#(different verses! don’t be afraid to ask)

[fatalhoon]

caught in my web ! - sjy

spiderman!jake x best friend!reader

wc ~6k

cw fluff!! swearing, one cum joke LOL, jake is a big nervous dork and reader is a little dumb lmaoo, i think that’s all!

an i wrote this and posted it on my sideblog for a different fandom but i thought it was cute so i wanted to redo it for jake a post it here too :>

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

when he first discovered that such a simple and seemingly harmless spider bite had such irreversible effects on him, jake, to put it bluntly, was petrified.

even from the moment the spider bit him, for all he knew he could soon be literally petrified by the way the bite was making his arm feel weird already, and though he can’t say he’s necessarily well versed in arachnids, that was not a spider he’d ever seen before.

he knew most likely it was just paranoia, but his brain was swirling with worst case scenarios.

nonetheless, it was very late at night and a college student such as himself did not have the money nor the means for an emergency room visit, so he decided to attempt to sleep it off, and if it seemed to be worse in the morning he’d see what he could do.

well, maybe that’s an oversimplification of events.

he’d called you, practically hyperventilating and saying his goodbyes, scaring you shitless as well for a good minute before you’d finally pried out of him what had happened.

luckily, entomology was something you were actually studying, and you had enough knowledge of various spiders and the effects of certain venom that when you arrived at his apartment (for his own peace of mind and yours) you were able to calm him enough to the point that planning his own funeral was no longer at the forefront of his mind.

with the strange spider safely captured in a small jar (as afraid as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to kill it) he felt a little better even just from your calming presence.

(“jake, why did you put a piece of cheese in there?” “i wanted to be hospitable.” “..cheese.” “i don’t know what spiders eat!”)

you spent the night on his couch that night as well (he hadn’t asked, but you knew if you left he might start typing up a will) so you were able to keep an eye on him.

the next morning jake wakes up feeling fine, albeit a bit groggy. he flops out of bed, and he rubs the sleep from his eyes as he wanders across the hall to the bathroom.

grabbing his glasses and sliding them on, he looks down at the spot on his arm that he’d been scratching at to check it’s status.

but its.. blurry?

he blinks a few times to focus his vision, but nothing changes.

its not until his hand pushes his glasses up to rub at his face and he gets a view without a lens that he realizes that its actually his glasses that are the issue. he moves them out of the way, and to his shock he can see completely clearly without them.

he lifts them up to sit on his head, looking at himself in the mirror, absolutely dumbfounded.

“what.. the fuck?”

“jake?”

he jumps, banging his knee on the counter.

“jesus! sorry,” you chuckle, hands up. “not a spider!”

“har har,” jake mocks, massaging his leg, a cute pout on his face.

you step into the bathroom, reaching up to adjust his glasses that had fallen from the crown of his head to the tip of his nose. he squints, rubbing at his temple.

“you.. okay?” you venture, watching him blink hard a few times.

“yeah! uh-“ more blinks, eyes wide- “i’m good.” a fake smile. its your turn to squint, not quite believing him.

you see him instinctively clenching his fist, shaking out his arm a little. you grab it and drag him forward a little to examine the splotch on his forearm.

“mm.” you hum. you brush your fingers along the bump, making a shiver roll up jake’s spine. he watches you over the rim of his glasses.

“its a little red, but it looks okay. i don’t think it was poisonous.”

“great! uh- cool, that’s good news,” jake bumbles, an awkward smile on his face.

he stares at you.

you stare at him.

your face is blurry.

he adjusts his glasses.

“right..”

he gulps.

“well. i have a lecture soon, so i should get going.” you give his arm a little pat and release it from your fingers. he nods, scratching at it absentmindedly again.

“still on for movie night later?”

jake answers without thinking through it.

“of course.” shit.

you grin at him. “great.” shit shit shit.

but the twinkle in your eyes and the way your fingers ruffle through his messy hair makes his heart flutter less with anxiety and more with something.. warmer.

you turn and round the hallway corner and jake lets out a tense breath he didn’t know he was holding. he knocks into a small table from his lack of clear sight as he follows you, and swiftly blames it on lack of sleep when you quirk a brow at him.

a minute later you’ve gathered your things from the living room, the bottled spider included to take to your class to be studied, and give him a wave as you walk out his front door.

“see you tonight, spider man.”

jake takes off his glasses once the door is closed behind you, sighing heavily and rubbing a hand down the side of his face. he swipes his thumb across his forearm, your touch lingering in his mind.

“spider man.” he scoffs, but he can’t help the fond smile that turns up his lips.

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

“where are your glasses?”

“i got contacts.” jake lies through his teeth.

“today?” you question incredulously.

“… yeah.”

you clearly don’t believe him, if the way your brow furrows is anything to go by. you’d seen him just a few hours ago.

“is it because i always call you a nerd? you know i mean that affectionately, right?” jake hears the hint of guilt in your voice and panics.

“no! yeah i uh, i do- i just-“ he trails off. he isn’t sure where else to go with this. you catch the awkwardness, watching as he scratches the back of his neck, and decide to let it go before he starts sweating.

“well, if you can’t see the screen don’t ask me what happened,” you joke, lightening the mood to jake’s relief. you set down the snacks you brought and plop down on the couch, propping your feet on the coffee table, remote in hand.

jake relaxes in his spot next to you, ripping open a bag of chips. “you’d probably be asleep even if i did.” you roll your eyes and smack his arm. jake lets out a laugh.

fourty five minutes later, jake does have to ask a question about the movie you’re watching (but not because he couldn’t see, he’s just been daydreaming for most of it.)

and lo and behold, you are asleep, so he’s left to wonder.

jake starts to reach for his soda on the table in front of him, but you, wrapped around his right arm and sleeping comfortably, tighten your grip when you feel him start to move.

he moves just the left side of his body forward, ever so slowly, wiggling his fingers as he strains to grab his drink without disturbing you.

but suddenly, something knocks into the can, denting the side and sending it falling over with a tinny clank against the wood. liquid spills from the opening and dribbles over the side and onto the floor.

“how the-“

“shhh,”

he freezes, looking down at you. you pull him back again, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. your cheek presses up against his sleeve, smushing up your face and jakes’s heart almost explodes. he reaches up gently, pushing a tuft of hair away from your face, and you hum happily.

jake thinks for a second that maybe a stain on his carpet is worth it if he can stay like this forever.

something stuck to his wrist catches his attention.

its a strand of web.

jake yelps before he can catch himself, frantically flicking his arm to detach it and startles you fully awake in the process. you let out a similar yelp in practically the same octave as his was, jumping up and clutching tighter onto his bicep.

“what!! what happened?” you squeak.

he doesn’t answer, just continues his task of brushing off every square inch of his body to rid himself of any potential dangers. when he deems himself safe, he looks over at you, and is met with crossed arms and a disgruntled look.

“sorry! sorry,” jake huffs apologetically. he clears his throat, his face flushing red from embarrassment as he explains, “spider web.”

you chuckle incredulously, rubbing your eyes and letting out a yawn. “spider web,” you giggle through a playful smirk. you stand, stretching your limbs, and hobble in the direction the bathroom.

“try not to die out here without me, alright?” you quip as turn the corner.

jake groans. he gets up himself to grab a towel from the kitchen, coming back to crouch down and sop up the mess still dripping from the table.

he picks up the can and tries to set it back on the table top, but it sticks to his hand. even when he uncurls all five fingers from it, its still stuck snugly to his palm. he uses his other hand to grab it and pry it away, and it detaches with a sticky snap, leaving multiple strands of web connecting his skin to the tin.

“jesus christ,” he gripes, watching the web strands flutter under his breath.

“oh, there really was a spider web,” it’s jake’s turn to startle, jumping a bit as he sees you crouched down right beside him, observing the wiggly webs.

jake gives you an indignant look, one that reads ‘did you think i was lying?’

“honestly i just though you were being paranoid.” jake rolls his eyes, nudging you with his shoulder.

“sorry! not my fault you’re a scaredy cat!”

“i am not!” he defends, pressing the towel further down into the carpet plush.

you glide your fingers up the back of jake’s neck in a gentle tickle, and right on cue he lets out a little ‘eek!’, slapping your hand away. he pushes you softly and you giggle, falling back from your crouched stance on your toes and onto your butt. you hug your legs, resting your chin on your knee as you watch him continue to dry up the mess.

“they probably just like you. i know i do.” you drop a little hint at the end. he never seems to catch on.

“they can like me all they want, just far away from me please.” he grumbles, taking the can to the kitchen to toss it in the trash.

“spiders are friends!~” he hears you sing from the other room.

he drops the can into the bin, hoping this is the last of his spider related worries.

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

jake never thought he would ever be friends with spiders. let alone be one.

it took him a while to realize that the spider bite had caused him more trouble than just a slight fear of the nooks and crannies of his apartment. much more trouble.

he discovered that it was him creating the webs he was finding around when he dropped his pen once while writing out some notes for a class, and when he tried to grab it before it hit the ground, he’d caught it with a collection of web strands that shot out of his wrist instead.

he discovered how strong his webs were when he tripped on the staircase while running late one day, spurting out a web that stuck to the wall and caught him, and tugged him upright before he hit the ground.

and he discovered how useful this strange new talent could be outside your apartment.

“so, any news about that spider? you brought it in to study it, right?” jake asks as nonchalantly as he possibly can, walking down the concrete steps beside you.

“oh, actually yes! we think it might be a-“

suddenly a hooded figure runs by, snatching your backpack from right off your shoulders, and sprinting down the sidewalk through a dense crowd of pedestrians.

the stranger nearly knocked you to the ground with the push-and-shove of stealing your belongings. jake caught you, steadied you on your feet, and booked it after him without even thinking twice, leaving your confused cries to stop behind him.

his speed and reflexes seemed to be heightened as he caught up in a few seconds flat, and in a fraction of that time he had a web wrapped around the strap of your bag, pulling it directly into his chest to wrap his arms around, and a leg out to sweep the thief’s legs straight out from under him, sending him face first into the pavement.

jake stands motionless for a second, energy rushing through his veins, and waits for his brain to process what had just happened. when it does, it feels like he’d just returned to his own body from somewhere completely different.

you caught up to jake after a moment, heaving heavily from your tired lungs. your eyes widen at the scene in front of you; a completely unscathed jake and a nearly unconscious criminal bleeding from the nose below.

“how did-“ you struggle for a full breath. “how did you do that?”

“uhm- adrenaline, i think?” honestly, jake isn’t quite sure how he did this either.

“jake, you could have gotten hurt!” you scold him, trying your best to sound steady and serious, but by the way your hands tremble it tells him you were more worried for his safety than anything else.

“i wasn’t gonna stand there and do nothing,” he says like its the most obvious thing in the world. he settles your bag back on your shoulders, looping your arms through the straps for you and adjusting the fabric of your sleeves. your eyes gloss over and you’re gnawing at your lip like you’re trying your best not to cry.

“your laptop is expensive. we can’t have you lose that,” he jokes, attempting to lighten the mood.

you let out a trembling laugh, and yank him in to hug him with a full crushing force. “you’re such an idiot,” you whine, and he returns the hug with a chuckle of his own.

jake isn’t sure how he did this or what exactly is going on, but what he is sure about is that whatever is happening to him, using it to protect you will always be his first priority.

—🕸️🕷️🕸️—

the idea to become a “hero” of sorts struck jake one day like a bolt of lightning.

the notion sounds absolutely crazy, jake knows that, but the circumstances have fallen directly into his lap, and he knows that if he has the ability, the real ability to protect people, he should take it.

he practices his web slinging in private, and he’s gotten quite good at it; he now can do it on command instead of at random, and can control it when he needs to.

(and yes, he’s made all of the jokes, even if he’s the only person around to laugh. he can shoot sticky white goo from his wrists, did you expect him not to be a little silly with it?)

he practices his dexterity in the air out in an old alley that no one has any reason to frequent. in doing so, his muscles have bulked up significantly, and he was flustered beyond belief when you of all people were the one the pointed it out.

he told himself that if he was going to be this new face of justice, he should protect his identity and keep it separate from his personal life. he didn’t want anyone he knew and loved getting involved; if someone got hurt because of him he wouldn’t be able to bare it.

so he made a few suit prototypes from old clothes and acrylic paint. he may not be the craftiest, but he made do, and he learned some sewing basics in the process, though you really wouldn’t be able to tell. (in the end he commissioned someone to make one for him anyway, for the sake of quality.)

the last thing he really needed came to him after he’d successfully helped a woman with an issue involving a man following her down the street late one night. after making sure the woman was safe enough to leave, he attaches his web to a fire escape and is about to swing away.

“what do i call you?” she yells out from below him as he hangs from the rail.

he thinks for a second. web boy? no, that’s dumb. arachnid kid? a little silly, he likes that it rhymes, but it still doesn’t feel right.

and then it hits him.

“spiderman.”

he swings away, and within the next few weeks, ‘spiderman’ is everything that people are talking about.

you included.

“have you seen him?” you ask him excitedly, rocking back and forth on your heels as you both stand in line at your favorite ice cream shop. “he’s so cool!”

he chuckles a little. “i’ve heard of him.” a blush creeps up on his face he hopes you don’t see, but you’re too excited to even notice. “cool, huh?”

“so cool!” you thank the worker for your milkshakes and leave the small shop, the bell above the door jingling as you step outside. “i want to talk to him so bad, i bet he’s so interesting, and he’s probably so cute under the mask,” you daydream out loud as you walk down the sidewalk.

jake coughs a bit in surprise. “what makes you think that?”

“don’t be jealous,” you poke, a smirk on your face. “just a hunch.”

in a split second you’re suddenly yanked to the edge of the sidewalk by jake as you’re about to step onto the crosswalk. before you can comprehend why, someone comes barreling through on a bicycle, shouting a faint ‘sorry!’ as they whiz by, the wind fluttering your hair. your milkshake slips from your fingers, a small gasp leaving your lips, and jake grabs it before it can splatter across the ground, placing it back in your hand for you.

“you okay?” he asks, brushing off your jacket. you don’t answer, still staring off in the direction the bike went in shock. as soon as everything catches up to you, you look at him, eyes wide. “that was insane! when did you get such crazy reflexes?”

“what do you mean?” jake sweats a little. “didn’t you hear him coming?”

you shake your head. “no that’s not it, you did that so fast, and my drink-“

“i think- i think you were just caught off guard,” he excuses, ushering you forward to keep walking.

“so um. you were talking about spiderman?”

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

and talk about spiderman you did.

specifically, you talk about how you would love to meet him, to speak to him.

so, who would jake be to keep that from you when he is the one you want to meet?

well unfortunately, it wasn’t his choice.

(how was he supposed to go about that? knock on your door and say “hello random citizen, i’m spiderman! your best friend jake who i totally don’t know and definitely am not the same person as said you wanted to talk to me”?)

no, in reality, it was a total accident.

he finds himself crash landing onto the roof of your apartment building after a particularly brutal fight he’d gotten himself tied up in, his fatigue and pain not letting him swing any longer to make it all the way back home. he groans loudly, cradling his leg in his arms as he lays on the cold roof in the fetal position.

“spiderman??”

fuck. he knows that voice.

he lifts his head up in the direction it came from, seeing your head pop up over the ledge of the building. before he can say anything, you scramble up from the fire escape and run over to his side.

‘great,’ jake thinks. this is the second worst byproduct of you having a top floor apartment. (he still remembers how sore he was after having to help you drag your mattress up several flights of stairs when you moved in.)

“are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i’m good, i just-“ he attempts to stand on his own, but groans again, and crumples under his own weight. its your turn to catch him before he falls.

“oh god, um, i can help! just- here-“ you sling his arm around your shoulder and huddle into his side, and you help him hobble to the edge. he clambers down the fire escape, using his webs to keep him relatively stable, and fumbles through the window and onto the floor of your apartment. he hits the floor with a thud and a moan.

“sorry! um, i’ll get my first aid kit! i’ll be back!”

you leave and come back in a blind hurry, making quick work of rolling up the torn part of his suit to get a clear enough view of the gash in his leg to start your process. it hurts at first, a lot actually, but the pain subsides not long after. maybe because its you doing it, and he trusts you more than anyone, but he feels so much love and care in your movements.

he lets you focus in quiet for a while before he finally decides to say something.

“for someone who studies bugs and not medicine, you’re pretty good at that.”

you raise your eyebrows at him, wrapping a bandage around his calf. “how do you know i study bugs?”

shit. “just a hunch.”

you glance at him, not convinced.

“the pinned butterflies on your wall.”

“ah,” you say, nodding.

whew.

“maybe i just like butterflies.”

“that could be it too.” he chuckles under the mask. “i mean they’re pretty. like you. so it makes sense.”

you blush, a smile tugging at your lips. “smooth.”

“thanks, i know,” jake drawls, leaning to suavely rest on his elbow next to him, and hits his head on a table. “ow.” you both laugh.

when you finally get him patched up, he thanks you (he almost leans in for a hug on accident, but settles for a firm handshake instead) and climbs over the windowsill in preparation to take his leave.

“hey, can i ask you something?”

jake’s heart pounds. “sure.”

“can you.. come back sometime?” you twist your fingers nervously as you ask, avoiding his eyes. “i always wanted to talk to you but, this wasn’t really.. under the best circumstances, i guess.”

jake’s brain doesnt know if he should say yes, but his heart knows he could never say no to you, spiderman or otherwise.

“of course.” your smile makes it worth it.

he slings a web up onto a bar of the fire escape and flings himself out.

“wait!”

he turns back, glancing back down at you leaning out the windowsill, the chilled wind fluttering your hair.

“i don’t just like butterflies. i like spiders, too.”

jake grins.

“i didn’t used to like spiders. but i think they’re growing on me.”

and with that, he swings away.

—🕸️🕷️🕸️—

despite his better judgement, jake does come back. more than once.

he knows he shouldn’t appear as spiderman in front of you more than he needs to, but it just makes you so happy, it was physically impossible for him not to when he knows he’s the reason for your smile every time.

he sits with you now on the roof of your apartment, the same place you found him the first time, and the same place you two always meet now.

“-and that’s the story of how i met my best friend jake.” you finish your story, face flushed from laughing, and he’s forever grateful you can’t see his face under his mask. if he’s being honest (having lived through that torture with you) you actually told it way less embarrassing than he remembers it being. whether you perceive it less humiliating than he does or if you’re just gracious enough not to go into detail with strangers he’s not sure, but he’s thankful nonetheless.

“seems like you really care about him.”

“jake?” you ask, leaning back to rest on the heels of your hands. “well, yeah. he’s my favorite person in the whole world. don’t you feel that way about your best friend, too?”

jake feels his face heat up. “yeah, um. you pretty much took the words right out of my mouth.”

“yeah? tell me about them. what’s their name?”

“hey, whoa” jake lifts his hands in defense. “ask me about my favorite ninja turtle all day, but i can’t be giving out my best friend’s identity. why do you think i wear the mask?”

you laugh, nodding in understanding. “okay, okay, fair.”

a comfortable silence falls for a moment, and jake watches you gaze at the stars above the city lights.

“you remind me of him, you know.”

“huh?” jake snaps back into the present.

“jake. you guys seem really similar, honestly. same mannerisms, same cologne-“ you know the smell of his cologne? “you say things sometimes that i definitely think he would say. same favorite ninja turtle, too.”

he never really realized you paid this much attention to him. his heart flutters.

“ehh, i don’t know. guy sounds like a total nerd.”

you snort out a laugh. “oh he is,” ouch?? “but he’s my nerd. i love him just how he is. i wouldn’t change a single thing about him.”

“.. you love him?”

another silence. this one a little more.. tense.

“i love all my friends, but jake is.. different.”

“different how?”

“i’m not in love with my other friends.”

jake’s brain nearly short circuits right then and there. how he gets a single comprehensible sentence out of his mouth after that is honestly beyond him. but he’s not jake right now, he’s spiderman.

“i’m in love with my best friend too.”

“really?” you look at him, a sense of hope in your eyes, like you just found the only other person in the world in the same position as you. if you only knew.

“this,” he motions to his suit, and in turn the whole act of being spiderman at all. “its for them. i help everyone i can, of course, but,” he seems to be lost in thought for a second, drumming his fingers on his knee. “like you said, they’re different. i’d do anything for them. anything at all.”

you tilt your head at him. “wow, who knew a superhero could be so sappy.”

“yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand dismissively. “my bad, gotta protect my stone cold image.” you huff out a laugh.

“have you told them?”

“no.”

“why?”

“same reason as you, i’m guessing.”

“fear?”

“fear.”

a knowing look is passed between you.

“my best friend doesn’t actually know i’m spiderman.”

“wait really?” you ask, surprised. “why not?”

“how am i supposed to tell them that? ‘hey by the way i’m risking my life every day for you!’ that seems like a horrible conversation.”

you chuckle. “yeah, i get that. i suppose its similar to the reason you haven’t confessed. the fear of rejection is present either way.”

“exactly,” he sighs.

after a second, a light bulb seems to come on above your head. “hey, i’ve got an idea. you tell your best friend you’re spiderman, and i’ll tell my best friend i’m in love with him.”

