#............please clap this literally took me all day to write

[xodarling]

Took the ‘rock’ in rock n roll too seriously - xodarling

includes: dom!beidou, fem!reader, modern au, bassist!beidou, gold digger!reader, established relationship, not a healthy one tho, g!p beidou, you like her money and dick, lowercase writing, muscular!beidou, size difference, daddy kink, spanking, breeding kink, grinding, degradation, overstim, choking, you don't like her

a/n: this came to me in a dream

beidou has very clingy lately, much to your dismay, this was supposed to be a transactional relationship but she went ahead and fell in love, now you have to pretend to like her back. she’s snuggling up to your lap, she’s so clingy it’s getting on your nerves..

“babe, can you get me a new car? that rolls royce i’ve been wanting for months, please?” you give her a pout and bat your eyelashes, your manicured nails softly scratch her scalp. her eyes linger on you for a moment and then she lifts her head up from your lap.

“oh, really?” both of you are in her garage, sitting on a random couch there with pizza boxes and soda cans everywhere, along with some cigarettes thrown around; the dingy appearance conceals that you’re literally in her mansion. beidou’s strong hands move to your hips and she manhandles you with ease onto her lap.

“didn’t i get you that jeep just last week?” she manspreads as she makes you sit on her lap. her eyes zone in on the hickeys she’s left on you the days before and a few hours ago. you open your mouth to protest but she smacks your ass which makes you giggle softly, “yeah, well, that was last week. i’m talking about now, it’s only fair you spoil me with something big.”

“something big?” she chuckles. she’s so big that her hands dwarf your waist tremendously, she rubs your smooth skin. her lips attach themselves back onto your neck and suck more bruises and leave even more bite marks on your already littered skin. “i fuck you with something big every night, no?” her tongue runs across your throat, she switches to each side of your neck to suck even more bruises.

your body jerks at her rough touch and the feeling of her big hands all over your skin. the sudden shift of her kisses made you whimper in delight and squirm under her burly touch. you can’t help but shiver as she goes from nibbles and pecks to bruising sucks. “ugh, you know what i’m talking about.” you glance away and pout, but in a playful manner.

her eyes roll back as she licks, sucks, and kisses your neck, collarbone, and jaw. your skin feels smooth under her touch, so smooth and soft, there’s nothing she loves more than leaving bruises on your pretty body. she moves her lips away from your neck and brushes them against your ear, nibbling your earlobe softly, “i’ll get you that rolls royce, baby, don’t worry. i’ll even get you a porche to make you feel better..”

she hums against your ear. her hands palm at your ass from above those slutty shorts she bought you that are practically underwear, she just can’t keep her hands off of you. one of her hands suddenly send a strike to your rear, a loud clap echoing through the garage.

she bites her lip and leans back on the couch, admiring your gorgeous body and running her hands across your curves. you smile sensually as she admires your body. her broad hands go up to fondle your chest, biting her lip and ogling at you, she squeezes your chest and then rests her arms on the back of the couch. she smizes and slightly bucks her hips up, enjoying the way your body bounces every time she lifts her hips.

your manicured nails grip the fabric of her tank top, a tight one that emphasizes her toned, broad body. your lips curl up into a faint smile as you begin to rock your hips back and forth, the movement is subtle but gets accentuated by her small thrusts up. “enjoying yourself?” your voice is low and throaty, trying your hardest to sound seductive and flirty.

“mhm. yeah, i fucking am.” she hums and watches your body bounce, her eyes half-lidded and filled with nothing but lust and love. “i’m gonna fuck you so good. till’ you can’t walk for weeks.” she whispers with arousal heavy in her tone, rolling her neck and groaning in discomfort as the bulge in her pants grows with each second that passes.

your face heats up hearing her vulgar words. the way she describes the situation makes your imagination run wild and your nether region quickly becomes wet. you try not to squirm too much as you glance to her eyes, which are looking at you with a hungry gaze. there’s nothing more sexy than big, powerful woman losing control of her cool and getting aroused because of your body.

“goddamn, you slut.” she growls after bit after your grinding. her large hands grip the bottom of your thighs and manhandle you so you’re laying flat on your back with beidou looming over you, some soda cans and old cigarettes clattering from the impact. she groans and growls, leaning down and leaving more hickeys on your neck, alongside bite marks.

the way she suddenly moves and pulls you into such a submissive position had you squealing in delight, your body arching forward to grind your slick shorts against the stiff area in beidou’s pants. with each bite and suck, your eyes roll back to your brain and your chest heaves heavily, each exhale sounding desperate and exhausted for the brute.

after a moment, beidou leans up and put your ankles on her shoulders, leaving pecks on each of your calves. her large, calloused hands sneak their way under your waistband and pull them off, she smirks and wolf whistles when she does rip the damp fabric off, “commando, princess?” she teases, rubbing your clit with her rough thumb, keeping eye contact with you.

“uh huh..” you shakily whine, closing your eyes to enjoy the flicks and rubs of your clitoris. after a few circles later, she slithers her hand away and pulls her sweatpants down, showing the bulge in her boxers. looking at her with a dazed expression that she finds adorable, she pulls down her bulging underwear and sighs when her cock flings out.

she chuckles when she notices your stare at her shaft, grabbing the base of if and playfully swinging slightly, “i’m guessing you like it.” she coos, rubbing your calf with her free hand. as much as you lack love towards beidou, you most certainly do not lack lust towards her, because the sight of that monster has you drooling and nodding quickly.

“you are just the cutest thing.” she coos and starts to rub her throbbing tip against your slit, playfully nudging your clit with her head. with a final kiss on your leg, she pushes herself into you, rubbing your clit once more to ease the uncomfortable stretch, “shh, it’s okay, breathe for me.” she murmurs, looking down at you with love in her eyes, “you’ve done this before, you can do it again, princess.”

“good girl. all mine.” she leans down and starts to whisper in your ear, easing you through the painful sting. after all, you’re very fragile compared to her. you arch your body forward, legs kicking a bit from the ache beginning to kick in… still, there’s nothing more attractive than being dominated by this muscle-bound brute. usually, you’d be disgusted by this. but, the bliss she brings melted your brain.

“fuck… so big.” you wince, looking up at the ceiling. beidou’s words were a nice distraction from the pain, as much as you find her annoying and boorish, she has quite a handsome voice. however, the ease was disrupted by her large hands wrapping around your neck, and the stillness of her hips dissipated. her shaft now inching out of your hole.

now, beidou really tried being gentle. your size difference was obvious, and she didn't want to hurt you! but, you were just so tight and felt so good around her that the languid pace turned into an absolute savage one. a laugh that radiated cockiness rumbled out of beidou’s chest, the tightness of your walls, and the lewd moans you let out stroked the hell out of her ego. “such a fucking slut. say that you love me. scream it…”

her pupils darkened, staring down at you like you were nothing but a cocksleeve. but, you knew that wasn’t the case, beidou loved you, even if you showed nothing but disgust towards this rockstar. “i f-fucking love you…!” you yelped, her tip ramming against your spot, barely giving you time to breathe or even process what’s happening before your g-spot is pushed again.

now, the sounds of skin slapping reverberate throughout the garage, her growls and your desperate whines syncing together to make perfect harmony. “you… are such a nympho.” she huffs out, “just money and dick, right? that’s all someone needs to make this little bitch happy.” her throat bobs, sweat cascading down her body in such a perverse way you can’t help but start to touch all over those toned muscles.

such degrading words… they make your walls clench and eyes widen. your mouth forms into the shape of a circle, limbs begin to tremble madly. you two just started, yet, your orgasm comes way faster than both of you would’ve expected. your legs kick harshly as the sound of screams leaves your throat, your hips buck, and tears start to form. it feels so good, and beidou shows no sign of stopping. “…daddyy..” the word leaves your mouth before you notice, luckily, all she does is laugh.

“daddy, huh?” she teases, leaning down and kissing away some of your tears. her chapped lips curve into the cockiest of smiles that if you weren't being fucked dumb, you’d want to slap off her face. her form gets sloppier, but her eyes never leave your euphoric face, “i’m close. get ready.” she pants, “daddy’s gonna cum inside you, okay, baby?” her tone melts into one full of mockery, her hands tightening around your throat, cutting off your airway only a bit.

her hips slammed into you, groaning at the feeling of your snug walls clinging to the walls of her cock. “gonna be big… and full of my kids.” she grunts, the fat of your ass and thighs rippling with each plow of her body. your moans start to turn into squeaks, the lack of air in your lungs makes your head spin, and it’s only intensified by the aggressive slamming against your spot.

your sharp acrylics, something beidou paid for, scratch at her abs, tracing the crevices of her stomach and the curves of her waist. your whines are accompanied by screams of ‘more..!’ and ‘it’s so big!’, all those words fuel her ego more and more. her hefty hands tighten around your throat, she growls and throws her head back, leaning back up as she keeps the brutal pace she established.

”fuck…” she groans, using all her might to slam into your cunt. it was sudden, spontaneous, and without any warning. beidou lets out a howl and then erupts into your walls, coating every inch of it with her seed. it was warm and thick, and her thrusts didn't stop as she kept filling you. the feeling of being filled up sent you head first into that euphoric release.

“fuck, yes…!” you screamed hips bucking rapidly as your eyes rolled back into your skull, a dopey smile on your lips. it was addicting. the firey burst inside of you sent your head reeling and your body trembling like a leaf. your throat was raw after the scream you let out, her cum filling you and filling you to a hilt. your lower belly bulging from the pistoning cock inside you.

you both came down from your euphoric highs with pants and sighs, the sweat that covered your bodies felt cold now that the two of you had calmed down. her hands settled at your waist, occasionally thrusting into you to ensure all of it had dropped inside of you. after a bit of panting, beidou let out a chuckle, rubbing circles into your stomach with her calloused thumb.

“damn. i really filled you up!” she cockily says, pulling out her semi-hard cock from you, watching in awe as her fluid spills out from you. she pats your stomach and lets out another prideful laugh, a big smile on her lips. “that was fun! do you wanna take a bath? i mean we are covered in sweat!” her happiness pisses you off, especially since she just fucked your soul out of you.

“beidou…” you murmur through gritted teeth, panting from the harsh sex, you maneuver your legs to wrap around her burly waist, “more…” your eyes almost seem angry. you are, you cannot fathom how this stupid, annoyingly handsome idiot can make you feel so good! “m-more…?” she questions, eyes that were once happy now confused. her question was only met with a whine and you bringing her down to smash her lips against yours.

you two are not going to stop until you know for sure beidou’s only gonna be shooting dry shots, and who knows how long that’s gonna take.

[spaghettixdemon]

J Stands for more words than one PT.1

“While introducing his new girlfriend to the team, JJ is automatically confronted with her feelings for Spencer when they begin to get in the way of things"

DISCLAIMER You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Minors do not interact. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read it.

Warnings: Drinking/Drunkenness, P in V, getting freaky in a car, fighting, slight mentions of death, Jealousy??

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

This was originally in my Google Doc but I seem to have lost access to it :( SO I am re-writing it! (I will definitely add more chapters bc omg this is long)

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"Alright anndd finally done!" Emily turned to JJ, clapping her hands together and beaming. Today was a paperwork day, and everyone had been working until the late hours. "These reports are killing me...I've been on the same one the majority of the day..." JJ spoke to Emily with a sigh and a slight smirk playing on her lips. Yes, JJ had been stuck on the same case most of the day, but it wasn't just the amount of work, no. That wasn't the only reason her day was moving so slowly.

Right across from her desk, in perfect view, was Spencer Reid- their little resident genius. His legs were crossed in his office chair, his curly hair fell in front of his eyes, and his long, slender fingers traced down the written report, scanning every word and spreading it within seconds effortlessly. JJ had always been close with Spencer- because of their tight-knit team, their ages, and of course, the butterflies she would get around him. They were the two closets in age at the BAU, so maybe that was part of the reasoning behind her crush, but honestly, she just thought he was very attractive.

So earlier today, when Spencer was talking on his phone nonstop, JJ was confused. Spencer was not a fan of technology, thinking back on how it took Spencer literal years to finally sign up for an email address. So, whatever was keeping Spencer on speed dial on the other line clearly didn't bother him too much. JJ would sneak glances towards her coworker hourly, taking in his body language and how he seemed to be head over heels. He would fidget and spin in his office chair as someone talked to him, he had a faint blush on his cheeks, and a smile plastered on his face. In all actuality, she'd never seen Spencer look so dopey- maybe he truly was just happy right now, but the emotions on his face surprised her.

