yourself up to sit, taking Steve’s face in your hands. “I love you. I love you, Steve Harrington and I’ll say it until your name doesn’t make sense anymore,” you choked out. And then you pulled him into you and pressed a kiss to his lips, a kiss that said a thousand I love yous, made one hundred promises to never leave again.

“I love you, too” he whispered against you and the way he caught your lips between his said a thousand I love yous, the same silent promises, I'll never leave you again.

Everyone dies.

But not today.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

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oldiesstationlover11607 · 1 month ago

Note

🎶You had me at hello🎶 (if I used this one before, no I didn’t).

Hello! It’s 💛! And before I go any further I would like to apologize for breaking the TØP streak that you were on (even though you absolutely KILLLED the Party Poison story! It was exactly what I imagined it would be!). I had the idea in my mind and I just wanted to see it come to life in someway so I appreciate you doing it. Also, that Josh Dun story you did the same day, so cute! ☺️

To nobody’s big surprise, or maybe to your chagrin, I am falling back into the TØP cycle of fanfics with yet another request. You said you were getting a lot of Tyler, but have no fear! This one is Josh (it’s Torchbearer!Josh but…hopefully that’s close enough).

This may be too close to the Keons daughter story idea that you had in mind so if that’s the case just disregard this, but I was wondering if you could do an angsty story about the reader being Nico’s daughter (*gasp*), but she escaped Dema and joined the Banditos. Her and Torchbearer hit it off and become close (I’m imagining romantically but platonic could also work), but she never tells him who her father is. During trip into Dema when he goes to try to help break out some people trapped inside (NATN sorta thing), he finds out the truth. He comes back to the camp and angst ensues (whether or not it ends happily is up to you).

Like I said, I know this may be too close to your other plot idea, but I wanted to request it (also sorry for my yapping).

Daughter Series - Torchbearer + Clancy + Nico!Daughter

Warnings: Swearing and angst

Word Count: 3090

A/N: WELCOME! I do believe I killed this ngl...

PART 2 + PART 3 + Part 4

Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t born in Dema. My mother had me outside of the walls before I was taken inside by my father, and my mom was never seen again. Growing up, that was a story I was forbidden to tell. My father rarely talked about my mom and if I ever asked, he would only say, “She didn’t understand the greater purpose, but I do. You will too, one day.”

For a while, I believed him. How could I not? When you grow up with someone like Nico, your whole world revolves around what they tell you. He was my father, but he was also Dema’s leader, head bishop, the one who enforced the silence, control, and order we citizens were all too familiar with. No one defied Nico, not even his own daughter.

Life in Dema was strict but comfortable. I wasn’t treated like everyone else. My father made sure of that. I lived in one of the best apartments, with guards who kept a constant watch over me. In the evenings, I would look out from the balcony and watch the city below—lifeless, colorless, and silent. The people moved like shadows. It felt wrong but I couldn’t put my feelings into words. It was like a quiet voice that echoed in the back of my mind, begging me to see beyond the walls. That voice grew louder as I got older, especially when I overheard whispers of resistance. Stories about people who escaped. The transcripts of the Banditos were forbidden, but I found ways to read them. They described a world outside Dema, a world full of music, color, and freedom. I imagined it often—what it would feel like to run without fear, to laugh without looking over your shoulder.

For years, I buried that desire, letting my father’s teachings drown out the voice of rebellion inside me. He would tell me, “You are my legacy. Dema’s future. You don’t need anything else.” And I believed him—until the day I didn’t. I don’t exactly remember when I decided to leave. Maybe it was a slow realization, a growing awareness that I couldn’t stay in Dema–I couldn’t live like this. Or maybe it was the night I saw him–a Bandito. He had this bright yellow bandana tied around his head that covered his face and was sprinting across the city. His eyes were filled with fire, determination, and a passion I’d never felt before. Several citizens left that night and the next morning there were almost double the amount of glorious gone lined up.