“that’s a terrible idea,” jake admits through a chuckle.

“is it?” you feign indignant. “if they love us, they’ll accept us, right?”

jake thinks it over for a second, his heart racing so fast he hopes you can’t hear it.

“okay. deal.”

you grin. “perfect.”

how the hell is he gonna do that?

“jake should actually be on his way, i’ll call him to make sure.”

shit. shit. he forgot about movie night.

you pull out your phone, tapping quickly to find his contact and press your phone to your ear. jake panics, pulling his phone from his suit just as it starts to ring, and presses end as soon as he can reach the button.

you give him a puzzled look, and he huffs nervously. “sorry, scam calls.” he shoves his phone into his suit before you can see it.

“hm. it went straight to voicemail. that’s odd,” you muse, glancing at the ‘call ended’ screen.

“maybe he’s driving. yknow, gotta stay safe,” he bumbles, nerves flooding his system as he stands up and dusts off the back of his legs. “hey listen, its been great, but i just remembered i have to go-“

“wait, wait!” you jump up as well, grabbing onto his gloved hand. “can you stay for just a minute? i think jake would really love to meet you!”

“i really uh- its- its important- i should-“

“it’ll just be a second! i promise! don’t move!” you plead. you give his hand a squeeze, and before jake can stop you, you hop down the fire escape and scurry back into your apartment.

—🕷️🕸️🕷️—

jake is fucked. absolutely fucked.

as soon as he sees you disappear into your apartment to wait for, well, him, he slings himself down to an alley to ‘jake’ himself up.

luckily, he has spare clothes stored across the city in case of emergencies like this. he stuffs his hand through a hole in the bricks of an abandoned building and pulls out a backpack, and as quickly as he possibly can, he pulls his clothes on over his suit, shoves his mask in and zips it up. he ruffles his messy hair in an attempt to seem a more presentable type of messy, and sprints out into the street.

now trekking up the stairs toward your apartment door, he thinks there wasn’t even really a logical reason to do this. he could have just told you right then that it was him, but something inside him told him that wasn’t the right time or place.

stopping in front of your door, he prepares himself, catching his breath before he knocks.

you swing it open immediately, a huge smile on your face.

“jake! i have something to show- why are you so sweaty?”

“i uh- i was running late so i ran.” he fumbles for an excuse. he walks in and is about to kick off his shoes when you grab his arm, dragging him across the living room to your window.

“come with me first! i have something to show you!” you say, brimming with excitement.

“hold on- i need to-“

“hurry!” you squeal, and hop out the window to climb the ladder. jake internally groans, following after you.

he grabs the rungs and hoists himself up behind you. “can i tell you something first?” he calls upwards. “its important!”

“this is important too! he has to be somewhere!”

oh, so now you listen to that information.

when his head pops up above the ladder to see the expanse of the rooftop, you’re already looking around, confused.

“where did he-“

“why are we up here?”

“i’m looking for someone! he said he would stay for a second,” you whine.

he never actually agreed to that, but he’ll let it slide.

you grip the barrier of the roof and pull yourself up to stand on the ledge, putting your arms out to steady yourself as you survey the area.

“what are you doing!” jake shouts, running up to you and grabbing your waist to prevent you from falling. “you have terrible balance!”

“relax, i’m fine. maybe if i fall he’ll come back to swoop in and save me.”

and as if the universe took that as some sort of sick challenge, a huge gust of wind blows through, knocking your balance off. you tilt forward with a strained yelp, flailing your arms. jake tries to grip your belt loops but they slip from his fingers, and he lets out an exasperated yell.

bracing yourself for a horrendous fall, you let out a scream, squeezing your eyes shut.

but it never comes.

you’re suspended in the air, but there’s no rushing air, no sinking feeling in your gut, everything just.. stopped.

you pop an eye open, met with the rough red texture of the brick in front of you. you follow your arm that’s outstretched above you upward, expecting somehow to see jake’s grip wrapped around your wrist, but instead you see a bracelet of weaved white. you lock eyes with him, a terribly worried expression on his face, the same white around your wrist attached to the underside of his.

for the first time, it all clicks together.

the webs in his apartment. the way they have the same voice, same habits. the way the spider on the suit is jake’s favorite color. his change in demeanor these past few weeks. jake having a limp from the same leg spiderman had injured around the same time.

it all finally makes sense.

“you-.. you’re-..”

“surprise,” jake whispers, a small, guilty smile on his face.

“can you. pull me up, please?” you tremble.

“oh! yeah, sorry.” jake brings you in with ease, grabbing firmly onto your body until you’re sat on your knees on the safety of the roof. you lunge forward, trapping jake in a bone crushing hug. he feels that you’re still shaking, and wraps himself around you with equal fervor, holding your head to his shoulder and stroking your hair to soothe you.

how could you have been so stupid? so clueless? you had every single piece of the puzzle, yet you were so blind to the placements.

it hits you then, that you had confessed to him without knowing it.

jake pulls you back and holds onto your shoulders, scanning you for any injuries. “are you okay?”

when he locks eyes with you, he sees how flustered you look, the blush on your face, and he has to bite back a smile.

“well, this is a little awkward,” he chuckles.

“you’re such an idiot,” you scoff, a common phrase nowadays it seems, but he hears no real weight in your words.

“i should have known. no ones favorite ninja turtle is leonardo except yours.”

“don’t bring my boy into this.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“well i think spiderman already explained that,” he says with a shit eating grin.

you roll your eyes. “yeah, he told me quite a bit, actually. some pretty gushy stuff.” jake whines nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“big mouth on that guy, huh.”

“jake.”

“hm?”

“i have something to tell you.”

he smiles shyly. “yeah?”

you grab jake by the zipper of his jacket, pulling you together to connect your lips in a kiss. his hands immediately find your waist to pull you closer, practically falling on top of him. he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. you sigh happily in tandem.

after a second your hands find the sides of his face and you pull away, giggling at how you both can’t stop smiling and its making it hard to continue.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

you run your thumb across his bottom lip, admiring the contours of his face and how his goofy grin and lidded eyes are so full of warmth.

“don’t you have something to confess to me, too?”

“i still don’t like spiders.”

“jake!” you push him back by the chest and he laughs, wrapping his arms completely around your torso.

he wiggles his fingers up your spine in a crawling motion, making you shiver and swat him away in a fit of giggles. he leans in close to your ear, and whispers-

“i’m spiderman.”

[halcyon-writings]

OMG MORE SINISTER MARK!! PLS! him realizing he actually cares about you and can't deal, responding to it with aggression towards you and he only gets more frustrated when you stay stoic 🤤 (smut if you do that?)

points @ sinister!mark, he gaf 😔

and thank you all sm for 2,000 followers! I'll make a proper post for it but for now i wanted to say thank you!

Slight cw for implied not-sfw things (I usually dont write smut on here but i tried dsjkfjdsk), it is not obviously pointed out but there is also a power dynamic here so also be mindful of that if such a thing makes you uncomfortable, sinister mark being weird about blood idk (he’s into it), Please be kind to yourself and read only what you feel comfortable doing so!

more sinister invincible fics (in the same-ish verse):

i • ii

nav.

Mark rarely sleeps. He claims to not need it, being a viltrumite and all that. But you see how his eyes droop, his words slurring as he yawns and poorly attempts to hide it.

His bare skin brushes against yours as he lounges on the soft sheets and pillows. His legs tangle with yours, another way for him to keep you where you are. Not like you could get up, given the grip of his arms around your waist. Your neck stings, smatterings of bruises and bites that you know you'll feel for days, are scattered about. There are most likely more scattered about your legs and thighs.

But the bruises and bites will heal in time, you supposed.

Even stirring causes him to wake, his eyes opening and simply looking. Watching, waiting. For what, exactly, you are uncertain. But his brow furrows as you sit up, legs swinging to the edge of the bed. The dim light of the sun peaks through the curtains.

"Where are you going?" He asks, eyes on the wall adjacent to the bed instead of on you, on your skin still so marked with bites and bruises.

You stretch your arms languidly, you open your mouth to speak, as you do, you shudder slightly at the tenderness of your throat, teeth shaped prints remain, even when you know he was holding back then. "Breakfast."

He watches as you dress, a shirt of his with the words that have already faded and leave just a shadow of a pattern. It was something he told you offhandedly, while he was pulling off your clothing, to wear more of his clothes instead. But it didn't feel so romantic when it had been after he quelled another rebellion.

Only that time, he had been more... reckless. More sloppy. A part of you credited that to the fact that just recently, he had fought and killed his father.

Certain differences between father and son had led to a violent fight, one that nearly killed you in the process. And so when Mark had returned to you dangling off of the ground, his father's hand wrapped around your neck as he squeezed while you glared down at the older viltrumite, he saw red.

How unfortunate that just when you were healing from it, does Mark all but drag you to bed. His teeth replace the grasp of Omni-Man’s hands. If you were anyone else, perhaps you’d even be afraid, that his teeth could tear out your throat, sinew and skin in his teeth.

You almost miss the way his eyes flutter at the taste of your blood when one bite leaves a particularly nasty break in your skin. How his breathing falters as euphoria strikes him.

If it wasn’t for the way his hips move in tandem with yours, you’d wince. Instead, you bare your throat for him even more.

He’s trembling, yet his hands are tight around your waist, hands gripping your hips in a way that you know will leave bruises too. You’re too preoccupied having a grand old time to notice (or care, his paranoia supplies). It only makes him worse.

There are teeth marks in a trail down your neck, to your clavicle, to your chest. Even then it is not enough for him to be satisfied.

“Don’t…” You hear, even with your ears ringing. “Don’t, don’t leave.”

Don’t die.

You let out a heavy breath. Your neck throbs from one bite left specifically. Yet his tongue laps at any blood, as though to soothe, or in an even rare chance, apologize.

As you look at his eyes, you’d think he hates you, despises you for making him feel so vulnerable like this. But then he kisses you.

He kisses you like a lover. He bites you like he is ready to devour you.

You think that both are one and the same.

[artdcnaldson]

tashi in the mix to this "teach me" verse hold on because..... tashi teaching you how to move your hips on a mans cock to make him crazy, on art because patrick would try to slip his tip in 😒,,,, hands on your hips, guiding you, you can feel her nipples on your back as she helps you rock back and forth over his dick.... art slipping and sliding through your slick folds, moaning when tashi turns your head to lick into your mou- i have another idea for patrick ill be back

hiiiii 🫶🩷

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (f!recieving oral, grinding, orgasm denial)

A/N: Your mind amazes me so bad it’s crazy. Patrick’s part is gonna be so 🤭🫶 I’m excited. Anyways. Need Artashi so bad it’s clinical

When you tell Tashi, her face contorts in a mix of annoyance and confusion. At you, for you, at them— it was hard to tell.

“Jesus, you’ve just been jerking and sucking them off for weeks now?” She asks, her lips turned into a frown

“I didn’t think you’d be upset about it,” you said shyly, feeling an uncomfortable knot form in your stomach. “It’s nothing serious between us, just—“

She stops you, laughing wryly. “No, I don’t give a fuck if they’re your boyfriends or not. I just can’t fucking believe that you’ve been getting them off and they haven’t even offered to make you cum.”

You feel heat in your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t ever ask. It’s too embarrassing.”

Tashi rolls her eyes. “Jesus, if you can suck their dicks, they can make you cum. It’s not hard.” And she’s right. It’s not like you haven’t wondered what it would feel like for their hands to fit between your thighs, how different it might feel for their fingers to be buried inside of you— long and thick, different than yours. Or their mouths— even though thinking about it makes your stomach twist with embarrassment. “Whatever. I’ll fix it for you.”

Tashi will fix it. And that’s that.

It’s not even a day later that Tashi texts you, inviting you over to her dorm. “They’re fucking chauvinists,” she explains, knees brushing yours as you face each other on her bed. “They’re treating you like a fucking fleshlight because you’re naive. But you’re not going to be naive anymore. You’re going to get exactly what you want. What you need.”

“But I like it,” you admit nervously, afraid to let her down. “Being wanted like that.”

She smiles, brushes her hand along your cheek. “We’re not quitting. We’re leveling the playing field. They’ve given you some lessons, it’s my turn.”

Art Donaldson is a weak link— needy, sweet, eager. He’d follow Patrick or Tashi off a fucking cliff if they wanted him to. Art’s so easy that it’s no surprise when he’s at Tashi’s door fifteen minutes after she texts him.

Between you and Tashi, it’s easy to get him where you want him— desperate, wanting. All it takes are a few kisses and rubbing his dick through his jeans.

He watches, almost dazed as you kiss Tashi deeply, putting all those lessons from him and Patrick to work. And she’s like a mix of the two in a way— like she’d taken the care and hunger Art kissed with and tangled it up in all of Patrick’s intensity and need.

“That’s nice. At least they’re good for something,” Tashi murmurs against your lips. You nod, mouth open, leaning back in to kiss her again. She smiles, leans back. “C’mere.”

Tashi sits against the headboard, pulls you so your back is against her chest. Art slots in between your thighs with no instruction. He tugs down your shorts and panties at once, and your face burns as your pussy is exposed to both of them.

“Look how pretty she is, Art,” Tashi says. She’s holding your thighs apart, keeping you spread open for them. Her lips brush against your jaw and you sigh contentedly. “Give her a kiss.”

Art obeys easily, and his mouth meets your cunt like he’s making out with it. Slow laps of his tongue through your slit, tasting how wet you’d gotten from kissing them. He moans softly, nuzzles closer.

Your eyes flutter, rolling back as your body melts into the new sensation— lips and tongue, the warmth and wetness and pressure. It’s better than your own fingers, or the cheap vibrator you’d gotten at the mall.

You squeeze Tashi’s hand when his lips seal around your clit, nails digging into her palm, forming tiny crescents. “See?” Tashi says. “He’ll do whatever you want, you just have to make him.”

Art’s tongue dips inside of your entrance, making you moan. Tashi relishes in it— in seeing you experience all of it for the first time. It wasn’t fair, she decided, that she’d been left out from the beginning.

“Use your fingers,” Tashi instructs. “I shouldn’t have to tell you this, Art, you should just do it right the first time.”

He moans pathetically against your cunt as she tangles her fingers in his blond curls. You’re so wet that your body accepts his finger easily, like it belongs. He thrusts it slowly, curled just enough to brush against your sweet spot.

He’s grinding against the bed— desperate, needy. His brow is furrowed in concentration, desperate to make you cum so he can be rewarded and praised. He slips a second finger alongside the first, alternates between suckling on your clit and teasing it with soft licks.

You’re so easy to get worked up, especially when you’re sandwiched between Tashi and Art. Neither of them are surprised when you cum, hard and fast, clenching around Art’s fingers, grinding against his face.

Embarrassment and arousal mingle warm in your belly at the sight of Art’s face— all slick and wet. He leans in, kisses Tashi, then kisses you. He undresses while you’re coming down from it, wanting the two of you to lave him with attention, to take care of the aching need between his legs.

That’s not what he’s there for.

Tashi pushes him down onto his back, pins him there with nothing more than a look. He lays there trying to be patient, with his cock hard and resting against his stomach. You see it twitch as she peels off your shirt and your bra, throws her own shirt across the room.

Art watches in eager anticipation as Tashi guides you to straddle him, your wet cunt hovering right over where he wants it. His head falls back against Tashi’s pillows.

“Patrick’s going to fucking kill me,” Art groans.

“Why? She’s not fucking you,” Tashi said firmly. “You’re just going to lay there and be a prop. Be a good boy and lay still.”

His chest heaves as Tashi settles behind you, pressing her body against yours. “Alright, just move with my hands, okay? I’ll show you what boys like.”

You off wordlessly as she starts guiding your hips in slow, grinding motions. Art whines beneath you, as each slow pass of your hips makes your pussy slide along the line of his cock. His head falls back, and he tries and fails to buck up against you with his hips pinned under your and Tashi’s weight.

She guides your hips in slow circles and you whine at the same time as Art. “See?” She asks. You nod, head falling back against her shoulder. “All you need to turn his brain into mush is right here.”

Soon, the pressure of her hands on you is second to instinct— she lets her hands move up your body to squeeze and cup your tits. You turn, letting her lick into your mouth, relishing in the drag of her tongue against yours.

“Can you cum like this?” She breathes into your mouth. “Just using him like a plaything?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know,” you admit.

She just smiles against your lips, leans in for another hungry kiss. “Try.”

She guides your hand to the middle of his chest, giving you more purchase. The new angle makes you moan, eyes squeezing shut as your sensitive clit rubs against him.

“Good, keep going like that.” You almost whine at the loss of her warm behind you as she moves to sit against the wall. The perfect view of you and Art, both submitting to her whims. The sight of her with a hand between her thighs, watching you with a hungry, unabashed desire makes heat pool in your belly. Her fingers circle her clit with the skill of someone who knows exactly how to get what she needs in all things. “Look at him, not me.”

Art’s a fucking mess— red down to his chest, panting and whining beneath you. Without Tashi pinning his legs, he’s able to grind up against you, to seek that friction. Moans tumble past his full lips, and god, he looks so pretty when he’s pinned beneath you for once.

When you cum, it’s with panting moans and trembling thighs. Tashi finishes at the sight, of you— grinding down against the blond, who’s just lying there and taking it. Tashi rubs your back as you come down, smiling like she’d just coached you to victory.

You move off of Art and he’s still hard, still wanting. Pouting at the loss of the warm, slick pressure on his lap.

“Okay, you can go,” Tashi tells Art, with a soft pat against his cheek. He groans, chest still heaving, pouting. Tashi sighs. “You did your job, Art. Thank you.”

You watch him redress, obviously hard in his athletic shorts. He looks back, like he’s checking if Tashi’s going to change her mind (she doesn’t).

When he’s gone, she kisses you again, easing you onto your back, straddling your lap as she grinds her wet pussy against your thigh. “You’re such a good little student,” she praises against your lips. “No wonder they like you so much.”

tashi/patrick vignette next and they will match each others freak trust 🫶

[mclager]

Am I your little secret? | Toto Wolff x reader

Warning: Use of the word daddy (in the song), age gap (reader is 24), cheating, oral (m receiving), semi-public (?), name calling (that counts as degradation?), a picture being taken, dry humping, lil bit of praise

I'm listening too much Lana del Rey I apologise

One thing about being best friends with a F1 driver is that he will make you go to every race he can, even if you don't really care about it. Being around Kimi all the time means I'm around Toto Wolff all the time, and that's why I kept saying yes to Kimi's invites.

He always received me in mercedes with a kind smile, at the beginning without saying anything, but then I was pretending I didn't understand F1, so he started to explain it to me as I look confused for the hundred time, as he said what is a DRS and why they used it, every race he explained something different, and I nodded and asked questions to make him look smarter, every time a little more close till our arms were touching and I couldn't move closer. Then my clothes got shorter and I was super interested about the strategy, and god knows I never understood a single word about it, but at the end of the day the strategy is win. The days Susie Wolff was around Toto didn't even looked at my direction, so this days I was glued to Kimi, trying to look less suspicious, but what threat can a girl so young represent to her, right?

The garage is very noisy and that would constantly give me a migraine and every time it did Toto would let me stay in his office, since it was quieter and darker. He would guide me there and make sure I had everything I needed and that I was ok. It never happened when Susie was there, so I decided to test, how far he would go with his wife right by his side? I walked up to him as always, did my drama, but this time he asked one of the social media girls to walk me there and get me all I needed. I couldn't be mad, it made perfect sense, didn't?

By the end of it, I was walking in and out of Toto's office like it was mine, he was more in the garage anyways. Today Toto was mad at something, and Kimi crashing in FP1 didn't make him any happier. Kimi was worried about the car, and I didn't want to make Toto angrier, so I just went to his office pass the time. I put some music and started to dance to it, when Lana started to play I started to sing too, it wasn't anything loud, because I didn't want to make anyone pissed at me.

"You taste like the fourth of July, Malt liquor on your breath, my, my, I love you but I don’t know why..." My eyes were closed, my hands in my hair. "You can be the boss, daddy, you can be the boss..."

I couple verses passed by as I finally opened my eyes.

"I knew it was wrong, I’m beyond it, I tried to be strong but I lost it..." This where the last lyrics I sang before seeing Toto leaning against the door frame, watching me. "Toto?"

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing important, I'm just passing time till FP2." He nodded and entered in the room, and closed the door behind him. "Do you need me to get out?"

"No, you can stay." He walked to his table and sat down. "You can continue."

"I don't want to bother you, sir."

"Don't worry about that, just pretend I'm not here." I nodded and pressed to change the song.

"My pussy tastes like Pepsi cola..." Start to sound from my phone, I froze. "My eyes are wide like cherry pies..." My cheeks burning red. "I got sweet taste for men who are older..." For a second my not just my brain stopped working, but my phone also decided to freeze just to complete my sentence. "It's always been so, it's no surprise..." I paused the song as quick as possible, which wasn't quick enough. I had my back turned to Toto, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"Why you stopped it?" He asked and got up.

"I... Just... Is not a appropriate song I'm afraid."

"Now you care? After making my wife more than mad, you care about inappropriate?" He got up.

"I did that? How?"