"Hey lover-boy, what's going on over here?" JJ shot her head down, burying her face in her work. It was Derek who popped the question already on JJ's mind. Derek crossed his arms and leaned against Spencer's desk as Spencer looked up at Derek. Rolling his eyes and hanging up the phone, Spencer set the phone down on his desk. "Was that a girl on the other end of the line? I don't think I've ever seen you so happy to pick up a call at work." Both men laughed as Spencer grew a little quiet, sheepishly shrugging. "I mean- yeah, actually, you're right for once." Spencer laughed as an expression of excitement and shock plastered onto Derek's. "Wow really?" He laughed, a little in disbelief "Congrats man! That's awesome!"

JJ watched as the two guys hugged and discussed Spencer's new girlfriend. Weirdly, JJ felt a pang in her chest of embarrassment...or more like frustration. Why? She wasn't sure. JJ could read anyone within minutes, but she could never read her own emotions that well.

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Days had passed, and work was pretty much back to normal. Normal meaning JJ wasn't constantly hearing about Spencer's new girlfriend, who he adored so much. It was cute, yeah, and she did feel happy for the man and his newfound love, but it would get pretty repetitive after a while. Derek and Penelope, in particular, would not let up on the subject. It was cute when Penelope giggled and twirled her hair when asking about this girl, but the way Spencer would drop information on her so easily was frustrating.

Penelope beamed, ecstatic over all this new news. Then, looking at Derek, she gasped and clapped her hands together. "You should bring her here! We could all meet her it would be so nice..!" Spencer looked a little uneasy. The few times his relationship did start getting this serious, work would interfere and often kill the relationship. Though, Derek backed up Penelope and agreed it would be fun.

"I don't know guys...That might be a little intense..." JJ heard this and thought over the idea in her head. Meeting the girl Spencer was so enamored by might be interesting...to say the least. She looked up and smiled at the three talking. "No Spence you should totally bring her in! I want to meet this girl!" Spencer gave JJ a hesitant look, visibly thinking over the interaction in his head. He slowly smiled and rolled his eyes, looking at the three before him. "Ok Ok..I'll bring up the idea and if she's cool with it, I'll bring her here next Friday"

Penelope and Derek cheered while JJ sat there, smiling quietly. She clapped her hands together and sighed "Amazing! I can't wait".

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The week that followed that conversation wasn't a pleasant one. The team had traveled out of state to work on a pretty gruesome case- Spencer, in particular, had a rough time during the case. He should be used to the horrible feelings that came with the job, but it was never really easy dealing with death so often.

The team had thankfully made it back to base Friday, and everyone was exhausted. They spent the day quietly filling out paperwork and trying to unwind as they worked into the early hours of the night. Around 7pm, Spencer got a call. JJ noticed this in particular because of how eager he was to answer the phone. A small smile appeared on his face, and the faint blush was back. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, hanging up the call with a simple goodbye.

Spencer looked around at his friends as the smile on his face grew. "My Girlfriend is apparently downstairs in the lobby! ...I was thinking of bringing her up is everyone ok with that?" The office was suddenly filled with energy again, and everyone seemed to wake up. JJ in particular, shot her head up and looked at Spencer, a little shocked. She had completely forgotten this would be happening...She made eye contact with Spencer and looked a little hesitant as she spoke up. "um...yeah that would be great..!"

"Yes, PLEASE bring her up! I need some fun to distract me from all this work." Penelope popped her head out of her office as she spoke to Spencer. Spencer looked a little confused by what JJ had said but smiled and nodded anyway. He slowly made his way towards the elevator, a bit of pep in his step.

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Everyone in the office had quickly wrapped up what they had been working on and made their way to the office cubicles to meet this girl Spencer was so into. Penelope pulled up a chair next to JJ and beamed. "Are you excited to meet her?" JJ...still felt very conflicted. Just earlier that week, when they had been solving the case, She was staying in the hotel room next to Spencer's. She thought about how she ran into him shirtless and wearing sweatpants. He apologized and made his way inside his room, but she felt so conflicted.

She wasn't upset that he was shirtless...definitely not...but something about getting caught off guard like that made her blush. She remembered the feeble nerd she used to work with. He was in his mid-twenties and looked so new to the BAU world. Now, the man she saw earlier that week and today was a bit different. He had toughened up more and was a bit more muscular- not to a Derek level, but he definitely wasn't feeble anymore.

"Something like that" JJ mumbled to Penelope, a faint blush on her face. Penelope was about to question JJ, just as an elevator 'dinging' noise saved her. Everyone's attention was on the elevator and who was inside.

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[halsteadlover]

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Paired: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: your baby boy takes his first steps leaving Spencer a mumbling mess.

• Warnings: none, just fluff.

• Word count: 1591.

• A/N: just a quick Spencer fic since I realized I’m only writing for Jay once again (what can I say he’ll always be my first love). I hope you’ll like it, y’all know I’m a sucker for dad’s fics 😭. Please comment, reblog and like if you want. Thank you so much for all your support I love you all so much, my inbox and dms are always open if you want to talk ❤️

“Spencer! Baby! Oh my God come here now!“.

Your voice made Spencer jump on his chair. He was writing a work report he didn’t manage to finish that day and for which Hotch would’ve his head if he didn’t turn it back by the next day.

Spencer's heart lost a beat and fear swept over him as his mind began to project every worst-case scenario possible.

He got up from his study desk, dropping his pen carelessly to the floor, and literally ran to the living room where he knew you and your baby were.

“Baby! What happened?! Are you all right? Is Noah okay?” He asked with concern and you instantly felt guilty for worrying him like that.

You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed while Noah was standing next to you and you were holding him by his little hands. He was babbling something nonsensical and began to fidget when he turned and saw his father, a huge smile on his face.

“Sorry love, everything’s okay. I didn't mean to scare you,” you giggled as you saw Spencer visibly relax and heave a sigh of relief.

“You gave me a fucking heart attack I thought something had happened,” he breathed out with a hand on his chest as he could feel his heart still pounding.

How long had he become so jumpy? He didn't know, he just knew that since he had become a father every little change and every little thing made him jump on the spot, making him tremendously worried about his child. God, that little being was making him lose years of life with each passing day.

“Don't ever do that again please,” Spencer admonished you as he approached you sternly but his expression immediately softened as his eyes rested on Noah who kept fidgeting wanting nothing more than to go to his father. “What have you been up to little one? You like to scare your dada huh? You are so lucky you and your mom are adorable, I hope both of you know that”.

You let go of his little hands but still being close to him as you proudly watched Noah hold himself up. His little legs trembled slightly as he continued to babble something.

“Oh god...” Spencer murmured almost imperceptibly in shock. Was it really going to happen? In that instant he realized why you had called him and he almost had a heart attack again.

“Yes baby! Come to dada, come here, I know you can do it,” he continued to encourage him, approaching him and kneeling down so he could immediately catch him if he fell. He stretched his arms toward his baby, a huge smile on his lips as he invited Noah to take his first steps.

You went to get your phone at the speed of light, wanting to capture that precious moment in a video so you could keep it with you forever.

Noah brought one leg forward and the other with instability, taking his first step and making his parents jump for joy.

The living room filled with the sounds of little squeals of excitement and clapping hands as you both continued to encourage your son to continue taking baby steps.

Spencer never felt such joy before, maybe he had a similar feeling the day he married you but seeing his baby walk, taking his first steps towards him, damn it, that feeling was something indescribable, something he’d never forget.

“Yeah buddy! You're so good, you're doing great my love. Come to your dada! I’m right here… “ Spencer continued to say while taking small steps backwards while Noah instead took the same number towards him.

His eyes didn't leave his child even for a second, almost forgetting you were there next to them while filming the whole scene with your cell phone. He analyzed every movement that little ray of sunshine was making, the way he was so focused, the way his walk was unsteady and rickety, the way he looked at him with a smile on his little face as he let slip some little frustrated screams when he never seemed to be able to reach his father. He wanted to imprint all these little details in his memory and never before did he thank whoever was up there for his eidetic memory.

Noah eventually stopped in his tracks and Spencer caught him before he even hit the floor, standing up and holding him close.

“Yes! You did it buddy!” Spencer exclaimed in joy as he lifted little Noah into the air who continued to giggle and drool while he waved his little arms. He showered kisses on his plump little cheeks, not being able to contain his joy. “I'm so proud of you little one, I love you so much.”

You were a complete mess as you looked at Spencer and the way he held his baby with so much love and pride, you could see it in his face, the way he looked at him. That man loved his son more than any other person in the world and then more than ever you couldn't help but think you couldn't have chosen a better father for your child.

Spencer gently caressed Noah's head, cradling him in his arms as his emotions overwhelmed him.

He had never been good at controlling them and keeping them at bay was harder than ever. He couldn't believe how quickly time was passing, how was it possible his son was already walking?

It seemed like yesterday that he held him as soon as he was born.

“Spence…” you called him when you saw the way Spencer had sheltered his face on Noah's small shoulders, as if to hide himself. You placed a hand on your husband's shoulder, immediately noticing he was crying.

“Take him,” he whispered and you picked Noah up as Spencer went to sit on the couch, hands on his face and elbows resting on his knees as he sobbed uncontrollably.

“Oh baby you'll make me cry too.”

As if you weren’t already a fountain of tears.

You hugged your baby too, crying with joy all the tears you had in your body while he unaware played with your hair.

“I love you so much my little angel,” you whispered, giving him a kiss on the cheek, thanking God for giving you such a beautiful gift.

You turned your head towards Spencer, noticing how he was sobbing and when he raised his head and you looked at each other, you both burst into a loud laughter, aware of how disastrous each other looked.

You sat next to him and he wasted no time in wrapping a hug around your shoulders. He pulled you towards him and left a kiss on your head, while tears continued to run down his cheeks, his eyes on Noah who just didn't seem to stay still.

“I… Damn… I can’t do this…” he cried, bringing his hands to his face after leaning against the back of the sofa and drying his tears.

How could anyone be so fucking happy?

He had never felt anything like this, he didn't know how to react and he hated not knowing how he felt.

He was afraid. Afraid it’d be too good to be true.

What had he done to deserve all this? What had he done to have the family he had always dreamed of?

Images and memories kept playing in his mind. From the moment you told him you were pregnant, from the joy and fear of having to be a father, from when you found out you were expecting a boy to the moment he felt him kicking for the first time in your womb. He remembered watching your belly grow for nine months until he finally held his son in his arms for the first time and now seeing him take his first steps.

He felt so incredibly grateful, so damn lucky.

You caressed his arm, trying to comfort him even though you were crying even more than him.

He tried to compose himself but all he had to do was pick up his baby again to let down more tears of joy, meanwhile laughing with you. It was so surreal.

He wrapped his other arm around your shoulders and pulled you back to him, letting you rest your head on his chest as you looked at Noah standing on his father's thighs.

“I love you so much baby, thank you for giving me the best gift I could ever ask for,” he whispered after leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead making your heart do a somersault in your chest. Even though years had passed, you never got tired of hearing him say it.

You lifted your head and pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss as butterflies roamed freely across your stomach. “I love you so much Spence.”

You burst out laughing when Noah grabbed a lock of Spencer's hair and started pulling it, making the grown man let out a whine.

“Jesus christ how can they be so small but so strong?” Spencer complained as he tried to loosen his baby’s grip on his hair. The scene was comical, you didn't know if the way Noah pulled Spencer’s hair made you laugh more or your husband's face still streaked with tears and his eyes still red.

But he didn't care, even though Noah was hurting him quite a bit, he couldn't stop smiling, thinking he wouldn't change this for anything else in the world.

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @halstead-severide-fan, @mrspeacem1nusone, @allivzs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes

Spencer Reid tag list: @blorp-bee, @s1lverhand, @novabckly

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[meetmypointlessaddiction]

December Fic Day 5 ~ Party

Summary: You and Logan chaperone for the school's annual Christmas Party.

Warnings: none that I'm aware of but please correct me if I'm wrong

Pairings: pretty sure this is suitable for everyone (fem!reader/male!reader/gn!reader) but I am still new to writing anything other than fem!reader so any pointers are greatly appreciated.

Enjoy and please like and comment if you do. Something as simple as an emoji literally makes my day better so please don't hesitate to comment and obviously reblog to share my work.

December Masterlist

“It’s not even the second week of December! Can someone please explain why we’ve decided, well no actually I had no input in this, why you’ve all decided that today is the day to throw a Christmas Party? Huh?” Logan had been ranting about the annual Christmas party for the last hour and a half. His complaint was that he didn’t have enough time to mentally prepare but you knew that the only reason he was so annoyed was because every other year he’d managed to escape it by, coincidentally, being on a mission that day. 

“Because in case you forgot, jackass, most of the kids go home for winter break on Sunday so we decided to involve them all this year. Isn’t it exciting?” You teased, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh and guess what? I signed us both up for chaperoning! You get to experience it this year, baby. Isn’t it exciting?!” Logan just stared at you, his mouth slightly open as Storm failed to stifle her laugh and Scott just clapped Logan on the shoulder. 

