#''youre okay i just need x'' no part of this is okay. get off of me

[moonstruckme]

hiiii mae if you’re up for it would you pretty please write spencer and intern reader when she gets hurt? holding her hand while she gets patched up or comforting her when she’s concussed or something of the like. i love your writing so much xoxoxo

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, concussion, vague mention of a murder case but it's really just background

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 946 words

“Look this way, please.” 

When you don’t move, Spencer gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “Hey. Can you look over there?” 

You turn your face from Spencer’s jacket, and the paramedic gives you a kind smile. She knows you weren’t ignoring her; you only hadn’t been paying attention. “Follow my finger,” she tells you. 

Spencer watches as you do, her pen light gliding over your bloody face. There are tear tracks diluting the red. 

Staying with witnesses is supposed to be a safe part of the job. That’s why Hotch assigned it to you. But when Morgan walked the handcuffed unsub through the station, one victim’s husband lost it completely, and when you got into his warpath he shoved you so hard Spencer heard your head knock against the precinct’s tile floor. Blood puddled around your left temple before anyone could even make it to you. 

You started crying nearly as soon as you woke up. It was more than understandable, given the blood all around you and the confusion you must have been feeling after a head injury like that, but what scared the team was when you wouldn’t stop. JJ tried talking to you, even Morgan softened his teasing and offered you a hug, but to everyone’s surprise all you wanted was Spencer. You calmed some once he sat down in front of you. Tears still dribbled from your chin, but you didn’t seem quite so distraught, and you let the paramedics look at you so long as Spencer stayed. Eventually he wound up in the back of an ambulance, an arm around your shoulders while you sniffled miserably into his windbreaker and a paramedic applied butterfly bandages to the cut on your head. 

Your eyes water as the paramedic clicks off her pen light and begins asking you questions. It takes a few moments for your gaze to settle on her. 

“It’s…it’s Wednesday.” You turn to Spencer. “Is it Wednesday?” 

His heart throbs at the vulnerability in your tone. “Focus on her,” he says, softening the directive with a stroke of his thumb over your shoulder. 

You turn back to the paramedic, answering her questions with varying degrees of uncertainty. Your fingers curl in the material of Spencer’s jacket. He has the urge to tuck your head underneath his chin. 

The paramedic informs you (or informs Spencer, really, you’re not paying much attention) that they’re going to take you to the hospital for a CT scan. They’ll let him ride there with you if he wants to. Spencer says yes without a thought. 

While she goes to pack up her supplies, he takes your fingers and unbunches them, warming your palm between his. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks you. 

You make a soft, stymied sound, bringing the unhurt side of your head to Spencer’s shoulder for a rest. “I don’t like this.” 

Spencer doesn’t need to ask which part you mean. He imagines none of it is pleasant. The light and sound of an ambulance in general has to be torment for your head. 

“Try closing your eyes,” he suggests. 

“I’m worried that will make me dizzier.” 

“Do you feel sick?” 

“Not really.” 

“Just try. It helped last time.” 

You sigh but do. You turn your head so your forehead is pressing into the bump of his shoulder, and Spencer reaches up to stop you before you can get close to rubbing against the bandages keeping your cut closed. 

Your voice is a watery consistency. “I really don’t feel right.” 

Spencer feels a painful tug in his middle. “I know. I’m sure it’s scary, but it won’t be forever. We’re going to the hospital, and the doctors are going to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I just don’t like this.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Spencer?” 

“Hm?” 

“I really feel like I messed things up.” 

He has to remind himself not to move. In his surprise, his instinct is to pull back, to search your face for answers, but you’re pointed where he can’t see you with your voice trailing down his arm. 

“You didn’t. What makes you think that?” 

“It just…it feels like…” 

The words take a while to come. Spencer forces himself to set aside his curiosity. 

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “You don’t have to think about that right now. Just rest. You didn’t mess anything up.” 

“It feels like I’m…” you forge on, determined. “I’m always either not helping or in the way.” 

Again, Spencer’s first thought is to ask what you mean by that. But he doesn’t want to force you to overexercise your injured brain, so he tries to go along without elaboration. He fills in the gaps. 

“You’ve never been in the way,” he assures you, meaning it. “And you help us a lot. We wouldn’t be nearly as efficient without you, especially on this last case.” 

“I’m just an intern.” 

“Exactly. So it’s even more impressive how valuable you’ve been to our team.” 

You’re quiet for a few moments. Spencer starts rubbing slow circles into your shoulder with his thumb. Your forehead warms his arm through the jacket. 

“Thank you for staying with me. You’re always so nice.” 

“It’s no problem. I like hanging out with you.” 

“I don’t feel very well.” 

“Are your eyes still closed?” 

A pause. “Were they supposed to be closed?” 

Spencer smiles at the top of your head. Even confused as you are, there’s a familiar note of inquisitiveness to your tone. Like all you ever really want is to be sure you’re doing the right thing. Spencer is warmed that you trust him to tell you what that is. 

“Try closing them.” 

“Oh. This is better, thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.”

[makaylaloves-words]

Jason Todd thought his need for touch had died with him.

Part two!!

here’s part one

Pairing: Jason Todd x afab reader

TW: Loss of virginity (male), nsfw, pinv, religious imagery, body issues mentioned.

1.7k words

The sun comes dreadfully early. Bright butter yellow beams forcing Jason away from the oasis that is your embrace. You kiss his forehead then head to get ready for work. You start your usual routine, unaware of his recurring thoughts. Usually, he will wake up a little slower then go to make breakfast while you get ready. Today he lingers like the last bits of snow as winter fades into spring.

He watches you come out of the bathroom after your shower, music still playing from your phone. Music he will never admit to liking but listens to when he misses you. Your perfect skin slightly damp as you put on that lotion that makes him want to take a bite out of you.

Clad in only your underwear and bra, hair up in a towel, you pick your outfit for work and start on your makeup. Humming and dancing to your music. He stands.

He’s silent as he approaches, a huge sleepy figure looming behind you.

“Hi” you chirp, rubbing lotion into your skin.

“I want to have sex with you.”

You slowly turn, eyes wide. “Well good morning to you, too.” he swallows but doesn’t back down.

“I kinda have work” you blink.

“I- I didn’t mean right now. Just soon.” he says and your heart picks up. “Okay, honey, soon.”

You step closer and lift on your toes to peck his cheek. You let your hand linger on his bare chest, his hips against you in a way you can feel as hard he is. It gets you drunk on power to know how little it takes for you to do that to him.

Four nights later, it’s the usual routine but something’s off. He goes out on patrol for a few hours and you get finish up some work and make dinner. You eat together then he showers while you wind down. You’ve been dating over a year so naturally you’ve seen eachother naked but he’s always been a little secretive about his body. That’s why you’re very surprised when he walks into your bedroom in just his towel around his waist. Raven hair still damp and water droplets clinging to the scared tissue of his muscled chest. As anyone would eyes would, you give him a good stare down. He looks.. nervous.

“Something wrong?” you finally say.

“Now.” he says

“Now.. what?” your head tilts

He looks away, swallowing in embarrassment.

“I want to have sex.”

Oh.

Oh.

“I- uh right now?” you nearly laugh. You have been on a dry spell ever since you started dating Jason so honestly just him shirtless has got you hot and bothered but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’ve made you wait this long” he nods and steps towards the bed. you stand, arms looping around his neck like a perfect ribbon. “You’ll help me know what to do?” he whispers and you smile “of course.”

Turns out you really have to tell him what to do. You don’t know if you pity the guy or are proud because he’s clearly never watched porn or anything of the sort.

“Just kiss me firs-” you instruct and before you can finish the words his lips are on yours. He’s grown a lot in his kissing ability. From small pecks on your forehead to now as he tangles his tongue with yours. Jason hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts you with practiced ease. Your legs wrap around his hips and his hands hesitantly inch towards the back of your thighs. You nod against as your mouth works on his and his hands slide to grip your ass, holding you to him. He groans.

The towel is slipping off his hips and you can feel an anticipation that you haven’t felt in so long coursing through you, straight to your gut.

“Are you sure about this? You can change your mind.” you say, pulling back. your chest is heaving and you know his answer as he licks a stripe up your neck.

He slowly steps forward, setting you on the bed and looking at you like you’re a goddess who just offered him immortality. “Do i sit down or-“ he bites his lip and you giggle. “We can just do missionary.” he blinks in confusion. “i’ll lay down” you add, stripping your shorts and scooting back on the bed.

You strip your shirt and look up. He’s staring at you in a way you’ve seen very few times. He’s flushed, pupils dilated and hands gripping the towel on his hips so hard his knuckles are white. “Um you come over here now” you swallow as he drops the towel and crawl towards you.

For a long time, Jason thought he was disgusting. A foul ugly creature who rose from the dead and doesn’t deserve a single thing he has. You, however, have never understood this. He is beautiful. Greek god level. You can feel the arousal on your thighs as you bite your lip.

He leans down and kisses you again, hard length pressed against your bare stomach as you start taking off the rest of your clothes.

It’s a charming process in the way that it’s kinda clumsy. You haven’t done this in a while and well Jason’s literally a virgin so it takes you a couple tries to get your bra and underwear off.

He breaks the kiss to look down at you. Eyes trialing over your breast as he rests his hands on your ribcage. “You are beautiful” he whispers and you smile shyly. “You too” he blushes.

Both naked as the day you were born, he gulps “So do i just-“

“pretty much”

He gives himself a few strokes, dark lashes fluttering before he leans to you and presses against you. An inch in and he bites his lips. “God” he whines and you smile. he’s larger than most and you revel in the stretch as he pushes more.

“Oh i understand now” he mutters, hands fisting the sheets by your head.

“Understand what?” you say with a small whimper.

“Why people enjoy this so much” he cuts his words off with a moan as he pushes in a bit more.

With a final gasp from him, he’s all the way in and he swears he’s in heaven. He’s never been a very religious person but if there is a god then it is you and this fucking pussy. He groans, hands gripping the sheets beside your head as your hands delicately grasp his wrists.

“You can move” you say quietly, eyes loving as you look up at him.

“I-“ he should move. he knows he should but he is already close to coming and he doesn’t wanna come that fast. You’re just so warm and wet and tight and- oh no.

no no no.

you shift your hips, forcing his dick to rock in and out of you. It barely even moves. “Fuck, no—sto—"

Jason grunts. Chokes on it. 

you do it again, just the softest roll of your hips. “Baby, you don’t understand” he groans, arms shaking beside your head. “It’s okay” you coo, “it’s normal just- please” he swallows. yes he didn’t want to be the guy who blew it like a two pump chump but it’s true he wanted you to feel good to. god, he wants that more than his own pleasure. So, he moves.

A small thrust, just the last 2 inches coming out and in but he whines and turns his head away. You smile, “Hey. look at me, pretty boy”. he groans and looks down at you. god you look like a fucking angel.

He’s nearly drooling as he shudders and thrusts a few more times. Then he stops, “What are you doing?” he gulps.

You blink up at him. It’s true your hand had snaked down and drew a few circles around your clit but that was not a crime.

“I-“

“Show me how.”

“What?”

“That thing you’re doing. Feels good? Show. me. how.” Jason’s words would sound like a demand if he wasn’t bright red and pussy drunk. And instead of getting all butt hurt, he’s asking you to teach him and-

—and oh, isn’t your heart melting into a puddle.

You gently take one of his hands off the sheets next to him and guide his thick calloused fingers to your clit. “Just- circles or press a little.” you say, words cutting out with a moan when he rubs your clit. good to know he was a fucking natural. His eyes are glued to where his cock is pressed into you and he gulps before continuing his ministrations on your clit. Then he thrusts at the same time. You both moan in sync and he smiles, “‘m doing good? I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

You nod, simply letting him now it’s okay. A few more thrusts and he is shaking. Eyes closing as he gulps.

“Can i-.. in you?” he mutters.

“Yes.” you say calmly, chest heaving.

He buries his face in the warm crook of your neck, a bright flush over his scared skin. Then he’s coming and- “I love you” he groans and you pause.

“what?”

he’s only half conscious as he spurts into you. eyes rolling back as he gasps. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. I’m in love with you, have been for a while.”

you blink “i love you too, Jay.”

He keeps his head buried in your neck but he slowly trails some kisses along your jaw in response. His hand speeds up on your clit as he keeps pumping his slowly softening cock. After a few moments he sits back up, eyes hazy, “you haven’t- should i try again?” you laugh.

“Just give me a minute, love.” your hand snakes down and you lay your fingers on his, helping his finger your clit in that way that had you sparking. You tighten around him and he swears he’s seeing stars. “Fuck” he pulls out of you, grunts turning into a self satisfied smile when you come. You aren’t super loud or anything but he swears it’s the most beautiful melodic thing he has ever seen.

When you come down from your high, he’s laying half on top of you. You can feel his heartbeat thunder against yours, as if merging together—erratic and unsteady. “You did so good” you kiss the top of his head. “You too” he teases.

you have officially deflowered the great jason todd.

thank you for all the support! this is my first time really writing and i’m having a very fun time. i’m kinda new to tumbler so let me know if i’m doing this tag list wrong, lol.

@theendofthematerialgworl @nwjsns @anamiranda7383 @vicky342 @jayskookies @cyberangel-graphics

[tbaluver]

S/O With ADHD- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader requested: by a couple anonnies ♥︎ a/n: hihi my lovelies! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i just want to mention a disclaimer about this. while i do have adhd, everybody experiences things differently so what might be common for me, can be completely different to another person! these symptoms presented here are only what i’ve experienced and what my friends have experienced and what people have requested! do not refer to this to diagnose yourself. if you suspect you might have adhd, please refer to a professional! there will be a part two to this because theres more to add but anyways enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He didn’t fully grasp the idea when you tried to explain your adhd to him, your thoughts would jump from one thing to another and he tried to keep up. He would do his own research to understand better what you were going through. He would notice the little things, the way you would say you 're going to do something but never actually start or how tasks seem to take you forever to finish.

No worries about being late or rushing to go on dates or hangouts with him, there’s no set start time. Often times the dates and hangouts are flexible. He’ll wait until you’re ready as long as he gets to spend time with you and eat yummy food together, he’s happy

Indulges and learns your hyper fixations and your current obsessions. He’ll learn more about them on his own time so he can talk more about them with you

If you’re okay with it, he’ll join you whenever you need to rest and watch your comfort shows whenever you’re feeling drained or overstimulated. He’ll make the atmosphere in the room feel more cozy either by giving you space, adjusting the lighting and closing the curtains, tucking you in your blankets, so you can recharge

Praises your smallest victories even if it was just cleaning your room or finishing a simple task in under an hour without thinking or worrying about it. He knows that even the simplest tasks can feel overwhelming so when you manage to do something without thinking or bed rotting before doing something, he’s genuinely proud of you.

Zayne:

He would truly listen when you go off on a tangent of your hyperfixations, letting you ramble about them without interrupting you. Even if you branch off too many topics that you swear relates to the main topic, eventually forgetting what the point was, he patiently brings you back to the main point.

“..wait what was I talking about?”

“you were talking about how ___ and __”

He’s very organized, constantly tidying and rearranging things for you without needing to be asked. He doesn’t mind it at all. He organizes in a way that he knows would help you but if you ever forget where something is, he’s quick to help you. lost your keys? by the dining room table. your jacket? in the laundry basket. your phone? you’re holding it

Tries to keep his explanations short and easier to understand. He’ll give you just enough without getting lost in any unnecessary details

When he’s not around, he helps you by texting you on specific times to check up on you or to help shift your focus

Separate calm activities alone but together with him. You could be doing your own thing while he reads his book(s) or finishes up any medical reports

Calculates how long it usually takes you to get ready, so he’ll plan dates with reservation an hour or two ahead of time, sometimes maybe even more depending on the date, just to avoid overwhelming you. He’s always patient and understanding, sometimes he’ll help you get ready to take the weight off your shoulders

Rafayel:

In the beginning, he’ll notice you can run late to things but once you explain that it’s because of your adhd, he’ll be more understanding. Still, he can’t help but tease you just a little but he means well. He’ll just plan more hangouts that don’t require any set start time, just as long as you two are together at the end

Yap sessions with him take up an ungodly amount of hours. You both branch off to different topics, each one you both swear is just as important as the last, so the conversation goes in different directions. It takes forever to circle back to the original point.

He loves hearing about your hyper fixations. You can tell him everything, every little fact and he’ll ask you a million questions, indulging in your passion for it as well.

Loves to spend time with you but he is mindful and lets you have the space to unwind whenever you might feel overstimulated or just need to recharge

Shows so much encouragement whenever you show your creative and passionate side. He’ll recognize and appreciate the things you’re good at, even if you’re not able to see it in yourself

It’s canon that he sends you separate messages instead of big blocks of texts but its not because that’s how he feels more comfortable texting but also because he knows that long paragraphs can feel overwhelming. He doesn’t want you to miss anything or feel pressured to read through a lot at once

Sylus:

Lets you hold his hand whenever you want, no need to ask. He knows how much you fidget and he loves how you rub circles on the back of his hand, melting under your touch. If it helps you feel better, then go ahead. He’d even buy you rings to fidget with, ones that maybe match and also just so you can have something to twist and twirl when he’s not around

He adores listening to your obsessions and your hyper fixations, letting you ramble your latest interests or the new trinkets you’ve added to your collection. He’ll even surprise you with little trinkets he remembers from past conversations, knowing they would make you smile

Enjoys spending time with you even if you were focused on your own thing, whether it was hobby related or just unwinding in your own way while he’s also doing his own thing.

When you need help focusing and he’s not around, he’ll reach out at a certain time to check in and help refocus your attention

Doesn’t really send you paragraph lengths of text messages but sends you shorter messages so it doesn’t feel as overwhelming. He’ll mostly send voice messages that are short and the right length so it doesn’t let your mind drift away

Online shopping with him can help so you can control yourself from impulse buying so many things. He doesn’t mind you buying the entire world with his card but sometimes he has to stop you from buying things you absolutely don’t need

Caleb:

It’s easy for tasks to slip through or become overwhelming. You might start one thing but your mind jumps to something else and it takes a while before you can get back to what you were originally doing. Caleb would help by breaking down your chores one at a time or with more manageable steps or most of the time he’ll step in and take care of things for you so you don’t feel burdened.

If anything important was coming up the day after, he’ll leave little sticky notes for you all over the house, each one with a tiny apple doodles. They’ll be on your mirror, bedroom door, anywhere else he knows you’ll see them

Ever since you were a kid, he’ll still help you go over any of your works or anything you were unsure about when you feel like you missed any details. He’ll make sure you don’t miss anything

Never judgemental at all if you cut him off mid-sentence. He understands that you need to get your thoughts out quickly before they slip away so he lets you speak freely without worry

Sometimes you might forget to reply to a message or forget to come back to the conversation, so he’ll send a follow up message like, “whaddya think pipsqueak? :o” or he’ll send you a post to bring you back to the convo

If you’re struggling to focus on something, instead of pushing you to keep going, he’ll encourage you to take a break. He’ll help you ease back into it whether it’s breaking things down further or offering some encouragement

[angelfic]

never let me go.

PART TWO ➺ series masterlist

[jason todd x reader]

summary — you’ve returned to gotham after a few years away, having left as soon as you could to escape the constant reminders of your deceased best friend, jason todd. you expected to be haunted by the ghost of him the minute you stepped foot in the city, but certainly not like this — the city you call home has much more in store than you could have imagined. warnings — childhood best friends to lovers, mentions of death + mourning, angst, mentions of blood + violence a/n; this is going to be very slow burn (if i can help it) btw. thank you for all the love so far + lmk your thoughts <3

The drive up to Wayne Manor always feels like entering another world. The chaos of Gotham fades behind you, replaced by the quiet, eerie stillness of Bristol that might be relaxing for most people. You always find yourself unsettled when you make the drive alone, your ears ringing with the silence and lack of Gotham’s noise pollution that you need to be calm.

You’re starting to think there may be something wrong with you, especially considering how you used to yearn for nothing more than to leave the place. But, like you do with most things, you push this to the back of your mind to psychoanalyse another day. Far, far away in the future hopefully.

The road winds through thick forest, the canopy of gnarled trees overhead casting ominous shadows in front of you. Now it feels more like home, you think to yourself.