"How? Well, maybe when you get so close you almost sit on my lap, or when you get all needy and ask to go to my office?" He step to the front of the table.

He noticed?

"I..." He shook his head.

"No, don't need to try to explain, I know what you're trying to do." He got closer to me, and at this angle, his so fucking tall. "See, I'm not stupid." His fingers brushed a couple strands of hair out of my face and grabbed my chin. "You want me so bad, it's pathetic."

"Toto..."

"No, you've talked enough, now it's my turn. Suzie is fucking mad, she's giving me the cold shoulder, so now you're going to make it worth my marital nightmare." Toto let's go of my chin and glances at the door before looking at me again. "Get down on your knees."

I didn't think, I didn't even breathe before doing what he told me. He smirked looking at me.

"Didn't know you were the slut type." He undone his belt, then he unbuttoned his pants, pushing it down just enough to take his knob out of his pants. What surprised me was the fact that he was already half hard. "You know what to do, we don't have much time, do we?"

Instinctively one of my hands grabbed his shaft, pumping it up and down a couple times before licking his tip. He looked down at me as if he had better places to be, he put my hair in a makeshift ponytail and forced my face against him, until I opened my mouth and took him inside, making me choke on his length.

"You look pretty like this." His free hand reached to his back pocket and pick his phone. "You wouldn't mind if I took a picture right?" The flash blinded me for a second, before I could process what he just said. "If I didn't have a wife this would be my wallpaper, to show everyone the pretty whore I have. I think Kimi would like to see this." He pushed my head away just enough for me to take a breath, but the air in my lungs was knocked out when he trusted into my mouth, fucking it like he was planning it for months. "He has a thing for you, don't you think? The way he looks at your ass when you're using this little skirts that barely covers it."

He pushed one of his feet between my legs making me open them. His feet was pressing against my core making me whine around him, my hips started to move, trying it's best to grind against anything I could to get any relief I could.

"Or maybe he's familiar with it, you're a slut after all aren't you?" His grip tightened on my hair, a smirk on his face while he was fucking mine. My moans were muffled, but Toto knew by how hard I was grinding against his shoe that I desperately needed to cum. He didn't say anything, but he pressed harder against my core, and moaned, it was low, but I was proud of taking any sound of him.

I was getting close, and he knew it.

"Come on, can you be good for once and come already?" He tried to sound annoyed, but it came out like a growl, a growl filled with desire. I wished I could have hold it longer, but I came on spot, moaning like the slut I was.

"I'm going to..." He almost whispered, the grip he had on my hair loosened, almost as a invite to get out and let him cum out of my mouth, but I couldn't let him. I stayed in place till I felt him spurting inside my mouth. He rides out his high before exiting my mouth, as he did I swallowed every drop that he left behind.

He pulled me up to my feet, cleaned the drool out of my face with the sleeves of his sweater, fixed my hair, his eyes everywhere but on mine. He fixed his pants, took a deep breath and just then his eyes met mine.

"Are you ok?" I nodded.

"I am." He caressed my face before lean forward and kiss me, his hands comfortably on my hips, and mine on his biceps.

He broke the kiss, parting just enough to speak.

"You were amazing."

"Thank you." My brain was working for longer sentences, this was all I wanted, it's like I'm floating around in a dream.

"I would like if you wanted to go to my hotel room tonight, is that something you would want to do?" I nodded and he smiled. "Great." He gave me another kiss before fully backed off. "You can rest here, I'll make sure no one bothers you, ok?"

"Ok." He walked towards the door, but before he could opened I called him. "Toto?"

"Yes?" He turned to look at me.

"What about your wife?"

"She doesn't need to know for now. Rest, you have a long night coming." He exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. This is definitely a secret to keep.

[feyascorner]

Hear me out! Hear me out!

From Astrion's pov

A Tav who hates physical contact.

But then one night when it's pouring rain Tav comes to Astarion's tent feeling scared and ask if they can stay and then one thing leads to another and suddenly the two of them are cuddled together and Astarion is like "I thought you didn't like being touched" and Tav is like "Normally I'm scared people will hurt me when they touch me. But you are different. I feel safe with you. I trust you."

a/n. I’m going to collapse they’re everything to me AHHH THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PROMPT

Astarion, by nature and by the two-hundred years he’s spent as a vampire spawn, is a touchy person. It’s instinctual. A habit he can no longer break. It’s not even sexual, half the time. It’s simply how he conveys the words that he struggles to say, even if his vocabulary is filled to the brim with flowery verses of love straight from a romance novel.

But he understands the aversion for touch. Because he’s spent so much of his life hating the touch of strangers against his skin, he understands when you recoil when one of your companions attempt to hug you, or someone tries to shake your hand. Even if yours doesn’t stem from the similar situations where he had to set out on a victim under Cazador’s orders, he understands what it’s like to simply dislike it.

He doesn’t touch you, even if his hand itches to brush the stray strands of hair out of your face. Even as he has to yank his arm away when he feels it nearing yours as you walk alongside one another. Even as all he wants to do is drag you to the nearest corner and beg that you just hold his hand.

So when you appear at the flap of his tent, barely shielding yourself from the thunderous weather outside, asking if you can stay, his jaw physically unhinges.

He coughs, gathering himself quickly—or as quickly as he can manage.

“Come here, darling. You’ll freeze away with that mortal body of yours.”

He doesn’t even know how it happens. Well, he does, but he doesn’t really believe it’s happening. Only fifteen minutes later, you’re snuggled in under his blankets, pressed tightly against his side. He stares up at the ceiling on his back with wide eyes, slowly turning to look at you.

“Is this…alright?” He asks, and you peek out from one eye, adjusting your head on his arm. He can smell your shampoo from so close—lavender? No, maybe another blasted flower he doesn’t know the name of…

“What is?”

“This,” he waves his free arm between the two of you. “Don’t get me wrong, darling, you know I’m never against a cuddle, but I thought you—well—“

You stare at him expectantly.

“I thought you disliked physical contact,” he says, softer. “Not just with me, obviously. In general you seem rather opposed to the idea.”

The thunder rings from outside and your brows crease deeper. The light from a lightning strike illuminates your faces briefly before it’s a dim darkness again, with nothing but your own eyes able to adjust just enough to make out one another’s features. He’s sure he sees more than you do, considering his familiarity with the dark, and uses it to notice the way your lips purse at the intrusive sounds coming from outside.

He also notices you leaning closer to him, but hesitant. Your movements are unsure.

If he had a heart, it would’ve been pounding now, surely.

So he curls his arm closer, pushing you into his chest in the process. You tense briefly, but melt into the feeling, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Are you afraid?”

Your voice is but a whisper. “Not anymore.”

There’s a comfortable silence hanging in the air for what seems like hours, but he might consider them to be just a few minutes. The rain pounds relentlessly against the tent, but here, even through the thin fabric, he doesn’t even notice it anymore.

“You’re different from everyone else,” you mumble, and he looks down at his chest to see your eyes halfway shut, clearly about to doze off. “I know you won’t hurt me…there’s no reason for me to avoid touching you.”

He blinks, and you bury half your face into the fabric of his shirt.

“I want you to touch me.”

For the first time in decades, Astarion finds himself at a loss for words. He’s said worse things, sure, but coming from you?…

After filing through a dozen possible responses, he settled on one, opening his mouth to respond, but your breath is already heavier. You’ve already left to a dream world he cannot follow you into, and you’ve left him in a state that he would’ve considered humiliating with anyone else.

He stares at the ceiling again, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing.

“You can’t just say that and then fall asleep you fool…”

[edges-of-night]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request something? Fellowship x reader where the reader gets injured in a battle or something and confessed their feelings before passing out… and when they wake up they find out their feelings r returned 🤭 I love ur requests they r so very cute! Thank u!

That was such a lovely request to write, nonnie! I’m really sorry you had to wait for it so long. Also, thank you for your kind words!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Initially, Aragorn would not treat you much differently after your recovery – so much so that you start wondering if you actually confessed your feelings to him or hallucinated that whole part. But all Aragorn wants to do is find the right moment to talk to you. Once he does, he’d gently take your hands in his and tell you how much you mean to him – and that your feelings are in fact reciprocated! Confessing your love first gave him the courage to do the same. “I am not well versed in these fields. But I hope I can show you my heart just as bluntly as you did yours.”

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir would not be around when you wake up. The others tell you he was simply shocked by your passing out and that he needed time to adjust and would be overjoyed to hear you’re fine – but you suspect it would be something else that scared him away. You’d find him pondering in a lone corner, afraid of how he’ll react to seeing you again – only to see his hardened face light up when your eyes meet his – and then he’d rush to kiss you! “I’ve been a fool for not understanding it sooner. Forgive me…!” ♡

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

I like to think that out of the Fellowship, Frodo would be the most mature to handle your love confession. After all, he knows your injuries aren’t lethal and worries not about what happens next, since he is very clear in his own feelings. After you wake up, he greets you with a smile, takes your hand to make sure you’re fine – and lowers his voice to say, “I’ll call the others right away. But before that, I need you to remember the last thing you said to me. I feel the same.” He’d give you the cutest smile, shining all the way up to his blue eyes.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf, being the one who tried to heal you in the moment you passed out, tries ignoring your dramatic love confession and silently urges the others to forget what they overheard. That said, he is very flattered – after all, he’s been enamoured with you for a while now. Still, his romance is quiet and subdued. He’d sit next to you with a smile when you wake up. At first, you thought his behaviour was unchanged – until he ends his sentences toward you with “darling” or “my dear”. There is a playful spark in his eyes that tells you everything you need to know. (Eventually, he would also spell out ‘I love you too’ in fireworks or butterflies!)

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Gimli stays with you during your recovery, guarding your bed day and night, so dutifully that the others need to remind him of eating. Once you wake up, you’d meet his soft eyes, only to watch them harden when you try to speak to him: “Don’t do that again! Ever!” – “What? Talk to you…?” – “Scare me like that!” he corrects, grumbling into his beard. “What’s a lad supposed to do when his sweetheart passes out in his arms?” You smile blissfully as you understand and offer him a hug that Gimli more than eagerly returns!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas is entirely stumped when you pass out after that dramatic “I love you”. There is a frown on his pretty face for the next few hours, waiting for you to wake up again. When you do, you’re terribly embarrassed by the way he’s staring at you through his Elven eyes. He’d fixate you and ask, “Did you mean it? What you said to me?” You’d blush and retort that yes, of course you meant it – and that is enough to make his bright smile and joy return. “What a relief! I feared that if it had been but a fever, my reciprocation would ring false, or sound like a mockery. Please know it’s nothing but the truth!” And he’d take your hands and lean in for a quick and happy kiss!

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

At first, Merry would not believe what he heard just before you passed out. During your recovery, he retreats into dark corners to think and rationalise – people say all kinds of stupid things when they thought they were about to die, right? You couldn’t possibly be in love with him – not when there are so many other people – taller people – all around you. So, imagine his surprise when you do ask him for a private conversation after waking up, to set everything straight. Only Merry doesn’t accept your apology. “What’s there to apologise for? You said what you felt in that moment. It’s not like I didn’t like what I heard, I feel the same, after all…” And then, you both share an ‘oh!’ moment before you laugh and fall into the other’s arms!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin would initially be overwhelmed by your confession and subsequent passing out. However, he’s positive you’ll be fine, firmly believing that no matter how important, these matters needn’t be so dramatic. He’d treat you as casually as always after your recovery, though you can’t deny there is a spring in his steps and a smile on his face whenever you’re talking. You now know that your feelings are returned, and yet you still blush when he tells you over a shared bowl of strawberries: “I don’t think I’ve told you yet, but I love you, too! Very much so! I’ve thought of a few different pet names to call you, but I wanted to clarify that first. So, just tell me which one you like best…”

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam would not leave your side, no matter how long you were passed out. Whenever someone would try and tear him away, he’d explain that he has something very important to discuss with you when you wake up. He would practice romantic speeches and poems to recite for you, really thinking the whole thing through – only to remain absolutely speechless when your eyes do meet his. After your initial greeting – “Thank goodness you’re alive!” – he’d just hold your hand and ask you to stay with him ♡

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XX)

Chapter 20 : My heart has made its mind up and I’m afraid it’s you

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Valentine’s day is here… wondering how Andrew is going to cope with it, huh?

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2477

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Valentine

My heart has made its mind up And I’m afraid it’s you. Whatever you’ve got lined up, My heart has made its mind up And if you can’t be signed up This year, next year will do. My heart has made its mind up And I’m afraid it’s you.

Wendy Cope

Andrew had a date tonight.

He hadn’t been on a first date since Sam, obviously, he felt rusty and nervous. He didn’t even know the woman, Alex had set up the date. Christina, that was her name. A year younger than him, working as a nurse at St James’s Hospital. Alex had showed him a picture, she was pretty. Apparently, she was nice and a lot of fun. Why not give her a chance?

Andrew was desperate at that point. Desperate to see if he could ever move on from Sam, desperate to prove himself that he didn’t have a crush on you. That this was nothing serious, just his heart longing for companionship when he felt so lonely these days. Besides, it was Valentine’s Day, he was so painfully lonely, he needed to focus on something else than his love life in shambles. He needed to try to move on. And if he did, he needed to do so with a woman who wasn’t you.

So, he had accepted Alex’s offer, had booked a table at a nice restaurant, had tried to look his best for tonight. Elwood was staying with Jon for the evening, he didn’t have to worry about going home late.

And now, there he was, running five minutes late as he walked inside the restaurant, but for his standard, he called that a win. Five minutes… who would care for five minutes?

Apparently, Christina would.

He had a shy but polite smile on his face when he spotted her across the room. He was polite as he took a seat. Meanwhile, she gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Was there any traffic tonight?” she asked, and Andrew knew at once what she was talking about.

“Erm… it just… took me longer than I thought it would to drop my dog off at my brother’s. Sorry about that. I hope you didn’t wait for too long.”

“No, it’s okay,” she admitted, and she seemed to relax knowing the reason for his short delay. “It’s a nice place you’ve chosen, by the way.”

“Yeah? Glad you like it. Should we take a look at the menu, then?”

They quickly ordered their food, and then began the usual dance of questions that came with trying to learn the most basic things about a person while they waited for their meal.

“So… Alex told me you’re a professor? At Trinity?”

“I am,” Andrew nodded, before drinking a gulp of water. “Assistant professor, actually.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Erm… the paycheck, definitely,” Andrew joked, making Christina smile. “It’s a different rank at University… extremely hierarchical organisation. I don’t have a chair. I give classes, I do research, but I don’t have the same prestige and don’t own a chair for my work.”

“Right…”

“Which is normal, I’m not complaining. Chairs are rare, I’ll probably have to wait another decade to get the rank of professor.”

She didn’t seem reassured by that, Andrew wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“For how long have you been working at Saint James?” Andrew asked back.

“A couple of years.”

“Do you like it there?”

“Yeah… I guess,” she shrugged, and Andrew waited for her to say more about the matter, but she didn’t.

“And so… what do you teach at Trinity?” she asked after a short silence.

“Erm… English. Contemporary poetry, mainly, but I cover a lot of modernism as well through novels.”

She blinked a couple of times.

“Right… so… you like books.”

He gave her an amused smile.

“You can say that.”

“The last book I’ve read was a mandatory reading in high school,” she admitted.

“The last time I cleaned up a wound without feeling sick was… never. So, I guess we’re even,” Andrew offered with a smile, and Christina nodded.

And it was alright, of course. People had many interests. And his partner didn’t have to be interested in the same things as he did. Sam was the perfect example of that. Still… he didn’t really know what to talk about next.

They spent the next few minutes making chit chat, but it was laborious at best. Andrew used a moment of silence in the conversation to take a look around. The restaurant was obviously busy on Valentine’s Day. The decoration was simple but aesthetically pleasing; candles and white or red roses added to each table to enhance the theme of the evening. There were only couples around.

Only couples…

“Andy?”

He turned around, recognising the voice in an instant.

He couldn’t help it, his face fell for a second, before he could summon the strength to hide his reaction.

The universe itself was set against him at this point…

He got up, forced a smile to greet Sam and Frank.

“It’s so funny finding you here!”

“Yeah… wasn’t expecting to see you!” he forced a smile.

Frank noticed Christina then.

“Oh, honey, we’re disturbing Andrew, I think. Sorry, about that,” he was genuine in his apology as he warmly smiled at Christina.

Sam flinched, but quickly smiled as well.

“Oh, sorry! Have a nice evening you two!”

They moved away quickly, reaching their own table. Just a couple of tables away. Right where Andrew could see them whenever he looked up from his plate.

Nice… grand…

“Erm… what are your hobbies?” he asked out of the blue, trying to get the conversation going again, if only to distract himself from Frank and Sam holding hands across their table.

“Oh… not much. I don’t really have the time for those… I like running.”

“Nice!”

“Do you like jogging?”

“Erm… not that much. But I love swimming.”

“I can’t swim.”

“Right… do you like the sea anyway? Like… the beach? Running on the beach, maybe?”

“Not really, no. I’m not very interested in the sea. It’s a little scary.”

“Oh, okay.”

Andrew focused on his meal, but with every painful question asked and answered, it was more and more obvious that they had nothing in common.

A couple of tables away, Frank and Sam were sharing food, a habit Andrew knew Sam hated. They were holding hands, and giggling, and looking so disgustingly in love, while he was on his own, while he wanted that intimacy back, while he thought of you…

Andrew wasn’t sure at which point of the evening you had popped into his mind, but you were all he could think of, right now. He had mentioned that he was going on a date, but you had not given him any details concerning your plans for the evening. You would call your friend Siobhán, you had mentioned some ice cream… were you reading? Watching crappy tv or a good movie? Had you changed your plans? Were you on a date as well?

Andrew couldn’t refrain the bitter taste of jealousy as he thought of you with someone else… as he imagined you in his shoes, at a nice restaurant, meeting with a stranger, and perhaps you would let him hold your hand across the table and would kiss him at the end of the evening, and even spend the night with him…

A wave of nausea made it impossible for him to finish his plate as he thought of you in another man’s bed.

The couple dining at the table right next to Andrew’s started raising their voices. Not enough to draw attention from the entire restaurant, but enough for Andrew and Christina to overhear everything. An argument was brewing. Jealousy and an unhealthy relationship at its peak.

In a matter of five minutes, the two were almost shouting at each other. Andrew and Christina exchanged an embarrassed look while the guy complained about how often they had sex.

And Sam was still there, every time he looked up. And you were all he could think of. And Christina was nice, sure, but they were absolutely incompatible on every level.

And then the last straw came.

“Are you religious?” she asked, and Andrew shook his head.

“No, not really, no.”

“Oh…”

“What about you?”

“Yes, very.”

“Oh…”

“Is that… like… are you just not going to church, or…”

“I… I don’t know. I’m an agnostic, I would say.”

“A what?”

“Agnostic. I don’t know if there’s a God up there or not. I’m… neutral, I guess you could say it like that. But I wouldn’t go to church even if I did believe in God.”

“Really? Why not?”

“I’m wary of any institution run by men that uses its power to dictate how people should behave, including in the most private parts of their lives.”

She blinked, struggling with this new information.

“So… you would never practice religion…”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Right… Cause it’s a very important part of my life.”

“And I respect that.”

“But you would not start believing.”

“Why would I?”

“For me?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Would you think it was okay if I asked you to give up on your faith to be in a relationship with me?”

“Of course not!”

“Then… how can you ask? We can have different beliefs…”

“But you’re wrong.”

“I can’t be wrong, Christina. It’s faith. And it’s the definition of faith to believe without proof. You can’t say I’m wrong, and I can’t say you are. We just have different faiths.”

She nodded, but had stopped eating.

Next to them the angry couple raised their voices again.

“Can I be brutally honest?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Andrew merely nodded.

“You’re clearly a really nice lad, Andy. And I’m not going to deny that Alex was right when he said that you’re definitely my type. But… it looks like we… don’t match.”

Andrew gave her a kind smile.

“I agree,” he nodded. “I don’t think our lives are very compatible.”

“Not really no.”

“You’re good craic though. And you’re… gorgeous, to be honest.”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t think we’d be able to find common things to build a relationship on, though.”

“Me neither. Would you mind if we called it a night?”

“No… no, I don’t mind, I understand.”

“Thanks.”

They paid for their food, left the restaurant while the couple bickered and Frank and Sam were still in love. Andrew waited for Christina to get safely in an uber, before he would walk to his own car.

He heaved a sigh, tried not to cry.

Everywhere he went, Sam’s ghost followed.

Whatever he did, you were always on his mind.

Were you home safe and sound? What were you doing? Was there a man with you?

He reached for his phone, his car still silent in the carpark. He touched your name on his screen, and you answered after three rings.

“Andy?”

“Hi, Y/N! You’re alright ?”

“Sure! Just… about to watch some adorable romcom to remind myself of unattainable standards concerning men and relationships, will most certainly have a good cry over the fact that the man I wanted to marry is probably getting amazing sex with his new fiancée, and I will definitely eat my weight in ice cream. You? How was your date? It’s early still… did everything go well?”

“Argh… don’t mention it. Everything about it was awful.”