“Yeah baby. Exciting.” Scott mocked and Logan growled, his claws starting to slide from his knuckles before you slapped his arm and shot him a glare. “Party starts at 5. Don’t be late or you're on detention duty till New Years.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Trying to fight Logan into a suit was impossible. The man was almost 200 years old and yet it felt like you were trying to convince one of the younger students that wearing their pyjamas to class wasn’t acceptable. “You are not wearing jeans and a flannel to this damn party, Logan. I swear to god, put the suit on or I am moving back into my room for the rest of the month.” You threatened and Logan looked betrayed, scowling at you from where he stood in the corner of the room, ‘not sulking’. “3…2…-”

“Alright, fine! I’ll wear the fuckin’ suit. Jesus!” He pulled on the slacks, shirt and jacket, doing up his buttons and belt before glaring at you. 

“And the tie.” You added, holding out the black material for him. He put it round his neck as you took it upon yourself to tie it for him, knowing he'd get impatient and probably rip it to shreds. “There we go, don’t you look handsome.” 

He met your gaze and grumbled. “Ever threaten me with something that serious again and we will have problems.” He said, sternly with a hint of possessiveness in his tone. “What does chaperoning entail exactly?” 

“Logan, your responsibilities as a chaperone are the same as they are every other day of the bloody week. Keep them out of trouble, keep them safe and for the older ones-.” 

“Hands to their bloody selves.” He muttered and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Well I was going to say make sure they don’t get into our alcohol store but I suppose yours works too.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

The festivities had been underway for a grand total of 23 minutes and 47 seconds before Logan stormed over, his signature scowl on his face and his breathing heavy. “Woah Mr Grinch… calm the hell down. What’s wrong? Why do you look like you’ve just caught Scott fucking your mother?” You teased but Logan just growled, pointing over to Jean who was standing laughing with Storm. 

“Santa Claus! Fucking Santa Claus. Did you sign me up for this shit too? Huh?” 

“Oh… no that was not my doing but… you are kind of the best fit, babe.” 

“You think I look like some holly jolly fat bastard who mopes around eating cookies and drinking milk? Thanks bub, real affectionate!” 

“Look, Scott doesn’t have the facial hair and we don’t have a fake beard, Beast has too much facial hair and Kurt is blue for fucks sake. C’mon Logan… for the kids? For Pippa?” 

Pippa was one of the only students Logan had actually taken to in the years he had been working at the school. The 7 year old treated him normally, didn’t try to push his buttons and did nothing but sing his praises to everyone else, so much so that you and the rest of your colleagues were convinced she had a slight crush on him. 

“You’re cruel.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

That was how Logan found himself sitting on the most uncomfortable chair known to mankind, in the corner of the hall, one of the older kids using their power to dye his beard and hair white, in the itchiest red Santa suit and a pillow shoved underneath it, courtesy of Scott. 

The kids took turns sitting on Santa’s lap, telling him the present they wanted for Christmas, which Logan then had to report back to Jean who was dressed as an elf so that Charles could buy each of the children a Christmas present, and then they would collect a bar of chocolate from Storm and go back to dancing their little hearts out to whatever Christmas song Scott played. It didn’t take long to get through all the kids and Logan was quick to wave goodbye to them all and disappear back to your room to change back into his suit. 

When he finally returned, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips in thanks but were rudely interrupted by Pippa tugging on Logan’s sleeve. “Professor Howlett? Professor Howlett.” 

Logan took a deep breath, calming himself down so as not to snap at the poor child. “Pippa. Everything alrigh’?” The young girl nodded eagerly and it was then that you saw Jean and Storm giggling again like teenagers. You excused yourself to walk over to them, leaving Logan talking to Pippa who was animatedly retelling the story of meeting Santa Claus and telling him what she wanted for Christmas. 

“What are you two giggling about? We are meant to be the responsible ones here.” You accused but Storm quickly shushed you, Jean pointing towards the direction you had just come from and you gasped. 

There was your husband, carefully dancing in a small section of the hall with Pippa standing on his feet, laughing loudly as her favourite person in the world tried to teach her how to dance. “Poor girl was riddled with nerves. Wanted us to ask him for her.” Storm said and your heart melted at the sight of the man you loved most being so sweet. “I’d be careful, love. Another few years and you’re gonna have some competition for your man.” 

“Nah… pretty sure only I am strong enough to handle Logan Howlett’s infamous temper and stubbornness but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dividers: @coolcatsgraphics

I'm also on A03 :)

[phoenixs-fandoms-and-writings]

This Is Spooky

Fandom: The Fall Guy

Pairing: Tom Ryder/GN!reader

Plot: the two of you are promoting your new zombie apocalypse movie at Comic-Con and the two of you are to go through a zombie maze that was set up for the promotion.

Notes: this is the first time I’m writing Tom Ryder. Hopefully y’all like it and I captured him properly. He’s slightly possessive towards reader in this one.

This was written for @flufftober day 12 prompt: “This is spooky.” - “Really.”

I know I’m a few days behind but I’m hoping to catch up within the next couple of days.

I’ve never been to Comic-Con but please just pretend something like this could happen, if it doesn’t in real life.

Flufftober 2024 Masterlist - General Masterlist

Bewitched by Your Co-Star - This is Spooky (if you want more in the series, send me an ask)

I do not give permission to anyone to repost or translate any of my stories. I also do not give anyone permission to feed my stories through AI or to be posted to any third party website or app. If anyone sees any of my work posted anywhere but here or my AO3 (simplyreflected), then it has been posted without permission.

Read on AO3 here.

You couldn’t believe it. This is the first time you’re at any convention as a guest, and it just happens to be Comic-Con.

Your latest movie was the first in a series of zombie apocalypse movies and you got to star alongside one of the most famous action stars ever, Tom Ryder. He was an ass, yes, but he was a complete flirt, which honestly, helped you get more comfortable understanding flirting.

Anyway, you were at Comic-Con next to Tom Ryder and while he was doing an interview for Entertainment Tonight, you were talking to fans nearby who had come to see you.

Your manager came over to explain what would happen, “after Tom has finished his interview, you’ll go over answer a couple of questions, then both of you will go into the zombie maze that has been set up to promote the movie. Got it?”

“Yes, got it,” you told her, before saying goodbye to the fans nearby. “I’ll head over now. Thank you.”

She nodded as you happily strutted off to where Tom was just finishing his interview. It literally was only a couple of questions, Tom answered the bulk of them before, thankfully. You were better with the fans where he was better with all the attention.

“Are you both ready?”

“Yes,” both of you responded.

“Right, you’ll go in and we’ll follow you recording all of it,” the interviewer explained. “Just act like we aren’t here.”

You nodded before turning to the archway leading in. You looked at Tom and nodded at each other, both of you moving in complete sync as you entered the maze.

For the first few minutes, you encountered a few zombies and ran different directions when you saw them, but you managed to lose the interviewer somewhere along the way without even realising it.

“This is spooky,” you whisper.

“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, it’s spooky how similar this is to the movie sets.”

He smirks at you. “That was the whole point.”

“I know, Ryder, but it’s almost exact.” You looked around. “I think we should go this way.”

He nodded and both of you were off again, running from zombies and somehow you made it through without a scratch, except in the abandoned building scene where you tripped.

Thankfully, Tom caught you and once you’d righted yourself, you blushed, before whispering “thank you.”

He lifted his hand cupping your cheek before kissing you, pulling you towards him and growling in your ear, “mine.”

You nodded and took his hand as both of you kept going, you were completely breathless. He was a really good kisser.

Before you knew it, you ran through the end of the maze and people were clapping. You looked up and saw more of your fans.

You looked over at Tom who smirked, before dipping you and giving you a big kiss in front of the fans and the interviewers and cameraman.

Everyone may have clapped when you exited the maze, but now they were cheering, whistling and when he stood you back up and held you to him, you realised that it was so loud. Everyone was cheering for the two of you.

[brineoffire]

Uuuuuuh hi, hi howdy! I've been super possessed by the need to see more male centered fics with the poly!141 soooo here's a bit. I honestly haven't played the games, but I've been looking into the lore because I'm so hyper fixed on the 141 rn. Bare with me, I haven't posted fics here before and definitely never written army anything. Please please please lemme know if you like it even a lil and I'll type up some more.

Fic notes!

So I saw someone talking about a reader who's in it for the money and I liked that idea- tweaked it a little but the basic jist? Mc loves vidio games so much they went to school for it, can't pay, joins the military to pay it all off. I'm writing this chapter ambiguous on gender so far, but I'm writing with a trans!masc reader here because fuck. I can't find much so better make it myself.

-Edit I forgot to put the title here rip

The Right Price

You can't help but stop to think about how you needed to stop biting off more then you can chew. It's been a few months since your recruiter told you all about the joys, wonder, and honor that comes with serving. You where in the second she told you about the pay. Too many student loans, too much microwave ramen, the list went on, but fuck it yeah? You where the one that said that in the first place when you signed up for your courses. The basics, programming, coding, digital design a bit of physiology because of personal interest. You where over the top when it came to studies. Didn't bother you none when you couldn't have a social life. If you weren't busy studying you where quite literally inhaling any game you could get your hands on. But now when you had to fork over the bill money? You started singing another tune.

So here you are. On the training grounds with the rest of the folks recruited at the same time as you.Your sargent was barking out orders for you all to start your runs one by one, but some smart ass was holding up the line. You actually agreed with half the shit he barked back at the your troop leader, but damn it, you didn't want the consequences.

"That's it! You wanna run your mouth? You can all run double to catch up with Marco's mouth! Now!" He yelled white fisted. The remaining lot of your groan and grumble, starting the run together now at double time to hopefully finish before lunch call. Seven miles was what you had all gotten used to. Seven miles of uneven terrain, hurdles and dives, inclines and ramps now lengthened to fourteen.

"Oh fuck off Marco!" One of the recruit remarks, smacking said recuit behind the head before taking off on a spint. Several others join in on mocking the guy before bolting trying to get it over with. You shake your head as you catch up to him and clap him on the shoulder.

"They'll chill out later man just gotta grit and bare it more y'know?" Marco yanks was shoulder away from you, giving you a nasty glare before taking off too. You raise your brow at that, curious to what set him off before shrugging, taking the course at your normal pace with a hand full of the others. Better late then fatiged. The little spat dosn't bother you anyway. You'll all be split into your first teams in less then a week. You doubt he'd even be grouped with you anyways.

Oh how wrong you where. How very. Very. Wrong. It was actually laughable at this point, because you where either grouped together because your Sargent knew you got under Marco's skin for some reason or because fate wanted to see the drama unfold. You took that as a personal challenge either way. Snapping back snarky retorts anytime Marco decided to fuck around, until one day he had you cornered with a handful of others, in your face yelling about how "your kind" didn't belong in the military let alone the states. You let him finish his rant. Something, something, something, God damned, something, something, blight all the good christians, something, something, belong in the kitchen like a proper bitch.

Oh. Okay. There it was. You laugh in your head. No. Outloud. You flip the positions, getting uncomfortably close to the fuckers so they back off some and spout of some tibits you learned in your phycology classes about the brain being easy to manipulate. Quiet anger radiating from your low tone, keeping it quiet to force them to listen harder. You throw in some extra bs about how you could probably "turn" the lot of them given enough time. That them speaking more shit would be an agreement for him to test his theory. They back off after that, but report you all at once for "harassment". There being no evidence for anything you're transfered to one of the other split groups. Half made up of people you didn't enlist with. Mabey this crop would yeild better results yeah?

Nah. You jinxed it. You know you did. Oh well. This time it's just one guy though. And all it takes is a bit of reverse phycology to have the guy questioning his own damn identity so bad he's sent to the on duty therapist. You're transfered out this time by a different woman. Laswell. She heard out your full story of your transfers and unlike your last transfer she gave you a garentee that she'd make sure to find a good fit for you. You shrug and thank her. No matter what you had to tough it out anyways, you needed that pay check after all. Had no where else to go.

It goes sour when you head with her to a base near Wales. You where supposed to go talk to her about setting up here overseas for a while. Something about spreading out more newbies anyways. You really don't understand half of it so you just agree and you're off to training on this base. As long as you're here you're expected to keep up with basics and the routine set by the Sargents and that's fine by you, whatever to pass the time at this point. They run a drill with half the team ment to run a faux attack on half the base and the rest made to counter. You're getting prepared to counter the fake attack when alarm bells are ringing. That's definitely a little over the top. Usually they just yell over the loudspeakers and... You kinda blink a few times before you realize your group of rookies is being pressed to the armory. It's not a fucking drill at this point. This is NOT what you came here for but, oh fuck here you go! You've played too many games for sure. Mabey it's time to cut back. Because you're immediately focused. Immediately setting up the scene in your head to get you in a headspace where it's all a game. It helps you focus and damn you really need help with that right now.