Your mom’s car is sturdy enough, but getting old and the wear and tear from over the years has you slowing down as the cracked pavement gets bumpier. It’s an old road, rarely used outside of visits to Wayne Manor, and Bruce has other, faster ways of making his own trips. You’re suddenly glad for the caution you have while driving that you definitely didn’t possess when you were younger as a fox runs out onto the street and you brake suddenly. You jolt forward slightly, one hand gripping the wheel and the other reaching next to you to prevent your bag from falling off the seat, contents threatening to spill out.

The fox glances over at you for a split second before scampering off and you nearly laugh to yourself, the deja vu hitting you like a truck.

“Come on, just keep going. Faster, come on—”

“Jason, shut up!” you shout, palms getting sweaty on the steering wheel where his own cover yours in an attempt to help you steer. “If you don’t can it, I swear to God, I’ll—”

“You’ll what? You gonna turn this thing around, sweetheart?” he asks, raising a brow. “Oh, wait, you can’t— because you don’t know how to reverse.”

If you weren’t so focused on the road ahead, you’d probably hit him for being so cocky. You knew this was a bad idea from the start. When your mom had come home from the night shift and tossed her keys on the counter before going to bed and immediately knocking out, Jason had shot you that look. It screamed trouble.

Fast forward to now, where you’re sorely regretting your short-lived burst of spontaneity and trying to control your feet which are hovering awkwardly between the gas and the brake.

Jason is slouched in the passenger seat like he’s got all the confidence in the world, grinning at you and totally unbothered by the fact that neither of you are supposed to be here.

Legally, neither of you can drive. But being Robin, he now possesses quite a few skills that most people your age don’t have. Bruce had long since taught him how to drive a car for emergencies and he was now great at it. He’d driven you guys out of Gotham and towards Wayne Manor, insisting it was time to teach you and that it’d be easier where there are hardly ever any cars.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” you mutter, fingers gripping the wheel tighter when he lets go and allows you free rein.

Jason simply laughs at your misery, tipping his head back against the seat. “Okay, first of all — you’re being dramatic. Second, wouldn’t you rather it be me teaching you, instead of some old guy who overcharges?”

“I’m seriously debating the old guy right now,” you grumble, ignoring his offended scoff. “What the fuck, Jay! This road is not straight.”

“It’s straight,” he insists, sitting up again to actually resume teaching you. “You’re nowhere near the edge, relax.”

You listen to him, loosening up a little and realising he’s right. You haven’t drifted in a while, and you are going in a pretty straight line. You won’t admit it, but it is kind of thrilling. The hum of the engine, the way the tires respond beneath you and the peaceful sense of freedom you have surrounded by nothing but trees and Jason. You test out the gas by pushing a little harder and speeding up, partly wanting to feel more control and partly so Jason doesn’t hound you about it.

“See, what’d I say?” Jason says, leaning back again and lightly nudging you. “You’re doing great…”

A flash of fur darts in front of the car and your breath hitches.

Your hands jerk the wheel, tires screeching against the pavement from the speed you were going at and you swerve hard to the right.

Jason slams one hand against the dashboard, his other arm reaching across your front to stop you going through the windshield, despite the fact you have your seatbelt on. “Fuck—”

The car skids to a stop, inches away from a tree. The animal — a raccoon, you realise with wide eyes — scurries off into the bushes, blissfully unaware.

You sit there, trying to remember how to breathe. From the corner of your eye, you see Jason’s shoulders shaking and you realise with horror that he’s laughing.

“Holy shit,” he wheezes, wiping at his eyes. “I really thought we were dead for a second.”

“We almost were!”

“Hey, you didn’t hit it. That’s a win!” He turns to you and grasps your by the arms, shaking you slightly and releasing the tension in your shoulders from where you’re all coiled up. “And do you really think I’d let anything happen to you?”

Jason smiles at you, but his eyes are concentrated on yours, his gaze unwavering. He’s trying to talk you off a ledge, but you don’t need it, not really. You know he’d never put you in actual danger.

Still, you groan, dropping your head against his shoulder and hiding your smile. The adrenaline still hasn’t left. “I hate you.”

“Nah,” Jason replies, easily. One hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, the other resting against your back and rubbing soothing circles. His voice is teasing, but warm. “You don’t.”

No, you think to yourself. You don’t.

Your mom has kept the same car since then, and you’ve never really wished for her to change it until you remember things like that.

You’re startled to realise that the wrought-iron gates of Wayne Manor loom ahead. They rise high, wrapped in ivy, intricate and imposing. Their black metalwork centres around the ‘W’ emblem which gleams in the daylight.

You get out your phone to text your arrival, but the security system whirs to life before you can, a camera adjusting overhead. Alright then.

The gate unlocks, swinging open slowly and deliberately and as you drive forward, the massive house rises up to greet you.

Your chest feels tight.

The manor towers over you, cutting sharp edges against the bright, clear sky. The windows glow faintly, but it’s a cold kind of warmth. Too big and grand for too few people.

When you park in the circular driveway, Alfred is unsurprisingly already waiting at the door for you and you try and control every muscle in your face to not physically wince with guilt.

“Miss,” he greets you, stepping aside to let you in. His voice carries the same steady patience as always, but there’s a flicker of something accusatory in his expression as he raises a brow at your appearance. You deserve worse, considering you’ve been avoiding these visits for months.

“Hey, Alfred,” you say, offering him a sheepish smile as you step past him. He takes your coat before you can insist you don’t need him to. You should be used to these things considering the majority of your friends happen to be the adopted children of a billionaire, the billionaire’s butler and, arguably, the billionaire himself. If you’re getting technical. Unfortunately, your less than privileged upbringing seems to be so completely engrained in you, and you still bristle at the rich people antics. You step back awkwardly. “Long time, huh?”

“Quite.” He gestures for you to follow him into the house and you obey, falling into step beside him. Despite the mildly reproachful tone, he seems pleased to see you. “I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten the way.”

Wincing, the excuse falls from your lips before you can even process the words. “I’ve just been so busy with work—” As soon as you say it, you’re grimacing, because this is Alfred you’re talking to.

If he had a nickel for every time he heard the same words from the inhabitants of Wayne Manor, he’d be able to buy his own Wayne Manor. Twice over. So, you at least have the grace to cut yourself off.

You sigh, turning to face him properly. “I’m sorry,” you say, injecting as much sincerity as you possibly can, because you are. And work has actually been busy, but you know that you could have carved out time to see Alfred. You just had a small problem with the meeting location.

You spent a good amount of time here when Jason was alive, but that wasn’t really the issue. If anything, you choose to surround yourself in spaces that feel like him — why else would you still be living in Crime Alley? Certainly not for the ambience.

After Jason’s death, you found yourself practically living here, unable to tear yourself away from his bedroom and retracing the steps the two of you would take together every time you ran around the Manor. And no one else really wanted to take you away either, taking pity on the teenage girl who couldn’t mention his name without crying for a whole year.

So, as much as you wish you could focus on the happier memories of this place, the memories of the time spent mourning your best friend seem to take priority in your brain.

Despite this, you suppose it’s time to grow up a little. It’s not like you’re having to physically fight the demons every time you step foot in the Manor, so what’s another migraine from having to fight them in your head over a couple dinners every month. You attempt a sincere smile towards Alfred. “I promise I’ll be better about visiting. I, uh… I should have come sooner, but… y’know,” you try and explain without words, vaguely gesturing to the high ceilings and polished floors.

Something in his expression softens. “Indeed.”

A beat of silence. Then, his lips twitch — just slightly and you relax.

“Well,” he says, stepping aside as you reach Bruce’s study. “I suppose there’s no time like the present.”

He nods once, before turning to walk in the direction of the kitchen, undoubtedly to make the dinner that he’s going to force you to stay and eat.

You adjust your heavy bag at your side and knock twice on the door, pushing it open when you hear Bruce calling for you to come in.

He sits at his desk, papers strewn everywhere and multiple mugs of unfinished coffee that have gone cold. He looks up when you walk in, offering you the closest thing he has to a smile — a subtle nod and a slight shift in posture that means he’s glad to see you.

“You made it,” he says, as if he was the one who invited you and not the other way around. You hadn’t had the position of Philanthropy and Outreach Co-ordinator for long, and who better than Bruce Wayne to go to when you want to ensure you’re actually doing your job at Wayne Enterprises properly. Not that it was a particularly easy task. He’s genuinely the busiest man you know and you’re lucky you were able to have a conversation with him about this that lasted longer than a few seconds.

“Shocking, I know,” you tease, dropping a folder on his desk. “Try not to look too excited.”

He huffs a quiet breath, flipping open the folder. Inside are the details for the upcoming Wayne Foundation gala — your latest, carefully curated headache. Bruce may hate the public-facing side of things, but he understands the necessity, which is exactly why he agreed to look over things for your first official project.

“This is a lot,” he says, skimming the notes. The lack of a frown on his face tells you that he’s complimenting you and you can’t help glowing inside. You feel like you’re fifteen again. “I’m sure you don’t even need me for this.”

“I just want to make sure it runs smoothly,” you say, letting out a nervous chuckle and crossing your arms, watching him. “Also, if I don’t get your input, I’ll have to deal with the board complaining about how the Wayne Foundation is ‘out of touch’ or whatever. And quite frankly, I don’t get paid enough to handle that and put up with your brooding.”

That earns you a half-smirk. Small victories.

“You’re still coming, right?”

Bruce doesn’t look up, but his hesitation is enough of an answer.

“Bruce.”

He sighs. “I’ll be there.”

You lean against the desk and attempt to stare him down. It’s a lot easier when you’re not having to physically look up at him — it was a hundred times worse when you and Jason were kids and you were practically looking up to the ceiling.

“You sure? I know how much you love playing host, but I really want this to go well.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Fantastic,” you deadpan. “That’s really the kind of enthusiasm we need to make this a huge success.”

Bruce pointedly ignores you. He flips to another page in your folder, skimming over the guest list. You watch his expression carefully, but he stays silent. He’s a man of few words, but when you’re in front of him, you seem to revert back to the girl you used to be and it’s hard to leave the silence alone.

“Well?” you ask, rocking back and forth on your feet — another old habit. You carefully selected the guest list with a whole myriad of purposes behind each individual, so you’re sorely hoping he doesn’t have a problem. “Guest list up to par?”

“It’s good,” he simply states, nodding and moving onto the next page. It’s just about decor and themes and you don’t think he has any interest in it, but he politely glances over it nonetheless. “No notes.”

You raise your brows, surprised with yourself. “What, no shady businessmen or criminals or undercover villains? You’re kidding.”

“Oh, no, there are plenty of them,” he clarifies, matter-of-fact. You deflate and he shakes his head, waving you off. “But, they’re nothing to be concerned about. They’re all major names and donors and they won’t be causing any trouble at an event like this.”

You know that he’s already run the calculations in his head, weighed the risks and is thinking five steps ahead like he always does. It isn’t the donors you care as much about. Sure, the money is a huge part of the fundraiser (It’s literally in the name. You do need the funds). However, it’s not as if Wayne Enterprises is running low on the stuff.

Your main agenda here is networking (the word makes you internally cringe a little, because God, you’re such an adult now), and while you’re not going to say no to the guests donating money, you’re in dire need of signatures. Unfortunately, Bruce doesn’t own every inch of land in Gotham, a fact that you’ve jokingly berated him for in the past. Planning permission for the children’s shelters and renovations and such that you have in mind will need the support of your seriously corrupt government officials.

Enter the bells and whistles needed to suck up to them — fortunately you aren’t too proud to use them. You’re not one of the Bats.

Still, inviting a bunch of them, littered with a whole group of hopefully normal, nice people, to your first event makes you something akin to nervous.

“Right…” you trail off, still unsure if you should be concerned or just accept it. “Good to know what the current state of Gotham’s most esteemed politicians and businessmen is. Really gives me faith in our city.”

Bruce’s lips quirk up and he closes the folder, looking up at you. Story of his life, you guess. The next words coming out of his mouth make you pause. “It looks good. You’re doing well.”

It’s not exactly Shakespeare, but it has the same effect as if he had just hugged you and recited poetry in your name. Praise from Bruce was something that never got old. You swallow, suddenly feeling an embarrassing wave of emotion come over you, but you quickly quell it down before Bruce gets awkward and doesn’t know where to look. “Thank you, Bruce. Really.”

He nods, satisfied. Although it does seem as though he wants to say something else, but appears to be struggling to find the words. Thankfully, for both of you, Alfred chooses that moment to interrupt.

“I do hope the two of you are planning to eat something this evening,” he says, standing at the door with his hands clasped behind his back. His stare makes you squirm.

You fidget, looking at Bruce who is conveniently looking through the same page in your folder he was looking at five minutes ago. “I mean, I—”

“Excellent. I’ve prepared a dinner that I’m sure will provide more sustenance than whatever processed meal you were planning to pick up on your way home.” His gaze shifts to Bruce. “It certainly trumps eating nothing at all.”

Bruce exhales. “Alfred—”

“Master Wayne,” he cuts in smoothly, already taking a step back to walk away. “I trust you will be joining us, rather than working… at the risk of being a rude host.”

You bite back a grin when Bruce frowns at you. You’ve never really been a guest at this house, so the idea of Bruce hosting you is a laughable concept that you’re sure he wants to argue with Alfred about. The attempt to stare his butler down is a good effort, you think. But futile, as it’s never been done successfully.

“…Fine,” Bruce mutters eventually.

Alfred has already set the table by the time you and Bruce step into the dining room which tells you he really wasn’t planning on leaving without the two of you. Everything is perfectly arranged, warm lighting softening the cavernous space, the faint scent of something freshly baked lingering in the air. It’s not a grand affair, but it’s practically a party in comparison to your usual takeout on the couch.

Damian is already sat there, feeding a piece of something under the table to his dog, Titus. He glances up at you, mild surprise flickering across his face before it settles back to expressionless. “I see. That explains all this.”

“Hello to you too, Damian,” you say cheerfully, pulling out a chair as Bruce does the same at the head of the table. His confusion doesn’t surprise you. It really has been a while since you visited, and it’s not as though either you or Damian hang out together on the regular. He’s thirteen years old. You aren’t that lonely.

You like to think he has a level of respect for you from a comfortable distance the same way you do. In a ‘Hey, I too, was once a misunderstood child running around this house with your deceased adoptive older brother that you never knew’ kind of way.

Damian huffs, picking up his fork. “I was in the middle of training, Father.”

“And now you’re in the middle of dinner,” Bruce says, raising a brow. “Eat.”

Damian grumbles, stabbing a piece of his food with a little too much force. “So, what is the purpose of this gala?”

You blink, not expecting him to take an interest. “It’s a Wayne Foundation event for youth outreach. I’m trying to encourage more scholarships, community engagement and all that. Get some signatures to build some more shelters in the near future.”

“And will I be expected to attend?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” you say, at the same time as Bruce who says, “Yes.”

Damian lets out a long suffering sigh. “Is Drake being forced to go as well?”

“I need him to come,” you explain, frowning. “He has connections.”

Probably the only twenty one year old in the world with the connections that you’re talking about. Damian seemingly accepts this, going back to his food without another word.

From across the table, Bruce leans back slightly and watches you. You feel like you’re under a microscope.

“You’re still living in Park Row?”

You tense. “You know I am.”

He doesn’t look away, his posture seemingly stiffer than before, if that were even possible. “You should move.”

Here we go.

You truly thought that this conversation was done with months ago. That Bruce had finally accepted you weren’t going to just pack up and leave your home just because he insisted. The Batman card wasn’t going to work with this.

You take a deep sigh, tilting your head back. “God, not this again.”

“It’s not safe.”

“It’s Gotham. Name one place there hasn’t been any trouble.”

Damian, who has been silently watching the exchange in a not-so-subtle way, chimes in. “It is a valid concern.”

You glance at him, raising a suspicious brow. “Since when do you care where I live?”

“I don’t,” he says bluntly. You don’t miss the way he exchanges a look with Bruce or how he sat up a little straighter when he mentioned Park Row. Like annoying father, like annoying son. “But you’re not exactly… equipped to handle an ambush alone.”

“Wow. Thanks,” you say, before turning back to Bruce. “I’m not moving.”

Bruce exhales, setting down his fork. No, you almost want to whine like a moody teenager getting a lecture again. Pick it up and go back to dinner and stop talking about this!

Being reprimanded by Bruce at twenty three years of age isn’t nearly as funny as it was back in the day. For one thing, Jason wasn’t here being on the receiving end of it. You were usually just there to tag along by his side hearing most of the scolding being directed towards him, with the occasional ‘I expect more from both of you.’ You sometimes felt like he just didn’t want to leave you out. Another thing being that you actually have a parent in your life who you hear enough of it from.

Bruce furrows his brows. “Your mother—”

“—is living in her nice little house in Burnley, thanks to you.” You point your fork at him. “She’s good. She’s happy. She also calls me twice a week to say I should move, so I really don’t need you doubling down.”

Bruce’s expression doesn’t change. “She’s right.”

You sigh, dropping your own fork. It probably doesn’t have nearly the same stern effect as Bruce doing it, but damn it, a girl can try. “I like where I live.”

Alfred, ever the peacekeeper, smoothly refills your glass of water. But there’s a hint of something reprimanding in his own tone as he speak to Bruce. “I believe the young Miss is quite capable of making her own decisions.”

“Hear, hear,” you say, nodding at him. You know these vigilante types are stubborn, though and you’ve been doing some light research, reading some local newsletters about that Red Hood guy you heard about the other day. You’ve barely formed an opinion about him yourself, so you don’t know why you bring him up in an attempt to sway Bruce’s opinion on Crime Alley being a safe enough place to live, but the words are spilling out before you can think twice. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, anyway. I hear there’s some new guy hanging around and keeping people out of trouble, so…”

The mood shifts almost immediately. Bruce doesn’t look at you directly, but his hand flexes slightly before resting back against the table. Damian’s fork pauses again — not even for a full second, but enough that you catch it. Even Alfred stills, before going back to fussing around with the place settings.

“…What?” You glance between them. “What did I say?”

Damian looks as though he wants to say something, but a look from Bruce’s stormy grey eyes, which have turned hard and stern, has him turning back to petting Titus under the table. You don’t miss the way his jaw has tightened.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce says, allowing his shoulders to relax when no one says anything. You’re used to the weird silences around you when it comes to vigilante business. It had been going on since Jason was around, (although he would fill you in on most things privately, anyway) and it didn’t really bother you. The less you knew about things, the better. It doesn’t make this conversation any less tense though. “Just… keep safe.”

“Yes, sir,” you mumble, giving him a two-fingered salute and returning to your dinner as he does the same.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, as if on cue, Alfred clears his throat. “More vegetables?”

You drop your mom’s car off at hers, stepping in for an hour to catch up and letting her interrogate you about your eating and sleeping habits while you nod and lie, the occasional truth thrown in.

She insisted you take the car home, but after ten minutes of arguing, she’s convinced that you’ll make it to your apartment alive if you take a cab instead. You choose to omit the fact that you’re stopping at work to drop off your files for your boss to look over in the morning now that you’re happy with Bruce’s input and that you’ll walk the rest of the way home.

(You’ve got to get your steps in. Plus the weather is looking pretty good. Mental health walks are very important in the current state of the world and you like to think they cancel out the unhealthy eating and lack of sleep.)

You try your best not to walk home from work when it’s dark, because as much as your protests against Bruce and your mom may suggest otherwise, you don’t actually want to be murdered in Crime Alley.

The streets stretch out ahead of you, no longer slick with the remnants of the earlier light rain and you breathe in as much fresh air as you can before you start to enter the shadier part of town.

The buildings start to lose their shine the closer you get to home, turning older and angrier in the dark. The grime covered windows, rusted balconies and bricks, weathered by rain and neglect look like they could collapse in on you any second now. They won’t, though. They’ve been around longer than you’ve been alive.

The first sign of trouble comes as a sound.

A sharp, violent crack — the unmistakeable impact of a fist against bone.

You freeze.

Damn it, you think to yourself. Damn it all to hell, because you don’t want to live in a world where Bruce and Damian are right and you’re wrong.

You deduce that the sounds are coming from the alley across the street, which is unfortunate considering that’s the way to your apartment complex.

It’s the space between two crumbling brick buildings, half-lit by the flickering glow of a neon pink ‘OPEN’ sign hanging above a little beauty parlour that isn’t actually open, but the sign is always on. You shouldn’t look. You should just keep walking.