He described his evening, and you listened, commented, interjected every now and then.

“You deserve to eat your weight in ice cream too,” you stated.

“I think I do, yeah… although… I think I’ll just go to bed once I’m home.”

“Are you driving?”

“No, no… don’t worry. I just… I felt bad. So, I called you before leaving the parking lot in front of the restaurant. I can see all those disgustingly happy couples walk out of there hand in hand…”

“Outrageous. Don’t they know we’re mourning?!”

“No decency. And God, I hate Valentine’s Day…”

“Me too… I feel… so empty today. Frank and I used to always go to the cinema on Valentine’s Day. He always stole all my popcorn. I found that adorable.”

He heard you sniffing, his heart broke at the sound. He wished he could have been there, hold you tight until the tears would subside, until he could make you smile again.

“What would you have done with Sam?” you asked, your voice hoarse with sorrow.

Andrew shrugged, stared at the night sky, made utterly black by the clouds.

“A restaurant, probably. Flowers. Nothing too fancy, but it would have been nice.”

He struggled to swallow, his throat tightening.

“Frank and Sam were sharing their food.”

“Hmm? Yeah, Frank does that sometimes.”

“Sam hates it. She hates it. She never wanted me to touch her food. Why does she let him do that, then?”

A short silence, your answer in a whisper.

“To make him happy.”

Andrew pondered on your words. You were right, obviously. When he spoke again, his voice was low and soft, barely above a whisper.

“I really wish I didn’t have to do that again to be loved.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend. Change. Stop… being myself sometimes.”

You were quiet, but you were still there. He knew it. He could hear you breathing in the phone. And beyond that reassuring sound, he just knew you were listening. He was never sure with Sam.

“I’d really like that too,” you whispered, and he hummed in response.

A happy couple came out of the restaurant then. Andrew watched them reach their car, laughing, holding hands. He felt so fucking lonely… So utterly alone in this world. No one knew him like that anymore…

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“Promise me you… promise me you’ll never change for me. Promise me you won’t pretend. I want you to…”

He cleared his throat, brushing the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“I want you to be yourself when I’m around. Can you do that?”

He heard you sniffing again. You were quiet for a moment, but Andrew knew you were nodding, he could hear the quiet hum that went with it.

“Andy?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. Thank you, Andy.”

You sniffed, struggled through a few words, but Andrew was patient, he was drying his cheeks on his sleeves anyway.

“I don’t want you to pretend either when you’re with me, you know?”

“I know.”

He was lying. He didn’t know. He didn’t know at all. He didn’t know how to be loved, except by not quite being himself.

You both remained silent for a while, but it was still reassuring to know that you were there, on the other end of the line. Andrew should have hung up then. He should have let you watch your cheesy movie, and eat your ice cream. Instead, he spoke again.

“I’ve finished Dante, by the way.”

He spent the next forty-five minutes talking about Inferno with you. And after the call had ended, and he was finally driving home, it was harder than ever to deny that he wanted you.

[kikyan]

Hellfire

Cw: Yandere content means Yandere content y’all, dub-con, stalking, obsessive behavior, abuse of power, Father/Priest! Rollo (AS IN PRIEST NOT INCEST), masturbation, body worship, oral (GN! Reader receiving), fingering, riding, religious themes, etc

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland 

Pairing: Rollo x GN! Reader 

Words: 9.5K 

A/N: Everyone look at your calendars and do you see how in reality it isn’t a New Year but rather Halloween and this Halloween special is coming out on the day it was meant to and not almost 3 months later? Fantastic, moving on. . .enjoy :)) 

A/N2: I want to preface this by saying that this fic does have religion/religious themes. This is not an accurate portrayal either, so please do not come for me-! I did grow up catholic but in my teen years became a full atheist so anything said in this fic is me recalling my childhood. Also, I googled bible verses because I don’t remember any and they were all in Spanish so, yeah. . .enjoy! :))

The bells rang throughout Fleur City, signaling the start of Sunday mass. The crowd gathered, rushing to find any available seats to sit down on. Those unfortunate would have to stand, as they did not dare miss the mass. Father Rollo was an exceptional man, his voice and words rang throughout the church and captivated everyone who was blessed to be in his presence. He handled himself professionally, standing with an upright posture and his head was always looking ahead. He was truly a man befitting to be god's messenger. Fleur City was fortunate to have Father Rollo, he was a man adored by his people and [Reader] was no different. They were locked on Father Rollo who strutted with confidence,

 “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you” 

His eyes locked with [Reader]. They broke away from his eyes but could still feel his piercing eyes on them. 

“I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” 

Cheers erupted from within the church the moment he finished his sentence. Mass was shortly concluded after the church staff asked for donations. Plenty of people offered whatever they could spare, but it was appreciated. The church was emptying but a few others stayed behind to have a few words with Father Rollo. [Reader] stayed seated but looked over at Father Rollo from the corner of their eye. He was attending to the people and their needs, he truly was a virtuous man. They averted their gaze when they saw Father Rollo turn to them. He bid goodbye to the troubled crowd. His heeled shoes echoed loudly through the emptying church, stopping in front of [Reader]. 

“[Reader], good morning. How have you been?” 

“Oh. . good morning, Father Rollo. I’ve been well, how about you?” 

“It has been a pleasant morning so far and I can only pray that it shall remain that way. Though I will say, it’s certainly comforting knowing you’re here. I did not see you anywhere last week.” 

“R-Right. . .my apologies. It certainly wasn’t my intention to miss last week’s mass, but I’m afraid I did end up catching a cold. It has since passed and I feel quite better.” 

“ You ought to take care of yourself, [Reader]. It would be a shame if something terrible happened to you. You are, after all, our number one devotee here at the Church. It would be rather quiet and lonely if you were to go.” 

“Ha ha, it was only a cold Father Rollo, not the plague. I assure you, I am fine. Besides, I’m pretty strong enough to handle an illness.” 

[Reader] returned a smile to Rollo, whose face remained expressionless, but his eyebrows furrowed upwards in un-amusement.  

“That you are, you have God’s protection as one of his children. Alas, I must be off. Till next we meet, [Reader].” 

Rollo turned around and left the main hall, leaving [Reader] alone. It was only for a split second, but he turned around to gaze at them again. 

~ 

[Reader] was in love with Rollo. Their greatest sin that would be known to the dead once they passed. They remember their first meeting, plain as day, unlike that stormy night where this story takes place. 

There was a storm and it was pouring. The kind that people were warned to stay indoors because of the severity, yet here [Reader] was running to the middle of the town where the church lay. Their face was coated in rainwater which made it almost impossible to keep their eyes open, they were struggling to breathe, and the cold that accompanied the storm did little to help. They were staggering over to the Church. 

“[READER!] GET BACK HERE NOW AND I MIGHT FORGIVE YOU!” 

Panic rose and they didn’t dare look back, for if they did, surely it would be their last. They didn’t dare scream for help, because they knew their cries would be drowned by the storm. They finally made it to the center, running up the stairs of the cathedral, and lunged to the door. No surprise that it was locked. 

“[READER]! STOP!”

“L-LEAVE ME ALONE! SANCTUARY, PLEASE GIVE ME SANCTUARY!” 

[Reader] pleaded and began to hit the doors with all their might. The person who was no doubt chasing after them continued their pursuit. They were approaching the steps and soon, close enough to reach out to [Reader]. Just in the nick of time, the door opened enough for [Reader] to throw themselves inside. They landed on the cold stone floors and used whatever strength they had to scramble away from the door. They looked up to see a skinny man with a pale face, green-blue eyes, dark bags under his eyes, and silver hair behind the door. He was adorned in an ankle-long robe and wore black-heeled loafers. His outfit certainly was nothing too fancy, then again it was the middle of the night. 

“S-Sanctuary! P-please, give me sanctuary!” 

“What seems to be the matter-!?” 

The man turned to them but was cut from the person chasing after [Reader]. 

“[Reader]! C’mere, now.” 

The anger in his voice disappeared but there was sternness laced in his request. The silver-haired man turned to the other person. The storm showered them, and the mud that they tracked in did not go unnoticed by the silver-haired man. 

“Forgive me. My name is Rollo Flamme, I am one of the priests here. May I ask what seems to be the issue? I certainly did not expect there to be anyone leisuring out in the streets with the storm raging outside.” 

The silver-haired man, now named ‘Rollo’, asked. Rollo turned to the person outside with an unamused expression. 

“Father Rollo, pardon the intrusion. You see, that person over there is named [Reader], they're my partner. My partner also suffers from an unstable state of mind. It would be best if we returned-!?” 

“Father Rollo, is everything alright?” 

They all turned to look at an elderly woman who no doubt worked for the church. Rollo shook his head and the woman took it as a sign to approach the door. 

“Everything is alright here, there is no need for the both of you to concern yourselves over our issues. Me and [Reader] would be taking our leave-!?” 

“I think not. It would be against everything we stand for if we turned away someone who came to this holy place and asked for sanctuary. I apologize, but I’ll be asking for you to leave. Madam, take this one,” 

Rollo turned to face [Reader], 

“This one inside. Run them a warm bath and please get them a fresh set of clothes. As for you, sir. . please leave.” 

[Reader’s] partner scoffed and stepped forward, 

“I wouldn’t recommend that.” 

He stopped after Rollo’s warning. Soon, others started to arrive within the church, including the guards. [Reader’s] partner glared at Rollo but decided against their actions. They just scoffed and went outside. The church’s door was shut and locked following his departure. 

[Reader] had been sitting on the floor, trying to steady their breathing. Rollo walked over to them and helped them off their feet. 

“You’re safe here in the house of God, he cannot hurt you any longer.” 

Rollo then walked away, moving people to their station leaving [Reader] alone with the Madam. 

“Come child, let’s get you out of those freezing clothes and into a warm bath.” 

That was the first time they met Rollo. 

Several weeks later, [Reader] was still within the church and assisting in any way they could. They would sometimes join the community in cleaning the church, making meals to provide during the holidays, and so forth. They were currently helping the volunteers make bread until Rollo arrived in the kitchen. 

“Good morning, Father Rollo! How may we assist you?” 

The elderly woman asked Rollo, who turned to face her. 

“Good morning, Madam. I see you’re all hard at work assisting the church so I won’t take up too much of your time. May I speak with [Reader]?” 

At the mention of their name, [Reader] perked up. The Madam turned to them and asked, 

“Of course, is that alright?” 

[Reader] nodded, dropping their task and washing their hands. They turned to look at Rollo who nodded, 

“This way, please.” 

Rollo led the way to his office and closed the door once they were both inside. He turned to them and offered the chair across from his. 

“Sit, please. Good morning, [Reader]. How are you this morning?” 

“Father Rollo. . .great. This morning has been great so far, busy but no complaints from me yet! How about yours?” 

“Fine, busy as well but such is life as God’s servant. Now, I wanted to discuss some things with you. The man that pursued you when you arrived at our doorsteps, I presume you would be content knowing that he has since left the town. He is no longer residing in Fleur City.” 

[Reader] let out a sigh of relief, since the day they arrived at the steps of the cathedral they have been residing within it. All housing was provided by the church as well as their meals. They weren’t expected to assist with the chores at the church, but they felt it was the least they could do. They would leave to go into town occasionally but always went with a guide or a guard in case anything happened. Rollo had made arrangements for them to avoid any further issues. They weren’t aware that their partner who had tormented them relentlessly had left the city or had any plans to. 

“Thank you. . . Father Rollo. I appreciate you informing me.” 

“ Of course, now that he has permanently left Fleur City we can arrange to get you a small place within the city. Don’t worry, if you still wish to assist the Church it will be nearby and the place will be within the guard's post. The area will be carefully monitored and maintained.” 

“Father Rollo. . that’s too much. I appreciate all you have done since that day, but asking for my living quarters would be too much-!” 

“Nonsense. You requested sanctuary from the church and since then, we have worked hard to provide that for you. It’s no trouble at all, you’re a precious child of God after all and he never abandons his children.” 

Rollo faced [Reader] who was deep in thought. A place to stay without the haunting memories of their partner who could care less about them. [Reader] turned their gaze to Rollo and smiled, 

“Thank you for your kindness, Father Rollo.” 

From then, [Reader] had been living in the house provided by the church. Their place was warm and cozy, but most importantly, theirs. As days went by, [Reader] continued to attend weekly mass and stayed behind to help the community with events. Though Rollo was a well-known priest, he certainly wasn’t the only one present in the cathedral. The community had gotten together to thank the priests and were thinking of how to repay each one. The madam took the request and decided to host a small celebration for them with food and games for the community. 

The entire town was invited to attend and they did, for there was no greater honor than celebrating their townsmen. Rollo stood in the center, overseeing the event rather than partaking in it like the other priests. He saw how his colleagues engaged with the town, his eyes were trained on them. They had no problem mingling with others and taking the front while Rollo chose to stay behind. 

“Are you not enjoying yourself, Father Rollo?” 

He turned to the voice, it was [Reader]. 

“I am, but conversing with others isn’t something I do quite well at. I leave that task, to the others. What about you, [Reader]?” 

“Oh, I am as well. I too, don’t tend to mingle with others, at least not in events like this. It’s still taking me a while to adjust to being in control of my own life.” 

Rollo spared a glance at [Reader] who sadly reminisced. Their partner would often take control of the conversation and not allow [Reader] to speak. They would often leave [Reader] in social gatherings to fend for themselves and never acknowledge their feelings. After a while and per their adored partner’s request, stopped leaving their shared home. This resulted in [Reader] self-isolating.  

“I see. Often, just being in the company of someone you trust is more than enough at events like these. However I do hope that moving forward, we can heal from the past.” 

Socializing wasn’t his strong suit; if he did, it was always formal and respectful. There was no time for jokes or silly banter, that is why Rollo helped Fleur City behind the scenes. He handled all formal matters while the others tended to the city with their words and charisma. Even now, his words of comfort were formal and didn’t properly convey his feelings. 

“One day, I will join the crowd again and this time, maybe I can take you with me, Father Rollo. Oh, by the way, I have something for you.” 

Rollo faced [Reader] who was looking into their pocket. 

“Here! I know it doesn’t mean much and it’s certainly a very cheap gift, but I want to express my gratitude. Thank you for all that you’ve done, Father Rollo. Without you, I don’t think I would be here with the Madam and the Town, so thank you.” 

He looked at his hands to see a wine-red handkerchief with purple embroidery on the outer edges, his name was woven into the corner. It was a simple gift really, but the difference with most gifts that he received was that this was hand-made. Handmade with love, love from the person that he cared the most about. Rollo stammered, 

“T-Thank you, I shall keep this with me at all times. It’s lovely, [Reader].” 

[Reader] turned to see his eyes gazing deeply at theirs. It was different, unlike a small expression of gratitude with professionalism laced Rollo’s eyes betrayed him. Behind his eyes, desire and love peeked through, even if it was for a split moment. 

“Of course. . .my pleasure, Father Rollo.” 

Rollo was called shortly after to attend to a matter within the cathedral, but before parting from [Reader], he promised he would return promptly. Rollo left and attended the matter fairly quickly, but before leaving to meet up with [Reader], he walked to his office. Locking the door, he took out the handkerchief and brought it up to his nose, inhaling the sweet scent from it. 

‘[Reader]’ 

Rollo recalled the memory of when he first laid eyes on them. It wasn’t anything too special, he was just in town when he stumbled upon them. Rollo has observed throughout his life all the filth from others and their actions. [Reader] had remained a pure innocent soul devoid of any sins. 

‘ Humans are sinful creatures and  that is why we exist. . .’ 

Rollo had engraved that concept into his mind. There are 7 sins within mankind - pride, wrath, envy, gluttony, sloth, greed, and lust. Humans will lie, cheat, steal, manipulate, and take advantage of others for personal greed. In reality, society has failed itself and remains to be a stain on this world. [Reader] was a positive chum, but was a sight to behold in a world of sin. 

Rollo was walking through town, which was a rare sight considering the only place you could glance at him would be in the cathedral. He noticed hidden behind a stall that there was a child, looking confused and scared. 

‘ No doubt lost.’ 

Rollo thought to himself but did not step forward just yet. He recalled a conversation he had with the Madam, a woman whom he respected as she was not like the others either. She had devoted herself to the church and helping others after the passing of her husband.  She would confess that no human was free of sin, but that didn’t mean that they were undeserving of God’s love and a place in his kingdom. It was silly, but he remembered what he told her after, 

“You’re right Madam, everyone is worthy of God’s love. Though do not underestimate humanity’s free will, some of them choose to sin and relish in their filth.”  

The madam shook her head and reminded Rollo that he should not be so quick to place judgment on others, but it was futile. 

He recalled that memory as he saw the scene displayed in front of him, a defenseless child turning to adults begging for help. Those same ‘adults’ had brushed the child off and some even as far to push the child away. 

“P-Please, I can’t find my mommy-” 

“Not interested.” 

“Stay clear of the road! Damn, brats. . .” 

‘Are these the same people who deserve God’s love, Madam?’

Rollo began walking to the child but stopped when he noticed another individual walk up to the child, 

“My name is [Reader], are you lost? Did you lose your parents?” 

The child nodded and [Reader] lightly brushed the tears that were forming away, 

“I see, well let me try to help you find them. When did you see them last?” 

“I saw my mommy over there. . .” 

The child pointed towards the growing crowd. In theory, this mother could be anywhere but if she was observant then no doubt she noticed her child missing. [Reader] nodded and held out their hand to the child, asking permission to hold their hand. The child allowed it, letting [Reader] lead them into the crowd. The child's grip tightened, afraid to lose their newfound savior. Rollo followed them, wanting to make sure that this child wasn’t going to be kidnapped. He saw how ‘[Reader]’ was holding onto the child and stopping in the area, asking the child if they saw their mother. When the child shook their head, [Reader] would begin calling out if someone lost their child. The town was busy and [Reader’s] cries were lost to the wind, but they did not lose their determination. After half an hour, Rollo heard a woman frantically calling out what was probably the child's name as the child perked up at the mention of it. [Reader] carefully maneuvered their way across the crowd to reunite the mother and child. Rollo witnessed the scene of the mother and child holding each other close, the mother turning to [Reader] and thanking them, and [Reader] reassuring them. Rollo scoffed, one person was not enough to persuade his mind that humanity was any different. It didn’t just stop there, weeks after the incident they had another run-in with them - at a distance, of course. 

[Reader] was in the market with the intent of buying groceries, but instead offered to help the people at the stands. It was a never-ending cycle, when they finished their task another person went to them asking for help. 

‘They’re a fool, they’re being taken advantage of by the others-’ 

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t mind helping but I haven’t finished my shopping. When I finish and if you still need help I can come back.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry [Reader], I didn’t mean to take up your time! It’s fine if you can’t, but thank you anyway.” 

[Reader] politely excused themselves and finished their shopping. A couple of instances off the top of his head that Rollo remembered, [Reader] buying food for a beggar on the street, helping an elderly person cross the street, helping a cat out of their collar once they noticed it was choking from it, and when they helped stitch back up a child's toy once it was ruined. Rollo was getting irritated at this point, 

‘Madam, I swear it’s like you enjoy tormenting me. . .are you trying to prove a point?’ 

The scowl written on his face was unwavering as he continued to observe this happy-go-lucky person. He managed to overhear the conversation between [Reader] and another person. 

“You’re so nice [Reader], it’s so rare to find someone who cares about people the way you do!” 

“You think so? I don’t think I am doing anything too grand, I just do what comes normal to me.” 

“Yes! You have a heart of gold, I mean you offer to help when needed. You should be careful though, people out there would take advantage of that kindness.” 

“Hm, I guess. I mean, I just do what I can but if it’s too much or something I can’t do I’m not opposed to saying no. I think a lot of people just think I’m too nice because they’re just used to being treated with little kindness. I don’t want to be a bystander if I can do something. I hold the door for people if they’re close and I’m not going to shut the door on them, it’s not like it takes too much time.” 

“Aw, you’re so nice.” 

“I don’t think so, I mean would you shut the door on me if I was behind you?” 

“Well. . .” 

“Then you’re just too mean.” 

[Reader] and the person exchanged a laugh before parting ways. Rollo stood still and turned to see [Reader] back in the distance, leaving the marketplace. His resolve didn’t sway, humans were still corrupt and undeserving of salvation, the only difference now was that there was an exception. Rollo would be lying if he sometimes didn’t go into town to glance at [Reader] and if he was lucky enough, he would be there at the same time. Over months though, he began to see less and less of them. He started to worry a bit, for the first weeks he chalked it up to [Reader] wanting time away from town but was surprised to know that nobody had seen them in the market for a month. Rollo approached a vendor, starting small talk, 

“Good morning, Father Rollo. How do you do today?” 

“I’m quite fine, thank you for asking. How about yourself?”

“Aw well, same! Business has been booming but I haven’t seen my top customer in a while!” 

“Oh, and who is that?” 

“[Reader]! They’re a sweet thing but suddenly stopped coming into town. I won’t lie, I am a little worried about them.” 

“[Reader]? I don’t believe I’ve seen them at mass. . .” 