There's active rounds being fired a ways away from the base as you all are suited with gear and munitions. You've trained for this but damn if you ever thought you'd ACTUALLY use any of that shit. You always imagined it was for show, like how you never use any of the fucking math they taught you anywhere.

You're moving on a sort of autopilot, moving out to a defensive manuver outside, staying under cover like you're told until your unit arrives halfway out, between the fighting and the base. It's impossible to see much past a thick smoke blanketing half the scene but you all move out, groups of three fanning out for any injuries and more importantly, any hostiles. You and your group are about to get to your second vantage point when you catch something they don't, you call out a group of several hostiles over what looks like a member of the base before realizing there's radio static.

Fuck it. Risking your life might score you some bonus merit, some extra cash somewhere along the line, you don't know. You're just trying to rationalize why the hell you bolt for the man, keeping low, keeping quiet until your almost upon them all. You get close enough to make out the British insignia on the man's arm. You've definitely seen him on the base before, and now here he is, no weapon in sight, surrounded by four hostiles. You slow your approach and aim carefully, making sure to get the kill shot on one of them, the spray of bullets catching another in the arm gives you enough time to aim for one of the other ones. You've definitely played too many vidio games but you're damn sure that's what kept you from being shot on your first unofficial day of active duty. You roll. Fucking barrel roll on the ground, with enough force to get you away from the spray of bullets from the last uninjured hostile as you stop yourself and make the shot on him. Dumb luck is what you chalk it up to as the fourth guy falls, letting you finish off the second man as he scrambles to retrieve his weapon.

"Up! Up! UP!" You yell to the man on the ground. You don't notice the look of utter confusion from the guy as you rush to help him to his feet. You've gotta get him back to base or at least the rest of the team and out of harms way. So you sprint as fast as you can as soon as the man's up, keeping to your side as you keep an eye out for anyone else hostile or otherwise. You try your radio again, but nothing you backtrack enough to find the spot you last saw your little team and find them under fire, one covering a wound on the others arm, panicking. You're quick to take over, playing out the scene in the same mind set you started out with. Mission in mind. Quest line to follow. You snap the other guy out of it enough to instruct him on how to stop the bleeding properly and grab the injured mans weapon from him, shoving it into the man's hands and directing him to cover you. Again, your oblivious to the look of pure confusion from the man and your uninjured teammate as you work to bandage up your fellow recruit.

You all make it out in one peice, the base being cleared of the small force that attempted to overtake the base. What you don't learn, and no one bothers to tell you. Is that the man you "saved", Captain John Price, has been talking with Laswell. Not so much talking with her as TO her. Your in it for money? Perfect you'd definitely agree to join the 141 with the pay difference.

"John you can't fucking do that. This kid is green. Way too fucking green! They weren't even supposed to be pulled into active duty! They should have been benched with the newer recuits, not out with their seniors!"

Price laughs and shakes his head. "No. This one's got potential and I wana see how far it'll take em." He was impressed by how some rookie was able to show enough guts to help him when the odds looked bad. He had everything under control, but damn if your actions weren't something interesting. Rolling out of line of fire and still keeping a steady aim? That's quite the task, he boasts for you. Hell, you didn't even think twice about Price's rank or authority, your focused was on recovery and living while taking out the hostiles. As much as Laswell regrets to say there's not much reason to deny Price. His eye for talent really was spot on. What could go wrong in all actuality? She trusted Price, and hasn't let her down yet.

"Fine. But I'm keeping a close eye on this set up."

Price grins as he looks down at your small folder, thanking her and flipping through the pages again. Tomorrow you'd be flying out with him to your new base. Joining the 141 as a tech specialist.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Now a Part Two of more info on "The Monkey King and the Infant" au:

link to part one

There's A LOT of crying and emotions between characters in this fic. Like full on "imma destroy this wall real quick" tantrums from Sun Wukong *and* Macaque. They're both deeply hurt and very bad at communicating.

Macaque's death in JTTW is canon. He had not set upon Tripitaka on his own accord - he had been ordered. He doesnt remember who gave the order though - must have drank some soup in Diyu.

Macaque believes that Lady Bone Demon only resurrected him to let her out. But she also secretly needs MK for something. Macaque prays that they never cross paths. Spoilers: they do.

Before Tang and Pigsy realised who the two monkeys actually were; they managed to get them jobs in their own workplaces. Macaque assists Tang at the University library where he works as an archivist. Sun Wukong on the other hand is the pretty host/delivery boy that charms tips out of all of Pigsy's customers. Even after the reveal, the two monkeys enjoy their day jobs.

Pigsy doesnt trust Sun Wukong to run the kitchen on his own. He does trust Macaque though, which makes Sun Wukong furious.

The co-parents learned that MK has built-in Gold Vision cus he has no filter;

MK (age 4): "What happened to your eye?" Macaque: *checks if his glamour is on* Tang: "Huh? What about his eyes? They look normal to me... oh he probably just means that little scar you have." Macaque, relieved: "Oh... this. I got in my last battle." MK: "No no! I mean your WHITE eye. The one you don't squint out of. Same side as the white streak in your hair." Macaque: "...what?" Tang, slowly realising whats going on and trying to hold back a lore infodump: "Ah! :D"

Sun Wukong will start sobbing at the drop of a hat if asked how his and Macaque's last fight went. MK learned that the hard way and it caused a crying chain reaction.

It takes Shadowpeach literal years of living and raising a child together before they realise that they've fallen back in love. Meanwhile Freenoodles got express delivery within weeks of MK being in their lives.

One of the first shapeshifting forms MK was able to take on is a brown piglet. Yes, Pigsy cried the first couple of times it happened.

Sun Wukong and Macaque shared the restaurant apartment for most of MK's childhood. Pigsy used to live there too, but moved in with Tang nearby after he took in the the soon-to-be monkey parents. He claims it was to "save up on space", but it quickly turned into something else along with his relationship to Tang. In the modern day, MK still lives in the apartment above the restaurant like in canon. Sun Wukong mostly lives at Flower Fruit Mountain when he's not staying in the city - otherwise he forcibly crashes at Macaque's loft in the University district.

MK is trans masc (he/they) in this au, as is Macaque and maybe Tang. Self projection ahoy.

Demon attacks and Human threats have followed the family throughout MK's childhood, but its nothing a superpowered team of dads cant handle. Except the first time MK scraped his knee at kindergarden and Sun Wukong was convinced that he was gonna bleed out. Or when MK got his first bad cold and Macaque ruined the kitchen trying to alchemise a cure. Or MK's first run in with a bully that made Pigsy so mad that he reconnected with Sandy to pull a "scary bodyguard" act on the bully. Or MK's first school play where he played the role as a cloud, and Tang clapped a little too loudly. Or his first- (the list goes on. these dorks are so proud of their little stone egg baby).

Please add your thoughts in the tags or send asks cus my butt's gonna write a fic soon

[penvisions]

from grief to grace {javi g x reader drabble}

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Determined to work through your heartbreak, you end up spacing out until your boss comes to check on you.

Warnings: hurt and comfort, break up, heartbreak, asshole boyfriend, negative language, degrading language, disrespect, um idk if there's anything else?

A/N: written for @iamasaddie as part of their writing challenge 2.0! decided to go literal with the prompt of 'javi's blue jacket' and pick javi g since i've never written for him before. the genre i was given was hurt/comfort and the prompt was 'will you tell me about it?' i had so much fun with this even if i took an angstier route (apparently that's my thing lol)

drabble masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

You were trying to concentrate on threading the needle, but your hands were trembling, and tears were brimming. Sighing, you set the needle’s pointed end back into the pin cushion atop the desk, beside the jacket you had been attempting to fix.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and you quickly picked up the notebook you had scribbled Javi’s measurements on, double checking them against the thin white lines you had drawn onto the fabric as you heard him enter the room.

“Okay, my apologies, that meeting ran a little longer. It was unexpected.” He clapped his hands together, seemingly done with that part of the day and more than willing to move onto the nest.

“Th-that’s okay, senior.” You tried to sound normal, but your heart sank when you realized it hadn’t been convincing enough.

“Is everything okay, you do not seem like yourself.” Javi’s cheerful tone had dampened, worry creeping into him as you could feel his eyes look you over completely as you sat frozen at your desk. No doubt taking in the way the jacket that was supposed to be ready for him to try on was sitting in front of you in pieces.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been too slow on this jacket, senior, please accept my apologies.”

“I am not worried about the jacket, I am worried about you. You’re crying, querida.” He intoned softly.

Quickly raising a hand to wipe at your cheeks, you were startled to discover that you were crying. The tears having fallen to the fabric you were supposed to be working on. Damp spots decorating the bright fabric. It was a mustard yellow, the color deeper where you tears had landed. You frantically tried to rub the wet spots off, patting at them with a tissue from the box near the edge of your desk.

“Oh shoot! No, no, no, I will fix it, I swear.”

“No need,” Javi strode further into the room, kneeling beside you to take your hands in his. They looked so small in his, the freckled tan of his feeling warm. “I worry for you, tell me what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, aware of a few errant tears flying away at the motion. You wanted to keep it inside, to not ruin the day or be the cry baby that vented to their sweet, understanding employer.

“I’m okay, I swear.” You wouldn’t look directly at him, knowing his wide brown eyes that glittered in the sunlight would make you spill the news far too quickly if you were to gaze into them. You always had a soft spot for him, for the way he was endlessly kind and wore his heart on his sleeve. Something that had been a thing to tease you over, from both your friends and your – well now ex – boyfriend.

“Will you tell me about it, querida, please? I will do my best to make it better, whatever it is.” He beseeched in that deep baritone he had, his hands squeezing yours reassuringly.

“My-my boyfriend, h-he broke up with me. He said he was embarrassed to tell his friends I was a seamstress.” You sputtered, the ache in your heart making the words flow from you to your boss. He was always so kind, so thoughtful. You hadn’t wanted to tamp down on his sunny and excitable demeanor today of all days. He was preparing to host a viewing festival, indie film makers from all over the world would be there and he had requested you to work overtime if you wanted to. You had taken him up on it, even in the wake of the breakup. You needed to save as much as you could to cover the down payment for a new place, your ex not too prideful to kick you out of the one in your name that he had moved into. “He ki-kicked me out of our apartment, I have nowhere to go.”

You felt a tug on your arms and you leaned into it, your bottom thudding on a plush pillow Javi had pulled from the nearby couch. He took you into his arms carefully, on the watch for any signs that this was not the way to go about this. But you went willingly, your arms going around his neck and your cheek going to his chest. You breathed in deeply, one of his hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

“I’m so sorry, mi amor. Why don’t you let me cook for you or take you out to a lovely dinner, mi amor. To help get your mind off of things. You can stay here in the meantime, there are countless rooms here for you to have.” His voice vibrated through you, comforting in how it caressing your ears at the same time. You could only nod, not trusting your voice to be more than a warble of nonsensible words. You tightened your on hold on him, feeling safe for the first time all week.

-

The next morning you woke naturally, the sunlight filtering in through the sheer curtains over the windows. You had opted to stay in, too nervous to be out in public lest you run into your ex. Javi had understood completely, whisking you toward the kitchen after he had dried you tears. Glasses of wine were shared over the course of making dinner and during. Two led to three led to four and you found yourself slow dancing with the graceful man in the kitchen once you had finished. The soft sounds of the distant ocean paired with the oldies flowing low from the radio too tempting. He whispered how he would never treat you in such a bad way, how he would always take care of you, make sure you were happy and healthy.

When he offered you a room again, you had been emboldened by the wine and casual touches. It urged you to lean up close to him, hands still around his neck from dancing to ask if his room was available. He had answered you with a deep kiss, his hands wide on your back as he licked into your mouth. He had assured you he was a man of honor before offering you a pair of pajamas and settled into his plush bed beside you. He hadn’t done anything more than tangle his fingers with your underneath the covers before you both drifted off to sleep.

Smiling to yourself, you stretched out. A moan bubbling up as you felt a few kinks work themselves out in your back. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, the sound so dirty in the warm bedroom. But when you looked over to the other side, you were the only one in the bed. Your eyes flashed to the pop of neon color on the bedside table.  

There was a post it note atop the alarm clock, blocking the display of numbers from view. Javi’s script penned in ink, a message for you.

‘Mi amor, I had to leave early but did not want to wake you.

Please join me for the festival if you’re feeling up to it. Just ask my assistant for a VIP pass.