There’s just one little thing. If you take another route, it adds at least ten minutes to your journey and your feet are already dragging from exhaustion. So if you’re going to avoid going through your usual alley route, it’s got to be for a good reason.

You aren’t stupid. But you’re also a curious person by nature. And maybe you’re a tiny bit desensitised to these things with the crowd you tend to run with.

At least that’s what you tell yourself when you start to venture towards the noise, a single streetlamp dimly glowing overhead to light your path, revealing old cigarette butts ground into the concrete and a pile of shattered glass. There’s also something dark smeared across the concrete that, in spite of yourself, you lean in a bit closer to inspect.

The smell of stale beer, damp cardboard and the rot of garbage from the general vicinity suddenly wafts into your nose and causes a wave of nausea that has you standing straight again. That’s definitely enough of that.

At the same time, you catch sight of a figure shifting in the alley ahead of you.

It’s the Red Hood, you note with a hint of surprise.

You recognise him from your previous Google inspection, the blurry pictures not doing much justice to his imposing figure, but it’s definitely him.

He’s taller than you expected. Broad-shouldered and solid. His black leather jacket shifts as he exhales, head tilting just slightly like he’s considering something as he looks down.

There are four guys. Or at least, four bodies. Two of them are on the ground, unmoving and the other two don’t look much better. One is spitting blood onto the pavement, another is trying (and failing miserably) to push himself upright. He groans something unintelligible. If Red Hood responds, you don’t hear it.

Instead, he shifts his weight, combat boots scuffing against the cracked concrete. He doesn’t look tired or out of breath and when he’s stationary, it’s a deadly stillness.

When he does move, the neon glow catches on his helmet, the deep red gleaming like fresh blood. You have to give it to him — it takes a really frightening figure to not look silly under bright pink lighting. You suppose the rusted fire escape to the side of building helps the image, considering the lowest rung is bent at an odd angle. There’s a man lying unconscious beside it. You can put two and two together.

Red Hood straightens, rolling his shoulders and breathing steadily. He looks at you.

Your pulse jumps. You should move, should pretend you didn’t just stop in the middle of a dark and creepy alleyway to gawk at a violent fight scene. Well, the end of one anyway.

But you can’t find the will to move your legs. From fright or something else, you aren’t sure. But there’s something about the way he stands; relaxed, but coiled beneath the surface, like a predator that hasn’t decided if it’s ready to pounce or not. His fingers flex at his sides before curling back into loose fists, and then he moves.

Not towards you, or anything in particular. Just a slight shift of weight, as if registering your presence and deciding not to acknowledge it further.

You take that as your cue to leave and take the long way home, tearing your gaze away from the white gleam of his eyepiece and slowly backing up. You’re still not running, just walking at a leisurely pace and trying to control your breathing until you get back onto the main sidewalk. It isn’t until you’re walking past other people that you feel like you can relax your shoulders and actually start thinking about what you just saw.

In hindsight, your survival instincts probably need some work, but hey — he’s meant to be a vigilante. Sure, you shouldn’t believe everything you read online, but if you can’t trust Google, then what hope do you really have.

Maybe it can’t hurt to look at some of those apartment listings that Tim is always sending you.

tag list: @sakur4ii @theendofthematerialgworl @daughterofthemoons-stuff @staraniseed @harbours-lighthouse @eli-com @flanhog @catsaresillyasheck @wafflez-009 @straight-n-arrow @ydkmsstuff @alikkatz @doperthanabitch @wadehowl3tt

© angelfic. 2025

[lifeasadorkwithnolife]

Too Late (Azriel x Reader) Part 3

Part 1 , Part 2

Azriel and Y/N finally talk, and she realizes that maybe the feelings weren't one sided after all these years. Is it too late?

               You tried to grow used to the life at the house of wind, but you could feel the awkward silence fill up every room you entered. Feyre was friendly, but you could tell she didn’t agree with what you had done. You spent a lot of time with Cassian, who was the only one who would really talk to you, Azriel hadn’t spoken to you since that night.

               “Hey Cas,” You peered up at him, you both stretching on the mats outside. “Could you…” You weren’t sure how to form the question, “Where is it?”

               He froze; his face unreadable. You tried to use your gift, to see what he was feeling, but you couldn’t seem to reach him.  

               “I think it will help me.” You whisper, “I want to help you, I want to be this secret weapon you need me to be but I can’t without any power, you must see that.”

               Cassian nodded, moving one arm across his chest as he stretched. “It’s by the river, I can fly you down there but…I don’t have good memories, I don’t want to stay.”

               You nodded, leaning back on your hands and staring at the bright sky, sun causing you to squint.

               “I’m sorry about Azriel.” Cassian started, and as you went to reply he held his hand up to stop you. “Azriel- I shouldn’t tell you this but I feel like you should know. Azriel went crazy when you died, or didn’t die, or whatever.”

               You held your breath as he spoke, feeling the guilt rise in your chest. “When we found him after the battle, he was covered in blood. I think he had gone through every body in that field looking for you, he was…it was horrible.” Cassian sighed, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms loosely around them. “He stayed for days, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat, we had to drug him to get him to leave, and he almost killed us when he woke up.”

               “I’m so sorry.” You whispered, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “I wanted to come back, but…I was useless. I had grown too attached to Azriel- and when…I tried to tell him how I felt and he made it very obvious he did not feel the same way. Then that on top of me losing my powers, I just didn’t see a point.”         

               “What do you mean?” Cassian asked, and you sighed.

               “Before the battle, I tried to tell him that….that I loved him, but I wasn’t brave enough. Before I lost my gift I could feel emotion and I could feel nothing from him, just my own.”

               Cassian nodded slowly, looking around the empty training yard. “I’m sorry about yelling at you, by the way.” You squeezed his hand again and he gave you a sad smile.

               He nodded, “It’s okay.”

               He dropped you off by the river, pointing in the general direction of where your destination was. You walked, admiring the rush of water with the mountains surrounding you. You trecked along the cobblestone until you found a narrow path, following it until you came up to a stone secured into the ground.

               You squatted down, examining it closely, tracing the carved words in the stone.

‘Beloved Y/N

The light in the darkness,

I will carry you with me, always,

My heart will never let you go

Until the stars call me home’

               You gazed at the words, the emotions in your chase rising like a wave, impossible to control. You slowly sat on the ground, your eyes falling to the flowers beside you, placed there only days ago. Your eyes drifted to the view of the city and the river flowing through it, the stones from the bridge reflecting the sunlight in almost a blinding twinkle.

               You couldn’t help the thoughts of what life could have been- if you had told Azriel the truth, if you hadn’t run away, or even if you had died. The version of you that died deserved this headstone, deserved the beautiful words and beautiful flowers, but the person you had become- the one sitting here- didn’t deserve it.

               You sat in silence, the only sounds the occasional pattering of footsteps or the splash of a fish jumping from the water.

               “Every starfall, I only had one wish.” Azriel’s voice cut through the silence, and your head whipped behind you to see him standing, hands in his pockets. He made a motion with his hands, like a falling star. “Every year, I had the same wish. I would stand outside and look up at those stars and just wish so hard.”

               “What would you wish for?” You whispered, and Azriel turned to look at you, his eyes almost gentle.

               “Can I sit?” He asked, and you nodded, scooting over. “How do you like it?”

               He nodded towards the grave, and you gave him a tight smile, looking back over the light gray stone. “Honestly, it’s beautiful and more than I deserve.” You waited a couple seconds, “Az, I’m…I’m  so sorry.”

               “I didn’t understand at first.” Azriel whispered, looking out at the river. “The first thing I felt when I saw you- of course it was relief, but then it was betrayal. I couldn’t believe that you would put me through all of that.”         

               “I- I didn’t really think it would be that hard.” You whispered, pulling your legs up to your chest. “It was war.”              

               “It wasn’t just a war, we weren’t just part of the war.” Azriel turned towards you, and for the first time, his eyes weren’t guarded. “And I was so mad, when I saw you, the anger I felt is like something I have never felt before.”

               “Then once I was finished yelling at you, I came out here.” Azriel sighed, “After sitting here for a couple hours, I thought about blasting this thing to the ground, to be honest. But, I realized, the reason I was so upset when I thought you were gone-“

               Azriel stopped, looking away. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. He looked at you, the pain of loss still fresh on his face despite the decades that had passed.

               “The reason…The reason I was so upset was because I was never brave enough to tell you how I felt, hell, I never even got to say goodbye.” Azriel pulled his arm away to run through his hair again, and you moved your hand back to your knee. “I had the perfect opportunity, we were both there, but….I didn’t know if someone like you could ever love someone like me.”

               Your heart froze and possibly skipped a beat as you processed his words, you stared at the river and felt the relief flow through you. “I know it’s been decades, but…I still thought about you every day, I thought the pain of losing you would kill me.”

               “You…loved me?” You whispered, turning to him. His face, for the first time, was free of his grim expression and his eyes shone with vulnerability.

               “I’m not going to make the mistake of not telling you how I feel a second time, Y/N.” Azriel whispered, “I spent 140 Starfalls wishing I could just tell you that.”

               Tears filled your eyes as you stared forward, memories coming back to you in a rush. The way Azriel ran to you in the war, the words on his lips, ‘I love you’. The pain in your chest that never went away, that was him, that was his pain.

               “Azriel-“You choked, turning towards him and wrapping your arms around him. He took a moment to return to hug, but quickly wrapped his arms around you, breathing in deeply.  The pain was finally gone, free from your chest, and you let out a short laugh.

               He pulled back, unsure. “Before the battle started, I wanted to tell you that I loved you, but I wasn’t brave enough.” You cried, laughing at your own stupidity. “I thought you couldn’t feel anything because I couldn’t feel anything from you!”

               “How could you think that?” Azriel grabbed your face in between his hands, the rough skin gently touching your cheeks. “Y/N- you can read emotions; I assumed that you were reading mine and choosing not to reciprocate.”

               You cried harder, pulling him back into a hug. “I thought those were my emotions; I thought my powers were gone when you were nearby. Azriel- I was so in love with you, I am so in love with you.”

               You realized, that every time you felt the overwhelming and all consumer feeling of love for Azriel, it wasn’t just your love for Azriel, but his love in return. All the pain, the constant ache in your chest, that was yours to share over the years as well. Your powers were never gone- they were just so connected to Azriel that it overpowered everything else.

               “You are the light in my darkness.” Azriel whispered, pulling a piece of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. “I will carry you with me, always, because my heart will not let you go.” He pulled your hand to his chest, so you could feel the thuds underneath.

               “Until the stars call me home.” You whispered the final line. He leaned in, his mouth brushing yours tenderly. As you felt his lips on yours, his warm breath on your bottom lip, you pressed into him harder, placing your hand on the nape of his neck and trying to pull him closer to you.

               He pressed into you, lifting you easily and placing you on your back in the grass. You gasped, laughing as you looked up at him. A true smile found his face as he stared at you, and he pressed one hand to your cheek. “I am never letting you go again.”

[starboye]

starring: conner kent x male reader

request: Please make a continuation to the jealous Dick ex-bf fic you just posted where Superboy and reader have dirty sex 😭 perhaps Superboy can hold him in the air and fuck the hell out of him and Dick finds out ofc

warnings: smut, belly bulge, rough sex, fucking in the air, making out

directors note: this is a part 2 to this fic, sidenote but what the actual fuck did i lace that first fic with like im reading over it and oh. my. god. it's like so good i see why yall wanted a part two

some could say it's a little promiscuous to go get fucked by your ex boyfriends friend right after he just fucked you and his load is still dripping down your leg but i mean hey if you get the chance might as well take both for a ride am i right.

showing up at conners door with a needy look, it had gone around that you were a slut so conner knew exactly what you needed (and don't tell dick this but on some night where you were 'to busy' to meet up with dick for a late night hook up you were really getting your guts rearranged by superboy)

queue you two making out on his bed while he fucks your already wet hole "what dick couldn't get you off like i do" conner smirks moving his kisses to your neck "don't flatter yourself conner" you gasp arching your back with the way he goes so deep.

"well then why did you come crawling back to me huh" he turns you over onto your back and starts fucking you faster, throwing your legs over his shoulders, watching with amusement as your face contorts to the feeling of him going deeper.

"because i fucking love you're dick" you groan telling him what he wants to hear "mm mm come on say it like you mean it or am i gonna have to fuck it out of you" he leans down to whisper in your ear, a shudder driving down your spine at the mere thought of him fucking you rough.

"oh you got tighter just from me saying it, you want me to fuck you till you can't remember your own name" he asks, his hand rubbing up to your stomach, pressing down on the slight bulge he made "yes please" you mumble "louder" he slams into you "yes please" you moan out "louder" he demands fucking you rougher "yes please daddy" you yell "that's what i like to hear" conner smirks.

tightly holding your thighs as he destroys your walls while you struggled to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head, the head board of his bed banging against the wall with each thrust, he was enjoying making you cum all over yourself to "what is this like your fourth time cumming tonight" he laughs at your pathetic noises.

"please more" you beg him with a croaky voice from the constant moaning "please more what, use your words y/n" he grabs your chin to keep your eyes on him "please fuck me more" you whine "yes sir" he chuckles levitating you both in the air.

the feeling of little gravity made the sex even more better surprisingly, wrapping your legs around conners waist "look at that" conner smiles pulling your head to look down at the bulge he's giving you in your stomach "that's all me baby, every damn inch" he fucks you harder and harder before he empties his load into you.

"fuckkk you know how to make a guy feel good" conner huffs bringing you both back down to the bed, your phone lighting up with a notification to which conner grabs it "mr nightwing himself" he chuckles turning the phone to you showing dick texts, you try to reach for the phone but conner keeps it away and takes a picture of you sending it to dick with the message "he's a little busy".

"well we should clean up because dicks gonna be here in a while and do you really wanna argue with him while covered in cum" conner says looking down at your fucked out body "okay" is all you could barely respond. (this could lead to them fucking you at the same time)

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[v4mpire45]

The Things He Doesn't Know — K. Bakugo

This is part 8 of the series, so other parts will be on the m.list.

☞ Link: click here.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Jealous female reader

Synopsis: When you realize you're in love with your childhood best friend, but force you're feeling's down for the sake of your friendship.

Author's note: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out, I needed time to think about ideas. And I'm working on other works at the moment. This is also a bit short, but only because the next part will be juciy.

Things have been good, or as good as they can be.

You and Bakugo have kept your promise to each other. The two of you have been spending more time together, slipping back into the familiar rhythm of your friendship.

And honestly? It feels like you've gotten your best friend back.

You've missed this. A lot more than you'd like to admit.

Maybe it was stupid, holding onto something like this so tightly. But Bakugo had been there for you through everything. Before the war, before all the chaos. When you met, you butted heads just as much as you got along, but somehow, through all the fights and challenges, he became your person.

The one who understood you without needing to say much at all.

And after everything, after the war, after all the distance that formed between you, getting him back felt like getting a part of yourself back.

Not that you'd ever tell him that.

But there's a shift you can’t quite put into words. Maybe it’s just in your head, maybe it’s nothing at all, maybe it's been here all along and you’ve been ignoring it, but when you’re with him, there’s this... awareness.

This weight in your chest tightens when he’s close loosens when he laughs, and straight-up betrays you when he does something as simple as calling you by your first name.

But lately, Kimiko's been watching. Not just Bakugo, you. And you don’t like what’s behind those eyes.

Today, training drills had been assigned. Nothing new, just the usual combat sparring to sharpen reflexes and adapt to different fighting styles.

You were heading toward Mina, already expecting to pair up with her, when a familiar voice grunted behind you.

"You. Me. Partners."

You turned, blinking as Bakugo stood there, arms crossed, already walking off like your answer was obvious.

"Oh. Okay...!"  You tried to sound casual, but your voice had a little too much enthusiasm to pass as apathetic.

Before the war, you and Bakugo were almost always partners for these kinds of things. Sure, sometimes he’d go with Kirishima, and you’d switch it up with Mina or Jirou, but you were a duo.

Then the war happened.

And after that, Kimiko came along, sliding into the space beside him like it was hers to claim. You stopped partnering with Bakugo. Maybe you didn’t even realize how much you missed it until now.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Kimiko’s gaze, her expression unreadable. She had been heading toward Bakugo, too, but he hadn’t even looked her way. Instead, he had gone straight to you.

Not your fault. He made his choice.

Still, you felt her eyes on you like a weight.

The spar was intense.

Bakugo never held back. Not with you. Not with anyone. But today, it felt different. More focused. Like he was pushing you, not just physically, but daring you to keep up. And you did.

Sweat beaded on your forehead as you dodged another one of his attacks, skidding back just in time to avoid the explosive blast.

You shot forward, aiming a kick toward his side, but he blocked, catching your ankle with a firm grip before shoving you back.

"Too slow,"  he taunted, a smirk pulling at his lips.

"You’re just fast," you shot back, adjusting your stance.

"Damn right I am," he said, rolling his shoulders before lunging again.

The tension was there, thick, buzzing. Maybe it was just your own head making it worse, but every time he moved closer, every time his eyes locked onto yours with that sharp intensity, your breath caught for half a second too long.

And every time you caught a glimpse of Kimiko watching. You waved at her when Bakugo wasn’t looking. She only narrowed her eyes and turned back to her own partner.

The match ended when Bakugo finally got the upper hand, knocking you onto your back with a hard sweep of his leg. He loomed over you, hands on his hips, panting slightly.

"You finally tired yet, dumbass?" he muttered.

"Not even close," you lied through your teeth, even as you struggled to catch your breath.

His smirk widened, but he didn’t press it. Instead, he just held out a hand, which you grabbed without hesitation. His grip was firm, warm, steady.

And maybe you held on half a second longer than necessary.

After training, everyone had packed up, heading back to the locker rooms. You took your time, changing into your uniform, running a towel over your damp hair before slinging your bag over your shoulder. As you stepped out of the girls’ locker room, a voice called out behind you.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?"

You turned to see Kimiko, standing a few feet away, hands on her hips, her expression unreadable.

"Oh, um... sure?"

She smiled, but there was something off about it. Before you could react, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you aside, leading you into a quieter corner of the hallway.

Then, she let go. Crossed her arms. Tilted her head. And that fake little smile faded.

"So," she said, voice deceptively light. "What’s going on with you and Bakugo, hmm? Do you like him or something?"

Your throat went dry. "What? No, I—" You let out an awkward laugh. "That’s— what are you even talking about?"

Kimiko huffed, unimpressed. "Hmph. Yeah, sure."

For a second, she just stared at you, then sighed. "Y’know, I’ve been meaning to ask since that party. The one where you told me to ‘hop off Bakugo’s balls.’" She raised an eyebrow. "Kinda funny, isn’t it? Considering you’re the one acting all territorial now."

Your stomach dropped. "I—I didn’t mean—"

"Save it," she cut you off with a wave of her hand. "You already apologized once, remember? I don’t need you groveling again."

You hesitated. "Then why bring it up?"

Her expression shifted, something unreadable behind her eyes. She glanced away for a moment before exhaling sharply.

"Because," she said slowly, "I think you and I both know you’re full of shit."

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked off, leaving you standing there.

You didn't know what was worse, the fact that she called you out so easily.

Or the fact she might be right.

© 2025 v4mpire45 — All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

Tags: @tsukikoxo @pet1t3 @anon-mouse223 @nepenthes-things @hakkoyo @ita606 @raeroowrites @dreamybabbyy @ghostkat23 @channnee @sanriihoe @ch3rryjampi3 @eyesforbkg @charlotterosea13 @chuugarettes @mtsudaa @myblogsucks @emmaafinchh @adherethecomingofage @uhsakusa @shewki @galaneiaeris @surprisemodafakas @uhnanix @ilovemushroomss @bakunianadecorazon @bonbonbytes @snoozebunz @wowbon @holobean @littlestinkybastardman @closehereyes

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Nina

Request: streamer!Reader has a game going and their monster bf (dealer's choice!) comes in without paying attention/doesn't care/etc. solely to pay you back for some teasing earlier that morning?

A/N: Couldn’t hold myself back from the joke that there’s a troll under the… desk. Lol. Enjoy!

Under the desk

Troll x fem!reader || oral sex, teasing, edging, orgasm denial (lowkey)

You feel a hot caress against the outside of your leg and you jerk up, kicking your feet and covering your mouth so your chuckle is not heard over the mic. You look down to see your boyfriend there, kneeling under the desk and looking as cute and adorable as ever. You arch an eyebrow at him, happy that your camera is turned off right now because you don’t want people noticing something is happening.