After that I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling, the walls of my apartment feeling tighter and tighter, as if they were closing in on me. I thought about the stories I had heard, the people who had escaped. For the first time, I wanted to know what it felt like. The voice in my head—the one I had tried so hard to suppress—was louder than ever.

I don’t know how I did it. Nico’s daughter wasn’t supposed to slip away unnoticed, but somehow I did. Maybe my father had gotten too comfortable. Maybe I wasn’t as much of a priority as he liked to pretend. It didn’t matter.

I ran.

The night I left Dema was the most terrifying night of my life. Every shadow felt like it could be a bishop or vulture watching, every step against the cobblestone ground echoed in my mind as if the entire city could hear me. But I didn’t stop until I got out of the catacombs. I couldn’t.

The Banditos found me the next morning, huddled in an abandoned building outside Dema’s reach. They took me in, gave me water, food, and shelter. They didn’t ask who I was right away, which was a relief. I didn’t want to tell them. Not yet. Not while Nico’s name was a curse on their lips.

I never expected to feel so at home among them, especially with him.

Torchbearer was everything Dema taught me to fear—brave, reckless, defiant. He radiated life in a way that was foreign to me, and yet, I couldn’t stay away from him. We met the night I arrived at camp. He approached me cautiously at first, well aware that most escapees were either violent or runners in their first few days.

But I wasn’t like most escapees.

He asked me my name, and I hesitated, not wanting to give my real name.

“Just call me…” I hesitated, not wanting to give him my real name. “Call me Ash.”

“That’s not your real name is it?” his head tilted and eyebrows raised slightly as he took a bite of the bread roll someone had brought through camp.

“Nope,” I chuckled below my breath, “But something tells me your name isn’t Torchbearer.” He laughed and shook his head. The Torchbearer was the kind of person who knew when not to ask questions, something I was thankful for.

As the months passed, we became close. Closer than I expected, closer than I thought I would let anyone get. At first, it was a hesitant friendship, both of us hearing each other out. We talked about the rebellion, we talked about vialism, and he talked about Dema. Over time, we became inseparable. I loved him. He showed me what it meant to live—truly live—outside the grasp of Dema’s cold, suffocating control. He showed me what it meant to have fun, to laugh, to joke, and to fight back.

And through it all, I kept my secret. I managed to keep him at arm’s length, no matter how much I wanted to let him in. Because how could I? How could I tell him that I was Nico’s daughter—the daughter of the man who had destroyed lives, stolen freedom, and enforced misery?

So I didn’t.

The guilt gnawed at me. Every time Torchbearer looked at me with those fiery eyes, filled with admiration and trust, I felt the weight of my life settle deeper into my chest. The longer I stayed with the Banditos, the more I realized I wasn’t just lying to Torchbearer. I was lying to everyone.

That was until my first raid. Each month Torchbearer and a few select Banditos would sneak into Dema to pick up escapees and add to the rebellion and after 10 months of being in Trench, Torchbearer had asked me to come. We all knew it was a risk, but as Dema reminded us–we had no choice. The mission was simple: get in and get out. We were the best at what we did. The Banditos had been in and out of Dema before, but this time felt different. This time, the stakes were higher. I was there. Torchbearer grabbed one of his yellow bandanas to tie around my arm so he could find me.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go back?” he asked, his fingers flowing perfectly to secure the knot. The hesitancy in his voice was mirrored by the look on his face.

“It’s going to be okay Torch,” I smiled shyly, cupping his jaw and pressing my lips against him. He returned the kiss by his lips were shy, mind clearly elsewhere.

“It’s difficult to go back, Ash. I just–I don’t want to lose you and I’m worried that you’re not ready for a mission this high stakes,” he pressed his forehead against mine, his fingers tangling through my hair.

“I am ready. I want to go,” I insisted, the fear of the truth bubbling over.

“Okay,” he raised his arms in defeat, “if you say you’re ready then I believe you.” Torchbearer pulled me in close, his chin resting on the top of my head while my face pressed against his chest. I was ready. I really was ready.