“]Reader] used to go if I remember correctly, but I’m not too sure. I know they used to into town daily, aside from their work they loved to walk around the city. I think they stopped coming out as much a year or two ago, sometimes though they’ll come daily but it’s so rare when they do! I’m not quite sure why-!” 

“It’s because of their partner!” 

Rollo and the vendor turned to another person, an elderly lady who had joined the conversation. 

“Their partner. . .?” 

Rollo questioned, 

“Yes! At first, it was sweet. They met at [Readers’s] work and instantly became close, I would sometimes frequent their workplace you see. Their partner treated them with so much kindness but after a while, it was plain as day, he was isolating them! I remember I was walking home when I overheard them get into an argument, he wanted [Reader] to quit their job. [Reader] refused and that was the end of it, I’m not sure how they managed to persuade him because all I could hear was his yelling. After a while, [Reader] didn’t come to work and I thought they did quit, but when they came back they weren’t the same. They were still kind as ever, but you could tell something was off. Whenever they do come into town, it’s because their partner isn’t in Fleur City. I heard he sometimes goes back to take care of his ill parents.” 

Rollo was conflicted, who was this woman to be spreading such personal information of theirs but he had to thank her, without her, he never would have come to realize what needed to be done. Rollo had to admit, over the time he spent observing [Reader] he did become enamored with them. One true nature is revealed in several ways, how one presents oneself, their thoughts and actions, and what one preaches. Their nature had long been revealed, [Reader] was the only person whom Rollo believed was deserving of God’s love and he would not let them become a martyr for those deserving the flames of hell. 

Rollo set his plan in motion. He carefully wrote a letter and paid someone who the town would never recognize to deliver it into the hands of [Reader’s] partner. Their partner read the contents and before they could react, the person who delivered it had vanished to report to Rollo. 

“It’s been done?” 

“Yes, Father Rollo. May I ask though, what do you plan-” 

“That’s enough, you needn't worry about the content of the letter. Your task was to deliver, which you have. You’re free to go.” 

The man excused himself, leaving Rollo at his desk with his elbows propped but his hands were close together. He was deep in thought, 

“He would be wise to appear later tonight if he truly cares for his parents.” 

Later that night, their partner had walked down to the waterways. There, they met a cloaked individual. 

“Are you the one who sent me that letter? Who the fuck do you think you are to threaten my family-!” 

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” 

The cloaked individual placed their hand out, to halt them from coming closer. They used that same hand to point upwards. When [Reader’s] partner looked up, they were met with several shadows who were not afraid to display their weapons. 

“What do you want?” 

Their partner scoffed out. The cloaked individual spoke out, 

“You have a partner by the name of [Reader]. Let’s just say that they owe me something, that being said it’s hard for us to come in contact with one another. This is where you come in, I need you to lure them into town. Do it on a rainy day, when there are fewer people to overhear, but I need you to lure them to the center of town. Make sure that nobody sees you two or asks about you, do you understand?” 

“What do they owe you-?!” 

“That’s none of your concern! Just, lure them into the center of the town. My men will be watching to make sure no one interferes but remember, if someone comes to find out about this plan. Well, you know what will happen to your family, understood?” 

Their partner gulped in fear and nodded, 

“You may go, and remember to not tell a single soul about this. I’ll always be listening.” 

They remained still for a brief moment, processing the words of the individual, before running out. Once they were out of sight, the person removed their cloak. Rollo stood in the center, looking at the moon and breathing out a sigh of relief. Those armed shadows turned to Rollo and asked, 

“Father Rollo, may I ask who that man is?” 

“Just someone this world would be better without. Keep me updated on his location and if he says anything. Remember, this is all to protect Fleur City.” 

Rollo disappeared within the waterways. 

Rollo approached the fireplace in his office and looked down at the handkerchief once more before tenderly caressing it into his face. 

“[Reader], I’ll repeat your name over and over like a prayer, I’d never tire of it. . .if only you knew of all things I did for you to be by my side. . .” 

The memory rolled over in his head, 

“There is a storm coming, we should make preparations in case of anything.” 

“Oh, you’re always so diligent and a step ahead, Father Rollo.” 

“Madam, one can never be too prepared.” 

The madam shook her head at Rollo’s comments but carried out his request. He had stood in preparation for anything. If what was revealed was true, then [Reader] was certainly being isolated by their partner. Their abusive partner would take advantage of another. That being said, he planned to make it so that they lured [Reader] out into the center of town, where the cathedral lay. Their partner may not know it as he was certain he had never seen him before but [Reader] should. They would request sanctuary from the church and there, He would be by the door, awaiting his beloved with open arms. 

Before he knew it, he could hear the shouts and screams outside the door. 

“Sanctuary, give me sanctuary!” 

Before long, Rollo had opened the door and with a perfect facade, displayed concern. He could tell the way their partner trembled that he had feared for his family, he was caught by the church. Their partner had no choice but to flee the scene with their tail between his legs. After Rollo instructed the Madam to watch over [Reader], Rollo had the guards chase after their partner. In the meantime, Rollo had placed his cloak on and made his way to the outskirts of town where he was being held. 

“L-Let me go! Damn it, it wasn’t my fault-!” 

“Didn’t I tell you not to let anyone interfere?” 

“I-it wasn’t my fault! The church and that stupid priest got in the way! P-please leave my f-family alone-!” 

Rollo removed his cloak and presented himself to their ex-partner. 

“Y-you!?” 

“Don’t worry, your family won’t suffer. Though I will admit, I didn’t think you would go through with sacrificing them.” 

“Y-You threatened my family, w-why wouldn’t I?” 

“I suppose there is some logic to that reason. Tell me, did you even love them?” 

“W-what? I-I suppose I did?” 

“You suppose? You’re not certain?” 

Rollo questioned them further, 

“I mean yes! Yes, I did love them! W-what does this have to do with anything, you said they owed you something no-?” 

“ No, they don’t. I did this more to see what you would do and you played right into it. Once again, I was proved right. Humanity is undeserving of God’s love and salvation, you’re all just scum that turn against each other at any moment it’s convenient. You disgust me.” 

“Y-You did this to prove a point!? Y-You think I won’t reveal to the townspeople who their beloved priest is?” 

“Not very intelligent either, are you? I’m not worried, because this is where judgment shall be passed onto you. This goes a little deeper than what you think, but no matter. I hereby declare you, guilty, and your sentence, punished by death. Dispose of him.” 

Rollo turned around, ignoring the pleas of that man. He did turn around to see their execution, before turning back. 

“We shall burn his body, but in the meantime place him somewhere no one will find out. Oh and, arrange for someone to take care of his parents. Hire a doctor to live with them.” 

The others nodded and carried out the order. Rollo headed back to town with a clear conscious. 

His attention remained on the flames. They had burned his body and afterward, devised a plan to break the news to his parents.  As far as they were concerned, he had passed away from a natural cause but because he was such a good member of the church, he was able to have a doctor stay with them full-time. He placed a chaste kiss on the handkerchief, 

‘This burning desire is turning me to sin. . .’ 

~ 

Rollo was sitting at the Confessional and while he was a man of God, he was also human. Like humans, he was running short of his patience. Father Rollo was a devoted man to his occupation, but of course, even messengers of God need time of their own. He was covering for another priest, Father Phoebus, who unexpectedly became ill. Rollo’s face turned into one of annoyance and anger, he was certain that the priest wasn’t ill but rather skipping out on his duties. 

‘ No matter, confession ends in about 10 minutes. . .I just need to hold out till then.’ 

Rollo’s optimistic outlook was shattered the moment he heard someone else sit on the other side of the confessional. He rolled his eyes before turning to the wooden lattice opening but stiffened when he saw it was [Reader]. Luckily, this confessional was designed so that the priest would be hidden away and the penitent was visible. 

“I do apologize for coming in so late, Father Phoebus. . but I would like to confess my sins.” 

Rollo cleared his throat, 

“Of course, please, confess to me what ails you.” 

He placed his gaze at [Reader], who remained unaware that instead of Father Phoebus, it was Rollo. 

“Right, to be honest, I’m not quite sure where to begin. All I know is, I’m committing a grave sin. I ... . .in love with a man that I cannot have. He is married to a vow.” 

Rollo’s breath hitched, turned to stare at [Reader] who looked down in regret and disappointment.

“M-married? May I ask, which vow this man is married to?” 

[Reader] stiffened at the question, 

“Father Phoebus. . .it's Father Rollo who I am enamored with. He is God's messenger and as such, I know my feelings will never be reciprocated yet! Yet, I can’t help but still love him.” 

Rollo knew that Reader required guidance and genuine support, but he couldn’t help the need or desire after hearing that the one he loved also felt the same. He pulled out the wine-red handkerchief with the beautiful purple embroidery that outlined the cloth and spelled his name on the corner. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it as his dick hardened at the idea of [Reader]. 

“T-tell me, how much you love him?” 

Rollo swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“O-Oh w-well. . .” 

It was an awkward question no doubt so there was some resistance from [Reader]. Rollo pressed on, 

“I would like to know how deep your admiration goes so that I c-can properly guide you.” 

“R-right. . well, I love him. At first, I thought it was just admiration because he helped me get back on my feet. When I gave him his handkerchief, I saw more than a simple thanks on his face, but a face of genuine gratitude, which made me fall deeper. I know he’s only being kind to me because it’s the right thing to do and not because of any special treatment, but I can’t help but-” 

Rollo continued to listen to their feelings, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t thinking about stroking his cock to their voice. Rollo had never experienced such feelings towards anyone before, but after meeting [Reader] he became a victim of the sin of greed and lust. 

“Though I will admit, maybe the reason I love him is because I feel safe and secure with him. With my past partner, I didn’t feel the same sense of security. I did at first, but after a while, they became the aggressor. I’m not sure why I didn’t leave immediately after and I kept beating myself up about but Father Rollo, assured me that it was not my fault. He was so kind and understanding, it was different from the others who told me something similar. It was sincere from both sides, but with him it was. . it was different.” 

When they finished confessing, Rollo spoke, 

“I don’t think you should be ashamed of your feelings. It’s a natural human thing to feel, love that is. You’re right, Father Rollo is a man tied to an oath by the Church. Under the eyes of God, he may not reciprocate your feelings but that doesn’t mean he would see you any less different. Your sins are forgiven, my child.” 

[Reader] nodded and bid farewell to ‘Father Phoebus’. Rollo watched their figure retreat and let out a breath of relief. Though he could not stop the pounding in his heart nor the tent in his pants. 

~ 

“F-Fuck! [R-Reader]-!” 

Rollo had retreated to his office once confessions were over, there he had his handkerchief wrapped around his dick, jerking himself off. The one that he loved felt the same for him but he was sure their love was not the same as his obsession with them. Such a pure and innocent crush on him whereas he shamefully was stroking his cock to the idea of touching them. 

“Ha. . ha. . wanna t-touch you, fuck-!” 

He threw his head back at the pleasure, how would [Reader] react to seeing their beloved Father Rollo fuck the handkerchief that they had gifted him. His orgasm was approaching and his whines were getting louder, he leaned over his table and spilled his seed onto the wine-red cloth, sweat adorning his face. He let out a sigh of relief and sat down on his chair. He thought of [Reader] and this new found confession. Rollo’s mind was made up. 

~ 

“I think we’re all good to go, [Reader] we’re heading out now!” 

“Have a good night!” 

[Reader] bid the other church volunteers farewell before giving the church one last good look. They were about to grab their things to depart as well before the doors opened. They turned to look at Father Rollo, who emerged from his office. 

“F-Father Rollo. . .what brings you out here so late?” 

“I’m just giving the Church one final look, but I did hope to catch you before you left.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes, come [Reader], take a walk with me.” 

[Reader] approached Rollo and their walk began. He was taking them across the Cathedral to put out the candles. 

“I know it’s been a while, but how have you been enjoying yourself in Fleur City?” 

“Oh, just fine! Thank you again, for all that you’ve done of course. It certainly feels amazing being able to freely leave and return without being shackled down. Not to mention, it’s a lot more eventful than I remember.” 

“I see, Father Pheobus has attempted to get more events hosted by the church. He would like the city to get together once in a while. It’s something new that he has been doing, but it seems that the townspeople enjoy it.” 

“That they do, may I ask, Father Rollo? Do you not like to get involved in events like these?” 

The main hall of the Cathedral was darkening with each step, 

“I wouldn’t say I dislike it. Socializing with others isn’t my strong suit, I tend to other matters that I excel at rather than mistakenly saying something I don’t mean.” 

[Reader] had noticed that Rollo tended to stay in the shadows and only speak when something needed to be said. If someone approached him and tried conversing, Rollo would maintain the utmost professionalism. He wasn’t one for idle chatter but never turned someone down if they wanted to have a word with him. Rollo continued his task, with [Reader] following close behind. 

“That’s fair. Sometimes not saying anything is the proper response, but I can see how that may stress you out. After all, you are a priest and everyone’s eyes are on you. Sorry, don’t mean to add to the pressure either.” 

As the candles were extinguished one by one, Rollo’s heels added to the ominous vibe that the Cathedral was giving. 

“You’re right, [Reader]. As a priest, all their eyes are on me waiting to hear what I  say but as such, my eyes are also on them. Despite what I preach, I believe that not everyone is capable of salvation. Humans are not devoid of sin, that is the truth. Though we are created in God’s image, we certainly are not perfect. There are those where their sins are mistakes and nothing more. Then some’s sins are perfectly under their control yet still choose to see nothing wrong in their actions. You can have that outlier where one of those wishes to repent and truly feel regret, but then some parade around shamelessly into God’s house asking for forgiveness. It’s laughable.” 

[Reader] remained silent. There was nothing they could say because ultimately, Father Rollo was right to some degree. Though they would be lying if they weren’t off-put by his sudden change. 

“ Did you know that the baker is having an affair? Ongoing for four years actually, yet he never fails to bring his wife and kids into mass every Sunday morning, thanking God for allowing them to live the way they do. They recently had their marriage anniversary, married for 10 years to be exact. I remember I was the one who renewed their vows. His words still ring in my head,”

“I will love you forever and until the end. You’re the pillar that provides me with the strength to keep going. I would never want another partner other than you, the woman I chose to be the mother of my children. I thank God for this blessing that is you, my love.” 

“How romantic, don’t you think? That same night he went back to his other partner, claiming that they had a big order for an event and he needed to be one step ahead of the game. How could I forget the previous head of the Orphanage, asking for food to provide for the children? The church and townspeople helped with what they could, but every time those children would come into mass they remained as thin as ever but the head remained full and content. It wasn’t until I stepped in and of course, led an investigation to find out that he was starving the kids and eating all the food. Now the orphanage is under the care of the Church, to be more specific, under my direct care. Don’t you see how happy those children are every time you come to mass? I even remember when Madam first came to the church, she told us the story of her husband's passing. She and her beloved husband were walking back home when an armed assailant was waiting for them, upon asking for their valuables he stabbed her husband over 27 times before fleeing. When the man was caught, he was just a petty thief who confessed to the crime. Their reasoning was they had no need to steal but got a kick out of watching the fear in the eyes of the defenseless manifest and to make matters worse, this was his first time killing since he never dared to do it before. What could an elderly man do to him had he chosen to fight back, nothing. That same thief pleaded with God before his execution that I had carried out, to spare him.” 

By the time Rollo had gotten to his part in his talk, almost all the candles were out except for four in the front of the altar. There Rollo turned around, facing [Reader] who stood in the middle closest to the altar. He was closest to the church doors but that area had been pitch black. He continued his speech and though he did not pose a threat to [Reader], yet, They couldn’t help the goosebumps that were forming on their skin and the sudden draft within the Cathedral. 

“Of course, the world is not black and white. There is no right or wrong, for if there was I too would have been punished. It’s not practical for me to base my distaste of humanity on a few bad apples, Madam, even after everything she went through still says that everyone deserves salvation but it’s like you said, [Reader]. We’re all so used to this world the way it is that a simple act of kindness, normalcy if you will, is considered a rarity.” 

[Reader] had recalled when they told that vendor that, those were their words and they still stood by it. The only thing was, they told that to the vendor, not Rollo. They shakily took a step back but kept their eyes trained on Rollo. He noticed their expression as well as their stance, but it was no use. The door to the church was locked and only Rollo had the key. He took a step forward, emerging from the darkness and [Reader] took a step back. 

“F-Father Rollo. . is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Sorry. . I just don’t know how this relates to me. . .” 

He let out a chuckle, 

“ You asked why I don’t like to get involved, right? That is my answer. It’s hard to get involved when I am surrounded by the same people I wish I could condemn. However, you are different. I’ll let you in on a little secret, I too have been keeping an eye on you long before we officially met.  You treated everyone with kindness even those that did not deserve it. You remained as human as possible, someone who could voice their feelings and care for everyone equally, even yourself. It was a sight for sore eyes, like an angel in a sea of devils. You tried your best and worked hard, but you knew what you could and couldn’t do. You were even starting to make me regain hope in this world but I quickly noticed that warm light inside of you start to flicker. It was all because of him, [Partner’s Name]. He had slowly started to dim that warm light inside of you and I couldn’t do anything, or so I thought. Your partner driving you out of your home was not accidental,  I can assure you. I had him lure you here, into the Church. There, I was able to save you from him.” 

[Reader’s] breath hitched. They had always assumed that all the events that led up to now were a mere coincidence, life just being its usual confusing self. It was not unusual for their partner to enter their shared home and demand things, bossing them around. They had assumed that it was the usual same old story. This didn’t change how they saw their partner and their relief that he was no longer in their life, but it changed their perception of Rollo. Had Rollo orchestrated their whole thing? Since when? For how long? Most importantly, for what? 

“Since we are in a church, I might as well confess. I have kept my eye on every single Fleur citizen since I became a priest, but I have kept my eye on you for months now. It’s hard for me to communicate with everyone, but not you [Reader]. Since I’ve been admiring you from a distance, I’ve come to love you. I love your person and your way of being. Your kindness, your truth, your struggles, everything about you I have come to love.” 

By now, [Reader] was up against the altar with Rollo standing in front of them. Both were illuminated by the remaining candles, his hand reached out to caress their cheek. 

“I’ve come to love everything about you, [Reader], even the parts that you aren’t aware of. I’ll remain to love them as well, for there is no one else.” 

“F-Father R-Rollo, I-!” 

He leaned closer to them, his piercing blue-green eyes staring into [Readers] fearful and confused ones. He placed a kiss on their lips, tilting their head back to get a better angle. Seconds passed before he lifted his lips from them, 

“. .And if you were to fall into sin, let it be by my hands.” 

Conflicted could not begin to describe it. The person they loved reciprocated their feelings, so much that they kissed at this very moment. Though logically speaking, Rollo had just admitted to orchestrating the whole thing. Who knew what was the truth and what was a lie? Did their partner move? Was it willingly? Most importantly, did it matter? Sure, maybe there was a time when logic was sound but that time wasn’t right now. Thinking with their heart, [Reader] kissed back. They shared a deep and sensual kiss that neither one dared to break. Rollo pushed his body up against [Reader], grinding into them. The altar luckily wasn’t too high, but there were small steps on either side that allowed them to effortlessly get on the altar. Rollo managed to push their back flat against the cold marbled table, 

“F-Father R-Rollo, are you sure? Y-you’re a man with a vow and-” 

“[Reader], I love you.” 

Their eyes widened once more at the confession and looking up, they weren’t meant with the Rollo they knew. He was no longer stoic and professional, this Rollo was vulnerable. His cheeks were flushed pink as he straddled [Reader’s] hips. His body loomed over theirs and his hands went to open their top. His eyes were glossed over with love and desire. [Reader’s] top was opened to expose their chest and his hands lightly touched their skin. His cold fingers trailed from their neck, chest, and lastly their nipples. Rollo let out a shaky sigh, 

“I love you. Let me worship you, with God as my witness let me prove my devotion to you. .” 

Rollo’s lips neared [Reader’s] and they exchanged a kiss. He lightly bit on their bottom lip, asking for permission to further taste them. A moan escaped [Reader] but they opened their mouth to allow his tongue inside. Rollo pressed himself further into [Reader], afraid to let go. Needing air, [Reader] placed their hands on his clothed chest, pushing against it. Releasing their lips, Rollo straightened but released a breathy moan. [Reader] could see the warmth spreading across his pale skin, but could also feel his growing bulge. Rollo began to lean back down but stopped when [Reader] went to open his top. He allowed them to strip him of his shirt, allowing his pale chest to be exposed. 

“I want to see you too, R-Rollo. . .” 

The tip of his ears turned pink at the comment. He leaned down to their neck, licking up and down. Nibbling and biting down to create hickeys. His lips trailed down, kissing the skin around the newly formed hickey and down to their chest. Moans spilled from both Rollo and [Reader], the pleasure shared between the two. His tongue swirled around their nipple, lightly biting and sucking on them. [Reader] tenderly held Rollo’s head as he worked on their chest. Shaky breaths echoed throughout the Cathedral. 

“F-Fuck. . R-Rollo-!” 

Rollo lifted himself from their chest and saw the bright pink/red circular marks all across their chest. 

“Not enough. . .it’s not e-enough. . “ 

Rollo leaned back down, kissing down to their navel area. His hands played with their bottoms, opening them agonizingly slow. He pulled them down their legs and he shifted back, making sure he could properly remove them. 