I will bring home something for dinner. I hope you got some rest last night, please take it easy today.

Yours, Javi’

You liked the sound of that. Home.

[nymrs]

Would you please write an imagine about Neymar and the reader celebrating a big win. (Fluff) I totally understand if you are unable to do this. 🫶

#5. CELEBRATIONS | Neymar Jr.

Your heart was racing, you were so anxious you could swear there were pearls of sweat running down your forehead. The whole stadium watched your fiancé. It was the Champions League final and if PSG scored their penalty now, they would win. You prayed to God, knowing Neymar would fully blame himself if they’d lose. He got into his position and jogged towards the ball after hesitating for a moment. The moment he kicked, you squinted your eyes together, unable to watch because of the nervousness and adrenaline running through your blood. A moment of pure silence, then being interrupted by cheering and clapping all around you. You opened your eyes to see the PSG team hugging Neymar, holding him up until the whole group finally fell to the ground. And this was the moment you knew, he made it, my fiancé fucking made it. The adrenaline turned into happiness and joy that was showing by your eyes tearing up. Rafaella, who attended her brothers important match, pulled you into her arms, tears streaming down both your cheeks. Pulling away, she softly stroke your arm, "Go down there, he’s probably waiting for you already." You glanced over to Neymar. He was watching you while his mates couldn’t seem to stop expressing their overflow of positive emotions by hugging him and jumping around. You ran down the stairs, the security men already opening the barriers for you and the other relatives of the new champions. The field was crowded with the teams' families and friends, while Neymar simply stood there with the biggest smile on his face, stretching out his arms for you. "You made it babe, you really made it! I’m so proud of you, I love you so much", you exclaimed the moment you crashed into his arms. He hugged you tight, holding you up a little bit before placing a kiss onto your lips. Once you pulled away from each other you saw the tears in the corner of his eyes. You continued praising him before he cut you off, "I wouldn’t be able to do this without you Y/N." You looked at him in confusion, the grin on your face did not disappear while you shook your head. "But Ney, I didn’t do anything. This is you. You made it, just like I knew you would." His thumb softly stroke your cheek. "But who supported me through it all? Who had to keep up with my moods; motivate me whenever I was about to give up – who kicked my ass the times I’ve been too lazy to train, and who made me play in ease, letting me know that no matter the outcome, I'm being loved and appreciated? It’s you, and if it wasn’t for you, your support and your love, I would’ve lost all motivation long ago", he paused for a second, "We won the Champions League, but I won in life, with you." You wrapped you arms around his neck and pulled him closer as you didn’t stop telling him how much you loved him. Before you could even pull away from each others lips, you saw Sergio running towards the two of you, with an open champagne bottle pointing at you. "Sergio, no!", you squeak, but he only laughed at your scared facial expression and got you soaked in champagne. Neymar was amused by your angry glare. "Champions! We are the champions", Sergio started singing and wrapped an arm around your fiancés neck, both of them jumped while Neymar grabbed the bottle and took a big sip. You didn’t like the idea of going home smelling like nothing but alcohol, but your worries and madness instantly disappeared the moment you saw Neymar celebrating their victory and finally being highly appreciated not only by the team, but even the fans that used to shit talk about him. It was literally Neymars day, and you were endlessly grateful for being able to celebrate with him and possibly even contributing to his motivation.

[xxcatzladyxx]

Hawks x Reader

Hello everyone! ❤️

Pairing: Hawks/ Keigo Takami x Female! Reader

Summary: Like every day, you stand at your Work and think, Like every day, nothing Special Happens. Thought wrong. Until a specific customer enters the store

Will there be a Part two? Yes of course!

Have a good read!

Any requests? Write me! Love you!