He puts a finger over his lips, a clear sign that he wants you to be quiet. He takes his phone out of his pocket and sends you a quick text. It reads “don’t make a sound, I think it’s time for you to pay”. You look down at him, excusing yourself on the mic for a second.

“Excuse me for a second, I need to let my cat out of the room,” you lie. There’s a flood of messages on your chat, many people asking for you to show the cat, some others telling you it’s okay… But you are already looking at your boyfriend under the desk. “Pay for what? I didn’t do anything to you!” You try not to sound too offended, but you fail. You are offended.

“First: you kicked me two seconds ago,” he tells you, his mouth frowning on a cute blueish pout.

You chuckle caressing the side of his face. “Aww, poor troll, did your human girlfriend hurt you?” You use your most condescending and teasing tone, laughing harder when he growls.

“That’s a second offense there, girlfriend.” His tone is borderline dark, and you have to press your thighs together to avoid whimpering. Fuck, he knows exactly what that tone does to you.

“You didn’t explain what I did!” You tell him when he grabs both of your ankles, parting your legs slowly.

He stops, looking up at you with a smirk and dark eyes. “You walked around the house with those tiny shorts tempting me as I was at a meeting, now is my turn to tease you.”

You are shocked by his words, what does he mean? He gifted you those shorts! “What? I was wearing your gift!” You know he’s not buying your lie, a green eyebrow arched as he smirks. You did put on those shorts on to tease him as he was in a video-call with his boss. And you might have moved your ass a bit more than necessary in front of him as you passed. Guess you aren’t as subtle as you thought.

“Turn on the mic, and don’t let your followers know what is happening under the desk. If you are good I’ll even let you come…” You shiver at his promise, knowing fully well what he’s capable off. He’d played with you countless times, and some of those, when you had been particularly bratty, he’d edged you until you were crying. (You loved when that happened.)

“But I…” You try to argue again, not really putting any effort behind it. Your pussy is already wet just thinking about him playing with you under the desk as nobody notices. It scratches a part of your exhibitionism kink you didn’t know you had.

He grunts: “Now, darling.” And your whole body melts, your legs parting as you comply.

You turn the mic on and start talking about some stupid thing that happened when you went shopping a couple days ago, a naga almost running you over with a shopping cart. There’s laughter on your chat as you sort out the different things you need for your trip to the mine in the game.

He caresses your legs, softly inhaling against your skin and kissing every inch of skin he can, getting closer and closer to your center as you try not to sound breathless over the mic. People seem obvious to what’s happening under your desk, and you can feel your pulse accelerating by the idea of somebody realizing. You don’t want that… but the thought of it makes you want to moan.

His rough tongue hits your pussy suddenly, and you have to bite your lip hard not to let out a sound. Your character in the game moves to the side and the chat asks what’s happening. You let out a giggle, telling them you accidentally pinched your side with the chair and you can feel the huff of silent laughter against your most sensitive skin as your troll boyfriend laughs. The fucker…

He starts slow as you keep playing, talking about non-sense and trying to keep using your cheerful tone. His tongue feels divine against your hole, you can feel the gush of juices running down your pussy just to be caught by his dexterous tongue. You have to bite your lip a couple times to avoid letting out a loud moan.

Every time you stop talking, he stops his ministrations, and you have to hold back a whimper and a plea. You try to remain focused, but you know you are fucking it up, some low level monsters almost killing you as you fumble with the mouse to change from your pickaxe to your sword.

You move your hips against his face, trying to rub your clit with his nose and he nips at your labia, making you jump a little. A warning. You can’t take as much as you want, he’s the one in control… The reminder only makes you want to do it again, but he uses one of his hands to anchor you to the chair.

He pushes two big fingers inside of you, stretching you as he finger-fucks your welcoming pussy. You are praying to whoever is listening that the lewd sounds of your wet pussy aren’t being caught by your mic, but at that point you aren’t sure you even care.

You try to remain cheerful, but with each movement of his fingers in and out of you, you can feel your climax getting closer and closer, his rough tongue feels amazing against your clit and you are seconds away from coming.

He pinches the outside of your thigh, pushing you away from your impeding climax, and making you let out a low whine that has your face turning as red as a tomato as he stops his movements, looking up at you and someone in the chat lets out a thousand questions about what’s happening.

That happens at least ten more times. You don’t know how much time passes, you only know the feel of his tongue against your pussy and his fingers rubbing against your G-spot. With each second, you are more incoherent, and your movements are more sharp. Your brain is jelly as you keep talking, making every single noob mistake you can as he edges you, denying your orgasm every time you feel it coming.

You are desperate and trembling, your brain disconnected when you decide enough was enough. “Fuck,” you mumble, and then louder you say: “Sorry guys, an emergency came up, see you tomorrow!” You rush out as you close all windows on your computer and let out the longest and most lewd sound ever.

Your troll looks up at you with amusement in his eyes, his fingers curling inside of you as he rubs your G-spot over and over. Your eyes roll back into your head and you push your legs over his shoulders, grabbing his hair and pushing his head harder against your needy pussy.

“Please, please, please… I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be good. Let me come, please!” You know your words mean nothing, but when he pulls back a fraction just to say: “Come for me,” you are done.

Your hips rock against his face, and the second his tongue makes contact with your clit, you are coming all over his face, gushing juices all over and screaming at the top of your lungs. The orgasms with him are always incredible, but after all the teasing and edging, that one is earth-shattering.

He chuckles when you come down from your high, probably looking pathetic and sweaty. “I know you lied, darling, I know you won’t be good for me.” He cleans some of the mess you made with his hand, taking licking your juices off it as you pant.

“But you love when I’m bratty,” you let out in a whisper. You feel boneless, your whole body spent as he pushes back your chair and stands up between your legs. His hips are at face level now, and you are already salivating thinking about the possibilities.

“Yeah… I really do. Now… What are you going to do about this,” he points down at his very hard and very angry-looking blueish dick.

You smirk up at him, not getting up from the chair as you open your mouth and look at him from under your lashes. He smirks, grabbing your head with his big hand and feeding you his cock.

Yeah, you’d definitely would do it again if this is the punishment you get.

[darkmarkmarauder]

Call me and I’ll come - S.S.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x you

You should have known better by now.

Should’ve known that getting your feelings hurt was just part of the deal when it came to Sebastian Sallow.

Because he never promised you anything, did he? He never said he was yours, never whispered I love you when his hands were all over you, hot against your skin, when he fucked you like he actually meant it.

Sebastian Sallow was not a good person.

That was fine, though, because neither were you.

Whatever this was between you—this thing—that was built on the kind of pleasure that left bruises and bite marks and bad decisions. It was never meant to be sweet. Never meant to be kind.

And yet, there he was. Playing at chivalry, walking Poppy Sweeting back to her dorm like she was something to be protected. Like she hadn’t spent the past seven years getting under your skin, all sunshine smiles and Holier Than Thou bullshit.

You weren’t sure why you even followed them. Maybe it was the way Poppy's laugh rang through the corridor, soft and sweet, like she wasn’t the most insufferable person on the planet. Maybe it was the way Sebastian looked at her—really looked at her—as if she were saying something worth listening to. The thought made your stomach churn. You had him first. Had him beneath you, above you, inside you. You should’ve been the only thing occupying that wicked little mind of his.

But no. He was escorting her back to her fucking Hufflepuff common room like some noble gentleman. Heart-of-gold-ass-bitch. God, you hated her.

So you had a little fun.

Just a little.

Legilimency was easy when your target was oblivious. You slipped into her mind without so much as a whisper, poking at her thoughts, nudging her attention away from whatever painfully dull story she was telling him. Watching her stumble through sentences, lose her train of thought, look almost dizzy with confusion. Sebastian’s brows furrowed as she trailed off mid-sentence, blinking rapidly.

“You alright?” he asked, concern evident in his tone. That made your teeth grind. So concerned for little Miss Perfect.

Poppy nodded quickly, but she was uneasy now. You could feel her nerves, the confusion settling deep. You kept at it—poking, prying, twisting little intrusive thoughts through the cracks of her consciousness.

Poppy winced, pressing a hand to her temple. “I… I don’t know. I just feel a little—”

You rolled your eyes. Pathetic. You got bored of that real quick. Whispering under your breath you sent a nauseating little hex and she was doubled over, face paling, gagging.

Sebastian stepped back, startled. “Poppy?”

“Uh, I think—I think I need to go lie down,” she groaned, turning away hastily.

You strolled up behind Sebastian just as Poppy stumbled off, pouting mockingly. "Aw, hope she feels better."

You barely kept the smirk off your face as Poppy disappeared into her common room, her face pale as she clutched her stomach. Whatever. She’d be fine. Maybe next time, she’d learn not to bat her pretty little lashes at your Sebastian.

Not that he was yours.

Sebastian turned to you the moment she disappeared, a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. His lips twitched in amusement, but his eyes were anything but.

"Yeah, okay, princess, we’re really gonna pretend?"

You folded your arms, feigning innocence. "Not sure what you mean, Sallow."

"Cut the shit," he scoffed, stepping closer, the scent of fresh pine, something unmistakably him filling the space between you. "The second she started looking like she might kneel over, I knew you were up to something. And then—what? you just coincidentally show up the moment she leaves? Please."

You rolled your eyes. "Please," you mimicked, voice dripping with mockery. "What, am I not allowed to take a little evening stroll?"

Sebastian let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Right. Because you, of all people, just love late-night walks around the Hufflepuff dorms. Admit it, you’re jealous."

That word. Jealous. You bristled at it, anger flashing hot through your veins.

"Of what, exactly?" You sneered. "Little Miss I-Save-Orphaned-Dragons? Please. You think I’m worried about you wasting your time with a boring little goody-two-shoes like her?"

His jaw tensed, and fuck, you loved getting under his skin.

"You’re so full of shit," he muttered, voice dropping an octave. "What was it? You didn’t like seeing me with her? Didn’t like the thought of me walking her back? Maybe—" he took another step closer, and you refused to move back, even as your breath caught in your throat— "maybe you didn’t like knowing she actually enjoys my company without having to spread her legs first."

The words hit like a slap. You felt them crack through your ribs, shatter through your lungs. But you weren’t about to let him see it.

"Wow," you let out a sharp laugh, masking the ache blooming in your chest. "That’s rich, coming from the guy who can’t seem to keep his hands off me."

Sebastian tilted his head, brown eyes dark and unreadable. "Yeah?" he mused, his tone almost taunting. "Maybe I should try. Since it’s not like you’re anything special."

You sucked in a sharp breath.

"Fuck you," you spat.

Sebastian smirked, slow and lazy, his words venomous. "You already did. And if I recall, you come crawling back every single time."

Your vision blurred red. Your nails dug into your palms, the sting barely grounding you. You wanted to hex him. Wanted to make him hurt the way his words made your chest feel like it was caving in.

But instead, you took a step back.

"Go fuck yourself, Sallow."

And then you turned on your heel walking away, fists clenched, heart pounding, body burning with fury and something you weren’t ready to name. Jealousy.

Behind you, Sebastian let out a sharp exhale.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, voice laced with something that almost sounded like regret.

You were drunk when you called him.

Drunk and pissed off and reckless.

You’d heard about it from Imelda—how Sebastian had actually taken Poppy on a date, how he’d sat with her at The Three Broomsticks, bought her a drink, showed her a good time. How they sat together at dinner.

You refused to look at him for the rest of the day. You ignored him in class, in the halls, in the library. You ignored him even when he tried to get your attention, knocking his knee against yours under the desk, whispering your name when the professor wasn’t looking. You ignored him all the way up until tonight.

Right up until the moment you floo-called him from your room.

The moment he picked up, his voice came through the flames, exasperated but familiar. “What do you want?”

“Come over.” You softly demanded.

He sighed. “I’m busy.”

You leaned in, let your voice drop lower, silkier. “Didn’t ask if you were busy, Sallow. I said come over.”

A pause. He wasn’t even pretending to think about it—the sound of him moving, the clink of his belt as he got dressed . “Give me ten.”

You grinned.

Of course he’d come. He always did.

It didn’t matter how much he flirted with Poppy, how much he tried to pretend there was something there. It didn’t matter if she was sweet and kind and everything you weren’t.

Because at the end of the day, when you called—he answered.

Always.

Not even a minute later, there he was, disheveled, eyes swirling with something that looked like relief. His shirt was wrinkled, his tie loosened like he had rushed here.

You smirked. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re such a fucking piece of work, you know that?”

You didn't bother responding as his dark eyes bore into yours. Tilting your head slightly, biting your lip before yanking him inside, fingers wrapped around this tie as the door slammed shut behind him.

Yeah. Poppy Sweeting didn't stand a fucking chance.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: raw, next question.

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ

MASTERLIST

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Regret |8|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Tara stood at the back of an ambulance as you got checked over. You didn’t seem in too bad of shape, you actually managed to not get stabbed this time. Tara crossed her arms as she waited for you, they were surrounded by cops and ambulances, this was where she should feel the safest but given that she didn’t know who she could trust she wasn’t awarded that comfort.

Her eyes darted back and forth from Sam off to the side talking to Danny, to Chad next to the ambulance Mindy was getting patched up in. Anika had been there in her own ambulance, but the medics decided her wounds were too severe and rushed her off to the hospital. Tara wanted to think that Anika would be safe in the hospital, away from all the craziness, but she knew better than anyone that just because someone was in the hospital didn’t mean they were safe.

Tara’s attention fully snapped back to you when she overheard you thanking the medic. You slipped off the gurney and hopped out the back of the ambulance. Tara made sure to raise her hands when you landed, she didn’t know exactly what happened in the apartment, but it was clear you were hurting.

Tara wrapped an arm around your waist, partly because she wanted to help you keep more weight than necessary off your knee, but mostly because she didn’t want to let you go. Back in the apartment you didn’t even hesitate to push her behind you and towards the door, the first thing that crossed your mind in a moment of crisis wasn’t your own safety but hers. She loved that about you, she truly did, but she really needed to have a talk with you about putting yourself in danger. Tara knows you want to protect her, but she needed to put her foot down, if you were going to be all heroic and self-sacrificing then she was going to be by your side.

The two of you had only walked a few steps when Tara noticed just how much you were limping. She could feel the muscles in your back tensing up with every step. “Are you okay?” she asked. “What happened up there?”

You slowed to a stop, wincing one more time before leaning into her. You looked around as if you were afraid someone was going to overhear whatever it was you had to say. “When I tried to stop him from getting Anika, he kicked me in my knee,” you whispered, your lips brushing against her ear so only she could hear.

Tara furrowed her brow. A whole new rage was burning inside her, she couldn’t believe Ghostface did that. Well, she could, but that didn’t change the fact that if she ever got her hands on him, she would tear him apart. She looked up when she realized you were looking at her expectantly. She had a feeling she missed the point of what you said for some reason, but she wasn’t exactly sure what her takeaway was supposed to be.

“He knew I was injured,” you whispered. Tara mentally slapped herself, not many people knew about your injury, that you still struggled with it so much. That meant Ghostface was either stalking all of them and saw you or he was in the friend group and paid much more attention to everyone than anyone thought.

“Who do you think it was?” Tara asked. She herself didn’t have any ideas, everyone, besides you and Sam, was a suspect. You experienced Ghostface up close though, to close for comfort if someone were to ask Tara. If you fought him, if you got close enough then there was a chance you felt something, something to determine if he was in fact a he, or if you picked up on something like the way he moved or talked.

You opened your mouth to answer but your head snapped up just as Tara whipped around at the sound of a loud bang. Tara released a breath; it had just been Chad slamming Ethan against one of the vans. She should probably be worried about Chad’s quick response to violence but given what was going on she couldn’t say she actually cared.

She couldn’t hear exactly what was being said but it was clear Chad was questioning Ethan and accusing him of potentially being Ghostface. Tara tilted her head, she never suspecting Ethan of anything, the only reason she hung out with him was because he was Chad’s roommate. He wasn’t the worst company by any means, she was just kind of quiet and awkward, sometimes he would have good taste in movies, otherwise he was just there. She couldn’t picture Ethan as some psycho killer, but then again there was a point in time she would have said the same thing about Amber.

Ethan weakly defended himself by saying he was in his night class. Tara honestly didn’t know if he was telling the truth, she didn’t know his schedule, she didn’t even know what his major was. Ethan was insistent in his denial, he even told Chad to ask the people from his class, which could speak of his innocence, or it spoke of how cocky he was. Night classes were rather popular, she didn’t know how big Ethan’s class was but there was a high chance that if Ethan skipped class no one would even notice.

Chad gave Ethan one final shove into the van before walking back over to Mindy. Tara’s eyes lingered on Ethan as he fixed his sweatshirt and looked around at the chaos as if he were a lost puppy. If he was Ghostface he sure was doing a good job at pretending to be clueless.

Your entire body tensed underneath Tara’s touch, making her furrow her brow at what could have possibly caused such a reaction. You weren’t looking at her though, you were looking straight ahead at something else. When Tara turned to see what you were looking at, she couldn’t contain her eyeroll as she saw Gale Weathers running up to the two of you.

“Are you okay?” Gale asked, looking at you with the most concern Tara had ever seen. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“Don’t you ever give it a rest?” Tara snapped.

“I’m not here to start anything. Truce,” Gale raised her hands in defense.

“Bullshit,” Sam said, coming up behind them. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to help.” Gale’s eyes darted to you. Tara wasn’t Gale’s biggest fan by any means, but she had a feeling wanting to help catch this Ghostface wasn’t the only reason Gale was there now. “Off the record,” Gale rolled her eyes.

Sam crossed her arms and shared a look with Tara. She still didn’t want to trust Gale, especially with how she’s treated you but Gale willing to help out off the record was definitely a start. “Fine,” Sam sighed, although a little reluctantly.

Gale looked at you, as if she were waiting for you to say something. You had yet to look Gale in the eye. Tara couldn’t even imagine what was going through your head. Besides recent selfish behavior she used to be able to read you better than anyone, when she opened her eyes, it seemed to be going back to that, except when it came to Gale. You already didn’t talk about Dewey but somehow you talked about Gale even less, Tara truly wasn’t sure where your mind was in regards to Gale.

“I see my present came in handy,” Gale said, giving an awkward smile as if it would help break the ice with you.

You still didn’t look at Gale as you lightly nodded. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Thanks for that.”

Tara looked from you to Gale and then back again. Her eyes widen as she came to the realization. “That’s where the gun game from?” she shouted.

Your mouth fell open, but nothing came out. Tara could practically see your brain spinning trying to come up with an answer. When you first came out of the apartment she didn’t notice the gun, she was too busy being relieved you were alive. When she did notice the gun, she didn’t get a chance to ask about it as you were being dragged to an ambulance. She knew Gale gave you a present, but you put it under the bed and that was that, she never even knew you opened let alone that it was a gun.

“The less people that knew about it the better,” Same said.

Tara slowly turned her head to her sister. “You knew?” she turned back to you, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. “You told her and not me?”

You began opening and closing your mouth again. “I need to stay on her good side,” you defended weakly.

Tara just gave a small hum at the reveal. She knew that if you hadn’t told Sam and Sam later discovered it, she would have been pissed. She still couldn’t believe you never even told her though; it’s not like she would have told anyone; she knew how to keep a secret. That being said, Tara also couldn’t say you were wrong in keeping the gun a secret, no one else knowing was probably why you were able to catch Ghostface off guard. If the others had known she was sure you’d go for the case only to find it empty in your moment of need.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group as Bailey walked up to everyone. He wiped his eyes from where he had been crying over his daughters’ body. “They took me off the case,” he said. “But that’s not going to stop me.” Tara had never seen such a rage burning behind someone’s eyes. “You fuck with my family, you die.”

“Hey,” Kirby greeted as she walked up to the group. Tara assumed she had to have just arrived because she hadn’t seen her before then.

“Kirby?” Gale asked, her eyes wide. Tara wasn’t sure how it was possible, but it seemed Gale hadn’t known Kirby was in town. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m in the FBI now,” Kirby smirked.

Gale rolled her eyes. “Then you’ll probably want to hear this too.” Tara scrunched her eyebrows together at what Gale could possibly want them all to hear. “It’s about the first victims; I found where the masks are coming from.”

Tara’s eyes widened. It was clear the masks Ghostface was leaving behind were the actual masks from the previous attacks. She didn’t know how anyone could possibly get their hands on those, but it seemed as though they had.