“F-Fuck, y-your sex. . .” 

Rollo’s shaky moans slipped out, he stared in awe at [Reader’s] aroused sex. He shifted back before nearing their sex and inhaling their scent. Rollo’s fingers carefully touched around, going to their most sensitive spot and circling his finger around. 

“R-Rollo…right there…feels good….” 

Rollo nodded, continuing to circle his finger. After a while he leaned down, placing his tongue on their sensitive spot. He licked around, replacing the movement of his finger, and began to lick up and down. [Reader] let out soft moans and breaths as he continued pleasuring them. He began to kiss, suck, lick, pinch, and stroke their sensitive bits. Rollo took a break to lick his fingers and pushed them against [Reader’s] hole. Lightly inserting a finger inside, feeling them clench around it. 

“Do you lust for me. . the same way I lust for you?” 

“ I-I’ve a-always wanted you-ngh!” 

Though Rollo wasn’t attending to their sex with his mouth, he was still reaching inside them with his fingers. Slipping a second finger to curl up against that soft spot inside them, pumping rhythmically. Rollo leaned back down, placing his mouth back on their sex. Rollo himself wasn’t too experienced, but based on their sounds, he knew more or so where to touch. His long slender fingers managed to reach thoroughly and the stimulation with his tongue was overwhelming.

“F-Fuck Rollo, g-gonna cum-!” 

Rollo continued to abuse their sex, giving them that final push needed to orgasm. Rollo’s face was drenched with drool and cum, but still managed to swallow everything that they released. He unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock that was already leaking pre-cum. He wrapped his hands around it, stroking himself. 

“Can I-fuck! P-put it inside you. . .?” 

Rollo’s half-lidded eyes pleaded with [Reader’s], begging to fuck them.  [Reader] propped themself up with their elbow, sat up, and kissed him. Rollo leaned forward to reciprocate. They placed their hands on his cheeks and lightly caressed, 

“You may. . .but can I. .be on top?” 

Rollo softly nodded, letting [Reader] guide him to lie down on the altar instead. [Reader] went to stimulate his already hard dick, but wrapped their hands around it and jerk him, smearing his pre-cum around. They licked their fingers and trailed them down to their hole, lightly fingering themselves to adjust to his size. They scissored themself and when they were ready, hovered over his cock. They lowered themselves onto Rollo’s cock, clenching down on his dick. 

“F-Fuck you’re tight-!” 

Rollo threw his head back at the sensation and his hands reached to hold [Reader’s] hip. [Reader] stayed still to adjust to his size but after a while, began to move. Riding his cock, [Reader] threw their head back as breaths left them, their back slowly arching. Rollo thrust, matching their pace as well. One of his hands moved to their sex, stimulating it at the same pace. 

Aside from the candles, the moonlight entered the Cathedral through the stained glass. The hue of the deep blues and purples reflected off their skin, creating an almost angelic glow. Their moans and whines echoed throughout the church, Rollo’s back was on the altar and his body coated in sweat. His eyes glossed over with tears, looking over at [Reader] who fared the same. Their body was sweaty and warm, their movements were slowing with time. Rollo���s thrust became more erratic, reaching deeper into [Reader]. 

“I-I’m close-! F-Fuck, f-feels s-so good-! Rollo!” 

Mewls spilled out of [Reader]’s mouth. 

“M-Me too-! I-I love you! L-Love you so much! God, I love you so much, [Reader]!” 

“I l-love you too, R-Rollo-!” 

With their final declaration of love, [Reader] came all over Rollo and he came deep inside of them. Their deep breaths were heard throughout the cathedral. [Reader] slumped on top of Rollo with his cock still inside them. They nuzzled into Rollo’s neck, peppering light kisses. 

“Love you s’much, Rollo.” 

“I love you too. . .[Reader].” 

His arms wrapped around them, pressing them closer into him. They stayed like that for a while, before [Reader] perked up, looking at his face. 

“I-I do have a question though. . .did you know that I liked you?” 

Rollo looked down to see their curious gaze, he adverted his eyes with a blush staining his cheeks. 

“It. . .it wasn’t Father Pheobus in the Confessional. It. . .it was me. . .” 

[Readers] face fell, 

“S-SO I CONFESSED TO YOU?” 

[Reader] buried their face in his neck, Rollo let out a soft smile at their antics. 

“That you did. Though I am glad, without you confessing to me, this never would have happened.” 

Still buried in his neck, they mumbled a couple of words. 

“I love you. . .” 

Rollo, of course, said it back. He could hear their soft snores, they had passed out from exhaustion. Only one thought lay in his mind, there was no one else other than him that could preserve the purity within [Reader]. 

‘If hellfire must consume me, so be it. I will never let anyone else take you away from me. Your purity is for me to preserve and to taint, no one else.’ 

This was only the beginning of the tragic tell that would come about to Twisted Wonderland. The story of the righteous priest and judge who burned down Fleur City, all because of their desire for someone they could never truly have. 

A/N: So that was a long one. . .how we feeling? I don’t think I will ever write a part 2, sorry :(( UNLESS I get inspiration but I do want to write headcanons for him so maybe? That being said I will be posting another post that will talk about the future of this blog (I AM NOT LEAVING DW)! That being said, I want to thank my friends for helping me with this fic! Special mention to my friend who helped me confirm his personality for me (I love you Nova) and my other friend, who got horny thoughts when they went to church! :3 

[pittsick]

rapper!art with chill R&B!reader oml 🙂‍↕️

Art meets you at an industry event he didn’t want to attend. He’s standing stiff against the wall in a black hoodie and fresh Timbs, arms crossed, half-listening to his manager pitch a collab idea he’ll definitely say no to. Then you walk in — velvet crop top, wide-leg jeans, soft gold jewelry glinting against your skin, and a presence that doesn’t demand the room’s attention so much as magnetize it.

You’re smiling, laid-back, sipping something citrusy and unmoved by the flashing cameras or fake love. Art watches you for too long. Doesn’t realize it until you look back and nod like you knew he was staring.

You're everything he isn’t. Effortless. Warm. The kind of artist who drops sensual R&B EPs at midnight and doesn’t promote them — they just circulate like word-of-mouth magic. Your lyrics aren’t about flexing or fighting. They’re about connection. Intimacy. Cracks in your voice that sound intentional. You write like you’ve loved and been loved, like you’re not afraid of softness. Art writes like it’s the only thing keeping him from exploding.

You ask him if he ever does features.

He doesn’t even look at you when he mutters, “Nah.”

But the truth is — he’s already thinking about it.

After that, he starts hearing your music everywhere. Playing low at photo shoots. Through the wall at his engineer’s apartment. He hates how much it sticks to his ribs. Your voice gets under his skin: clean, soulful, languid in the way he wants to be but can’t. And worse, you’re not chasing him. You don’t follow up. Don’t flirt. Don’t care. That drives him insane. You’re calm, magnetic, in full control of your space. He’s chaos bottled in a man. A man who overthinks every verse, every hook, every sideways glance you give him.

You see straight through him. And he knows it.

The first time you end up in the studio together — because of a shared producer, not a plan — he barely says ten words. You hum while he rewrites a verse for the third time. You tease him gently about being a perfectionist. He says nothing. But later, he listens to your vocals alone and punches the wall when it makes his chest ache.

Your chemistry builds in fragments: quiet glances over studio boards, long silences that don’t feel awkward, his hoodie draped over the chair you’re curled into during a session. He acts like you’re a distraction. You act like you don’t notice. But the truth is, you're making him want to write differently. Not softer — just honest.

You talk to him like he’s not hard to love. That’s the most dangerous part.

Eventually, it happens: a track that starts as a scratch beat and ends as a lowkey duet. He raps the first half — rough-edged, defensive, lyrical as hell. You slide in with a vocal run that sounds like a rebuttal. It’s not romantic. It’s not even flirtatious. But it bleeds. It's about being known by someone who won't admit it. About hiding feelings inside the mix and hoping the right person hears them.

Art listens to it alone. In the dark. On repeat. For hours.

He doesn’t tell anyone. Not even you.

But the next time you pass him at the studio, he nods and says, “You busy Friday?” like it’s casual. Like it’s nothing.

You just smile, lazy and knowing. “Not if you’re writing something worth hearing.”

And that’s how it starts.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Mouse's Monsters

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Reader

When Mouse is due to meet your brother old monsters pop their heads up.

“Jay, what’s going on with him?” you didn’t know who else to turn to at this point. As far as you knew, you and Mouse were doing good. Then your brother asked you to come out for the weekend and suggested bringing Mouse because he wanted to meet the man that made his little sister so damn happy. Jay shrugged “I honestly don’t know. It was like a switch got flipped or something. When you asked him to meet Joseph he started stressing about every little thing” 

You sank down into the chair across from him, staring down into your coffee “Is it because I asked him to meet family? Joseph is the only family I have. It’s not that big of a deal, hell you’ve met him” he nodded “I know sweetheart but for him? I don’t think he’s ever met someone’s family as their other half before” your eyes widened “But he’s dated a lot before me” he grimaced “Dated and slept with are too different things” you nodded “So, I need to talk to him” he nodded “Yup”

You walked into the tech room and knocked on the door. Mouse looked up from his computer screen and smiled slightly  “Hey baby” you smiled “Hey love, can we talk?” he nodded and pushed his chair back “What’s wrong?”

You walked over and slid between him and the desk to sit on the edge of it, knowing if you didn’t he would use anything and everything as an excuse to not fully focus on hard topics. “What’s going on with us?” he shook his head “Nothing” you sighed “Oh, so we’re doing that then?”

“Doing what?” he asked and you shrugged “Saying nothing when you’ve been steadily pulling away since I asked you to come with me to meet my brother” his face fell “Oh” “Yeah, oh” he slipped his arms around your waist, laying his head over on your stomach “I don’t think I’m gonna be what your brother expects”

You slid your fingers into his hair, smiling when he nuzzled into your touch “What do you mean, what he expects?” he cut his eyes up at you “Does he know about my past?” you raised an eyebrow “That you were in the Rangers? Well I mean my family is vast majority marines for anyone who served but we can look past that”

He grinned at your teasing “Not that baby” you tilted your head slightly as you said “You mean your addiction?” he nodded, eyes dropping down. “I’m not good enough for you” you used your grip on his hair to tug his head up so he had to look at you “Don’t say that” he swallowed hard “You met me when I was Jay’s C.I.”  “Ok, and Erin was once a C.I.” you didn’t see where he was going with this.

“And if I happen to have a bad night while we’re there and freak your nephews out?” he asked so you nodded slowly “My sister in law served in the air force, her brother in the marines. When me and my brother were barely out of our teens we had a friend stay with us every time he got back from deployments. We’re all well versed” he blinked a few times and you knew him well enough to know that  meant something was bothering him enough he was damn near tearing up “Greg, quit using excuses and tell me what is bothering you. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me” “I’m afraid that you’ll figure out who I am, my past..it doesn’t exactly mesh with yours” 

You shook your head “Contrary to your belief, I am not perfect. Hell if you come with me, Joseph will be glad to tell you plenty of stories when I was far from perfect. I’m glad I’ve known you at your lowest and that you’ve known me at mine. We built this relationship off a friendship. I love you Greg. Nothing changes that. Addiction, ptsd, the self doubt that always pops up in that gorgeous head of yours. You are a good man. You went through hell over there and you managed to pull yourself out of addiction while helping Jay. You’ve kept yourself clean, you’ve held this job and helped close how many cases? You’ve held me when I’ve cried and loved me when I couldn’t love myself. You’ve never let me doubt myself because you’re always in my corner so you’re going to let me do the same”

He smiled up at you, those dimples making your heart flip “How did I get so lucky to have you?” you smiled “You developed a crush on me because it was me or Adam in the car that day with Jay?” he laughed and pulled you off the desk into his lap “You’re ridiculous woman” you laughed “You must love it” he nodded “Oh of course I do” and brushed his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. You pulled back after a moment and grinned “Remember you love me though so when Joseph starts telling you stories” he raised an eyebrow “Are they that bad?” you grimaced and repeated “Just remember that I love you and that you love me” and he laughed before pulling you back against his chest “Nothing could change that” 

@desimarie12

[limbus-corp]

Welcome to the library.

Faust hopes you find your book in this place.

Hm? No, no, nothing is amiss, Faust assures you. This is how it has always been here, and how it will always be, ever since I created the library.

CHARACTERS UNLOCKED:

Faust and Heathcliff

List of characters

Current Chapter:

1. Eat you alive

List of chapters

BLOG INFO:

//well hi there! This is a blog for my swap au between ruina and Limbus company! I thought it’d be fun to make a blog for it!

//this is specifically an interactive story askblog, meaning we’re starting at the beginning of ruina, and through asks, we’ll unlock new characters and such!

//artstyle may differ between posts. This is simply for ease of drawing. My main style (that you see in this post) will be reserved for comics, whereas my simpler style will be used for most asks.

//Please read below the read more if you want to ask, just so you have more info! Have a fun time here :)

Interactive askblog? What's that?

Basically, you all help progress and change what happens in the story! This isn't only done by unlocking characters, but by also deciding what occurs in the story, and how character relationships may change.

Sending asks:

Don’t be afraid to get silly! Though this blog is trying to get through a story, I don’t want it to be 100% serious.

Please don’t spam asks trying to send Heathcliff books. They get lost in the post. And the system doesn’t work like that! Try to get him thinking about a certain topic

Have a canon char or oc or even an abnormality you want to interact with us with? Send them in! You can either send them in to fight, or just to ask questions, either works!

Story progression

As seen on the characters post, you need certain things to unlock new characters. A new book, and for Heathcliff or Faust to talk about a certain thing. Chapters progress every time a new character is unlocked. They don’t really mean much else, and are just there as a way for me to track things.

I’ve tried not to make progression quests hard, but if you need a hint, I will provide one.

Characters

“Whose swapped with who??” You’ll have to stay and find out. I’m not revealing.

“This character works better swapped with this character though...” though I did base off of personality or story similarities, most of these swaps don’t actually impact the characters themselves, so it doesn’t matter who they swapped with in the end, I think.

Also, characters maayyy be a bit ooc, as I'm not too well versed with all of them. I'll get better, I promise <3.

//That is all for now! I will probably update this eventually however

// Most asks will be answered with a piece of art, bigger asks may get lil comics of art, and small asks that I can't draw for will just be text. Though I aim to have at least 90% be art. so answering may be slow, I apologize

//Normal blog rules and all that. Be nice, be respectful, no NSFW... yknow?

//This blog is also ran by the same person (me <3) who runs @dieci-association .

[holyblonded]

Heyy, I've got two kind of connected headcannons for azulita.

You mentioned that she really enjoys and feels music and that it's some kind of safe space to her.

So i can really imagine that she likes communicating with songs and also understands peoples feelings better if they connect it to a song.

So maybe she started singing to sydney a bit, either some song snippets of songs she likes that describe how she feels about her or also self written songs. And then at some point syd realises that this is a way she can communicate with azulita better and just make her feelings more understandable and more related because for azulita music carries messages better than anything else.

Connected to that i could maybe see azulita enjoying sleep token even if it might not be her normal genre (idk if you're familiar with the band, but i can rly recommend them). But i think she would probably fuck with their genre blend (pop, jazz, gospel, hip hop and rock /metal influences) and their special instrumentals as well as with their well written lyrics. Sleep token songs often have so many layers you can unpack, the lyrics are written in beautiful metaphors and deeply emotional and in addition to that they are underlined by creative, powerful instrumentals with many contrasts.

So i can maybe see syd sending her a song like "are you really okay" or "provider" and azulita is just completely stunned by all the different layers of the song, then starts analysing lyrics and instrumentals falling deep into the sleep token rabbit hole (like I did too)

If you're not familiar with the band and maybe wanna get into it i can recommend gethsemane, blood sport, are you really okay, euclid, the love you want, damocles and the night does not belong to god because those are nice songs to start out with and not be instantly rejected by some heavier metal parts in some songs :)

Also if you don't like the second part of this ask with the sleeptoken part but can relate to the first headcannon feel free to just ignore my sleep token fangirling and only focus on the first part (if you even like that one xD)

Take care and keep on writing, I love your creativity and the way you make me fall in love with fictional characters :)

oh this is so azulita-coded.

the thing about azulita is she doesn’t always have the right words. not because she doesn’t feel deeply, but because language sometimes feels like this stiff, clumsy thing that can’t keep up with how fast and messy and full her heart gets. she’s a storm of emotion, but her vocabulary for explaining that storm… not always there. not in the ways that people expect, at least.

but music? music gets it. she doesn’t need to think through a sentence when a verse already says it better. she doesn’t have to decode her feelings when a guitar riff or a drop or a scratch in a vocal makes her chest ache exactly the way she feels. music has always been her native language—even when she was too afraid to talk, even when she felt like no one was listening, even when the world felt too loud or too cold or too fake, songs gave her a place to be.

so yeah, it starts small. syd’s scrolling on her phone, and azulita’s got her guitar, noodling around. and suddenly she hums something low—“baby, you my everything, you all I ever wanted…” and then she shrugs like it’s nothing, like she wasn’t just quoting Take Care and looking at sydney with eyes soft enough to undo a person.

sydney freezes. “was that—”

“don’t worry about it,” azul mutters, cheeks going pink.

but syd does worry about it. she starts noticing the pattern. how azulita will drop song lyrics into conversations instead of saying how she’s feeling. how she’ll leave her phone unlocked on a spotify screen, some moody, bittersweet track—and it’s clearly on purpose. how she’ll send syd a link and just say this is me today, instead of typing out anything else.

it becomes their secret language. when azulita doesn’t have the words, she finds the melody. and when sydney doesn’t know how to comfort her, she finds a song.

enter: sleep token. maybe syd finds them first, late night scrolling after azulita has shut down one too many times. she’s trying to understand, trying to figure out how to meet azul where she is. and she stumbles across “Are You Really Okay?” and suddenly she feels like someone cracked her chest open.

because it is azulita. it’s the question behind her silence. the ache behind the bite. the hope that hides in her snark. the pain she’s too proud to speak aloud.

so syd sends it. no caption. no explanation.

azulita listens. then she listens again. and again. the sound design is sick—like literally, she texts syd “yo who produced this this goes dumb”—but it’s the lyrics that gut her. the kind of raw, poetic storytelling that sneaks up on you and rips your heart out, but you thank it for doing so. it’s vulnerable, messy, sharp. it sounds like truth. it sounds like her.

from there, it spirals. sydgives her “Euclid” after one of azul’s worst anger episodes. azul responds with “Blood Sport” when she can’t say I love you but wants syd to know.

syd sends “The Night Does Not Belong to God” the day before a match when azul’s anxious and can’t sleep. azul sings “The Love You Want” into syd’s neck during a lazy morning cuddle. she starts writing her own songs again, too. not to share—at first. just to get things out. but sometimes syd catches her humming them. sometimes she lets her listen. once, syd finds a lyric in azulita’s notebook that just reads, “you didn’t save me. but you stayed. and that saved me.” and syd doesn’t say anything. just kisses her forehead and holds her a little tighter.

their relationship becomes part mixtape, part love letter, part emotional excavation.

azulita still gets overwhelmed. still shuts down. still struggles to talk. but now syd knows the songs that pull her back.

and azulita? she finally realizes that her voice, her real voice, isn’t just in the words she avoids. it’s in every note she hums when she’s brave enough to feel out loud.

and syd? syd listens. every time.

[rpmemes-galore]

The Pretty Reckless : Going to Hell album ... sentence starters

"Have I lost my mind?"

"You want me to burn."

"Blame all your life on me."

"Follow me down to the river."

"Love comes with such a cost."

"Drink while the water is clean."

"Don’t ask me where I’ve been."

"Won't be pretty, won't be sweet."

"Since I met you, I've been crazy."

"Don't confess none of your sins."

"My intention is to fade and I will."

"You'll be left with nothing, again."

"Looks like I’m not coming home..."

"The devil's knocking at your door."

"But I don’t mind, please don’t cry."

"Don't do a goddamn thing they say."

"All this time, the joke was all on me."

"You make everything seem so hazy."

"Did I succeed and make you proud?"

"Everything I wanted was in my hand."

"You are the knight that saves my day."

"Dear boy, what are you running from?"

"But now I’m versed in so much worse."

"Since I've been with you, I've been lost."

"Start your life with your head held high."

"If you listen close, you can hear him cry."

"Come inside, I've got some sweet things."

"For the love that I make, I’m going to hell."

"The night is when the ghosts all come out."

"For the vows that I break, I’m going to hell."

"Maybe I wish I could die, maybe I am dead."

"Now I know that there's a different way to die."

"I wanted you to stay, seems you wanted more."

"Come inside, don't be afraid, I’ll keep you safe."

"Their intention is to kill and they will… they will."

"It's a fucked up world, what do you get from it?"

"Here comes the darkness, it's eating at my soul."

"I got one foot in the cradle and one in the grave."

"No mountain made of money can buy you a soul."

"Now you're on your knees with your head hung low."

"See, I don't know you, why do you wanna know me?"