Your Wolfi 🐺

~~~

You're standing behind a register at a fast food store. Your forehead is literally dripping with sweat. You go about your work like a robot, cashing in one customer after another. You're mentally counting down the seconds until you can finally finish work and get out of this madhouse. For today at least. People are pouring in en masse, leaving you no time to catch your breath. A slight headache knocks on your forehead and reminds you that you should drink something. A large glass of water. Ice cold. But you can only dream of that at the moment.

Another group of customers enters the store. You roll your eyes in annoyance. Is there anything free in your shop today? Well, you should know that better than anyone. Nothing is free. Humanity is just getting crazier. Even if the customers are paying for your living in some way, you can't understand how people can stuff themselves with this poison that is fast food. Your best friend is a case in point. She sits at a table right next to the counter and stuffs herself with a huge mountain of fries. Like she does every day. She doesn't really work. She helps out her parents, who pay for everything, from time to time. Otherwise she sits with you at work and talks to you about her crush. Day in, day out. You're already sick of it.

She waits every single day for him to show up here. He could never say no to a place like this. Fast food is his favorite. It's stuck in your mind. God knows why. You don't even know him, even though he enjoys great popularity. You only know him from your friend's stories. He's supposed to be an attractive young man with blond hair. Eyes like gold. Large, red wings adorn his back. He is a hero. A pro hero.

You don't understand the fuss about heroes any more than you understand the enthusiasm for fast food. Ironic, given that you work in a fast food store. But you're more concerned with the enthusiasm for heroes. They're just people like you and me, aren't they? Well, they have extraordinary abilities, but they're still just people. So what's so great about heroes? They protect others! Great! You mentally clap your hands. That's what the police do too. Why aren't the police celebrated like the heroes? Because they don't have any special skills? Your head is already starting to spin from all the questions you're asking yourself. That's as far as you can think about it. Your friend brings you back to the here and now.

"Oh, here he comes!", she squeals, dropping her fries and staring at the entrance to the store. You're still busy with customers and can't concentrate on HIM. The others have priority. Whether he's a hero or not. First come, first served. Your friend's squeaking gets louder. However, the squealing isn't just coming from her. Other women also join in. You're just saying goodbye to one customer and getting ready to tackle the next one.

"Hello, what would you like?", you say your routine sentence.

"I'd like your number.", you stare wide-eyed at the customer in front of you. You choke on your own spit.

"Please what?", you ask, completely absent-minded. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your friend's cell phone slam onto the tabletop. Her jaw drops. She stares at the guy in front of you just as dumbfounded as you do. With just one difference. She knows who is standing in front of you. You don't. It's her crush. The pro hero Hawks. Now you notice the big red wings. Before you can say anything, your friend speaks up. She joins you.

"She'd love to give you her number. She's just a bit shy and you took her by surprise. But don't worry! Here's her number.", she takes a napkin and scribbles your name and number on it and holds it out to the hero. He grins to himself and takes the napkin. In the meantime, you stand rooted to the spot and can't move. What's going on in front of you? She didn't just give him your number? Is this the hidden camera? Is someone about to come and tell you that it's all just a prank? Or are you still in bed and dreaming all this?

"Thank you! So, your name is (y/n). A very beautiful name for a beautiful woman.". the hero continues with a grin.

"Awww!", your friend gushes, gazing at the blonde with her eyes.

The world seems to have come to a standstill around the three of you. None of your colleagues care that you're standing around looking stupid and not doing your job. The other customers in the store don't seem to notice you either. Except for a few female ones. They look at you with envy and hatred. But you don't notice that. You don't notice anything at the moment. Your head is completely empty. No voice reaches you.

“Haha, how cute!”, Hawks laughs quietly as your cheeks turn a light pink.

"I'm telling you, she's shy. She can't handle compliments at all. She immediately blushes.", your friend smiles.

"Good to know.", Hawks smiles back.

You're slowly but surely coming back to your senses. You want to jump on your friend's neck and choke her until she runs out of breath. What the hell is she actually doing? And what kind of rubbish does she actually say? You and shy? Those are two worlds. You were just caught off guard. That's all. This is not shyness!

“Is there anything else I can do?”, you find your voice again. Unfortunately, not as confident as you would like.

"No thank you. That's all I wanted. I'll write to you. See you soon, my beautiful!", he waves you goodbye and takes off.

“Yes..”, is all you manage to say.

~*~

You almost wiped the incident at work from your mind as you collapsed onto the couch. Your phone vibrates next to you. You sigh, thinking it's your friend who just wants to talk about her crush again. You reluctantly pick up your phone and look at the screen. You almost drop it when you read a message from an unknown number. You start to sweat and you feel unintentionally warm. You feel like you're in love. You don't even know him. Why do you feel this way? You tap on the message to read it completely. You get even warmer and you curse your friend forever.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Four.

You guys! Thank you so much for all of your engagement on this! It especially means a lot to me since us content creators are suffering a distinct lack of visibility at present. Next update day is Thursday, you know what to do in order to make that happen, and on with the show we go :)

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 3,327

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“It was weird last night.”

Frankie and Jaime had wondered whether they’d be consulted about yet another dream as they sat enjoying a few drinks at their local. Not that either was tired of hearing about them, they found it quite fascinating, but Frankie especially noticed how it was starting to wear on her friend a little bit.  

“Oh?” Jaime asked, swirling her gin and elderflower around in the large glass with a stirrer, the ice cubes tinkling. “How so?”

“Well,” she began, lifting her beer to her lips and taking a swig, missing her mouth a little and ending up with a foamy splash on her jeans. “God damnit!”

“Calamity Joe strikes again!” Frankie announced with mirth. If her bestie had a penchant for anything, it was spilling. Or making a mess with condiments. Or just general bad luck where being the agent of calamites was concerned.  

“I could murder Aaron for making that name a thing,” Keri huffed lightly, dabbing her jeans with a tissue. “Anyway, back to my dream. It was all pretty standard to begin with. We met and hugged each other as usual and kissed too. Then, though, and this is the real fucking ‘WTF?’ of it, he asked why I was invading every dream he was having!”

The girls' heads swivelled to look at one another with wide eyes, staring back at their friend, Frankie circling her hand in indication that she should continue, and quickly. “And?”  

“I told him that no, it was him appearing in my dreams, and I was the one who was real, not him. Then, this black wall came up and divided the room between us, and I shouted if he could still hear me, but nothing. I turned around, and there’s this old, blind woman sitting in the corner, and she calls me over and asks me if I sought answers, which of course I told her that I did. She then started writing something on a piece of paper, which turned out to be the words, and I quote, ‘find him in the lounge.’ Then she clapped her hands in front of my face, and I woke up. It was weird, to see another person in the dream apart from him.”

“She wasn’t a person, you weren’t visited by some mystic old lady,” Jaime stated. “The old woman was a representation over you being blind in all of this, not being able to see why you’re dreaming of him.” Her insight there was eye opening, Keri cocking her head curiously. Frankie, however...

“I’m sorry,” she snorted, immediately falling into hissed laughter. “Just imagine it if you’d gone downstairs, and there he is like ‘sup, baby? Here I am, literal man of your dreams!’ Oh god!” Keri might’ve not been so entertained, if Frankie’s put-on guy voice hadn’t been quite so comical, or if she hadn’t summed up what she’d so sillily wondered for a very fleeting second upon waking. “I’m sorry, I love you, I just...”  

“It’s a damned good job I love you too, you and your bro voice!” She paused to join in with the laughter, Jaime as well, although she scolded Frankie softly, slapping her thigh. “So, thoughts?”

“I don’t have a clue, beets, I’m sorry,” she began, composing her laughter.

Jaime turned to her, her face light with mild incredulity. “Erm, are you overlooking the main take from this dream, babe?” She waited to see if her girlfriend would cotton on, Frankie reaching for her beer, raising her eyebrows expectantly as she took a swig, licking foam from her lip. “They both think the other is invading their dreams, which spells one thing loud and clear. You’re sharing dreams with someone else! This guy, he’s a real person.”

“Oh no, that can’t be true!” Keri was quick to dismiss, waving her hand before picking up her beer, taking a couple of sips. “I mean... no! That’s just too spooky for comfort. He’s just a guy in my dream, that’s it. It’s making my head hurt, trying to discover if there’s a deeper meaning there.”  

Her friends happily let her move the conversation on, sensing that she needed it, their talk quickly revolving around Frankie’s grandparents, and their upcoming fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration, and the fact that for the first time in three years, Frankie would be seeing her estranged parents again.

After finding out their only daughter was a lesbian, they had completely turned their back on her, kicking her out of the house in disgust and refusing to pay her college fees until she got over what they considered to be a phase. Gay conversion therapy through their church was even discussed, Frankie opposing the idea greatly, pleading with them to listen to her that it wasn’t a big deal. She simply didn’t desire men, and never had.  

Toby and Henrietta Scarvo were both born again Christians, and through their new church’s teachings, frowned upon homosexuality, something that had disgusted Toby's very liberal leaning parents greatly. They were only just about on speaking terms again after the huge rift that had pulled the family apart three years previously, when Frankie had finally been brave enough to come out to her family.  

She had been so fortunate to have her grandparents stand firmly in her corner, both professing not to give a damn about which gender she preferred to date, as long as she was happy, also stumping up the money for her to continue at college and also contribute a little towards her half of the bills and rent at the apartment she shared with Jaime, whom they absolutely adored. Kathy and Homer Scarvo were truly, truly lovely people.  

“So, I went shopping with gramps and we bought matching suits to wear!” Frankie spoke, who had been intent on wearing a dress, until her grampie Homer had spotted the suits and suggested they should twin on their outfits. As much as Frankie did love a nice dress, she could never resist a nicely tailored suit.  

“Oh, that’s so cute!” Keri gushed, clasping her hands together as she beamed, imagining it.  

“I told him I’m still wearing heels, though, I gotta make it a little bit girly. We’re doing rainbow pocket squares, too!” In tribute to their beloved granddaughter, along with old glory on the Scarvo’s front lawn, a Pride flag flew. Her grandmother even proudly enjoyed wearing a hoodie with the slogan ‘My granddaughter digs chicks. Deal with it’ emblazoned across the front. “Oh man, look at all those bikes, wow!”

Turning her head, Keri looked up at the TV, where Frankie’s interest had been pulled to some special news report about outlaws, a bunch of them rolling into Vegas, it looked like, a line of motorcycles parked up outside of a casino on the strip, the shiny paintwork glinting in the bright sunlight.  

“We don’t really get those guys around here,” she commented, continuing to view the footage and listen to the statistics over crime and gun violence the men featured were allegedly responsible for. “I think I remember seeing some Hell’s Angels roll through once or twice.”

“Yeah, and then there’s the Sons of Anarchy up in Salt Lake City, but those guys aren’t them.” Frankie narrowed her eyes, looking at the kutte one of them was wearing. “Mayans MC. Hmm, never heard of those dudes before.”

The camera panned out along the long line of bikes again, the next image a close up of one of the men, who noticed he was being filmed, lifting his sunglasses with a look of defiance, raising his middle finger to the camera. It was when his face was revealed properly that Keri almost fainted.  

Find him in the lounge.  

“Oh Jesus Christ.” Her heart almost stopped beating. “It’s him!”  

“What?” Frankie spoke, picking up a handful of spicy peanuts from the bowl before her and throwing them into her mouth. “Who’s him?”

“The, the guy in my dream, he was just on the screen! He was the one who flipped the camera off, it’s him!” Her lungs tightened, her stomach turning over as she shot out of her seat, feeling her guts churn. Frankie was off the couch and racing after her in an instant, finding Keri outside the bar, throwing up into the ferns that lined the side of the path.  

“Hey, hey, I got you, it’s alright,” she soothed, gathering her hair away from her face, rubbing her back.  

“It isn’t alright, though! I mean, what the fuck?” she cried, heaving again, more of her lunch coming up.  

“Shhh, breathe, take your time,” she advised, her hand still circling her upper back soothingly. “Are you definitely sure it was him?”  

She took a breath, straightening, trying to calm herself down. Inside, she was utterly tumultuous. “Yes, yes it was him. I mean, I think it was, I...” Her entire body shook, her heart racing. “Why is this happening to me? How can it be happening, this is insane! Fucking insane! I feel like I’m going crazy, and I’m questioning myself now. Was it him, or did I just see someone who looked vaguely like him, and my brain is so adamant to find an answer that it made me believe that it was?”

“Okay, well we can discover that pretty easily. Give it a few hours and the news report will be uploaded to the CNN site, so we can look later on, pause it, and you’ll have more than a few fleeting seconds to study his face.” With that, they formed a plan, Frankie leading her back inside and taking her to the restroom so she could get herself straightened up, rinsing her mouth and cleaning off a few flecks of vomit from her jeans, going back out and ordering a shot of tequila. It likely wasn’t the best thing to pour into an empty stomach, but she needed something to steady her nerves.

The plan was to continue with their day before grabbing a takeout and then heading back to Frankie and Jaime’s place, all sitting down to eat while Frankie continued to refresh the CNN page on her laptop, waiting for the report to be uploaded.  

“Alright, here we go.” Those words made Keri regret eating quite so much of her food prior to viewing, Jaime making her laugh softly after vanishing into the kitchen, returning with a mop bucket.  

“Just in case.” She put it down at her side, Keri lifting the laptop from the table and resting it to her legs, pressing play, beginning to search through the video until she got to the part she recognised. As soon as he appeared, she pressed pause. Her friends waited expectantly.

“Yep,” she confirmed, letting it play again, waiting until he removed his shades and then pausing again. “It’s definitely him.”

“Oh, this is crazy,” Frankie spoke, releasing a long breath she’d been holding, combing her fingers through her hair. “I mean, how, how can this truly be real? Any ideas?” Turning to her girlfriend, she watched Jaime take the laptop from a freaked-out Keri, closing the browser and shutting it.  

“Destiny? Perhaps you’re meant to meet him?” she spoke, Keri’s eyes widening. She still couldn’t get her head around it, her brain not really knowing how to co-operate with this new information she’d learned, let alone begin to process it. Her friends saw it clearly, deciding that the best thing they could do was at least try to take her mind off it. Movies were watched, alcohol was poured, and cuddles were given, Keri eventually falling asleep, only to be roused by Frankie picking her up so Jaime could sort her a bed for the night upon the pull-out couch.

After bundling her in blankets and the spare comforter, they went to bed, hoping that maybe if she dreamed of him that night, she might be able to put her lucid dreaming techniques to good use and perhaps get some answers. As it turned out, she did.

The meadow she found herself in was vast, rolling hills stretching the horizon, the sky a vibrant shade of blue. “I want this dream to last, I want this dream to last. I do not want to wake up, I do not want to wake up. I want to ask him questions, I want to ask him questions.” She repeated those desires like a mantra, beginning to walk, turning as she did, birds chirping in her ears, the sun warm on her skin. One last turn back to where she’d first arrived and suddenly, there he was.

“Hey you.” He bit his lip, dropping his head for a moment before turning away, running his hands through his hair. “I've been too scared to fall asleep, the last dream I had with you in it freaked me the fuck out. You're real, aren't you Keri?” Moving to her, he rested his hands on her shoulders, watching her nod.

“I am, yeah. And so are you, aren’t you?” He nodded. “I saw you on the TV, and I threw up.” Instantly, she kicked herself.  

“I’ve had women react worse.” Immediately, she laughed. “I found your Instagram. When that wall went up between us in the last dream, this old woman appeared in the corner, and she wrote your Insta profile name down on a piece of paper. Well, I didn’t know what it was when she did it, but I Googled it and yep, there you were.”