Tara barely listened as Gale went over everything. They were all going to go see what Gale discovered but Tara couldn’t take her mind off of you. She didn’t know where Gale was taking them or what they would find there, the only thing that Tara knew was that she didn’t intend to leave your side again.

Taglist: @mamas-evil-hag @thatshyboy1998 @btay3115 @idontliketoread2137 @nwestra

@honorarysimp @canyonyodeler @chxrryxcx @aceofspades190 @worstendingever

[lazycats-stuff]

Hey, first I just wanna say, big fan of your writing. Second, I just watched Kengan Ashura, and I was wondering about a batfam x male brother reader who is not a vigilante, but is terrifyingly good at fighting. Of course the batfam doesn't know that, but they find out accidentally on patrol one night. Any of the family members accidentally sees Reader going into an abandoned building and wonders why he is out this late. They follow him and find a crowd of people in suits and one of Bruce's managers standing there, and it turns out that Reader is an underground fighter for Wayne Enterprises with an undefeated record and makes billions of dollars because of fighting. They watch him fight out of curiosity and are shocked at his skill and at the fact that he is better than any of them, and that he uses a style none of them know (please make it Niko style with Kure style combined - Reader developed it for himself in secret). After the short fight, where they see Reader being bored because his opponents are weak, the batfam listens to the conversation between Reader and Bruce's manager (Reader's employer for Wayne Enterprises - and underground fighting), they find out that Reader's nickname is Baba Yaga (or The Boogeyman, or Ogre - whichever you prefer) and that he is the reason why Wayne Enterprises has been able to get so much real estate and why the profit has been so high the last 2 years. They run home and wait for the Reader to get back. They confront him together with Alfred and Reader just pretends not to know anything until they attack him to prove he is lying and he just mops the floor with them without getting a single scratch. Cue shocked faces and Damian begging Reader to teach him his style.

You can finish how you want. Sorry if it's long, and thank you for writing.

Okay, I've never heard of Kengan Ashura, since I'm not really a manga person, but since there is no plot related to the actual series I need to abide by, I'm comfortable doing it, I just need to do some research, so no worries. I'll do it.

And yes, I'm alive everyone.

Also, could not find a better GIF, my apologies.

Summary: (Y/N) fights underground. Bruce and the fam find out.

Warnings: mentions of fights, nothing explicit though. Again, no explicit fights. It's said he fights, but no explicit description.

In a house full of vigilantes who are brilliant at investigating and discovering things, hiding secrets of your own is not an easy task. They were all observant, even when not in their suits and when they were not on patrol. It is not easy to shut off the part of the brain that keeps you alive, after all.

But, if you live with those people long enough, you learn enough how to keep your secrets underneath the radar and you learn how to move past those people. (Y/N) has learnt that the hard way, but he learnt it regardless. He had to if he wanted to keep it all a secret. And now, what would that secret might be?

(Y/N) was good at fighting. But not just good.

He was terrifyingly good.

Better than his brothers and better than his father combined.

Why was that a secret? It should be a good thing to be good at fighting, since he is the son of Batman, after all. The problem lied in the fact that he had a style that was never heard of. And he fought underground for Wayne Enterprises. That made him billions and it was on a secret account, one that Bruce didn't know about, otherwise he would blow a gasket.

And besides, the money was just an added bonus. (Y/N) liked fighting, so money wasn't needed. But Jesus, was it a nice touch to keep fighting. He had a scheduled fight anyway. And it was tonight, so he had to make sure to wait that everyone else went on patrol. And that's what he has heard at the moment.

Shuffling around the rooms, chatter about the criminals and soon enough, all of those footsteps and chatter moving to Bruce's study. And then nothing. (Y/N) has waited for an hour longer before he snuck out of the manor, ready to go fight tonight. It's been a while and he needs to get this restless energy out of his system. He got to his car and started driving.

This time he was hoping that the opponents would be somewhat able to withstand him and give him a challenge. But those opponents are rare unfortunately and it made (Y/N) a bit bored. But hopefully, tonight would be fine.

It was a few hours into patrol now and oddly enough, it was all fine. Usual Gotham villains were quiet and just wanted a peaceful night in, it seems. The only crimes they stopped were some muggings, break in and maybe some crimes they had heard over the Gotham Police radio. It was easier to follow rather than to wait for something to wait.

At the moment, they were taking a small break on a random roof top, just resting their feet and talking about stupid things and the most random things they could think of. They were bored beyond belief, but they knew that they couldn't end patrol early because of two words, what if?

What if one of the Gotham villains tries something and they are already back at the Batcave? What if they can't reach the place in time?

There were far too many what ifs for their comfort.

Damian was glancing around, always on alert, when he paused and had to do a double take. He stood up, now sure that (Y/N) entered an abandoned building.

" Why did (Y/N) just enter that old building? " Damian questions and everyone looked at him confused. What is that supposed to mean?

" What do you mean? " Dick inquired, wondering what the hell he was talking about. " (Y/N) can't be here. He's at home. "

" No, he just entered the building. " Damian pointed at the said building, which made Bruce stand up to get a closer look.

" So... We are going to go inside? To check it out? " Tim wondered, clearly not sure on what to do in this situation.

" Well, that depends on how sure Damian is that he saw (Y/N) enter, " Bruce said, glancing at Damian.

" I am absolutely sure father. I would recognize my older brother. " Damian crossed his arms and scoffed. " Now I'm insulted, " He muttered, making Dick chuckle.

" Alright. I say we get in there. " Bruce jumped off the ledge and glided down, landing silently onto the ground in front of the old house. He looked around as he waited for his sons to come down. Once they did, they silently made their way inside. They could hear lot of noise and they moved onto the big beams.

It gave them a nice view of the floor and it wasn't really a shock as to what it was.

A fighting ring.

The only odd thing?

There were men in suits. And Bruce did a double take when he noticed one of his managers. What the hell passed through his mind, wondering why his manager would be here?! What the hell was he doing here?!

But once he saw (Y/N) enter the round circle made by men, shirtless, hands wrapped.

Why the hell is his son even here!? Why is he fighting?!

Bruce was perhaps speechless for the first time in his life.

" What the fuck? " He muttered to himself, wondering what the hell was going on.

He watched as an opponent stepped into the circle, ready to face (Y/N).

Bruce wondered how much would (Y/N) survive, since he wasn't the one who was trained by him. Bruce or anyone else didn't train him, they simply trained him to have at the very least some sort of self defense.

Bruce nearly fell of the beam once he saw (Y/N) fighting. It was... Bruce has never seen anything like this before. He doubted that Ra's even had knowledge of this fighting style. This was... Incredible. Bruce had to be honest, this was just... How and when did he learn this? Who the hell taught him?!

Damian had the exact same train of fought.

Bruce kept observing, making sure to remember as much as possible. But there was something that was noticeable to him. Two different style, clearly something that he tailored to himself. Bruce noticed the tense up muscles, both in defense and offense. Then the sheer agility... Quick movement...

And redirection of the opponent's moves... What the hell was this? And with minimal effort too... Bruce tilted his head as he watched. This was incredible.

And since when is he so flexible? What the fuck was going on in his manor, Bruce thought as he kept watching his boy fight.

Then there was clear clawing at the opponents eyes, going for the neck...

Bruce couldn't believe it.

He had to figure out where he learned this. He needed to know.

But he couldn't do it here. He signaled to the boys to get moving back home. Bruce would deal with it later, but paused when he heard (Y/N) speaking to one of the managers, well, (Y/N)'s manager.

" You couldn't have brought in more skilled opponents? " (Y/N) leaned on the wall, arms crossed and Bruce was sure that he could see that frown on (Y/N)'s face, even though he couldn't see the face of his son.

" It's not my problem that you are leaps and bounds above them. " The executive said, adjusting his tie.

" You need to get me better opponents. "

" Is that the way you speak to your manager? " The man chuckled and Bruce could only sense the eye roll from (Y/N).

" Well, when your Boogeyman is getting a lot of money rolling into Wayne Enterprises, I would like to think that I can speak to you the way I damn please. "

Bruce's eyes widened as he listened in, adjusting his position on the beam.

Big profits that created a spike were 2 years ago and they kept growing... Underground fighting was the reason why there were even more money rolling in? What the fuck?

" Well, I do pay you well from what we earn, don't I? "

" Well, you have to if you want to keep the Boogeyman.. Besides, why did you give me that name? "

" I didn't name you that, everyone else did. And besides, it's a scary nickname that fits you. " The manager said as he stood up straighter.

" Anyway, I'm going home now. I have to make sure that dad doesn't see this, " (Y/N) murmured, making the manager nod.

" If Bruce finds out about this, we are all doomed kid. Have a good night. "

" You too. "

Bruce and everyone else were waiting for (Y/N) back at the manor, making sure to get there before him. They informed Alfred and have decided to confront him once he gets home. They dressed out of their suits and were waiting in the living room, all pretending to do something to seem natural in their behavior. Not like they are trying to confront him.

And oddly enough, the night is young anyway, so they didn't need pretend to be asleep.

(Y/N) came in, saying hi to everyone before going to the kitchen to get a snack. He already showered at the old house, curtesy of his manager.

" Evening (Y/N), how was your night? " Bruce looked up from a magazine, something he just picked up randomly.

" Eh, peaceful. "

Bruce and everyone else glanced at each other. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

" Ah. So we didn't see you in that abandoned house? " Damian started and (Y/N) tensed up for a bit before relaxing.

" No, must have been someone else, " (Y/N) said nonchalantly, keeping his composure.

Everyone slowly migrated to the kitchen, ready to slowly confront (Y/N).

" Are you sure? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) nodded.

" Of course I'm sure. "

And so they all attacked him at the same time.

And (Y/N) reacted, of course.

By wiping the floor with them. Completely and utterly.

Bruce was shocked and Damian was starstruck. Tim, Dick and Tim slowly moved away.

" What the fuck? " Jason muttered.

" Language, " Alfred stated, trying not to show his shock.

" (Y/N), you need to teach me! " Damian now followed (Y/N) around, clearly trying to get into his good graces to teach him. (Y/N) just wanted some peace in this insane household.

" Who taught you all of this? "

(Y/N) simply ducked into his room, avoiding everyone. Not tonight. Nope. Nope. Not gonna happen.

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, mentions of injury, poor writing, ooc writing,

Part 18: turning point

🔹🔹🔹

The police come to the manor the next morning to question you about the incident, one of them was in the garage looking over the car while another officer sits with you in the foyer with a notepad and pen like this was the forties, how quaint.

Thankfully for your sanity they don't seem to judge you much as you recount the incident in a clinical voice, after just a few moments Bruce joined you on the couch and throws an arm around your shoulder and silently sets his hand on your leg. you nearly rolled you eyes but bit your tongue for the time being.

sure he's no longer a stranger to you, but it pisses you off how he acts like he's concerned and supportive when there's other people around after the way things went last night. you have to wonder if it’s for your sake or his image sake.

He remained pretty much silent, only chiming in to tell the officer he can get camera footage sent to them to show when exactly you and Damian left and returned, the hand resting on your arm tightened near enough to bruise during certain parts of the questioning, his nails dug into your skin when you went into detail about the gun against your head and the threats against the boy. he only relaxed his grip on you when the topic changed to questions about whether you knew the man or not, whether you believed the attack was connected to your concussion, etc.

As soon as the officers leave so do you, you shrug off Bruce as soon as he attempts to speak to you and trot to your room. You don't care how childish it comes off as, you're still pissed and you know you’ll restart things if he pushes you right now.

You hardly speak to anyone for days after that, suddenly you're no longer to be found in the library or going on walks around the property edges, you stay in your room and push yourself to train to the point of incapability and then go down to the kitchens to feed yourself and repeat the cycle, it’s terribly unhealthy and you’re well aware of that, but you’d rather hurt your body while building yourself up into something useful rather than hurt what little rapport you have left with the waynes.

And that's just how things stay, Bruce avoids you after you shrugged him off and Alfred only makes half-hearted attempts to engage with you, finding excuses such as needing to clean your room or insisting on bringing you tea. The kids must know what's going on because they awkwardly avoid you, Duke constantly stumbles over his words when you walk by and leaves the room if you run into him in the kitchen, Cass stares at you silently from corners and nooks, never directly engaging with you. you haven't even seen Tim once in days, it's like he just up and removed himself from the home. Seems the only one not totally pissy is the youngest…

“can we talk?….” his knuckles rap in the door as he let's himself right in, clearly not caring to wait for an answer first.

You sit up from where you'd been doing pushups to frown at the kid, your shirt sticks to your skin from sweat and you're sure you look like a royal mess at the moment. “….i’m a little tired, damian.”

He rolls his eyes at you and drops down on your bed with a loud thump, mossy eyes scrutinizing your form while you cap a water bottle and chug half of it in one go.

“no you’re not, i just….wanted to talk.” his voice loses bravado part way through and he looks away while awkwardly fiddling with the bedding, picking at random strings like they're so very interesting. You sigh as you set the bottle down and wrap your arms around your knees. “….okay, what’s up kiddo.”

For a moment he's quiet, fidgeting in place as he tried to gather himself into his usual snarky form, you look around the room to avoid silently staring the kid down and make him more uncomfortable.

“i wanted to…. apologize….for what happened.” Damian looks uncharacteristically out of his element, that almost sounded painful for him to choke out judging by the wince of his lips like he sucked on a lemon.

With a sigh you roll to your feet and stretch your arms above your head, muscles aching something fierce in protest to your overdoing it. “what happened in the city isn’t your fault, you're not responsible for anyone else's wrong doings, kiddo.”

Damian just loosely crosses his arms over his chest while looking up at you, his expression hard to read. But you'd like to think you've got a decent read on the kid by now, his body language screams unhappiness.

“i forced you to go out, you and father are fighting because i disobeyed his orders.” his tone drops to something more sullen, your gut twists at the way he refers to Bruce's rules as ‘orders’, it doesn't sit right with you, too painfully familiar. Your own childhood ‘orders’ echoes through your mind and you quickly dig your nails into your palm to distract yourself, the pain is grounding, familiar like a family friend.

The mattress squeaks under your weight when you drop down beside him, your hands awkwardly clenching in your lap before you do something insanely out of character like trying to comfort the boy. hopefully he doesn't get grossed out by your sweaty form.

“look, i won’t lie to you or sugarcoat things, we shouldn’t have gone out without telling bruce or alfred, you’re smart enough to see that. but anything between me and bruce is just that, between me and him. things are….difficult right now, a disagreement was bound to happen no matter the cause.”

Your gentle voice doesn't seem to put the kid at ease, he turns towards you with a pouty scowl on his face as he practically bristles like a cat.

“that doesn’t change things, i almost got you killed again.” he gestures at your head while speaking, you're suddenly reminded of the fact that Damian was also there when the concussion happened, how many times has he watched his parent figure narrowly avoid death?

“….damian, you’re not responsible for me. in any way, shape or form. i’m an adult, you’re a child. you’re supposed to do….child things, i don’t know. The point is that anything that happens to me isn't your fault. Neither you or Bruce are my guard dogs.”

Damian swallows audibly and looks away from you, his eyes again downcast as he starts pulling on a loose thread on one of the pillow cases.

His voice is heavy when he speaks again, refusing to meet your gaze as he all but whispers. “….i wish you remembered.”

Something about that makes your intuition prickle, you don't know if it's the heaviness in his voice or the way Damian seems to suddenly look worn, more like a soldier than a child.

You don't like the way it makes your skin crawl, your chest heavy like there's cement behind your ribs. “…remember what?”

Damian looks up and opens his mouth to speak, them slowly closes it.

“….. Never mind…. You…you were really cool, how you beat that guy up….”

You know it's a deflection, and the way he's looking at you you know he knows you know. But you're not gonna push the boy. So instead you just mess up his hair in an annoying way.

“…don’t mention it…”

There's a lot of unspoken words hanging in the air, you know he's holding something back, something that's hurting him, and for a moment you think of spilling your own demons, to tell him you're not who he thinks you are, this isn't a mission after all, you don't have any goals here, you have no reason to keep pretending except your own cowardly desire to sweep your real self under the rug. Pretend you're almost something half good. yet it doesn't come out, maybe one day it'll rot you from the inside out until someone sees the real you gaping from between the cracks. Until then both of your jaws remain stubbornly clenched.

🔹🔹🔹

Nightwing squats on the ledge of the warehouse roof as he peers through the skylight, positioning himself just right so he doesn't cast a shadow into the building. watching the wannabe Mafia punks sort through various stolen goods on top of the wooden crates and old tables.

It's almost funny how clueless they are to being watched, thanks to these people batman's benched and the GCPD is scrambling for more manpower with the increasing attacks, luckily none so bad as the first night but it's clear what they're doing. Establishing presence. Nightwings gloved hands tighten around his eskrima sticks as a few of them laugh loud enough over something to be heard from his position.

“How many we looking at?” A mechanical voice hums from behind, Nightwing doesn't have to look to know red hood's stalking up to him.

“Looks like two, maybe three dozen, could be more coming with how quickly they're cracking boxes open. Like they're expecting more product to sort through.” Nightwing replies quietly, not taking his eyes off the thugs.

He feels a hand briefly land on his shoulder as red hood kneels by him, also trying to avoid casting a shadow in the minimal moonlight peering through the clouds.

“sounds like a party, already tagged the getaway cars?” Wordlessly Nightwing taps his com twice, Oracle chimes in red hoods ear to answer his question.

“tagged and plates all already ran, we'll have a full list of every registration within an hour.” Red Hood hears her loudly sipping on something in his com and snorts in amusement, focusing back on the men inside. “Penguins?”

Nightwing shakes his head, leaning closer to the glass to keep an eye on a man moving out of sight. “someone new, still trying to pin down the head.” Red Hood sharply turns his head to look at him, Nightwing can guess at his expression under the helmet.

“they're operating in penguins usual territory? This'll go to shit quickly once word gets out…” he groans quietly and rubs the back of his neck, he pulls his Glock out and starts checking and rechecking his ammo, pulling his extra mags out and checking those too.

“…so…. We gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” Nightwing murmurs without looking away from the men, though he doesn't miss how red Hood throws his head back and sighs.

“your ass, or the little spat B and operater had?” Oracle's voice crackles in both their ears, Nightwing snorts while red Hood sighs again. “Can you not talk about asses right now, I'd like to keep my appetite thanks.”

Nightwing playfully elbows him, snickering quietly at his reaction. “You're such a child, man. You'll get the talk from Bruce eventually.”

Oracle also giggles in both their ears, taking another obnoxiously loud sip of whatever it is she's drinking. “Someone's gotta break the ice around here.”

“I'm not talking about someone else's marriage issues.” Red Hood huffs, stubbornly checking his weapons one more time before watching the thugs below them again.

“Well too bad, I am. Operater looked ready to put themselves in jail and B nearly burst a blood vessel when he found out, you should see the clips I put together from the parking lot cams.”

“I don't blame them, B’s way over reacting and being a smothering jackass.” Red Hood replies tensely.

“He's not being smothering.” Nightwing rolls his eyes and corrects himself when both Oracle and Red hood scoff loudly. “Okay he's a little smothering, but it's more like….thin blanket smothering than heavy pillow smothering though. He's smothering with love and concern.”

“meat rider.” Red hood mutters under his breath, Nightwing elbows him in offense. “Shut it, how else is he supposed to respond to the near public execution?”

“you and I both know that if someone pointed a gun at the little demon B would do the same thing, it's like he forgets that people outside of costumes can do more than freak out. Plus he's so goddamn weird around them now.” Red hood scowls under his helmet, do they need to have this discussion here?

Oracle clears her throat quietly. “Well…I agree with that sentiment…but…” her voice takes on a hesitant edge, both Nightwing and red Hood glance at each other in confusion.

“…but…?” Nightwing presses on. “…but, I think we can agree that mentally torturing someone in a parking lot is just a bit extreme right?” At both their silence she continues. “you saw the clips from red Robin right? You'd think they'd just leave as soon as the threat was incapacitated, not shove a gun down their throat while literally interrogating them.”

Nightwing hesitantly speaks up, “I mean, obviously yeah. But they recently survived something traumatic, take it from the guy who's been in their shoes, it can fuck up your entire response system.”