"I'm waiting for my friend to come and break me out."

"Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below."

"I am sitting on a throne while they’re buried in the dirt."

"My body breathes. Heart still beats. But I am not alive."

"When you're young, you always take what you can get."

"I’ve been locked up a while. I got caught for what I did."

"I don’t mind if you take what's yours, but give me mine."

"But I don't go 'round and take it out on everyone about it."

"Somewhere in the end of all this hate, there's a light ahead."

"You wanna start a war? You think that anyone would listen?"

"You wanna tell them what you think, you think they fucking care?"

"If it came down to make a choice, I would be the one who’s replaced."

"I’ve told the truth so many years, but no one seems to wanna hear that."

[caesariawritesstuff]

Damaged Goods

Summary: When Jonathan Crane comes to work for the GCPD, he sets his sights on the young detective who's involved with Edward Nigma.

Content Warning: Angst & Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Minor spoilers for Cat & Mouse

Word Count: 6.7k

Note: This fic is purely self-indulgent and currently not canon to the official Cat & Mouse!Verse...but it might be! The Jonathan x Detective brain rot is real and this desperately needed to be on the page.

Following in the path of Edward Nigma was something Jonathan Crane had never quite pictured himself doing. He did not have the same weakness Edward did: he was not bound by an ego so large that it ruled his every move, or an obsession with riddles and puzzles. Jonathan was immune to such weakness. While, of course, one could say his own obsession was with fear – he did not considered that obsession to be a weakness, to be something that held him down. His obsession made him stronger, made him more capable than the others around him – it was simply too bad the others around him were incapable of showing the true fear on their faces when he walked by. He’d only been at the GCPD for a week now. When City Council approached him a few days ago about a case needing to be solved, men and women being murdered and their bodies melting from the inside out at result of a toxin  that the medical examiner could not identify, he found his interest piqued.

Of course, they offered him something in return: for helping solve the case, he would be granted release from Arkham and the chance to reform. It was a tempting offer, however, Jonathan did not have much use for such things as “reform”. What he did not like was competition – someone else out there experimenting with toxins and causing fear and paranoia in the heart of Gotham’s citizens was his job. Fear was his domain, and he would not be upstaged. However, he couldn’t deny that getting out of Arkham for some time would be a nice reprieve away from his cell in Solitary Confinement. He’d been stuck there for the last several months, hoping to get out as soon as the opportunity presented itself – he just hadn’t imagined it was presenting itself in the form of a City Council member with a tempting offer he couldn’t refuse.

Though, Jonathan admitted he felt a bit like a hypocrite. It was only months ago that he was sitting across from Edward Nigma, being told of the same opportunity the man had been given, and feeling a bit like it was a waste of Edward’s skillset.

“The GCPD?” Jonathan had asked.

Edward only nodded, not looking up, his gaze focused on the white chess pieces in front of him. They’d been a stalemate for an hour now, neither one moving their piece.

“Whatever will you do there, Edward?” Jonathan asked. “Commit yourself to a life of humiliating stares from those around you? You know what they’ll think. What they’ll say.”

Edward’s brows furrowed for the slightest moment, the only tell of his frustration that Jonathan noticed with ease. The two had known each other long enough. But even Jonathan had to admit that Edward’s determination to his silly little reform was quite fascinating. The fact that Edward hadn’t even attempted to break out of Arkham in the last three years was telling enough, and Jonathan only wondered what Edward was afraid of now that Batman was long gone. Still, the thought of Batman had a deep anger rumble in Jonathan’s stomach. The Dark Knight was long gone, and he’d won – being the first to unmask the Bat – but it had not come without it’s own price. Being injected with a high dose of his own toxin had sent him spiraling into his own fear state, one that took him months to recover from. But that was a different time, one he had put behind him long ago.

“I’m going to do it, Crane,” Edward finally said. “Batman is gone. I don’t feel like wasting the rest of my life in a cell. There’s so much greater things out there for my genius and I. Think of everything Gotham is missing out on without me there?”

Jonathan held in a sigh. Of course Edward’s patented ego was coming out, no matter how much he claimed he did not have one. He said nothing, contemplating Edward’s words. In truth, Jonathan felt quite differently – there were much better things Edward could be doing than wasting his time down at the GCPD, but he held his tongue.

Edward finally met his eyes, hardened, dark shadows circling underneath him. “I made a promise, Crane. I don’t intend to break it.” With that, he moved one piece across the board and smirked. “Your move.”

If Jonathan had known he would be following in Edward’s footsteps now, perhaps he’d have done something differently. At the time, he’d thought Edward’s “promise” was foolish, one he would not be able to keep, but so far he’d been proven wrong. He’d heard of the cases that Edward had helped solve with the aide of a silly little Detective – a detective, whom Jonathan had come to learn, Edward had quite the obsession with.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes as he looked around at the GCPD morgue. There was quite the chill, but he was used to it, and he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the sidewall: three years had done quite the number on him. The mask that had been grafted to his skin had once been his face, but over time, the graft itself had begun to break down. He would have ignored it, if not for the infection that had begun underneath, prompting the Arkham doctors to convince him to go in for surgery to correct more of the damage from Croc’s mauling. Several surgeries later, he still did not quite look like himself: but his nose had been restructured, his lips slightly fixed, though there was still damage to his eye. His brown hair was thinned across his head, fully grown back by now, and yet he didn’t quite care for his appearance. He had been fine with the mask – though the Arkham doctors didn’t seem quite convinced to allow another one to be grafted onto his skin. Perhaps it was for the best, considering the way it’d broken down once.

Frowning, he studied himself a little further, taking note of the little scars across his pale, aged skin. He straightened out the white lab coat he wore, delicately laid out over a pair of tan pants and a brown sweater with gold accents. The brace around his leg was still secure, considering it was permanently broken, but he was used to it. His frown deepened and he turned away, back to the task at hand: the body splayed out across the silver tables, each of the victims’ bodies cold, gray, the stench of death permeating the room. Jonathan’s gaze slid to the other side of the room, where the medical examiner, Dr. Collins, was currently busy working on writing up reports about the victims. Jonathan turned back and headed over to one of the bodies, snatching up the clipboard and quickly skimming the initial reports Dr. Collins had made. The mans findings were…adequate. It was not wonder City Council had called him in to consult on this case; the man certainly was out of his element.

Just as he set the clipboard down, the sound of footsteps got his attention and he perked up just in time to see two people walk inside – you, and your partner, whom Jonathan had come to learn was named Mack Rollins. But Jonathan’s gaze immediately landed on you, studying you with a strange interest, taking note of your black slacks and green blouse that was open just enough to reveal a bit of cleavage. Jonathan wouldn’t normally take note of such trivial primal things, but, well…he found himself curious about what Edward Nigma saw in you. He’d never known Edward to have interest in his own primal urges, but knowing that you were capable of wrapping a man like Edward Nigma around your little finger, well…it was quite intriguing. Something he found himself needing to study, to analyze, to pick apart, to understand. What was so special about you that could make a man like Edward Nigma follow you around like a lost puppy dog, with you holding the leash?

That, Jonathan found, was the question he was most curious about.

As soon as you and your partner walked into the room, a strange tension sucked out the air, so sharp it couldn’t be cut with a knife. Jonathan narrowed his eyes, but Mack stepped forward, hands shoved into his pockets and said, “Crane. Have you made any progress on our victims?”

Jonathan studied the man slowly, deliberately taking his time to answer the question. He never imagined he’d be down in the GCPD morgue consulting on a case, but here he was. He set the clipboard aside and said, “It seems the victims have all be killed with a concoction of very lethal neurotoxins. Discovering the toxin compound will take time.”

You frowned, glancing down at one of the bodies, studying it carefully. Jonathan noticed the subtle way your lip jutted out, almost as if in concentration – but that was when he noticed something else, too: there, around your neck, was a silver chain, and dangling from it was a green question mark pendant. Clearly a gift from Edward.

Mack sighed, turning to you. “Whoever this bastard is, he’s killed every week. I don’t doubt he’s going to let up, and what is he planning?”

“This could be a trial run,” you said. “An attempt at seeing how his toxin works before he uses it on a mass crowd of people.”

Jonathan smirked, because he had a feeling you were correct in your assumption. It was entirely possible that the culprit was preparing for something big. After all, one did not perfect their toxin without a bit of experimentation, now did they?

Dr. Collins spoke up, “We’re taking care of it,” he said. “Dr. Crane and I are working day and night to analyze the toxins compounds. We’ll let you know as soon as we have something.”

Jonathan glanced at the man, frowning, even though his words were true. Jonathan was being worked like a dog day and night for the last several days since he arrived, and the weight of his newfound ankle monitor around his ankle was certainly not making things easier. The only reprieve he had was to head back to his city council issued apartment and catch a few moments of sleep, but even that was far and few between, as he kept himself awake most of the night pouring over medical files and chemical compounds in an attempt to understand this new toxin roaming Gotham’s streets – and, perhaps, set his own new plans in motion the moment those fools at city hall granted him his reform. But first, he had to play by the rules.

Mack nodded, and turned on his heels, before heading back the way he came. You followed him, but for the slightest second, you met eyes with Jonathan. It was brief, enough to make something coil in Jonathan’s stomach, a strange curiosity, and then you were out of the room without another word.

______

Several hours later, Jonathan found himself rubbing at his tired eyes. It was getting late, and he needed to send over the new reports that Dr. Collins had written up. Easier to do it by email, but he couldn’t help the curiosity building in his veins. He had not been able to stop thinking about you since you left; his curiosity needed satiating. His thoughts only continued to fill with questions: he did not understand what Edward saw in you, or why he’d gift you anything at all. Even if the necklace did look like a shiny collar more than anything.

Collecting his things, Jonathan made his way down the hall and took the elevator up to the Homicide Divisions floor. He waited patiently until the doors opened, and he stepped out, narrowing his eyes. Most of the detectives had gone home for the night, leaving behind empty desks stacked full of mountains of paperwork, but Jonathan’s gaze immediately strayed to the Cybercrimes Division office down the hall. He wandered through the room, each step a dull ache against his broken leg, but when he peeked his head inside – he realized the office was empty. That was, until voices from the other side of the room got his attention.

There, in the break room, he noticed you standing by a coffee pot, pouring yourself a cup. Steam floated into the air, and you turned back, leaning against the counter as you said, “Edward, I don’t understand why you think this will help us.”

“Because, my dear, it’s important that we cross reference everyone from every single pharmaceutical company in Gotham,” Edward replied, his voice smooth, arrogant, familiar.

“That is going to be hundreds of people,” you sighed.

“Correction, my dear: a few thousand,” Edward replied.

There was moment of silence, and Jonathan lingered back, before he heard a small laugh escape from your lips. His eyes narrowed into slits, but he walked into the room, finding you and Edward sitting across from each other at a small table, a laptop in front of Edward. You immediately turned around and found him standing there, and your lips fell open slightly, as if in surprise to see his presence.

“Crane,” Edward said, a hint of surprise in his own voice. “Finally emerged from your cave, I see. How are you faring here in this wondering institution?”

Jonathan was quiet for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and Edward – taking note of your body language, the way your foot touched Edward’s underneath the table, how your arm was just a little too close to his own. A clear sign of physical connection that Jonathan was not used to seeing Edward display with someone else.

“I have some records for you,” Jonathan said smoothly. “I thought I’d deliver them myself.” He wandered over, handing over the file to you.

You hesitated, but took it, and for just a moment – your fingertips brushed against his own. The sensation was quick, barely a heartbeat, but for some reason it made Jonathan’s stomach tighten with something strange, a stirring deep within his gut. He met your eyes once more: wide, with a heavy coat of mascara, your lips tinted in a pink, glossy sheen. You glanced at Edward as you took the files.

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” you finally said. “I’m sure this will be helpful to the investigation.” You leaned back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other as you opened the folder, as if no longer considering him and his presence.

“Crane,” Edward said. “Come. Sit. Do regal us with tales of toxins.” He gestured to the seat in on the other side of the table, before picking up a mug of coffee and taking a slow sip.

Jonathan hesitated. He had work to do, too much, but he found himself interested. He hadn’t spoken to Edward much since arriving to the GCPD, but now was the perfect opportunity to get to know you a little better – perhaps, to understand what this strange hold you had over Edward was that had him so intrigued. There certainly couldn’t be anything that special about you, now could there be?

Jonathan pulled out the chair and sat in between the two of you finally, resting his hands in his lap, but he took note of the way you looked up from the folders and shot Edward a look. A silent conversation seemed to pass between you and Edward, something written in your gaze that intrigued Jonathan even more – but what was it? Perhaps it was apprehension. With the way your shoulders suddenly tensed, he couldn’t help but notice the flicker of uncertainty that passed through your eyes. Jonathan lips pressed into a thin line.

“How are you liking it here at the GCPD?” Edward asked, leaning back in his chair as he folded his hands together. “Is it everything you dreamed of, Crane?”

“Why yes, Edward,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I can see why you’ve stuck to your…reform for so long.”

Edward smirked, a low chuckle rumbling from deep within his throat. “Well, I do what I must. Gotham is in need of my services, after all. And what would they do without me?”

You snorted, a soft laugh escaping your lips. Edward shot you a grin and you smiled back at him, an exchange that did not escape Jonathan’s notice.

“Right,” you said, leaning forward and resting your chin in your palm. “Oh yes, the great Edward Nigma, forever offering his services to Gotham. How grateful we are.”

Edward’s smirk grew. “Well, detective, someone has to be.”

Jonathan sensed another silent exchange a words, and a tricky look seemed to fill Edward’s eyes. It was quite clear what your relationship with Edward entailed. Jonathan had not been blind to the whispers he’d heard running through the GCPD. The officers certainly liked to talk, and their mouths were bigger than their brains.

Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Cash’s voice boomed from the other room, “Nigma! Get your ass in here!” he called out.

Edward rolled his eyes. “Apologies, Crane, but the Commissioner calls.” He backed out of his chair and stood up, before pausing to glance at you once more, and slipping out of the room – leaving Jonathan and you all alone.

His gaze slid to you once again, but your attention was back on the folders before you, spreading out a series of toxicology reports. He couldn’t help but notice the look in your eyes, the way your bottom lip jutted out, as if in a pout, and your brows furrowed with the very obvious look that you had no idea what you were reading.

“Toxicology is not your forte, detective?” he decided to ask.

Finally, you sighed and shoved the papers aside. “Definitely not. I have no idea what any of this means.”

Of course you don’t, Jonathan thought. How could he expect someone as simple as you to understand something so complicated? What ever did Edward see in you? He fought the urge to roll his eyes, trying to keep his composure, and he slid one of the papers back to himself. With his index finger, he pointed to one of the toxins, explaining just what it did and how it affected the human body. You listened intently, nodding, as if taking in all he was saying.

“So,” you said when he was finished. “This is more complicated than I thought.” You leaned back in your chair and groaned, crossing your arms over yourself. Your breasts slightly popped out of your blouse with the movement.

Jonathan was quiet for a long moment. He studied you carefully, trying to understand what was so special about you. But you glanced at him, before looking away again, the movement so fast Jonathan registered it for exactly what it was: a moment of fear.

As if you were afraid of him.

A ripple of excitement surged through Jonathan’s stomach. He lifted his chin slightly, his curiosity increasing, and he found his thoughts wandering – wondering just what would happen if he injected you with his toxin, what kind of response he would get from you. What dark secrets would spill from your lips? What was your greatest fear? What things would you scream out as you writhed around, desperately searching for a way out from your nightmares? That, Jonathan realized, was what fascinated him most of all.

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat, your fingers straying upwards to play with the dangling pendant around your neck. “I should be going. Thank you for this, Dr. Crane.” You snatched up the files and began to head out the door. But as you did, you stole one glance back at him, studying him, before slipping out the door without another word.

Jonathan’s lips curves upwards, his curiosity fueling him even more now. He was not sure what it was – but there was something about you that had him…interested, in a way he had not been in a very, very long time. And he was determined to figure out what it was about you that was burrowing into his brain like some kind of rabid parasite, eating away at him. Whatever Edward saw in you, he wanted to find that little thing for himself. And oh, how fun it would be to pry it out of you, to make you squirm, to understand what exactly was so special about you that had Edward wrapped around your little finger. Because if you could make a man like Edward Nigma break…what other dangers did you possess?

That, Jonathan discovered, was what he wondered most of all.

______

The days passed slowly, and Jonathan was no closer to finding the solution to the toxin this new murderer on the streets was using. But with each passing day, as he found himself coming to and from the GCPD, he found himself running into you more often that not. In the halls, he often caught glimpses of you by Edward’s side, and he watched as the two of you left work together, arm in arm, whispering to one another in the shadows. Jonathan was not sure what it was about your relationship with Edward that fascinated him so, but it did not take Jonathan long to learn that the people called you the Riddler’s Whore, whispered about you behind closed doors, found it unbelievable that you would be with a criminal like Edward. And perhaps that was what Jonathan needed answering – why such a respected detective in the GCPD would fall for a criminal, albeit a reformed one, like Edward Nigma.

It did not take Jonathan long to devise a plan of his own, one to get you alone for a small moment, just to ask a few questions. He timed the seconds until he could set his plan in motion, and when the time came, he called upstairs to your desk, asking if you could come downstairs to the morgue. Dr. Collins had already left on his lunch break, and he knew your partner had taken the day off work – leaving you all alone. It did not take long for you to come downstairs, and he heard the elevator doors open, your heels clacking against the floor as you made your way into the morgue. You stepped into the room, hanging back in the doorway slightly.

“You wanted to see me, Dr. Crane?” you asked, one hand gripping the doorway.

Jonathan pretended to barely notice your presence, glancing at you for a split second. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve made progress in determining the toxin,” he said.

“Oh?” you asked, your attention fully on him now.

Jonathan nodded, turning back to his desk, and he glanced at the clock – and right on time, all of the lights in the GCPD went on, bathing everything in darkness. He heard your heals clack against the floor, as if you were shifting back and forth on your feet, and a moment later, a thunderous bang rang throughout, as if the backup generator was kicking on. A soft blue, overhead light came overhead, but most of the room was bathed in darkness.

“Shit,” you mumbled underneath your breath.

It was just as he’d planned – hiring a few men to cut the power to the GCPD and to the elevator. There was no way you’d be getting back upstairs now, at least not until the problem was fixed. He had twenty minutes, tops, perhaps. Enough time for what he needed.

“Afraid, detective?” he asked, busying himself with a few vials of chemicals, carefully not breaking contact from the vials.

“I’m not afraid of the dark,” you said, stepping further into the room.

“Then what are you afraid of?” he asked, curious.

You were hesitant for a moment, so long that he turned back to see if you were even listening, but you crossed your arms over yourself and leaned back against the wall.

“All right,” you sighed. “I’ll play your game, Crane. If you want to know, I’m afraid of being eaten alive.”

“Eaten alive?” he asked, brows raising.

“Yeah. You know, by a shark or a crocodile. Or a dinosaur.”

“Dinosaurs went extinct millions of years ago, detective.”

“Well if you can create a fear toxin that makes people experience their greatest fears, what’s stopping some scientists from re-creating the dinosaurs?” you asked, but there was something oddly playful in your tone.

Jonathan did not know how to respond to that. He did not recall ever being questioned about the scientific recreation of dinosaurs before, but alas, that was besides the matter. He turned back to his vials, the stench of chemicals filling his nose. The clinking of vials filled the quiet space.

Jonathan took a moment to listen for any movements, but you said nothing, so he continued, “You and Edward seem quite close.”

“Well, he is my boyfriend,” you said.

Jonathan scoffed at the word, how juvenile it sounded. He glanced back at you and finally said, “I’ve never known Edward to take interest in such…menial pursuits.”

You shrugged, not breaking eye contact from him. “Well, things change.”

Jonathan finally swiveled around in his chair, studying you with clear, careful intent. “And what will you do when he decides he’s finished with you?”

You straightened. Now he had your full attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It was his turn to shrug, nonchalantly, as if without care. “We both know Edward only cares about himself. His narcissism doesn’t lie. Surely you can’t be that naïve, can you?”

“I know who he is,” you said, quietly. “I know what he’s done, and I’ve accepted it.”

“Have you now?” Jonathan asked, his curiosity growing. Now this was making him grow even more fascinated: what would cause a GCPD detective like yourself to fall for a criminal like Edward? The two of you were on completely opposite ends of the spectrum, and yet, somehow both enamored with one another.

“Yes,” you replied, staring at him closely, eyeing him as if he might make a move. “What does it matter to you, Crane?”

“I’m simply fascinated,” he replied. “What’s so special about you that has Edward so…enamored. I can see the way he looks at you. The way he follows you around like a poor, lost puppy. I’m…curious.”

Your quiet for a long moment, your eyes narrowing into slits. They sparkled in the darkness, the blue hue of the overhead light casting shadows across the room.

“You’re going to have to ask him,” you finally said, your tone level, composed, but there was just a hint of uncertainty in it that Jonathan detected.

“I’m not asking him, detective,” Jonathan replied. “I’m asking you.”

Your frown deepened, and you finally looked away. “Well, I can’t give you an answer, doctor. Ask Edward yourself.”