She grasped his open shirt, tugging at the black fabric, her head resting against his chest. “This is insane, literally insane,” she began, the dream so vividly real, she could even feel the ribbed material of the black vest he wore beneath his shirt, the metal of the pendant around his neck cool against her skin.  

“I saw the same thing, an old woman who wrote something for me, too. She wrote the words find him in the lounge, and then I did. The Lounge is the name of my local bar, and that’s where I was when this news report about outlaw biker clubs came on, and I saw you lifting your middle finger at the cameraman who was filming you in Vegas.”

Angel snorted softly, shaking his head. “Shit, I wondered why that motherfucker was pointing a camera at me.”  

“Is this really real? I mean, is it? I still don’t trust it, that my mind isn’t making you up, that I’m not going crazy!” she cried, feeling something tugging at her.  

“Keri, calm down, or you’ll wake yourself up,” he advised, holding onto her as she began to slip away from him. “Shit, don’t go!” That was the last she heard before she awoke, growling with frustration.  

Opening his eyes, Angel sighed, looking over to the nightstand at his phone, picking it up. He called up Instagram, locating her profile and clicking follow, opening up a message.  

“Okay, what the fuck do I say to her? What if it's all in my head and this chick doesn't have a clue about any of it? Jesus, why me?” he thought, looking at the blank message he was about to send to her. Finally, his boldness kicked in, navigating him into tapping out a message and hitting send.

Keri had just returned from making herself a chamomile tea when she saw her phone illuminate through the darkness, setting the mug down on the coffee table as she picked it up, seeing she had an Instagram notification.  

Angel_Reyes85 started following you.  

She gulped, seeing that she also had a message request. Reaching back to the table, she stole one of Frankie’s cigarettes, lighting up and moving the ashtray to her lap, also lighting up one of the big, three wick candles on the table for a little light too before getting comfortable, clicking on his profile. It was private, so she sent him a follow back, going back into her messages and finding one from him. 

‘You aren’t going crazy.’  

It really, really, really was him. There was the confirmation, as if she truly needed it, that she and this random man whom she’d never met before in her life were appearing one each other’s dreams night after night.  

‘I really do feel like I am! This is so weird!’  

Her heart hammered when she saw ‘seen’ appear beneath the message, clicking on his profile again to find he’d accepted her follow request. She looked through a few of his pictures, mainly of a large, green Harley, the same one she’d seen him standing next to on the news report, lots of other guys from his MC. She halted her viewing when the message icon displayed again.  

‘It is! I’m still not sure if you being real makes it better or worse, you know. Have you ever heard of anything like this before, or experienced it with anyone else?’

Immediately, she began to type.

‘One of my friends is into all of this, and she told me that what’s happening isn’t inconceivable. She said that what we are having is something called a mutual dream, but that it's very rare to have them if you aren't close to the person who's in them with you. I just wish I knew why! Or why in every single dream I have, I end up kissing you! I feel embarrassed now!’  

‘You shouldn’t, you’re a good kisser.’

She made a squealing noise at that Especially when a wink emoji followed. 

‘And hella pretty. Seriously, your eyes. Woah!’

More squealing.

‘So, you mentioned vis-com on your stories. Tell me about that. I take it you’re at college?’

She calmed down, then, taking a quick puff on her cigarette before replying.

'Visual communications, basically its photography and film I'm studying. I wanna be a photographer when I finally grow up.’

‘I’d say from those amazing pictures of yours, you already are one. Seriously, those ones you took up in the mountains are awesome.’

She beamed at his compliment. Keri was very confident in her photographic abilities, but it always nice to hear praise.  

‘Thank you so much! So, what is it that you do? Is being in an MC a full-time thing? I don’t really know much about it.’

She had to wait a few seconds before Angel messaged her back, with him wondering how to word it. Obviously, since his club had appeared on the news about what the media were coining a growing epidemic of MC-related violence and crime, she knew he wasn’t exactly on the straight and narrow, but still, he wouldn’t reveal anything in confirmation to someone he didn’t know.  

‘Kinda. I work at a scrap metal yard though, owned by a couple of guys in the club. Mostly, I'm just a motorcycle enthusiast.’ From MC to MC the land over, it was the standard response.  

‘You know, I did wonder if you were a model at one point, or a metal musician, back when I first saw you in my dreams. I was trying to work out where I’d seen you before, because you felt so familiar.’

His ego went through the roof at reading that.

‘A model, huh? Hmm. Flattery will get you everywhere, mamas.’

‘Well, you are gorgeous.’

“Oh god, was that lame?” she spoke aloud, cringing a little. Her mouth broke into a smile when he sent a grinning emoji.

‘Thanks, you are, too. So... tell me more about you, then. Unless you’d rather go back to sleep. What it is, 3am there?’

‘It is, but I don’t mind talking a little longer. If I did go back to sleep, you’d probably come find me in my dreams and talk to me there anyway, right?’

‘Maybe. Or I’d just kiss you some more, not gonna lie.’

She’d gone from not knowing who he was, to discovering he was real, to flirting with him, all in the space of a day. Life was strange for Keri Watkins in that moment, but she couldn’t deny, now she knew who Angel was, she began to allow herself to enjoy it.

[themuffin2649]

Vincent Willam Van Gogh

Vincent unlocks is True artistic Potential

TW: Cursing

—————

Within the famous Modern art museum, Vincent leads a group of the wealthiest tourists (his family’s friends) to the finest masterpiece his genius mind has ever conceived.

Woman A: “This is the Vincent, son of the **** family! Do you know how wealthy they are?!”

Man A: “I know! I can’t wait to see what this young prodigy has made for us.”

Vincent: “Settle down everybody, I know the reveal of this artwork is wearing down your patience, but I promise you the wait and buildup will be worth it. For this is the latest sculpture I’ve created and it’s currently worth $50 million as we speak!”

The audience gasps in amazement except Leon, who’s just here to get complete an extra credit assignment on modern art.

Leon: Please hurry up, I have an 800 word essay to write after this.

Vincent: “Before the grand reveal, I have to tell you about ‘Convergence of the Star Bound Lovers’. My inspiration was the moment I learned what it means to be loved, and to love, as well as the raw passion from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. It combines themes of both modern and romantic love as the two are unable to let the other go as both their bodies and their souls have merged into one as the stars prophesied it. A lesson that this artwork will teach you all is that it’s what we look deep within someone that separates love from lust. As you’re about to see, I not only put a piece of me into this artwork, but a piece of someone very special as well. ”

Leon gags at the thought of seeing two statues of Vincent and him kissing. This guy already sculpted him as a Neanderthal, what was This going to be?!

Vincent: “And now I present to you, the greatest thing you’ll ever witness! For I am Vincent Van Gogh reincarnated!” He said, pulling away a giant lavish red curtain to reveal the grandeur hiding behind.

The crowd’s eyes widen as they witness the beauty presented inside, some even crying tears of joy.

Leon: “………..…...”

Vincent: “If you look closely, you can see intertwining ‘kiss’ between the two bodies as they elegantly dance around each other. The fluidity of the materials shows that love is a wonderful phenomenon that everybody is capable of. Romantic or not.”

Crowd: clap clap clap “So true!” clap clap

Leon: “Uhh, Vincent… What the hell is this?!”

Vincent: “This is my greatest creation! Birthed out of the pure love I have burning in my heart for him!”

Leon: “That garbage?! Very funny Vincent. Now show us the real thing worth $50 mil.”

Vincent: “Garbage?! It’s a Masterpiece Leon, you’re just to low-class and primitive to understand!”

WHAT MASTERPIECE?! THIS IS LITERALLY JUST YOU AND MC’S HAIR TAPED TO A WALL!!!

The entire crowd gasps at his response.

Vincent: “You just don’t understand true art! This is a representation of all my years and training as an artist. Do you know how HARD it is to get all the hair to STICK into a wall?! It’s a talent not everybody is capable of! There’s a reason why it’s worth 50 million dollars!”

Leon: “VINCNET! You’re a genuinely Talented artist! Look at that hyperrealistic marble statue you sculpted right there of me wearing Neanderthal clothing. Do you know how HARD it is to make STONE look like real FUR?!”

Vincent: “The Modern Neanderthal? That old thing?! Darling! I just took some sticks and rocks one day and bashed at a hunk of marble. There’s a reason why it’s only worth $17 dollars, everybody can make it.”

Leon: “$17! EVERYONE CAN MAKE IT!! ARE YOU HEARING YOURSELF RIGHT NOW?!! THOSE TWO STATEMENTS SHOULD BE SWITCHED!”

Vincent: “C’mon everybody, let’s leave him, he’s only distracting us from seeing the real art.”

The crowd scoffs off Leon and heads away.

After everybody had left, Leon looks left and right for any witnesses before vandalizing Vincent’s ‘masterpiece’.

—— 1 day later ——

News Woman: “This just in, the famous artwork ‘Convergence of the Star Bound Lovers’ by 18 year old Vincent **** has as just been Vandalized, as half of the sculpture has been stolen! Here’s Vincent’s reaction to the destruction of his masterpiece.”

Vincent: “It’s a tragic day for art indeed. As you can see, half of the sculpture is falling apart, decaying, as it cannot survive without the loving grasp of the other. It symbolisez loneliness and the tragedy of heartbreak, and how humanity needs the love of others to survive.”

Leon: “Ha! Serves him right.” He says, proudly holding MC’s hair he stole from the ‘artwork’.

News Woman: “According to this incident, people have come around from all over the world to witness what was once a great masterpiece, to experience the anguish of heartbreak, making the sculpture worth 120 million as of today. It’s projected to be 150 million by next week.”

Leon: turns off the TV “……..I hate rich people.”

—————

Note: Vincent knows what he made was garbage, he just needed to do something ‘non-traditional’ and pretend it was a masterpiece for the money laundering. He also needed an excuse to snip off a piece of MC’s hair.

[wubwubnparmaham]

Hey Jackson!

I just finished reading Trail to Transcendence and it took me less than 4 days to finish those 3 works. I was legitmately *obsessed*. It was manic really, I've never wanted to gulp down a piece of fiction so fast. I've barely processed it all and yet I'm itching for more. I'm gonna start Bridge to Barbarity after I get some sleep but I genuinely cannot wait to reread this. I so am going to. I've read a LOT of fics, original and fanfiction, but this is hands down the best thing I've ever read. It was literally I could've asked for and you served without knowing what I need. Jesus fuck hahaha. I'm still reeling from the ending of the third book as I'm writing this so I'm so very sorry if this is making fuck all sense. I just read it so fast, it's literally insane. My head hurts from it (not complaining) and I know I'm gonna be thinking of this for a very long time. Thank you thank you thank you for writing than and giving it to us. I don't think anyone could've done justice to that plot any better than you way, your writing is amazing, I'm genuinely so in love with it. The way you've woven plot details so far in advance like little easter eggs- fucking incredible. I wanna clap and treat you to a nice breakfast and ask you so many questions and listen to you talk about the writing process. I'm so intrigued.

I've gone off a trail here but I'd really love to read your published books (i saw you mention that you're writing them a while ago). I understand you might not wanna go public about them here, which is okay, i can DM you about. Please let me know :)

Oh also, I'm not pushing but just want to know out of curiosity if you're going to continue with The Nol and the Little Witch or any other books in the same universe?

YOU ARE THE SWEETEST and i will actually be messaging you momentarily, but yes i will continue all stories within the universe, it's just gonna take a while unfortunately :( but it's special to me!! Itll get done

[ghoulxh]

Stay

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Papa Emeritus IV x Reader Word Count: 1,820 Not proofread. Warnings: angst. I mean... I literally cried while writing this.

If you'd prefer to read this on Ao3

A/N- This is much different from what I usually write, I try to keep things happy, but I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. <3

All day you had felt something was off, precisely since the moment Copia left your suite in the morning. His movements had all been slow, as opposed to most mornings when he was rushing to get out the door in time to please Sister Imperator, he took extra time with you when you woke up, making sure he left you happy, making love to you, and showering with you, doing everything you loved to do on mornings when you weren’t as rushed. 

Every time you attempted to rush him and get him out the door so that he wasn’t late for work he would put his index finger against your lips and shush you. He would repeat the same thing to you. “What is waiting for me out there is nowhere as important as you, amore mio.” 

What worried you was what he said after that. 

“I want to spend every moment I have left with you.” He pressed a soft and gentle kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel in the touch of your beautiful husband. His hands gently cupped your face, and his lips delicately brushed against your skin.

“Copia is something wrong, my love?” You asked him finally. He pulled away from you, taking you in. The only thing you had covering you was your silk robe and that didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

“No, no… everything is as it should be, Tesoro. Do not worry.” Your eyes scanned his face trying to see if you could read his expression but he was all over the place. His expressions were telling you one thing, his body language another, and his eyes… well his eyes looked like he could burst into tears at any moment. 

“Alright then… You should go. I don’t want to keep you any more than I have to. I don’t want Sister to be upset with you,” you said, attempting to dismiss everything. If he told you everything was alright then you’d take his word for it. He had no reason to lie to you. He gave you one last passionate kiss before turning around to leave. “I will see you tonight, hm?” He gave you a sad little smile. “Copia, you’re worrying me—”

“I will see you tonight, Bellissima.” You smiled back at him before watching him leave. 

You tried to go on with your duties as you would any other day, but those moments before he left kept replaying in your head. The sad smile, his words, everything. 

You also realized every time you bumped into a ghoul or another member of the clergy they’d all give you sorrowful looks. Even the day took pity on you for some reason. The clouds were gray and gloomy and the rain came and went every few minutes. That rain eventually turned into a storm. The claps of thunder gave you a scare almost whenever they bounced off the walls.

You eventually found yourself on your knees in the chapel in front of the altar praying. You tried to think of other things to pray for but you kept coming back to “please, Sathanas keep my beloved safe.” You were thinking about the unfortunate fate of the last three Papas… But surely not. Sister wouldn’t… her own son, her own flesh and blood? Of course not. You were just being paranoid is all. With one last loud and mighty clap of thunder, you closed your prayer and straightened up. 

A chilly breeze ghosted over your body and you wrapped your arms around yourself to keep warm. Maybe you should’ve borrowed Copia’s red jacket after all. You finally allowed yourself your first real smile of the day as you thought back to that red jacket you loved so much, how it was too big for you, and how Copia’s smell always lingered on it.

You walked out of the chapel to immediately be greeted with very cold air. You decided since it was getting dark you might as well go find Copia, and let him know that was enough work for today. You had been looking forward to getting Copia to cook for you tonight, maybe some soup since it was cold out. 

Oh, how you loved it when he cooked for you. He’d always look divine while doing so too, his sleeves rolled up to his elbow, his eyes very focused on whatever he was chopping or mixing, and of course, his ‘Kiss The Cook’ apron never failed to be on. 

You finally reached his office which was not too far, but in the cold, it felt like an eternity. You knocked a few times but you received no answer. You knew Copia had the sounds of your knocks memorized because he would always say something along the lines of ‘Tesoro, I have told you before. You do not have to knock’ and you’d always giggle a little bit before opening the door and going straight to his desk and giving him a soft kiss and distracting him from whatever he was doing for a little while. 

“Copia?” no response. “My love? It’s me…” You opened the door, just to find he was not there. His office however looked a mess, like he’d left in a hurry. Papers all over his desk (and the floor), his chair pushed away from the desk, his writing utensils scattered all over his desk rather than in the mug he used to store them, and the top drawer of his desk opened. 

You went around the desk looking over the papers on the table. Nothing of importance, just requests from ghouls, and siblings of sin. You carefully closed the drawer that was opened, and that’s when you saw a letter addressed to you from Copia. 

Something was wrong. Something was most definitely wrong and you had to find out what it was. At that moment you didn’t care you had a dress on, you stuck the letter in the pocket of your dress and ran. You ran as fast as your legs could take you. 

You almost ran past the courtyard but stopped when you saw Copia standing in front of a ghoul in the rain and Sister Imperator, who had an umbrella just big enough to cover herself. 

“Copia?” you mumbled to yourself. You weren’t close enough to hear what they were saying, but you could see Copia’s face and all you saw in his eyes was fear. Sister Imperator’s arms were crossed behind her back and the ghoul was standing a few steps behind her almost like it was waiting for orders. You saw Sister Imperator turn her head to say something to the ghoul before walking away, leaving Copia alone with said ghoul.