Torchbearer led the charge, his eyes gleaming with determination. The night we infiltrated Dema, the city was as lifeless as I remembered. The silence was deafening. I hadn’t been back since I left, and the familiar streets, the cold concrete walls, sent a shiver down my spine. Memories flooded back—of my father, of the life I had left behind.

Torchbearer stayed close to me. He didn’t know the real reason for my tension, and I wasn’t about to explain it now. I needed to focus.

We split up to cover more ground. My heart pounded as I ran through the darkened alleys, sticking to the shadows. I found the building where they were keeping the prisoners and signaled to the others. Everything was going smoothly until I heard footsteps behind me.

I spun around, heart leaping into my throat. My hand hovered over my weapon, ready to fight, but when I saw who was standing there, the air was knocked out of me.

It was him.

Dad.

He stood there, calm, composed, his pale eyes locking onto mine like a hunter sizing up his prey. His presence made the air around us feel heavy, suffocating, like the very essence of Dema was crushing me.

“I knew you’d come back,” he said softly, his voice as smooth and cold as I remembered. “You couldn’t stay away forever.”

My heart hammered in my chest as I struggled to breathe. My mind raced, trying to come up with some kind of explanation, some excuse for why I was here. But what could I possibly say?

“Dad,” I whispered, my voice betraying me with a tremble.

He tilted his head, regarding me with the same detached curiosity he always had. Clothes in his traditional blood red robes there was no anger in his eyes, no surprise—just cold, calculating control. He stepped closer, and instinctively, I backed away.

“You left,” he continued, as if we were having a casual conversation over tea. “I wondered how long it would take for you to see reason. To realize your place was always here, by my side. With us.”

I felt like I was drowning. My pulse raced, my thoughts tangling together in panic. How had he found me so quickly? I wasn’t supposed to run into anyone—especially not him.

“I didn’t…” My voice faltered as I glanced around, searching for an escape. But there was none. “I didn’t come back for you. I’m here for them.”

Nico’s gaze sharpened. His cold smile never wavered. “Is that what they told you? That you’re here to ‘rescue’ our people? To ‘save’ them from our sacred religion?”

He took another step toward me, his eyes boring into mine. “You are my daughter. Our city’s future. There is no ‘saving’. There is only the Order. You belong with us.”

“No,” I said, my voice firmer this time. I took a deep breath, standing my ground. “I don’t belong here. Not anymore.”

For a moment, Nico was silent, his eyes narrowing as if he were studying me, calculating his next move. Then, his smile faded, replaced by something far more dangerous—disappointment.

“You are mistaken,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that made my skin crawl. “You think you’ve escaped Dema, but you never left. You are still tied to this place. You always will be.”

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure. “I chose to leave. I chose a different life. I’m not your puppet anymore.”

Nico’s expression darkened. “Is that what you think? That you can just walk away from your legacy? You are my blood. You will come back to me.”

“No,” I said, the word feeling like a dagger in my throat. “I won’t.”

His eyes flashed with something I couldn’t place—anger, maybe, or something deeper, something darker. He took another step toward me, and for a second, I thought he might reach out and drag me back to our tower by force.

But instead, he stopped, his voice growing quieter, more insidious. “If you leave now, if you continue this path, you are lost to me. And when Dema rises—when the time comes—no one will be able to save you from what’s coming.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. His words were like poison, seeping into my mind, but I pushed them away.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I lied, my voice barely a whisper.

Nico laughed, but this time, it was colder, emptier. “Yes, you are. You always have been.”

Before I could say anything else, I heard footsteps. Nico’s eyes flickered toward the sound, and for a brief moment, something like recognition crossed his face. He knew. He knew we weren’t alone.

“We’ll meet again, daughter,” he said quietly, pulling me in for a forceful hug. His arms wrapped around me like a vice, sending a chill down my spine. I could feel the weight of his authority, his control, pressing down on me as he whispered in my ear, his breath cold and steady. “You may try to escape your fate, but it will find you,” he murmured, his voice low and insidious. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pressed his cracked lips to my cheek—a twisted mockery of affection.