Jonathan leaned forward slightly in his seat. “Doesn’t it fascinate you as well?” he asked. “Why someone like Edward Nigma would become so infatuated with you?”

You shifted back and forth on your feet, heels clacking, the only sound in the room, in the quiet stillness. Jonathan counted the minutes – he still had about fifteen to get what he wanted, the answer he was desperate for. His own fascination with you was beginning to grow further, a desperation to understand you. To understood what made you tick, what you feared, the pieces of your mind he wanted to shape and mold and understand.

He could see that look in your eyes, as if you were asking yourself the very same question, trying to understand it yourself. A smirk curved at the edge of his lips, realizing he had you right where he wanted you: questioning the very fabric of your relationship with Edward, held together by fragile threads. Jonathan quirked a brow, studying you carefully.

“I don’t know,” you finally answered him, your voice quiet.

Jonathan clicked his tongue in response. So, even you did not seem to know what was so special about you that had allowed you to wrap Edward around your little finger. But Jonathan was determined to figure out just what little piece of you was – to twist it and mold it to his own.

Jonathan finally stood, backing away from the table of vials and taking a step towards you. “You didn’t answer my question, detective. When Edward has decided he’s had his fill of you – that you’re no longer his shiny new toy – what will you do? I’ve heard the rumors. Tell me…has Nigma ruined you? Corrupted you? When he’s finished with you, who will want you afterwards?”

Your mouth falls open slightly and you step back a little, the shock written clearly across your face. It’s clear his question has taken you aback, and that makes a flicker of pride spark in Jonathan’s chest.

“You’re damaged goods, detective,” Jonathan continue. “No one will want you now that you’ve been…tainted by Edward, will they? He’s taken that innocent part of you and twisted it until there’s nothing left of who you used to be, is there?”

“Crane…” you said, a warning in your tone. “I’m not playing this game with you. Stop trying to get under my skin.” Your body went taught then, and he could practically smell the fear radiating off your skin, a deliciousness that only fueled his intrigue more.

Jonathan stepped a little closer now. “No games, detective. A simple discussion.”

“A discussion that’s starting to piss me off,” you mumbled. “Remember, doctor, I can go right to the Commissioner and have them throw you right back in Arkham.”

One of Jonathan’s brow quirked upwards. “No need for threats, detective. I’m merely expressing my concern. Once Edward has decided he’s had his fill, who will want you? Who will touch you? You’re corrupted, ruined…damaged goods. That’s what you are now, aren’t you?”

In that moment – something fills your eyes: a pure, raw rage, unfiltered, as if burning against the firelight. It’s clear as day, the sudden change in your demeanor, how your anger is beginning to take hold of as fierce as a wicked storm. The change is subtle, but enough for Jonathan to take notice, and his brow quirks up even further in interest.

“I think we’re finished with this discussion,” you said, turning away from him, your gaze sliding towards the door. The power is still out, the elevator still out of use, and there’s nowhere to run, but Jonathan can tell you’re searching for an escape route – he can see the fear that you’re trying so hard to control, to keep contained, and it lights a fire in his belly, stirring excitement deep within him.

Jonathan takes another step closer, and your head snaps to him. “You can feel it, don’t you? How you’re nothing but a tarnished toy? That feeling of hopelessness, knowing that no one will want you when Edward has finished his games with you.”

“I don’t remember asking you for a therapy session, Crane,” you snapped.

The snap makes a shudder run through Crane – and that’s when he see’s it: the fear, unaltered, pure, raw, fear. The fear that you know he’s right – that no one will want you the moment Edward has decided to be done with his shiny new toy. Jonathan knows it’s only a matter of time.

“You know I’m right, don’t you?” Jonathan continues. “You know Edward will bore of you, eventually. And who will want you then, I wonder?”

You said nothing – but the fear in your eyes was clear, sending another ripple of excitement through his stomach. Jonathan took another step closer, until he was a mere inches away from you, listening to the way your breath hitched in your throat – but you did not back down, remaining still, defiant – a clear sign you did not want to give into your fears.

The edges of Jonathan’s lips quirked upwards. “That’s what you’re afraid of most, isn’t it, detective? Being cast aside and treated as nothing but his plaything?”

You didn’t break eye contact from him. “This isn’t a therapy session, Crane.”

The bite in your voice made him tremble. “I’m merely expressing my professional opinion, detective. Edward will have his fun with you, and when he’s finished, you’ll be broken beyond repair. No one will want a tainted little thing like you.”

You scoffed under your breath, turning to face him again. The burning defiance was still clear in your eyes, across your face – but there was something about that defiance, something about the way you held strong, unbroken and unyielding, that made something in him snap. Something stirred in his gut, a strange sensation, an excitement he had not felt in quite some time – years, perhaps, but enough to make the hairs on the back of his own neck raise in question.

“Maybe I like being a little tainted,” you finally said.

Your statement caught him off guard. He had not expected such an interesting response from you – to declare that you did not seem to care how Edward might have ruined you for anyone else. Perhaps, if you were anyone else, you would be cowering from him right now – afraid, trembling, terrified of what he might do to them. But you stood firm, the defiance written across every inch of your skin – and that was when it clicked for Jonathan.

Ah. There it is, he realized, as the puzzle pieces came to place in his own mind. It was your fire – burning as bright as a dying star, refusing to be smoldered – that had Edward so captivated by you. The way you spoke, carried yourself, a flame never going out, no matter how much damage had been done to you. And there had been quite a bit of damage, Jonathan had come to learn – and yet you were not allowing that damage to break you.

And, perhaps, Jonathan liked that, admired it even. A strong mind was rare to come by.

Crossing his hands behind his back, his excitement growing, he began to circle you, like  a hunter stalking its prey. His eyes roamed over every inch of you, taking in the parts that he had not allowed his eyes to stray to for too long. He was not a man who gave into such…primal desires before, but standing here, listening to your defiance – it excited him, in a way he had not been excited in a very, very long time.

“So, you enjoy the thought of being ruined and tainted by Edward? Interesting, very interesting,” he murmured, making a mental note of every word out of your mouth, how your body language threatened to betray you.

“What does it matter to you anyways, Crane?” you sighed, a sound out of your mouth that somehow sounded both bored and exasperated.

That made him pause, stopping his tracks right in front of you. His gaze roamed over you from head to toe, before landing on the green question mark necklace resting delicately at the hollow of your throat. Jonathan took a step closer, before reaching forward and capturing the pendant between his first two fingers, rubbing at the surface with slow, delicate care. You sucked in a breath, your body going taught, and you began to take a step back, but Jonathan only tightened his grip on the necklace, making you pause.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” he continued, his voice low. “The way he touches you. Edward is positively smitten with you. Now I can see why.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. You were just inches away from him, enough that he could take in every delicate line on your face. “Let go of me,” you whispered,

He ignored your demand, swirling his thumb along the dips and grooves of the pendant, before his gaze met yours again. “This little trinket says quite a lot more about your relationship with Edward, doesn’t it? That you belong to him?”

The breath hitched in your throat. “So what if I do? Does that bother you?” There was a tremble to your voice now, one Jonathan couldn’t help but notice.

He quirked a brow. “It’s simply an observation, detective,” he said. “But when the time comes for him to discard you, whatever will you do? That’s what scares you the most, isn’t it? That desperate, primal need to be wanted, even if it’s by a man who will never love you?”

You sucked in a shallow breath, as if trying to keep yourself composed. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, Crane. If I want therapy, I’ll get it from someone else.”

The bite in your voice makes Jonathan pause, but the corners of his mouth quirk upward. He tilts his head to the side, his gaze roving over your body in fascination, wondering what a dose of his toxin would do to you – what sort of secrets you would reveal, how long it would take for that precious little mind to break. But he could see it in your eyes, the truth you were fighting so hard not to reveal: your true fear was not being eaten alive. It was being tossed aside and unloved, forgotten, unwanted. Jonathan could see it written across your face plain as day.

But you didn’t break your gaze from him, the defiance still written clear as day, as if you were trying to prove to yourself and to him that you weren’t afraid. Excitement bundled in Jonathan’s stomach, a desire, a need, an aching suddenly pooling in his core, to watch that defiance in your eyes fade into nothing but submission and surrender. Jonathan smirked, his thumb continuing to trace circles over the pendant in slow, meticulous strokes.

Your breathing was shallow, but your gaze narrowed, and you finally reached up to swat his hand away, but with his other hand, he grabbed your wrist tightly. You gasped as his fingers dug into your skin, and he nudged you back, until your waist hit the small metal table. His grip tightened on your necklace, carefully yanking your head closer to him, until he was but inches away from you, your breath on his skin.

“Come now, detective,” he said lowly. “Acts of physical violence aren’t tolerated here at the GCPD, now are they?”

“Crane…” you said, a warning in your tone. He could feel you shuddering against him, the terror in your eyes exciting him, even though you fought hard to control it.

He finally dropped the pendant, but his fingers hovered a little too long near your collarbone, before he dropped your wrist as well and dropped his hands back to his sides. Excitement pooled in his stomach, aching deep inside of him. He took a step back, and just as he did, the lights flickered on once more, bathing the room in a bright white light glow. He took a step back and tucked his hands into his pockets, turning away as if the entire interaction hadn’t happened at all, returning to his desk and the vials and reports surrounding him. As he slid back into his seat, he watched you spin on your heels, muttering something vulgar under your breath. Jonathan chuckled lowly to himself, and a moment later, he heard the elevator doors ping out.

“Detective?” Dr. Collins asked from down the hall. “Are you all right?”

Your gaze slid back to him, then to Dr. Collins. “Everything’s fine.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Dr. Collins asked, lowering his voice, but Jonathan could still hear, listening in.

You were silent for a beat, before shaking your head. “No. I’m fine.” Then you turned and walked away, out of the room, your heels clicking on the way down the hall.

Jonathan returned to his work, smirking. A productive session. He’d already learned enough about you in twenty minutes than he had all week – and what he’d learned had been very, very fascinating. Now he understood what Edward saw in you, what would draw you to him, make him…crave you. Jonathan paused, his fingers hovering over the vials as a hint of something pulsed in his stomach, spreading down to his loins, tightening in the confines of his pants. Crave. That word meant a lot of things. And, the more he began to think about it, the more his own craving for you began to grow into something deeper, into something he had not felt in quite a very, very long time.

Smirking, one thought crossed his mind, Until next time, pet.

It was a good thing Jonathan didn’t mind damaged goods.

The amazing @finzphoenix did a wonderful job of drawing what I imagined a post-Arkham Knight Jon would look like, which you can find here!

[hotchs-big-hands]

HI ADA 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

okay so do you think Aaron would hit you or choke you or anything like that during sex? THIS IS SO STRAIGHTFORWARD IM SORRY 😭

I mean it in the way that he sees so much in his line of work that it's sorta out of the question for him. Like he couldn't do what he sees others do, let alone to you

Ykwim? If you talk about it and you tell him it's okay and you enjoy it, maybe he'll start slowly (and end up enjoying too maybe 🤭) but at first this sweet ass man would be so shy and afraid to do so i love him 😭🫶🏻

JSJCWJFJSJ helloooo anon thank yu for sending this ask!! Yur fine being straightforward LMAO💅

Okay so! I have thots (thoughts) abt this! Imma put them under the cut cuz obvs it’s nsfw and also it’s not everyone’s cuppa tea which is understandable and okay!

Minors dni 🔞

Short answer is: with sitting down to do some research with him and educating him about choking/slapping different areas and how to do it safely, he would definitely be up for giving it a try and I think he’d be quite into it. But ion think he would do choking/face slapping when he’s like. Angry fucking you. He would draw the line there.

Now the longer answer!

At first he’s like um. No. That’s abuse. He isn’t too well versed in BDSM culture and many kinks, so he thinks choking as in cutting off your windpipe, rather than applying pressure to your pulse point. And slapping as in assaulting you, rather than slapping sensitive areas like your ass, breasts, pussy and light face slaps. So you ask him if he would be willing to sit down with you sometime to do some research into it and if he still isn’t into it then that’s that. He agrees.

Now if it were me I’d make a whole fuckin PowerPoint presentation LMAO but whatever means of introducing and showing him these different kinds of play, you’re gonna have him taking it really seriously. Explaining to him about the pleasurable benefits of such play, how they could be incorporated into your sex life, but also the risks that are needed to be aware of. And if he tries something and doesn’t like it then you stop and don’t do it again.

Introducing them to the bedroom would be one thing at a time, and only doing one each time at first. Spanking your ass first, then breatheplay choking you the next time, then slapping your breasts and pussy. And finally face slapping. Every time you’d introduce something you’d do a tester for each thing to see how far you want to go with it, the pain level, the amount of pressure to your pulse point.

He’d only slap your face enough to surprise you, rather than actually hurt you. Slapping it when you don’t tell him what you want fast enough, or if you don’t call him sir (or daddy hehe) and accidentally use his name (during those sessions). He likes the dazed look on your face, the way you whimper and whine, the way your eyes roll back when he’s fucking you hard and choking you. Over time you start incorporating them together in one session, and it’s safe to say he enjoys how fucked out for him you become.

But also after these sessions he needs a lot of reassurance that you enjoyed yourself, that you were more than okay with the choking and slapping/spanking (which is true to irl as well. Always give your dominant partner their own aftercare and reassurance). And he’d become more confident with it, initiating such play with you. Perhaps you’d wear an item of clothing or accessory that tells him subtly you’re okay with him going ahead with initiating without asking beforehand.

Ofc this is just my opinion about it and ik it’s not for everyone/other people may think he wouldn’t be into it. And that is very valid! But yeah that’s my thots on this :3

[just-horrible-things]

'Verse: The Annihilation

The Annihilation and The General, pt1 [Next]

The courtyard is small and square, a scant span of paving tiles boxed in on all sides by the austere concrete walls of the building. Although sunlight glints off the windows of the highest floor, none reaches the ground. In the centre, a square bed of weathered and greening wood supports a clump of struggling, anaemic greenery.

There are two benches, their design functional to the point of brutality. The first hints of rust are just starting to set in where the grey paint begins to chip. On one of them sits a girl with her knees drawn up into the body of her oversize hoody. Sky blue sneakers peek from under the hem. She is reading a slim paperback, its corners crumpled from rough handling.

The general is a tall woman with steel-gray hair. The decades have added fat beneath her chin and around her middle, but her back remains straight as an arrow and her brisk walk does not tax her stamina. The sharp shoulders of her uniform jacket do much to conceal any softness beneath. 

The girl only looks up from the page when the general stops directly in front of her.

“You are Nikef,” states the general. “Called the Annihilation.” “That’s my name.” “I am General Dejhain. It was my understanding that you are to be supervised at all times.” Wordlessly, the girl points at the camera affixed to the side of the building, its unblinking lens watching over the courtyard.

“You will be part of the Andrazh counter-offensive,” the general continues. “Yeah.” “That places you under my command.” The girl has not moved from her position. The book remains open in her hands. “Are you looking for my handler?” she asks. “No. I came to speak to you, Nikef.” “I don’t really do that.”

“I make a point of speaking to as many of the people under my command as possible. Especially the exceptional. And you are the most exceptional that there is.” Her tone does not make it a compliment. Exceptional – an exception, an abnormality. “All my orders go via my handler. That’s the protocol.” “I understand the protocol. I’m not here to give you orders. I’m here to understand you.” “That’s not part of the protocol.” “It is my protocol.”

The girl closes her book. It disappears into the voluminous front pocket of her hoodie.

“You want to understand me? Go watch the Tempest footage.” “I have studied the failure of the Tempest Project. I have seen the footage. You are very impressive.” “That’s not what most people call it.” “I am a military woman. I am not squeamish, and I know the value of a weapon when I see it. You are very precious, Nikef.” The girl’s upper lip twitches, but she says nothing. “Or did you expect me to be afraid of you?” The general’s smile is a thin, worn thing. “I’m not afraid. You are a patriot. A hero. I have no intention of abusing you.” “Glad to hear it.”

For a brief minute, there is silence. The general has the unmoving parade-ground posture of a lifelong soldier. The girl has a different stillness. She still sits casually, knees against her chest, hands buried in her pocket with her book. But there is a wariness in her, the subtle tension of an animal poised to flee – or to spring. Her eyes never move from the eyes of the general.

“Come,” the military woman breaks the silence. “Walk with me. It’s warm inside, and the cafeteria has snacks.” “Aren’t you worried about disrupting my diet?” The general quirks an eyebrow. “I’m not aware of any dietary restrictions.” “Maybe you should check with my handler.” “I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of selecting your own food. Or abstaining, as you prefer. Come on.”

Reluctantly, the girl slides her legs out from under her hoodie and stands up. Above her brightly colored sneakers she wears plain, dark sweatpants. The general turns, and doesn’t look back, fully confident that the girl will follow. She does, but she casts a long look over her shoulder at the watching camera as she does.

“I’d like to get to know you a little,” the general says once the outside door has closed behind them. “You’ve read my file. You’ve seen the tapes. What else is there to know?” “Your loyalty and your commitment to your duty are remarkable. I get the impression that you aren’t often acknowledged for this, but you should be. You are an example to us all.”

The girl remains silent, trailing several steps behind the general. Soldiers stop and salute as they pass.

“I’d like to understand what motivates you, if you would be willing to share.” “It’s very simple.” The girl shrugs her shoulders, although the general is not looking at her. “I’m a weapon, there’s a war on. What else would I do? Hide under a bed until the enemy come for me?” “After what was done to you, it would be difficult to fault you for turning your back on military life.” “I think most people would find it very easy to fault me.” “Well, perhaps. It’s as simple as that, then?” “It’s as simple as that.”

“Would you like anything to eat?” the general asks as they approach the double doors of the cafeteria. “Or a beverage, perhaps?” “Nah,” the girl says. “I ate already.”

The general continues on. The girl hesitates, falling a little further behind, but she follows until they come to a single door flanked by a pair of soldiers. They salute smartly.

“What is this?” the girl asks. “An office I have appropriated for the duration of my visit. Don’t mind the honor guard, their presence is a matter of formality. I thought a little more privacy might make our conversation more comfortable.” At a gesture, one of the soldiers opens the door, and holds it open for them. The girl hangs back. But after a second, she follows.

The general pulls up a chair and sits not behind the desk but to one side, inviting the girl to do similarly. The girl does not sit. She watches the door close, then turns dark, untrusting eyes back to the general.

“I can see that I am failing to set you at ease. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?” “Talk to my handler instead?” the girl suggests. “I have a question that I would rather ask you directly. It is a little personal. I would wait until I knew you better, but I’m not sure when I will next have the chance. I am only here for the afternoon.”

More silence.

“Perhaps I should cut straight to the point.” The girl says nothing, but she tilts her head very slightly. “Have you put any thought toward the topic of reproduction?”

The girl blinks. “What?” “Reproduction. Having children. I know it is early.” “I’m fifteen.” “Not too young to have thought about it. Many girls your age already know whether they want children. Do you see that being a part of your future?” “I haven’t thought about it.” The girl’s tone is flat. “I would like you to think about it. Not to put too fine a point on it, it is a matter of national military interest. It’s likely, after all, that your children would inherit at least a portion of your exceptional ability.”

Very slowly and casually, the girl slides her hands out from the front pocket of her hoodie to let them rest by her sides instead. “I want my handler,” she says.

“I’m not asking you to make any decisions now. And obviously you are still too young to bear a child. I would just like you to think about your options.” The girl is silent, and very still. The general appears to take her silence as a cue to keep talking. “If you have no interest in raising children, you also have the option of contributing your genetics without needing to have any involvement at all with the children. There are medical procedures to extract eggs from the body – it’s a very small and safe surgery, nothing to be worried about. Your medical records indicate that you’ve reached reproductive maturity, so you could contribute your eggs at any time, if you so chose.”

“I want my handler,” the girl repeats.

“No one is going to force you to do anything. I merely wanted to make you aware of the option.” “I will not accept surgery.” “Of course, I understand. You could be awake for the entire procedure, if that would make you more comfortable.” “I’m not going to have surgery.” The girl’s voice is clipped now. “Any surgery. I’m not going to make children for you. I’m not going to give you babies to make – a new Project Tempest, to cut open, or whatever you want to do to them. No. No way.”

The general remains unruffled. She does not frown, but she exhales slowly through her nose.

“I see,” she says. “I must say I am disappointed. I had expected a soldier of your commendable loyalty to understand the importance of your unique abilities to this nation. We must all make sacrifices–”

Blue-white light floods the room as the girl lights up from within. The nerves beneath her skin glow blinding-bright Cherenkov blue.

“Do not talk to me about sacrifice,” she growls.

The general begins to raise her hands in a gesture of placation.

The door behind the girl is thrown open.

The girl does not turn, but before the soldiers are even inside the room, slivers of steel have begun to peel from the barrels of their guns, rising as dust into the air like twisting plumes of candle-smoke.

One drops the gun immediately. The other cries out, but keeps a hold of the disintegrating weapon.

“Touch me and die,” the girl says flatly. “No one is going to touch you,” the general insists. “No one is going to force you to do anything.” “I want my handler. Where is my handler?”

[Next]