“Night, a coma doesn't teach you how to successfully crack my programs and rip them out of hardware by the roots. A coma doesn't make you try to stab people or beat someone half to death. Whatever's going on with them isn't normal and we're trying to figure out where it's coming-” red Hood interrupts Oracle before she can continue. “Hang on, you're telling me you think they're what, a body double? An alien spy? You letting the old man's paranoia get to you now Oracle?” “…I'm just checking all our bases, B and red robins doing it too, It's precautionary.”

Nightwing grabs red hoods shoulder before he can react, putting his finger to his lips before gesturing down below them. “Don't lose focus.” His voice is nearly a hiss, squeezing his shoulder once before letting him go.

“…you're the one who's been going off about B lately, now you're spying on operater for him?” red Hood grumbles as he shifts, moving away from the glass to peer over the edge of the building when he hears the rumble of an engine in the distance.

“Unknown vehicle, quarter mile away. Traffic cam shows an old fire truck heading your way. Now don't call it spying, that makes it sound creepy.” Oracle's voice echoes slightly as they hear her shuffling through the ear pieces, probably adjusting her headset.

“I've got eyes on it, I'll call it what it is Oracle. You're butthurt about the hacking fail so you're going to extremes on them.” Red hood mumbles, ducking down as the truck slowly pulls up to the warehouse.

“As if you're not constantly butthurt about something, weren't you pissy for a week because they didn't pick your movie?”

“like they've ever favored the godfather over Lord of the rings, I know once they watch it they'll obviously see the superior choice.” red hood huffs exasperatedly, clearly still bitter.

nightwing holds a hand up, red hood shuffles back to his side to peer down at the men, he watches them all shuffle towards the entrance just as the firetruck parks in the alley beside the building. “more goons, great.” red hood sighs out sarcastically.

“another eight, looks to be armed. got the deets on the truck oracle?” nightwing hums, starting to do some light stretches as he gets ready.

“you know i’m on it….hmm, stolen from a collector last month. they’ve got somewhere they’re hiding stolen cars?” oracle replies, tapping coming through the mic as she switches between different monitors.

“….so are we gonna ignore red pouting?” nightwing says playfully, he snickers when red hood elbows him roughly and moves away from him to get into position. “shut your whore mouth, dickhead. i’m taking lead.” red hood rolls his eyes under his helmet when he hears two voices snickering at him.

nightwing holds his hands up when he gets a sharp look, trying to wipe the smirk off his face as he rolls his neck and shoulders. “alright, alright. it’s officially dropped…until this is done. take your spotlight red.”

red hood sighs exasperatedly as he stands, after a moment of silence he kicks through the glass and jumps into the building while multiple people yell in surprise.

🔹🔹🔹

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A/n: this is kinda giving filler chapter to me, sorry y'all 😔 the next one is much more interesting tho 👀👀

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet @omnivirgo @shirp-collector-of-fixations @spidermanluvr444 @br33zy-blizzardz @lunarapple @findingjaxx @4rachn3 @buckturd @tsxukikami @paastaboi @duskeras

[ikbitchssss]

I Just Want Your Heart (Daryl x Half-Walker!Reader)

Warnings/Tags: Major Character Death, Angst, Cussing, Blood, Violence, and Normal TWD stuff. If anymore, please tell me and I'll add it!

Season: In the 30 days between season 3 and 4.

Words: 3K

Plot: Daryl finds a walker, but she can talk. She’s always chewing on gum, and her body is a bit rotten. It’s like she was half dead. He goes ok to help her and take care of her, not knowing why. Until one day, he does something he might regret.

A/N: Hope y'all enjoy;3

(OG BLOG: @idkbishsss)

Daryl Dixon was a man who did not fall in love with anyone. He was a rough around the edges, redneck, quiet, distant, guy. He did not fall in love. He loved only one person, his brother. Lost together somewhere in an apocalypse world and treated him like shit most of the time sure, but he did love him. As much as he wouldn’t admit it because Merle would just scoff and roll his eyes.

Daryl Dixon was not a man of groups. He was a part of one, only because he had to. Merle said it was because they needed him, but Daryl had a feeling that it was because Merle needed them. Daryl didn’t do groups, but he understands the importance of them. As long as they left him only he was okay.

Daryl Dixon was not a family man. He never wanted a family. His only brother was now dead. He didn’t need a family. Sure, he had a small care for the kids in the group, and didn’t want them to die. He would protect them, but it wasn’t his family.

Daryl Dixon was a lair. He was a family man, these people at the prison were his family. It was his group. He lied about it himself and others about those things for sure, but he never lied about not falling in love. Sure he’d love, in like, a family way. He’d never fall in love though, he’d never allow himself to.

.

Rick had ordered Daryl to go out and get more fuel for the cars. They were low and needed more for runs. 

Daryl got in a trunk and rode up to a few big ass rich people houses he’d seen a few weeks ago. They had a lot of cars and trucks in the neighborhood, meaning a lotta fuel if no one raided it already. In fact, a few houses were having parties, so there were more than usual for bug neighborhoods.

He pulled up to the first house and went to go get the fuel out of the cars and trucks. Using the classic suck on a hose until you feel like passing out method, he got nothing. Hence the sucking too long. He decided he’d check the houses later if he had time and moved on to the next set of cars and trucks. These ones look promising, and were very promising. Fuel came pouring out like the rain, he filled two gallons worth of gas from four cars and one truck. 

He put those gallons back in the back seat, and went to the truck bed to grab more fuel cans. However, something stopped him, a loud screaming noise. He grabbed his crossbow and looked around for the source. He heard giggling and saw the house it was coming from.

He slowly approached the home with extreme caution. He turned around the halls that lead him to a bedroom. He could hear the smacking of gum coming from the room. A girl was sitting there on the bed. A girl was graying skin, dead walker eyes, and a few broken limbs. You.

You casually popped the bones back into place. You looked over to him and smiled, he drew his crossbow up and pointed it to you.

“Woah! I’m not gonna bite you, I am not like the other ones.” You made a joke out of it while putting your hands up. He was confused, what the hell is happening? Why is a Walker, a dead woman, talking? And why isn’t he shooting it’s head off?

You got up and walked over to him, still with your hands up. Your smile faded and you looked a little nervous. “Look I was freaked out and confused when I woke up and was… somewhat alive. But I don’t hurt people, and it still hurts when you hurt me… so please just let me go…” You begged for your life as if you were human. Daryl didn’t understand, you aren’t human, you barely look human. Well, you didn’t look like a walker, you still had flesh, but still, you looked dead. It freaked him out.

You knew he was freaked out, it was all over his face after you said those words. But honestly? Daryl was more than just freaked out, a small part of him was intrigued. Which wasn’t like him. He wasn’t an intrigued guy, but he wanted to know you, know what happened to you.

“Why’d ya scream?” He asked gruffly. You didn’t expect his voice to be that deep, he must smoke something. 

You wave it off and shrug. “Walker grabbed my leg, forgot they don’t bite me anymore.” He was even more intrigued by this, you were immune? Or just half turned. He knew the group would shoot you as soon as you got close because of what you looked like. He’s had personal experience in that at the fram, but he wanted to know you. 

“Look… I’ll show you the best water and food and well anything you need! In this area and neighborhood… just let me live… please.” As you begged him again he put his crossbow down. He told himself not to, to put it back up, kill you, threaten you. But he didn’t. He just nodded and let you lead the way to show him things.

.

You were a talker, and walkers didn’t even look at you when you were being so loud. Daryl found it strangely interesting. He’d never been interested in anyone really, let alone a woman. Yet, there was something about you that made him wonder and think more than he ever let himself before. 

You were showing him a map of the area and places that hadn’t been raided already. “Now there’s a horde here, but when you go just tell me about a week before and I can steer them clear from your path!”

He looked up at you, an expression on his face that could only be described as a little confused. “Now why would ya’ help us..?” He asked, quietly, you guessed he wasn’t much of a talker. 

“Meh! If we are neighbors I have to help you right?” You said it like it was obvious. Like people just help one another in these conditions. “It’s what good neighbors do!” You exclaimed, Daryl just nodded. It wasn’t the old world normal people knew any more, but you act like it. Then again, Daryl didn’t know much of normal, so who was he to judge? Besides, the help would be nice.

You altered your smile, your big grin going away into a slight smile. For a dead girl, you seemed happier than most people. Maybe that was the secret, being dead. But Daryl had people, he wasn’t going to leave them. They needed him just as much as he needed them.

After it was all said and done Daryl went back to getting fuel. You stayed around just kind of watching him. It made him nervous, and he felt a strange new feeling he hadn’t felt before. He wished he could place it, but after years of controlling his emotions, they were all over the place. He didn’t know how to pen point the feeling he felt.

After he was all done with one car, he’d move onto the next one. You’d follow him, just standing around, watching. It almost creeped him out at some points, almost. He wasn’t used to people watching him so closely. Maybe this is how people felt about him. But earlier you were so talkative, and now you just watched, quietly.

He put the last two gallons of fuel in the truck and turned around after closing the door. He jumped a little when he saw you behind him. It wasn’t noticeable to you, just him. You just smiled and put a new piece of gum in your mouth.

“I have to… leave.” He mumbled walking over to the truck door. He glanced back at you, seeing that you were no longer smiling. You stood back, looking back at your house.

“I’ll be back…” He said. He thought he was stupid for saying it, but when he looked up and saw your smile, those thoughts faded into nothing. He pulled out of there immediately, why does he feel this way? Questions plagued his mind as he drove back to the prison.

.

He pulled back into the prison and didn’t say a word to anyone, not even to Rick, who’d asked him many questions about the area. He just helped unload his truck and stayed quiet with the small nod a few times. As the sun started to go down over the hills and people started to go inside, Daryl soon followed them. He then walked back into his cell and pulled the thin sheet as a door over the opening.

Daryl put his crossbow down with his stuff. He took his shoes off and threw them next to his boots. Beth found him “nice” sneakers to wear. He only wore them because it made her happy. He took off his vets and threw it on the top bunk

He laid down on the bottom bunk. He was on his back trying to sleep, but he just kept thinking about you. He knew it was a bad idea to think about you this much, but he couldn’t control himself anymore like he used to. You were talkative and almost happy, even though you were dead. 

He has so many questions. Why’d you look freshly dead? Why’d you chew gum? If you bite him, will he turn? Can he even get these answered? Probably not, he’d probably not even go back. A broken promise he gave you based on impulse.

He wasn’t like this. He didn’t let himself be like this, he wasn’t weak. Yet, he was thinking about you. He just wanted to see you, but he won’t let himself. He’s not going to let himself. But then again, what if you didn’t like him?

He switched onto his side and buried the side of his head into his pillow. He groaned, he wasn’t going to sleep with his thoughts racing like this. Why was he so obsessed with you? You weren’t anything other than another traveler he met, a very interesting undead traveler he met. He needed to let it go. 

If he just doesn’t go near the houses, he’d be fine!

.

Unfortunately, Rick wanted to go to the houses to raid them. They needed more food and supplies. He was planning everything out for a few days. He told Daryl to lead the car and truck on his motorcycle. 

He led them there but was far ahead. You were out killing walkers and humming. You turned and saw Daryl, you dropped your knife and ran up to his bike. “Hey! You’re back!” You said joyfully. Daryl looked worried.

“My group, they’re gonna be here soon. Ya gotta hide…” he said. You looked confused, as if you didn’t understand that his group could hurt you. He turned over to the car and truck coming in and shoved you in the pile. He killed a walker and put it on top of you. 

You started to breathe heavily. You started to get scared. It reminded you of your death, but Daryl put you here. And you trusted him. He’s the only thing or person that hasn’t tried to kill you.

Daryl said he’d raid your home, as he did half of it already. The rest of the group went into other houses. He waited till they were out of sight and he picked you up from the ground and walked into the house.

“I said hide, girl.” He shoved you on the couch. And sighed. He picked up a few things and shoved them into his bag. One of two lighters, a water bottle, a few canned foods, and a knife. He then sat down next to you. “Won’t take it all from here...” he mumbles looking anywhere but at you.

You just grabbed some gum and chewed on it. Not paying much mind to him. 

“So. Your group. How come I can’t meet them?” You asked like it was urgent, like somehow you needed to meet them right now. 

He mumbled a little to himself before answering, “I don’t know how they’ll react to ya,” he paused and looked at your eyes, yellow and bloodshot, “hell I still don’t really know what to think…” He said with a grunt. You giggled, giggled at him.

He looked confused by it. “I’m a walker, who would know what to think?” You explained. He smiled a little and nodded his head. He guessed he understood that, who would react well? 

You got up and walked up stairs, you came back down with a bag. “Here. My old bag of supplies before I turned, enjoy your raid of my neighborhood stranger.” She smiled and he noticed that you weren’t chewing gum anymore, why?

He looked down and opened the bag, it was full of food and maps. It had a few knives too. He looked up thank you but you were gone, just like that. He missed his chance to talk to you. He just sat there, what was he meant to do? Go look for you? He had a job, raid this place.

He got up and looked through the house a little more, he found some things others could use. He guessed you didn’t use soap or cleaning things, you were dead. He had your bag and another full one of needs and others of wants. Beth and Carl requested things since they are still too young for runs.

He walked back outside and put the stuff in the truck. Rick and Michonne got done with theirs and walked over, same with Maggie and Glenn. A few new guys as well, but Daryl didn’t care to know their names. He should really learn your name.

Also, you weren’t as talkative as last time… why?

.

The next time Daryl went on a hunt he stopped by that neighborhood, you were nowhere to be found. You just disappeared into thin air. At a blink of an eye you were gone when he saw you last and you never showed up again. What happened? Did you not like him? Lots of why’s with you.

He looked up and down the neighborhood, but it was no use. He didn’t want to give up. You were so; no. He needed to stop, he couldn’t let himself get this close to you. It almost felt like… love.

What if you were dead? 

That thought hit him when he sat on his bike. Dead. No? You? But it was completely reasonable. You were half walker, you almost blended right in. You could’ve easily been killed by someone. What if it was someone in his group? What if his family killed you? 

No. They aren’t his family and you are nothing to him. You talk together only a few times, yet it felt like he knew you longer. 

He got on his bike and headed back on the open road. He was going to the prison again, he got a few rabbits that would be fine for now. 

The breeze was cold, a nice contrast to the hot sun that beat his pale skin to a tan. He always loved taking these bike rides. They were peaceful, especially when he was stressing about stupid things. No more of that, but there was something he the road

He pressed the brakes, hard. You stood in the middle of the road, scared. He got off his bike and ran to you. The whole, not stressing about things always lasts him two seconds.!“Are you okay?” He said, you hugged him.

“Hey stranger..” You just sobbed into his neck. His beautiful, fleshy, biteable neck. You pushed him away. He was confused, why? Did you really not like him? Is what he feared right?

“I’m going to bite you… I want to bite you… I keep wanting to bite people… I’m freaking out! Gum doesn’t help anymore!”

Daryl grabbed your hand. “Then let’s find some asshole to cure that hunger.” You looked at him like he was crazy. Hell, he knew the plan was crazy, but losing you was crazier. He couldn’t lose you, he loved you. Goddamn it, he fell fast and hard, but he loved you. He really did.

You pulled your hand away from his. He wanted to run and hug you, make you stop running from this, he can handle a bite. “It doesn't work like that! I just got hungrier..” You mumble, you tried it already. It didn’t work. He grabbed your hand.

“I’ll find a way. I need you…” he mumbled that last part but it made your heart break. It happened in three swift moves. He kissed you, you bite his lip, you pull back. It was all so fast that you nor Daryl had time to realize what happened. What you both did. A kiss and a bite.

“Stranger-“ 

“Daryl.”

“Daryl… I, you’ll turn…” You mumble, you’d be crying if your tear ducts worked. Goddamn it, he had a family, you were going to kill him. He nodded and laid his head on yours. “And I’ll be yours…” he mumbles. He knows he’ll miss his family, it’s why he sheds a tear, but he wants to be with you. Maybe you’ll both be half dead. Maybe you’ll find a way to live. Maybe his family will accept you guys.

Daryl Dixon was a man of love. Fast, messy, sweet, heartbreaking love. He’d give the world, he’d give himself, for the one he loved. Over and over and over again. He was a lover, because he allowed himself to fall in love. He was all the things he thought he wasn’t, because he was a liar. But he would no longer be a liar, because he knew he was these things. He was just Daryl Dixon. A very half-dead and in love Daryl Dixon.

[sevsgiirl]

— show her what you’re all about.

sevika x jealous!reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: sevika didn’t think bringing you to one of her meetings with the chembarons would go south. then again, she probably should’ve mentioned that one of them happens to be her ex. something you didn’t take lightly when you found out.

word count: 4k words.

tags: jealousy, established relationship, margot is sevika’s ex, overstimulation, sub!sevika, top!reader, strap-ons, explicit sexual content.

note: this was inspired by lana del rey’s jealous girl hence the title reference, and also because I got a req from a reader requesting jealous sevika and although I’ll be coming back to that I wanted to do jealous reader first because I’m insane <3

it took a while for you to convince her to have you tag along at work.

it’s not that sevika was against it. if she could have an excuse to bring you with her wherever she went - whether it was to run one of silco’s collections or to ensure that some of his shipment got transferred smoothly - just as long as you’d be safe no matter what, why not?

but considering her job isn’t the safest, she’s had her doubts about letting the people in that part of her life know about her relationship at the risk of endangering you, and she’d rather be the one who gets harmed before anyone even touched a single hair on your head.

nevertheless, you persisted. telling her that people at the last drop were likely aware that she wasn’t single anymore. with her nights of gambling, drinking, and visiting the gardens becoming less frequent, they’ve probably begun to speculate that something, or rather someone, had snatched her away from her usual proclivities.

plus it’s not like you two have been discreet. on nights when sevika stayed out too late, stressed from the missions silco assigned her and where she felt the need to drink her problems away until it was well past midnight - you’d always be the one to go and fetch her from the bar.

even if you tried to convince yourself that no one had seen the two of you stumble out of the last drop together, chances were a wandering eye lurking in the shadows still managed to catch a glimpse or two.

fast forward to earlier this morning, sevika tells you that she’ll be the one taking over the assembly with the chembarons as silco had other matters to attend to.

knowing him, she already knew he was either off to make sure the enforcer who kept an eye on jinx’s sister was doing his job right, or to deal with jinx himself. as the girl couldn’t be left alone for more than five minutes without causing trouble.

and he would’ve brought sevika along hadn’t the chembarons insisted on doing a meet-up to discuss trade, shipment or stocks. which honestly, was something you didn’t bother knowing too much about.

it was common knowledge between you two that sevika’s way of living isn’t something that you agree with. it was a cesspool of violence but she’s disputed many times that the ends justify the means. that what she does for silco only works to propel zaun’s liberation and at that point, you could only keep your mouth shut because if there was one thing both of you could agree on is that the city deserved better.

for sevika, if that meant working under silco, no matter how questionable his strategies were, then sure. but it’s not like it was easy for you to let go of your lover every single day, dreading whether or not she’d come back home from work or not at all. that’s why you insisted on tagging along.

ever since the two of you met, sevika’s been the one to provide for you and that’s given you the luxury to stay at home. she’s given you the freedom to do whatever it is you want to do with your time while she’s gone, just as long as you don’t stray further away from home. but you’d be lying if you said that after a while, just being by yourself worrying if she’s okay while at work hadn't become isolating.

so you’ve been asking her for a while if you could come just to keep a watchful eye, which she turned down. even going as far as to laugh at the suggestion.