I wanted to push him away, to shove him back and break free, but I was frozen in fear, trapped in that moment. It was only when he finally released me, vanishing into the shadows, that I could breathe again. My heart was pounding, my hands shaking, and the air around me felt thick, suffocating.

But before I could even collect myself, I heard something—a gasp. My eyes shot up, and there, standing just a few feet away, was Torchbearer.

His face was pale, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He had seen everything.

“Torch—” I started, stepping toward him, but he took a step back, his expression hardening. The raw hurt in his eyes cut me deeper than any weapon could.

“Is that—” His voice faltered, then came out sharper, more accusatory. “That was him, wasn’t it? Blurryface.”

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. My mind was racing, trying to find a way to explain, but what could I possibly say? Torchbearer had seen me in my father’s arms—Nico, the head of Dema, the enemy of everything we fought for. The truth was out.

“I-I can explain,” I stammered, my voice weak and trembling.

Torchbearer’s eyes were cold, his expression unreadable. “You lied to me.” His words were barely above a whisper, but they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken accusations.

“I didn’t—” I tried, but he cut me off.

“All this time… you knew. You knew, and you said nothing.” His voice rose, trembling with anger and betrayal. “We trusted you, Ash. I trusted you. And you… you’re his fucking daughter?”

The words stung, each one like a slap to the face. I took a step closer, desperate to make him understand, but he only backed away further, shaking his head.

“I’m not him,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m not my dad. I left Dema. I chose to leave. I chose to be in Trench with you.”

Torchbearer’s face twisted with anger. “But you never told us! You lied about who you are—about everything. You let us believe… You let me believe…”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” I whispered, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes. “I was scared. I thought if you knew—if you knew the truth—you’d look at me like this. Like I was him.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to look at you, Ash?” Torchbearer snapped, his voice cutting like a knife. “You’re his daughter! You’re part of this. You’re not you anymore.”

“I was part of it, yeah,” I said quickly, pleading. “But I’m not anymore. I left. I left him, I left this city, I left my home.”

“But you didn’t leave it behind, did you?” Torchbearer’s voice was cold, filled with bitterness. “You didn’t tell us the truth, and now… I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

I felt the ground slipping out from beneath me. “Torch, please. I’m still me. I’m still the same person.”

“No, you’re not.” His voice broke, and for a moment, the anger in his eyes softened into something else—something like pain. “I thought I knew you. I thought I could trust you. But you’ve been hiding this the whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought… I thought I could just be part of this life, without bringing my past into it.”

Torchbearer let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not how it works. You can’t just pretend like your past doesn’t exist, Ash. You can’t just hide who you are and expect it to never come out.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I never wanted this. I never wanted you to find out like this.”

Torchbearer shook his head, his expression filled with disappointment. “It doesn’t matter. The damage is done.”

He turned to leave, but I lunged forward, grabbing his arm. “Please. Don’t walk away. Don’t—I love you.”

He hesitated, but he didn’t pull his arm away. For a moment, hope flickered in my chest, but when he finally spoke, his voice was cold and final.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, Ash.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I let go of his arm, the weight of everything crashing down on me.

Torchbearer took one last look at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, hurt, and something else—something that made my heart ache even more.

And then he was gone, disappearing into the night, leaving me standing alone in the empty street, tears streaming down my face, my heart shattered.

“Y/N,” my father’s friend’s voice echoed through the street. Keons. The bishop I’d often found myself speaking to when I still lived here. He was one of the only leaders in this city who cared–or at least created the illusion that he cared–about citizens, especially those from his district. “You should come with me.”

“Why would I go with you?” I asked, my arms folded across my chest.

“You left the city, right?”

I nodded.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet. A boy from my district, he reminds me of you and I believe together you could do some good for our city,” he explained.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I said.

“I assure you, you are not in any danger Y/N. This boy, he’s different from the other citizens,” he continued.

“What’s his name?”

“Clancy.”

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