“baby,” she cooed “I don’t need you to keep an eye on me. I’m capable of looking after myself.”

you huffed “I know you can. it’s just that… it gets lonely sometimes, okay? and when it does I can’t stop myself from thinking about what weird crap silco’s put you through and if you’d be able to come out of it unharmed.” you explained “it doesn’t help that you come back some days so beaten up.“

“we’ll, you should’ve seen-“

“-the other guy. I know.” you sighed, cupping her cheek “I just get worried, vika.”

sevika couldn’t deny her heart squeezed at your words. no one’s expressed that much concern over her. she’s always been expected to bite the bullet in almost all situations - her left arm, or rather the lack thereof, being a prime example of that.

no one’s felt the need to offer anything beyond the usual ‘are you good?’ whenever she got herself into a dilemma, so to say it was hard to accept that your constant fussing stemmed from a place of genuine love and worry, would be an understatement. it felt disorienting. she wasn’t used to it.

but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel flattered. so after a while, she had finally caved in and brought you with her to the assembly. walking alongside her hand in hand as you strode through the eerie corridors of the last drop’s headquarters, walking into the elevator as sevika opened the heavy metal doors for you to step through.

she gripped your hand tightly on the journey up to the assembly room “if it gets overwhelming or uncomfortable, you tell me, okay?” she said in a soft but commanding voice.

you nuzzled closer to her and kissed the underside of her jaw “yes, boss.” you replied playfully.

she scoffed and rolled her eyes, but when you looked, the slight curve of a smile teased at the corners of her mouth.

you were glad that she brought you on this specific day where silco was absent because although you’d never admit it, that man scared the living daylights out of you. you’ve had your fair share of interactions and as far as you know, he was the only one out of the people sevika worked with who’s always known about your relationship, he just never commented on it.

he’d briefly acknowledge you whenever he’d see you at the last drop but that was about it. aside from that, you had no intention of knowing more about the notorious drug lord and even though sevika told you he’s the last person you should be afraid of, you found it hard to believe.

but as you arrived at the top and walked into the assembly room where the chembarons were all gathered, perhaps sevika was right when she said silco wasn’t even the worst one out of all of them. when your eyes scanned the room, you could only squirm from where you stood as the scrutinizing gazes of the chembarons shifted between your partner and you.

one of them a grotesque, wrinkly rodent with a ridiculous top hat and sharp claws eyed you and chortled “who’s this, magpie? your new arm candy or something?” he gestured to you, his words degrading “where���d you find her? at the gardens? you can only get a pretty little thing like that from down there.”

you scowled at the implication and before you could give him a piece of your mind, sevika beat you to it “fuck off, smeech. we’re here to discuss business. not so you could run that mouth of yours talking shit you don’t know about.”

you felt her flesh hand squeeze your waist and you quickly relaxed, her protectiveness never failing to soothe you.

she turned to look at you and cocked her at the corner “you can sit there for me, baby. this won’t take long.” she muttered and you nodded. your hand stroking her forearm one last time before you let her go and made your way to the side of the room where a dusty velvet couch was situated.

you sat silently as you watched sevika start the meeting. all the while, you felt a hot, piercing gaze drill holes into the side of your head and when you looked up, you caught one of the chembarons watching you. her elbow on the table and her chin prompted on her knuckles, she stared at you with a heated glare that made your skin prickle because really, what the fuck was she looking at you for?

she was a petite, pale-skinned woman with blonde hair that had green dye at the tips. four metal piercings could be seen on her forehead along with a clasp around her nose and two more piercings below her lips. her outfit was revealing, a black sleeveless top that showed off the deep plunges of her neckline that was only accentuated by the choker around her neck.

she wore black eye shadow and you couldn’t deny that the baroness exuded a seductive aura, her thin lips forming into a mocking grin when she noticed the way you ogled at her appearance.

you quickly turned away, uncomfortable by the unwanted attention and no wonder sevika didn’t want to bring you along to these things. the atmosphere was too unsettling and you couldn’t help but fidget from where you sat, wanting the hours to pass by already and it seemed as though sevika felt the same.

with an exasperated look on her face, the chembarons kept probing her about silco’s absence, specifically the hideous rodent from earlier “how are we even supposed to take this shit show seriously when he let one of his goons do his dirty work for him?” he said, his tone condescending.

sevika’s jaw clenched “I could care less if you want to listen to me or not, smeech. silco’s already made it clear that the lost inventory is going to be replaced and that you’ll get your money back. for now, we’ll just sign over an agreement with a deadline ensuring we’ll get the stolen cargo back.”

smeech took a hit from his cigar, the purple smoke billowing through the room and you couldn’t help but scrunch your nose at him “you better make sure, hot shot. silco’s been slipping lately and we all know it’s because of baby blue. who was the reason the firelights even got hold of the previous cargo that was misplaced, by the way.”

you remembered that incident, sevika came home that day the angriest you’ve seen her, your thighs involuntarily clenching at the memory of the rough sex that ensued when you offered to take her mind off it.

sevika grunted at the reminder “we told you that was the first and last time. jinx lost her shit. end of story.”

“oh come on, smeech.” the blonde baroness chimed in “you could tell darling sevika here is doing her best. so lay off her, will you? she’s more than just silco’s number two. plus she knows better than to be just some lost, kicked puppy who follows the big man around. not knowing how to be her own person.” her eyes were on you as she said the closing statement, and your eyebrows furrowed. excuse me?

however, sevika was oblivious to the subtle jab thrown at you. muttering to the baroness that sat near her “thanks, margot.” so that was her name.

you couldn’t help the ugly, prickly sensation that clogged your insides at the sight of them being friendly with each other. too friendly to be exact, given how sevika seemed to be fed up with the other chembarons.

meanwhile, her attitude towards margot held a stark difference that you just couldn’t ignore. it made you dig your nails on the sides of the couch, wanting to swallow back down the acid that suddenly churned in your throat. no, perhaps you were overreacting.

the assembly lasted for a couple more minutes until finally, sevika called it off. saying silco would be present in the next one and while the other chembarons got up to leave, margot lingered in her seat as sevika gathered the paperwork on the table.

standing up with a slight sway of her hips, your stomach twisted as you observed how she walked up to sevika and placed a tentative hand on her bicep. making your partner raise an eyebrow but making no move to shrug her off.

sevika wasn’t the type to make you jealous. she didn’t find any enjoyment in eliciting a reaction out of you by entertaining other people and you thanked her for that because although you’d never admit it, you were extremely prone to jealousy. so much so that the feeling swallows you whole and practically burns you alive. you hated the feeling more than anything.

which probably didn’t help that margot was relishing in bringing the green-eyed monster out of you. you stood up with your fists balled before you unclenched one of them to reach for the switchblade that was strapped to the holster just above your thigh.

it was something sevika gifted you on your birthday, a weapon to protect yourself with and although this wasn’t a situation you’d ever imagine you’d be using it, you couldn’t stop yourself. especially when margot dared to caress a finger over sevika’s arm, her intentions clear as day.

“how you’ve been sevika, my love? it’s been a while, no? I’ve missed you.” margot purred, grasping sevika’s bicep “I didn’t think you’d already moved on so quickly. especially since it wasn’t long since we, you know…”

your heart pummeled to the pits of your stomach. margot is her ex?

why the fuck didn’t she mention that to you? and it seems as though it wasn’t a big deal to sevika given how she only let out a tired breath at the baroness’s words “it was never serious, margot. I don’t know why-“

you didn’t even let sevika finish before your hand curled at the handles of your switchblade, your temper rising when margot didn’t cease with her invasion of sevika’s personal space and how sevika just didn’t make a move to fucking stop it.

without thinking, you grabbed the dagger in your hand and swung it across the room. the blade aiming directly between the small gap that separated the two as they jumped at the sharp object that suddenly flew past them and onto the wall, creating a noticeable dent.

your nostrils flared as sevika turned to you, her eyes wide but you dismissed her. you made your way towards them and glared menacingly at margot, but she seemed undeterred.

“I think the meeting’s already extended for far too long, don’t you think?” there was a bite to your tone that made her smirk.

margot’s gaze shifted between you and sevika before she let out a hum “hm, no wonder you chose this one.” she said before turning on her heel and walking out of the room.

your heartbeat was still pounding violently against your chest even when she left the room, the air thick with tension as you turned to sevika and she couldn’t mask her shock at the fiery look in your eyes. you look like you wanted to eat her alive and then spew her out.

“we’re talking about this when we get back home,” you said and sevika could only stay silent at the warning.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

the apartment had never been more silent.

you trudged your way inside with sevika following close behind, tossing the keys onto a nearby table while the sounds of your footsteps echoed in the small space.

once the door closed and was clicked shut, you let out a stuttering breath when you finally turned to look at your perplexed partner.

she only stared back at you “can you tell me what the fuck happened earlier?” she asked and you could only laugh at how painstakingly oblivious she was. but at the same time, it agitated you because really?

“it’s one thing not to tell me that one of the chembarons you regularly meet up with happens to be your ex,” you began and the light bulbs inside sevika’s head finally lit up “but for you to allow her to get that chummy with you is another.”

she cringed at the slight edge of your tone. she’s never seen you this pissed off before.

“baby, it’s not-“

“not what? that important? or is it because I’m just not that important to you?” you hissed and she took a step back at your words because really, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

margot didn’t mean jackshit to her. they had sex on a few occasions and even tried the whole relationship thing until sevika realized they just weren’t compatible. it lasted about a month until they decided to call it quits. sure, they’d still hook up every once in a while back then but it immediately stopped as soon as you came into the picture.

but of course that wasn’t enough for you.

“you know she doesn’t mean anything. if she meant that much to me I would’ve told you and hell, I wouldn’t even acknowledge her. and even if she did mean something to me it’s not like I would’ve tried anything with her. what do you take me for?” she was genuinely shocked you’d even feel mildly threatened at the idea of margot stealing her away because that was about as plausible as her growing her arm back.

nevertheless, you weren’t pleased by her explanation “do you know how much it pissed me the hell off seeing that wench cozy herself up to you as if you two were still a thing?” you scoffed “she’s lucky that blade didn’t cut through her fucking skull.“

she’d never seen you act this way before, what’s more surprising is not that it was out of character, but that the sudden switch in your attitude turned her on.

she’s always perceived you as someone gentle and nurturing, the complete opposite of her who oftentimes lets her anger the best of her. you were never like that. you always made a point to approach things cordially. never violent. so to see the way that you’re acting now, almost leveling with her hostility made her core clench.

an undeniable heat pooled at her insides at the way you were looking at her as if you were ready to maul her.

“baby…” she took a step towards you, and you didn’t miss the shift in her tone “come on, look at me. she doesn’t mean anything. you’re the only girl for me. you know that.”

you didn’t budge even when she started pressing kisses down your throat, palms grabbing the meat of your hips as her tongue darted to lick your neck.

“hm… fuck. I never thought you’d be the type to get so jealous.” she muttered.

you scoffed “I’m not jealous.” you pushed at her chest, creating some distance between you two “why would I be jealous of someone I know could never compare to me?”

sevika hummed at that, grinning “then why are you so angry?”

your eyes squinted as you pulled her by the collar of her shirt and tugged her closer “because it seems like you forget sometimes.”

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

sevika grunted, squeezing your sides so tightly you were sure she’d be leaving bruises on your thighs, but despite that you didn’t falter with the frantic bouncing on her strap.

the bed creaked in a violent back and forth as you threw your head back and moaned, placing your hands on sevika’s shoulders while you continued to grind against her. the ridges of her cock sliding deliciously against your tight walls “t-that’s it, baby…” she rasped, her pupils blown wide at the sight of you using her to get off “god, your pussy’s taking me so fucking well.”

you let out a chuckle, your breathing labored “no one’s gonna be able to fuck you as good as I can, vika. I hope you know that.”

she nodded, hypnotized by the way your tits bounced in front of her face while the wet squelching of your folds filled the room.

the back of the strap continuously hitting her clit and she couldn’t suppress the groans that slipped past her lips when you showed no signs of slowing down “b-baby, I’m gonna cum, holy f-fuck.”

with that, you slid off her, not being able to contain the grin on your face at the way her eyes popped open when she realized you had suddenly stopped.

“w-what are you-“

“I don’t think you deserve to cum, actually,” you said as you glowered at her, fingers reaching down to play with your clit and sevika was about as close to losing her shit when you decided to play with yourself instead.

thumbing the hood of your clit before you slipped one to two fingers in, grinding against them while sevika desperately tried to pull you back down.

you jerked yourself away from her prying hands, shaking your head at her attempts to get you to ride her again “after the stunt you pulled today, not telling me about margot-“

“she doesn’t fucking mean anything!-“

“-and not stopping her when she flirted with you in front of me?” your tone was patronizing as you observed her panicked stricken face “what makes you think you deserve to cum?”

sevika didn’t know whether to lash out or cry at this point, but knowing you, you wouldn’t succumb to her pleas unless she gave you what you wanted.

“baby, p-please. I’ll never do it again. fuck every other girl who isn’t you, okay? I only want you. you and your tight fucking pussy. I don’t want anyone else. shit. the way you squeeze around me and the way you bounce on my cock, I’d rather fucking die than lose that.” she babbled and you bit your lip at how nonsensical she sounded.

you leaned down and slipped your tongue inside hers. humming as you kissed her slowly and her eyes fluttered shut at the taste of you while you drank her moans in.

without warning, you sank down on her once more and she immediately detached her mouth from yours to let out an obscene moan when you resumed riding her.

your pace frenzied and you stared at the way her heavy breasts moved with the speed of which you rode her. her fingers clawing at your hips as she aided you with your bounces.

“you feel so good f-fucking, vika. cock so big.” your eyes rolled at the back of your head, the build-up of your orgasm approaching meanwhile sevika took in the view of your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

she then started frantically bouncing you on her strap, making you scream while your juices dripped down from your thighs.

“v-vika, I’m gonna cum!-“

“that’s it, baby. cum for me. cream all over my cock.” she groaned as your body started trembling in her hold.

your orgasm hitting you like a punch in the gut and you couldn’t stop the cries that spilled out of you when sevika didn’t stop with her relentless thrusts.

practically using you as a fleshlight and your nails dug into her forearms when you started to feel overstimulated “v-vika, please, oh my god. b-baby stop, I c-can’t…”

“a bit more…” she stuttered, her pace never faltering “I’m so sorry, b-baby. you just feel s-so fucking good.”

after a few more minutes she joined you as she came, body shaking. you fell in her arms and hugged her loosely, her cunt gushing behind the harness around her hips, humming when you started leaving little bite marks around her jaw.

you two stayed like that for a while, just relishing in each other’s presence.

“I know I said I wouldn’t pull the same shit I did with margot earlier…” she mumbled in the crook of your neck “but I’d be lying if I said seeing you jealous didn’t turn me the fuck on. not to mention the sex. jesus.”

you could only let out a snort at her fucked out state “don’t push it. next time I might actually not let you come.”

“take back what I said then,” she said quickly, making you laugh as you held her close.

[writeriguess]

Oh goodness can I rq Joel Miller (tlou) x afab!reader smut?

Shelter in the Storm

The safehouse isn’t much—four walls, a rickety door, and a mattress in the corner that smells of dust and time. But it’s shelter. It’s safe, at least for now. And after days of running, of fighting to survive, you’ll take whatever you can get.

The air inside is thick with the scent of sweat, gunpowder, and something deeper—something unspoken that’s been simmering between you and Joel since the moment you met.

He’s sitting on an overturned crate, legs spread, elbows on his knees, running a hand over his face. The tension rolls off him in waves, coiled tight in his shoulders, in the firm set of his jaw. You can see it in the way he grips his thigh, in the way his fingers flex like he needs something to hold onto.

Or someone.

You should look away. Should say goodnight, should roll onto the mattress and will yourself into restless sleep. But you don’t. Instead, you step closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

His eyes flick up to meet yours. Dark, searching.

"You okay?" His voice is low, rough.

"Yeah," you murmur. But your body tells a different story.

You don’t know what possesses you to reach out, but you do. Your fingers graze his shoulder, a fleeting touch. Testing.

Joel doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just watches you, his eyes dropping to your lips, to the rise and fall of your chest, to the way your fingers linger against him. And then—so suddenly it steals your breath—he’s up. Towering over you, crowding into your space, the heat of him radiating against your skin.

"You sure?" he asks, voice gravelly, like he’s holding back.

"Yes," you breathe.

And then his mouth crashes against yours.

It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s hunger and desperation, his hands framing your face, his beard scraping against your skin as he kisses you deep, his tongue sweeping against yours. He tastes like sweat, whiskey, and something raw, something entirely Joel.

You whimper into his mouth, clutching at his jacket, and he groans, pressing you back against the wall. His hands roam, rough palms dragging over your sides, your hips, gripping you tight.

"You have no fuckin’ idea," he mutters against your lips. "No idea how long I’ve wanted this."

"Then take it," you whisper.

A growl rumbles low in his throat, and then he’s stripping you. Your jacket hits the floor. Your shirt follows. His hands are on your bare skin, roaming, exploring, squeezing your breasts before rolling your nipples between his fingers. A sharp gasp leaves you, back arching into his touch.

"Yeah," he breathes, watching you, pupils blown wide. "Like that, don’t you?"

You nod, unable to form words, and then his mouth is on you. Lips wrapping around a nipple, sucking, biting just enough to make you cry out. His free hand slides down, fingers working at your pants, shoving them past your hips.

"Fuck," he mutters when he cups you, feeling how soaked you are. "Already so wet for me."

"Joel—"

He drags a finger through your slick folds, teasing, parting you before circling your clit with slow, torturous precision. You keen into his touch, gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his jacket.

"That’s it, baby," he murmurs, pressing a thick finger inside you.

A moan tumbles from your lips. He curls his finger just right, dragging against that sweet spot inside you before adding another. The stretch is perfect, the slick sound of him working you open echoing in the quiet room.

"Look at you," he groans, watching the way you clench around his fingers. "Takin’ me so fuckin’ well."

He pumps them deep, thumb circling your clit in slow, firm strokes, and the coil in your stomach tightens fast.

"Joel—I’m gonna—"

"Come for me," he growls. "Come on my fingers, sweetheart."

The command sends you over the edge. Your body shudders, walls pulsing around his fingers as pleasure crashes through you. You cry out his name, and he groans, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, murmuring curses as he feels you fall apart in his hands.

But he’s not done.

Joel pulls his fingers from you, and before you can catch your breath, he’s lifting you, carrying you to the mattress. He lays you down, his broad body settling between your thighs, and then you hear the sharp clink of his belt, the rustle of fabric as he shoves his jeans down.

And then he’s there.

Thick, heavy, the flushed tip dragging through your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

"You still sure?" he asks, voice wrecked.

"Yes," you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please."

He presses in, slow at first, letting you feel every inch of him as he stretches you open. The burn is delicious, the pressure overwhelming.

"Fuck," he groans. "So tight, baby."

You gasp as he sinks deeper, bottoming out with a shuddering breath. The stretch is intense, almost too much, but the way he fills you, the way his cock throbs inside you, it’s everything.

"Jesus," he mutters. "You’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight."

He pulls back, just enough to thrust in again, slow at first, then faster, harder, every deep stroke hitting something devastating inside you.

"Joel—oh god—"

"That’s it," he grits out, hands gripping your hips, holding you still as he fucks into you.

Each thrust drags against your walls, rubbing you raw, sending sparks of pleasure racing through you. The sound of skin against skin, the wet, filthy noises of him pounding into you, fills the room.

"You like that?" he pants, thrusting deeper.

"Yes—fuck—"

"You gonna come for me again?" His thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast, ruthless, pushing you closer.

"Joel—I’m—"

"Come," he growls. "Come all over my cock."

The orgasm crashes over you, ripping through your body. You convulse beneath him, walls clamping down hard, milking his cock as you scream his name.

"Shit," Joel groans, hips stuttering. "Fuck—gonna—"

His rhythm falters, grip tightening on your waist as he thrusts deep one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you. He groans, low and wrecked, his body shaking as he pumps you full of his cum, warmth flooding your core.

For a long moment, all you hear is heavy breathing, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

Joel collapses onto his forearms, pressing a kiss to your temple, still buried deep inside you.

"Jesus," he mutters against your skin.

You hum, completely spent, legs still locked around his waist.

He pulls back slightly, gaze roaming over you. "You okay?"

You nod, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. "More than okay."

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. "Yeah. Me too."

You stay like that, tangled together in the dim light, the world outside forgotten. For now, there is only this. Only warmth. Only Joel.

[supernotnatural2005]

The Arrangement - Chapter Four

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Things are growing tense between the you and Dean, buried feelings seemed to be bursting at the seems. How long until they finally burst? Is the real question.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Tags: Angst, the usual pinning idiots, fluff.

AN: Okay this chapter became way too long so I had to split it 😅 call it the first half to chapter 5, where we will continue on. As always I hope you enjoy! ☺️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist < Catch up here

After your steamy shower escapades, you’d both decided to part ways for the night. As much as you wanted to bask in the aftermath, sleeping together—actually sleeping—felt like crossing an invisible line you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

Luckily, you had an easy excuse. You had work in the morning, and Dean had an even earlier start for his long drive out to Stanford. And after a day filled with very thorough extracurricular activities, the moment your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.

By the time you woke up, Dean was already gone. A small part of you felt miffed that you hadn’t gotten to see him off—not just because of whatever this thing was between you, but because, at the end of the day, he was still your best friend. And you missed him when he wasn’t around.

That little pang of disappointment eased when you spotted the note on the coffee machine, still warm from where he must have made a fresh pot before leaving.

You weren’t prepared for the wave of emotions that crashed into you at the sight of his familiar scrawl. Why did he have to be so…Dean?

Letting out a long sigh, you lightly slapped your own cheek. Snap out of it. It’s nothing new.

Dean had always been like this. A natural caretaker. Your friend. That was all.

You shoved those unwelcome feelings down, drowning them in bites of warm, buttery pancakes and strong coffee. The food did wonders for distracting your heart.

By noon, you were about ready to throw in the towel. Your caseload was piling higher by the minute, the endless spreadsheets and budget reports turning into a blur of numbers. 

As the company’s-chartered accountant, you were used to the pressure—but Roman’s impulsive decision to buy into the Biggerson’s fast food chain had sent your workload into overdrive. You were now up to your eyeballs in audits and projections, making sure the company wasn’t about to haemorrhage money on a half-baked business venture.

A familiar teasing voice broke through your frazzled thoughts.

“Damn, I don’t know whether you need a drink or a cigarette.”

Spinning your chair around, you found yourself face-to-face with your favourite redhead, her signature smirk firmly in place.

“Can I have both?” you deadpanned, rubbing a hand over your already mussed-up hair. “Seriously, why couldn’t he wait until after the holidays for this manic decision? And why the hell Biggerson’s?”

Charlie plopped down onto your desk, crossing her legs as she shrugged. “Yeah, no clue. Although… Frank—”

You arched a brow. “Conspiracy-theory Frank?”

“The very one.”

Of course.

Charlie leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s convinced the company heads are actually cannibals, and this whole buyout is part of some elaborate scheme to fatten up Americans before they, and I quote, ‘chow down.’”

You burst out laughing, the stress momentarily melting away. “Wow. That’s a new one.”

“Right?” Charlie grinned before giving your arm a pat. “C’mon, let’s get some lunch. And then you can tell me why Gary looks like he’s been sucking on a lemon all morning.”

A few blocks away, you and Charlie found yourselves at Rufus’ Deli, home to some of Kansas’ finest sandwiches. Rufus himself was a legend—gruff, no-nonsense, and about as approachable as a guard dog, but no one could deny the man’s skills. His sandwiches were that good, drawing lines down the block every day.

Luckily, you and Charlie had managed to worm your way into his good graces over time. Whether it was your shared appreciation for his craftsmanship or the fact that you never tried to chat his ear off like other customers, he had developed a soft spot for you both. And that meant one very important perk—you got to skip the line.

So, when the lunch rush was in full swing and Rufus spotted you, a warm smile replacing his usual gruffness, jerking his head toward the counter. “What’ll it be today, ladies?”

You gave him your order with a grateful smile, and within minutes, you and Charlie were seated at your usual spot, tearing into your sandwiches.

“So,” Charlie mumbled around a bite of her chicken club, “wanna fill me in on the Gary sitch?”

You sighed, setting your sandwich down and swallowing before launching into the whole story. You kept the details light—omitting the drinking with Jo and the deeper parts of your frustration—but you didn’t hold back on the bare minimum effort Gary had put into your so-called relationship.

Charlie listened intently, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to full-on irritation. When you finished, she scoffed. “Damn. What a prick.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms before her lips curled into a mischievous smirk. “You know… you just gave me the incentive I needed to fill that douchebag’s computer with enough viruses to make it cry.”

You nearly choked on your drink, barely managing to cover your mouth as you laughed.

Charlie worked in the tech department and she was the company’s most valuable asset. The only one who came close to her level of expertise was Frank, and even he admitted she was the best. You’d met her in your second month on the job when she’d swooped in to fix a software issue you’d been struggling with. Not only had she solved it in minutes, but she’d also taken the time to teach you a few tricks that you still used to this day.

The two of you had hit it off immediately. She was a giant nerd at heart—quirky, sarcastic, and fiercely loyal. You’d bonded over your shared love of Harry Potter, both agreeing that Hermione was the real reason Harry even survived half his adventures.

“You know…” you smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “I wouldn’t hate to see that.”

Charlie grinned, wiggling her fingers as if casting a spell. “Then consider it done.”

The two of you burst into laughter, the weight of your morning stress lifting—at least for now.

After lunch, you and Charlie made your way back to the office, the brisk winter air nipping at your cheeks and turning the tip of your nose red. The cold was sharp, but in a way, it was refreshing—like it was clearing out the mental fog that had settled in after your morning of spreadsheets and stress.

As you neared the building, Charlie shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “You coming to the company Christmas party tomorrow night?”

You blinked, nearly having forgotten about the annual bash Roman Enterprises threw right before everyone was released for their so-called ‘Christmas break.’

“Shit, I completely forgot about that,” you admitted, your breath visible in the air. Your mind had been preoccupied with... well, other things.

“Well, I’m only going if you are. I can only tolerate these people when I’m getting paid for it.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head. “I mean, I guess it’d be the decent thing to show our faces, right?” You shrugged, considering it. “And I do have to admit—Dick throws a damn good party.”

“Right? And there’s always a chocolate fountain,” Charlie said, eyes lighting up.

You hummed in agreement. “Fuck it. Let’s go. I can grab a new dress on my way home later.”

Charlie grinned, clearly pleased. “Oh! You should invite Dean. It’s been a while since I saw that knucklehead.”

That made you hesitate.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to invite Dean, but an office Christmas party wasn’t exactly a casual setting. And inviting him made it feel a little too much like... a date.

But then again, Charlie would be there. It wasn’t like it would just be the two of you. Three friends hanging out. Totally normal.

“Sure,” you said after a beat, forcing nonchalance into your voice. “I’ll ask him. Though he’s not a suit-and-tie kinda guy.” You chuckled, already picturing his disgruntled expression. Getting Dean to wear anything remotely formal had always been a battle.

Charlie smirked. “Tell him there’s an open bar. I’m sure he’ll be persuaded.”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head as you pulled open the office door. “Yeah... you might be onto something there.”

By the time you left the office, the sky had deepened into rich blues and purples, the last traces of daylight fading behind the city skyline. You made your way down to 9th Street, stopping in a few stores to find something to wear for the company Christmas party. Dick Roman always hosted black-tie events, and currently, your wardrobe leaned more toward casual attire, jeans, hoodies, sweatpants—not exactly gala material.

Luckily, it didn’t take long to find the dress. A deep red gown with delicate lace accents, an open back that dipped daringly low, and just enough side-boob to make going braless the only option. It was definitely more revealing than what you’d normally go for, but for some reason the thought of Dean seeing you in it, gave you enough incentive to buy it.

Once you got home, you decided it was finally time you got stuck into the gift wrapping. You slipped into your loungewear and set up in the living room, surrounded by wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows. 

Wrapping gifts had always been something you enjoyed—it wasn’t a chore but a ritual. You loved making each present look as perfect as possible, picturing the happiness on your loved ones' faces when they unwrapped them.

Dean’s gift was the last one left of the night, and it was by far the most meaningful.

You had managed to track down an original pressing of Led Zeppelin II—the very album he’d lost as a kid in the house fire. It had been bad, nearly costing Mary her life, the electrical damage so severe that renovations had taken years. They had lost so much—family photos, keepsakes, and among them, the vinyl his dad had given him on his 10th birthday. 

You could still remember the hours you spent in his room, the two of you lying on his bed, singing along to Ramble On, always a little off-key but never caring. Finding another copy had been next to impossible, but last month, Charlie had tracked one down in a tiny record store just outside of town. You had almost kissed her for it.

Now, as you carefully folded the wrapping paper around the record and tied a bow on top, you smiled to yourself. You hoped he liked it.

Just as you finished up, your phone buzzed. Dean. You ignored the flutter in your chest at the sight of his name and flipped open the screen.

“’Sup?”

“Why did I agree to this again?” Came Dean’s gruff voice.

“Because you’re a massive pushover?” you deadpanned.

“Do you know I’m currently parked out on a dirt road? No motels. Havin’ to rough it tonight.”

You bit your lip, picturing him scowling at his surroundings.

“I still don’t feel sorry for you.” You chuckled, and he let out a dramatic sigh.

“’Course you wouldn’t.”

You smiled into the receiver, adjusting the phone against your ear as you stacked the last wrapped gift onto the pile.

“You do realise Sam has a license and could’ve driven himself home, right?”

Dean groaned. “Yeah, but I kinda only got him some shaving foam and a razor for Christmas.”

Your mouth dropped. “WHAT?! That’s all you got him?” You screeched into the receiver. “No wonder you took, like, five minutes to shop. I thought they were your toiletries, not presents!”

“Yeah, well, now he’s got a road trip with his big bro to add to it.”

“You’re a nightmare,” you scoffed, shaking your head with an amused twitch of your lips despite yourself.

The line fell silent for a beat, the comfortable kind, before you remembered your conversation with Charlie.

“I, uh, had lunch with Charlie today,” you said.

“Yeah? How is the nerd?” he teased, though there was clear fondness in his tone.

“She’s good. She’s also plotting to destroy Gary’s computer with viruses.”

Dean let out a bark of laughter. “Brilliant.”

“She also reminded me about the company Christmas party tomorrow night.”

“Oh yeah? You goin’?”

You hesitated, trying to sound casual. “We agreed to go if the other did… but she also asked if you wanted to come.”

There was a pause. “Really?” Dean hummed. “Do you want me to go?”

Your heart thudded in your chest.

“I mean, I know they’re not really your thing. It’s a black-tie event, super formal,” you said quickly, then mentally facepalmed. Were you trying to talk him out of it?

“Sounds pretty terrible,” he agreed, and you panicked.

“There’s an open bar, though.”

Silence. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Hmm. Now that does change things,” he mused. “I can come if you want me to?”

Your face flushed at the unintentional pun—although, knowing Dean, it was probably very intentional.

“More the merrier, right?” You shrugged it off, with a lame chuckle, wanting to smack yourself in the head.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Another comfortable pause settled between you.

“I’ll, uh, let you get some rest,” you said, softer this time. “Don’t want you falling asleep at the wheel.”

“Yeah, probably best.” He sighed, and you could almost picture him, all scrunched up in the backseat.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“’Night, sweetheart.”

The next day, you busied yourself tidying up around the apartment. You didn’t want Dean thinking you were completely incapable of living alone, so you straightened up, wiped down the counters, and even tested out a few cake recipes for Christmas. 

After a few failed attempts, you finally landed on a winner—a pecan upside-down cake. It was soft, sweet, and had just the right crunch from the pecans. For a first try, it wasn’t bad. And that was exactly what Dean walked into a few hours later, when he finally arrived.

“Whoa. What the hell smells so good?”

You turned at the sound of his voice, smiling, and for a second, Dean forgot how to breathe. It had only been a little over twenty-four hours since he’d last seen you, and somehow, he’d missed you way more than he was willing to admit.

“Hey. I was just trying out some recipes for Christmas. Think I found a winner.” You cut a slice of cake and slid it onto a plate before handing it to him.

He eyed it suspiciously, glancing between you and the dessert. “You made this?”

You scoffed, your hands settling on your hips in a defensive stance. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

Dean smirked at your reaction. He lived to rile you up. Still, he picked up the slice and took a big bite. The second the flavours hit his tongue, his eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a deep, satisfied moan.

“Shit, that’s good.”

You swallowed hard.

“Really?” you asked, voice a little breathier than you intended.

His eyes snapped open. “You kiddin’ me? I think I just found my new favourite dessert.”

Your face warmed. That was high praise coming from him. Dessert was practically Dean’s second language—specifically, the pie dialect—so for him to say that about your cake. That was a damn honour.

“Well, that’s that then. Dessert is sorted.” You dog-eared the page in the recipe book you’d picked up while dress shopping, mentally noting to make this again for Christmas.

Dean took a seat at the island as he finished his slice of cake, the two of you making idle chit chat about his trip, and how much LA traffic sucked, when you got onto the topic of Sam and his new lady friend. 

“So, Is he punching?” You asked rather bluntly, a teasing smirk on your lips as you gathered everything coated in cake batter and dumped it into the sink.

“Oh, massively. She’s way out of my brother’s league.” Dean laughed, the sound rich and amused, and you raised a brow.

“Sounds like you’re just as smitten,” you mused, a little sharper than you’d intended. What the hell is wrong with you?

You turned your back to him to cover your idiocy, arms buried in warm, soapy water as you busied yourself scrubbing utensils clean.

It was just an innocent comment. It wasn’t like you cared if Dean thought some girl was attractive. You weren’t overthinking, not at all. Not about how easy it would be for him to fall for someone else, someone uncomplicated, someone not you.

Jesus, girl!

You were broken from your spiralling thoughts when you felt him behind you. His presence was unmistakable heat radiating off of him in waves, his scent a lingering mix of soap, leather, and the faded remnants of his cologne. It made your head swim.

A dish clinked gently as he slipped his plate into the water beside you.

“Do I detect some jealousy in that tone of yours?” His voice was low, teasing, the warmth of it curling down your spine.

“Pfft, you’re joking, right?” You scoffed, but the slight crack in your voice gave you away.

Dean heard it too. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was smirking. The self-satisfaction practically rolled off him.

You placed the last item on the drying rack and turned, only to find him closer than expected. Your breath hitched.

“No. I’m deadly serious.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as his eyes locked onto yours, heavy-lidded and unreadable. The space between you shrank, an invisible force pulling you toward him. Like gravity, like inevitability.

Dean leaned in; his breath warm as it fanned across your lips. His hands braced against the counter on either side of you, caging you in. The heat between you was palpable, something crackling in the air, something that made your knees weak and your thoughts scatter.

Then—

His ringtone shattered the moment.

You jolted slightly, the haze lifting as quickly as it had settled. Dean sighed, raking a hand through his hair as he pulled his phone from his pocket. One glance at the screen and his expression soured.

“What?” he answered gruffly.

You took that as your cue to leave, slipping away down the hall and into your bedroom, pressing the door shut behind you.

You needed a breather. Badly.

What the hell was that?

He can’t be home for more than five minutes before you want to jump his bones.

And, seriously, “Sounds like you’re smitten?” What were you thinking?

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face before shaking yourself out of your stupor. A shower. A cold one, preferably. Then you could focus on getting ready for tonight—because the last thing you needed was to be a flustered mess at a party where you were supposed to look put together.

The irony.

By the time you stepped out of the shower, steam curling into the air, Dean had left again. Apparently, Sam had forgotten one of Jess’s bags, the one containing all of her clothes for the next couple of days, in Dean’s trunk, so he had to drive back to his parents’ house to drop It off.

That allowed you to take your time getting ready, without being rushed for ‘hogging’ the bathroom.

You pampered yourself—lotions, perfumes, careful grooming (not at all for a certain green-eyed man). You took your time with your hair and makeup, allowing the slow, methodical routine to settle your nerves.

You’d just finished curling your hair when Dean returned.

Still in your robe, you stepped out of your room to grab a drink, only to nearly collide with him in the hallway.

“Oof.”

Dean caught you, steadying you before you could fully crash into him. Your hands landed briefly against his chest, warm and firm beneath your palms.

He chuckled, the sound low and easy, but then his gaze flickered over you, taking in your appearance.

A slow smirk spread across his lips. “You know, when you said black tie, I didn’t realise you meant the robe kind.”

You glanced down at yourself—silk black robe, tied securely at the waist—and realised what he meant.

Unimpressed, you looked back up at him. “Wow. You’re freakin’ hilarious.”

Dean barked out a full-bodied laugh, clearly pleased with himself as you brushed past him toward the fridge, shaking your head. You twisted off the cap of a beer and took a sip.

“Any more jokes like that out of you tonight, and you can stay home,” you warned, levelling him with a serious stare.

Dean only grinned wider but raised a hand in surrender. “Don’t worry, I’ll be well-behaved.”

But the dark glint in his eye told a different story.

He left you there and headed for the shower, while you worked to calm the nerves still rattling in your chest.

Tonight was going to be… complicated.

Questions would be asked.

Is Dean your date? Are you two together?

And you’d have to say no.

Which meant leaving him wide open for the kill.

The women in HR were like sharks in bloodied water—desperate, predatory, and not the least bit subtle. They’d be all over him tonight. And you weren’t sure if you were equipped to handle seeing it. Because those were exactly the kind of women Dean would bed. And you were basically serving him up on a silver platter.

Lord, give me strength.

By the time the clock neared 7 p.m., you were dressed and ready.

You stood in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection. You had to admit—you looked good. Hot, even.

The dress hugged every curves perfectly, the wide-open back revealing the delicate slope of your spine before stopping just above the curve of your ass. A bold red lip completed the look, matching the rich fabric of your gown. Your hair was swept up in a loose bun, soft curls framing your face.

Satisfied, you stepped out into the living room—only to stop short at the sight of Dean.

He was already dressed, waiting, phone in hand.

And he looked—

God.

A black suit, fitted just right, a crisp white dress shirt beneath. The same suit he’d worn for his parents’ anniversary dinner last year. It had looked good on him then. It looked even better now.

The broad set of his shoulders, the slim taper of his waist—it was unfair how well he filled it out. His hair was neatly gelled, but not too much. Just enough to keep that natural, tousled look in place. And he smelled… incredible.

He must’ve sensed your presence, because he looked up from his phone, and had to do a double take.

Holy. Mother of God.

Dean couldn’t breathe. It was as if you’d knocked the wind right out of his lungs just by existing in that dress.

You were stunning.

And that word didn’t even come close to doing you justice.

His gaze dragged over you, drinking in every detail. The way the dress clung to you, the deep red fabric a striking contrast against your skin. The soft glow of the light catching on the shade of your eyes, making them look brighter somehow. The way your lips—painted that same rich shade of red—parted slightly as you waited for him to say something.

Jesus.

He wanted to say something smooth, something that would make you smile, make you roll your eyes at him the way you always did when he teased you. But his mouth had gone dry, and his brain wasn’t quite catching up.

Dean cleared his throat, forcing his voice to work.

“You…” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, his lips twitching up at the corners. “Damn.”

Your brows lifted in amusement. “That bad, huh?”

Dean huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not even close.” His eyes met yours, more serious now. “You look incredible.”

Your breath hitched. He meant it—there was no teasing lilt in his voice, no smug grin. Just honesty, plain and simple.

You swallowed, feeling warmth rise in your cheeks. “Thanks,” you murmured. “You clean up pretty good yourself.”

Dean smirked, but it softened almost immediately. His gaze lingered, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The air between you felt different—thicker, heavier. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you, in the way his fingers twitched at his side like he was stopping himself from reaching out.

For a brief second, you let yourself sink into it. Let yourself feel the weight of his attention, the warmth in his eyes.

But then, just as quickly, you snapped yourself out of it.

“Alright,” you said, exhaling sharply and breaking eye contact. “We should get going before we’re late.”

Dean blinked, like he was shaking off a daze. “Right.” He cleared his throat and followed you to the door, as you grabbed your coat.

Dean opened the door for you, placing a hand at the small of your back as he guided you out. The heat of his touch lingering long after.

AN: I just want to bang their heads together! but at the same time, where would be the fun in that!? 😂 I hope you noticed I gave y'all a little break from all the spice in this chapter, but fear not, these too can never stay separated long 👀

(Also, if anyone reading this works in HR, it was just an idea I went with, I don't mean to offend or think HR is like that 😅)

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester/series Tag List:

@bettystonewell @nancymcl @happyfxckinghorrors @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @fangirlingfromdownunder @cevansbaby-dove @star-yawnznn @piptoost @shadysoulangel @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @waynes-multiverse @jaredpadonlyyyy @impala67stellawinchester @bonbonnie88 @youroldfashioned

Next Time...

Your fingers tightened around your glass as you watched her laugh at something he said—too exaggerated, in your opinion. He wasn’t that funny. And then, as if things couldn’t get worse, her manicured hand squeezed his bicep. That was the last straw. Charlie had abandoned you to use the restroom, leaving you with no distractions other than to sit and watch Dean practically fall in love with another woman right in front of you. Okay, maybe you were being dramatic. But he looked interested, smitten even, and it made your stomach churn. Deciding you’d tortured yourself enough, you pushed to your feet and manoeuvred through the crowd toward the bar. More alcohol seemed like the only logical solution. Except, before you got there, you walked straight into someone solid.