Before you even had time to react, Copia was raising his hands in surrender and the ghoul was lunging at him like a vicious dog, with a blade clutched in his hand, knocking Copia down. 

“No!” you screamed out. Your scream alerted the ghoul who looked back at you, Swiss, but he did not attempt to harm you. Instead, he got up from where he was on top of Copia and pulled the blade out of your husband, who was now lying on the ground. Swiss looked over his shoulder at you one more time before dropping the blade on the grass right at Copia’s feet and walking away with his head hanging low. “Copia!” 

You ran as fast as you could toward him, and you dropped to your knees as soon as you were beside him. Your hair got in your face, but it was the least of your worries as your hands went immediately to the severe wound that was bleeding more than you’d ever seen. Your vision went blurry with the tears that pooled in your eyes. 

“Copia, you have to stay with me, alright? Just look at me please,” you said as you put pressure on his wound. Copia let out a pained groan and you looked around trying to see if there was anyone that could help you. “Help! Please! Someone!” Copia coughed due to the blood that was now coming out of his mouth as well. 

“They will not come… I am afraid my time is up, cara.” You shook your head. “Just stay with me, si?” 

“No, no, I can help you… I know I can.” you cried. 

“Y/n…”

“You can’t—you can’t leave me, my love. I’m not… I’m not ready, we haven’t—we haven’t had a chance to start our family yet.” With the strength he had left, he pushed your hands away from his wound and took one of your hands into his. You moved him into your lap as best as you could, your free hand going into his hair soothing him like you did on days when work was hard, or when he was sick and he didn’t feel good. 

“We have, Tesoro.” he was struggling to get his words out, his breathing uneven and his mouth covered in blood. “Remember—last week when you couldn’t eat the rigatoni I made for you? Hmm? Or when you couldn’t stand the smell of your own perfume?” You gasped, your eyes growing wide. You felt your world come crumbling down at that moment, and your heart shattered.

“I can’t—I can’t do this without you.” Copia smiled at you despite being on the brink of death. He brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face and just knowing it would be the last time he ever did that for you sent more tears down your face. His hand cupped your cheek, and you placed your own on top of his.

“You will never be alone, tesoro. I will always be in your heart and you will always have a piece of me when our bambino is born… always.” 

“Copia… Copia.” You watched as the life left your lover’s eyes and suddenly you were alone in the courtyard, with only the corpse of the man you’d loved for many years. Your scream of agony finally got the attention of people around the abbey and doors began slamming open. You could just slightly hear the gasps of terror and the whispers over the sound of your own crying. You bent over and hugged the lifeless corpse of your husband, kissing him as if that would somehow bring him back to life. 

No one moved as they witnessed the scene in front of them. Some siblings of sin cried for their Papa. Some cried for his prime mover, who would be a widow for the rest of her life. His prime mover who would raise their child, the future Papa Emeritus, with only the memories of his father. His prime mover who would lose the spark in her eyes for the rest of her life. His prime mover who would die protecting her son from the same fate of his father.

Thank you so much for reading this if you made it all the way to the end!

Please consider reblogging! It's free, and it would really support my work! 🤍

[johnaeryns]

can you please explain how spuffy is a lesbian relationship? (I'm asking in seriousness, I'm interested in your analysis-- I realize the phrasing of the question could be read ambiguously but I think you're brilliant and I love your takes :) )

Oh you’re so nice, thank you! Honestly, it was a theory I started with @burneddownthegym, half as a joke, because we both saw homoerotic subtext in the way their relationship was written so we were calling them a lesbian ship. Eventually we started seeing other people’s opinions and analysis which genuinely supported the theory and began trying to piece it all together. We talk about it because it’s fun and because we think there’s genuinely a lot of solid evidence to unpack. I guess we thought two gay people could talk about where they found gay subtext, specifically because we relate to it, on Twitter without people taking it in bad faith, as usual we were wrong dlkfjask. Some of these points will be Wren’s, some will be mine, mostly they’ve fused into one big, long mess.

I will definitely try to explain best I can and cite some of the places we’ve been pulling stuff from, but if I come off sounding like the Pepe Silvia meme then it is what it is ldkjfasl. My disclaimer is that this isn’t 100% fully realized so there’s probably a lot of other points or examples I’m missing or forgot to include and some things that don’t directly link together or aren’t fully explained yet but I did what I could.

Edit: Originally put this in the tags but now I’m putting it in the post. Please do not read if you cannot be open minded. If you are set on hating Spike and/or Spuffy you will probably not enjoy the post, so if you know this, read it, and then get mad at me that is your problem, not mine. As I said multiple times, you don’t have to agree but I am a lesbian and so getting called lesbophobic for my interpretation is pretty annoying. 

I think the most important element that people misunderstand is that, to me at least, this has nothing to do with sexuality or gender headcanons. I use the terms lesbian and lesbian relationship more figuratively than literally, but defining or drawing hard lines on these in this context is unappealing to me and limits the discussion, so just consider it to be largely irrelevant to this post. 

The slayer/vampire dynamic as well as the slayer and vampire elements respectively are essential to this interpretation. What would otherwise be a heterosexual dynamic is twisted beyond recognition by the subversive gender elements that occupying the slayer/vampire roles have imposed on Buffy and Spike as individuals, and how those elements have in turn impacted the nature of their attraction to each other. However for the sake of this post I am going to start with their attraction, which I feel is the most overtly homoromantic element, and work backwards. 

The attraction Buffy and Spike feel towards each other causes them to experience a lot of confusion and shame. It’s described multiple times as being “wrong.” Spike says in 5x14 “because this, with you, is wrong. I know it. I'm not a complete idiot,” and Buffy in 6x13 says “It’s [her attraction to Spike] wrong. I’m wrong. Tell me I’m wrong.” They both find themselves attracted to someone that they and the outside world believe they should not be attracted to. They both struggle to accept that they have this “wrong” attraction and can neither control nor fight it. They both struggle to accept that they are not attracted to what they feel they should be: Spike believing that he should be attracted to evil, and Buffy believing she should be attracted to good, namely in the form of a ‘nice, normal’ guy. Both of these beliefs are imposed on them by other people’s expectations, rather than their own desires. Buffy in particular is deeply insecure about not being attracted to the people she feels she should be (Riley Finn, Scott Hope, Ben in season 5, Robin Wood, the list goes on). Buffy feels that if she tells her friends about this attraction they’ll be repulsed by her, and Spike is mocked by the demon (and sometimes human) community for his feelings towards Buffy. Their relationship is both something that they feel internal shame about, and that the outside world shuns them for. In this sense the explicit slayer/vampire dynamic becomes a stand in for an implicit same sex relationship. Once the supernatural elements are removed the subtext draws strong parallels to the experience of coming to terms with homosexual attraction and lack of heterosexual attraction.

Beyond subtext, there are times when the script of the show makes direct connections between the two. When Riley asks how Willow could have sex with Oz because he’s a werewolf (part demon) in season 4, Buffy responds “God, I never knew you were such a bigot.” This establishes the idea within the canon of the show that demon/human, and especially demon/slayer, relationships are something that people are close minded or bigoted about in the way they would be a gay relationship. It also establishes Riley as normative and Buffy as subversive, further exemplifying my previous point about Riley representing what Buffy should want, but doesn’t. This is further illustrated in season 6 when Buffy confesses that she’s been sleeping with Spike to Tara. The only person Buffy tells about this relationship is a canonical lesbian. It is not so subtly implied that Tara is understanding of Buffy’s conflict because she feels it mirrors her own experience with external and internal homophobia. Tara later likens Buffy telling other people about the relationship to “coming out.” That’s not subtext, that’s a direct comparison between Spike and Buffy’s relationship and a gay relationship.

Katherine Ann Vogt makes the case in “‘Kinda Twisty and Weird’: Queering the Heterosexual Romance in Buffy Shipper Fanfiction” that Spike and Buffy both represent a gender dichotomy through their respective human and demon/slayer sides. The demon/slayer side represents the stereotypically* masculine (strong, hard, cruel, violent), while their human sides represent the stereotypically feminine (soft, weak, sensitive, sentimental). Buffy continuously seeks to repress her slayer side (stereotypically masculine), while Spike continuously seeks to repress his human side (stereotypically feminine). When they are unable to cloak or repress these parts of themselves they are shamed, mocked, or belittled (men being made uncomfortable or angry by Buffy’s strength and self reliance & people thinking her too cruel and violent + people mocking Spike’s sentimentalism and softness both as a human and a demon). Both are only able to come to terms with their identity and evolve as people once they learn to let go of how they think they should be and reconcile both parts of themselves, feminine and masculine. 

Since the connection between the slayer/demon dynamic and homosexual attraction & stereotypical masculinity has been established, I would argue that you could take this in part as a representation of the gender struggle sapphics undergo when reconciling being a woman/not a man (existing as and/or being perceived as stereotypically feminine) with being attracted to women (stereotypically masculine). Similarly it mirrors the specific struggle lesbians undergo while attempting to reconcile their own subversive & self defined femininity with a lack of attraction to men, which is seen as a key aspect of the stereotypically feminine. I find it notable that for both Buffy and Spike it is the human side (the self) who is stereotypically feminine, while the stereotypically masculine aspect is attached to the ‘abnormal’ part of their personhood. This is one of the primary reasons I see the dynamic as specifically lesbian, rather than just non-heteronormative, queer, or homoerotic. I think that the feminine is a key component in their relationship and it is a reconciliation with the masculine that causes them to struggle, even if for Spike the masculine is expected and for Buffy it is condemned.

*Here’s my big gender disclaimer. I am using the word stereotypical to connote gender roles and gender performance, obviously femininity and masculinity are far more complicated than the stereotypically masculine and feminine. There is also an unavoidable connection here between performing gender and performing morality given the context of the show, but it is not my intention to assign morality to gender or sexuality. As the slayer/demon dichotomy makes clear, the ‘masculine’ is amoral and can be ascribed to good or evil, positive or predatory, the same goes for homosexual attraction. And lastly, I don’t want it to come off as if I am equating lesbianism with femininity of any kind or like I’m being dismissive of lesbians who don’t identify as women, but for the sake of argument and consistency I am connecting lesbianism with the word femininity, whatever amorphous form that femininity takes.

I’m certainly not the first to liken Buffy telling her mother she’s the Slayer in 2x22 to a coming out scene, but there lies another significant connection between Buffy’s slayer side and subversive sexuality/gender (as Wren points out here Spike was also notably present for this scene). In fact, the parallels in this scene are so strong I don’t feel I need to make an argument for it. Buffy’s desire to be normal, her despair at normalcy being personally unattainable because she herself is abnormal, the pain at having a key aspect of yourself be unsettling or scary to people you care about, and the frustration at your inability to change even if you’d like to, are all elements of her struggle with being the slayer which continuously parallel a struggle with sexuality and gender.

@shieldsmaiden made this excellent post about the lesbian subtext in Spike’s obsession with slayers. His desire is sexual but it’s also a deeper desire to possess or become the slayer. He wants the slayer, he wants to be the slayer, and at a point the two desires become interchangeable. Good and evil and masculine and feminine become all tangled up. The slayer is a symbol of goodness and light, but the slayer is also an inarguably female figure. He wants at once to destroy the light and become the light, desires the feminine and desires to be the feminine. As the post points out this elicits a kind of homophobic disgust from the people around him. His obsession with the light is unnatural, his twisted up desire towards the feminine is unnatural, he wants in a way that he is not meant to. As Wren notes here, Spike’s iconic leather duster being a trophy from a slayer further elaborates on this point. It is both a slayer’s jacket and a woman’s jacket and he has made it a part of his identity. He wants them, he wants to kill them, he wants to be them, in a way that is markedly homoerotic and specifically lesbian, to be feminine and desire the feminine at once. I also find it notable that Spike’s history and relationship with slayers is displayed in the same episode (5x07) that fully realizes his stereotypically feminine human side which thus far had only shown itself through his stereotypically masculine facade, as well as being an episode devoted to fully illustrating the connection between Buffy and Spike as slayer and vampire not as diametrically opposed, but rather dark mirrors of each other, two sides of the same coin. 

These two examples of the demon and slayer being representations of subversive sexuality are not identical but they are similar. The role of the slayer and the role of the vampire are set against each other and yet even though what people expect of Buffy and what people expect of Spike are vastly different, both struggle to meet those expectations. Both are too drawn to the opposing force (light and dark) in a way that they and others find disturbing, both refuse to fit into the box which says how a vampire or slayer should be/feel/act, and because of this both are the only one of their kind. Neither is fully slayer/vampire, neither is fully human. This point is addressed specifically in the script during 6x09 when Spike says to Buffy “Oh, poor little lost girl. She doesn't fit in anywhere. She's got no one to love.” to which she responds “Me? I'm lost? Look at you, you idiot! Poor Spikey. Can't be a human, can't be a vampire. Where the hell do you fit in?” Buffy questions why Spike is so drawn to the light, Spike questions why Buffy is so drawn to the darkness. Both insist that there is something “wrong” with the other, both are internally convinced there is something wrong with themselves, and yet the scene ends with them having sex. This ties all the way back in to my very first point. The roles of the slayer and demon, the wrongness in their performance of these roles, the wrongness in the performance of their gender,  the attraction that exists between the roles, how it contributes to the wrongness, all become twisted up in a cacophony of confusion, pain, and shame. All of this only further serves to prove the strong connections between Buffy and Spike’s struggle with identity, how that is fueled by struggles with gender, and how all of that feeds into the homoerotic attraction between them.

The final point I’d like to address is the idea of Spike as Buffy’s Jungian Shadow. Here is an excerpt from an essay titled “Spike as Shadow” by Delores J Nurss and further analysis of said essay by Rhonda V. Wilcox (Why Buffy Matters 82). 

The theory of the Shadow extends far beyond homoerotic subtext, but this passage is incredibly relevant. To vastly oversimplify, Spike as the Shadow forces Buffy to confront the parts of herself she wants to ignore. I would argue that two other characters have also taken this role for Buffy over the course of the series, Cordelia Chase and Faith Lehane. As it states here “the shadow is always of the same sex as the subject.” Considering that Cordelia and Faith are both women this becomes increasingly interesting. Not only do Cordelia and Faith fill the Shadow role, but they are also notable for having widely agreed upon homoerotic subtext with Buffy. Spike’s continuation of not only the Shadow role, but also the homoerotic attraction, places him once more in the realm of the feminine. This is reinforced when considering the first line of the essay which states that “Spike has devoted a century to acting out William’s shadow.” As has been established, William, Spike’s human side, represents the stereotypically feminine, which would make him the Shadow of two separate feminine subjects. The animus and anima is another relevant aspect. You might say Buffy represents the feminine aspects of Spike while Spike represents the masculine aspects of Buffy, however if you are following the line of thought which makes Spike the feminine Shadow of a feminine subject, you might also interpret it as a part of the persistent slayer/vampire/human gender dichotomy. The stereotypically masculine slayer/demon side as the male element of the stereotypically female human side, the stereotypical female human side as the female element of the stereotypically masculine slayer/demon side. 

Edit (12/1/21): This isn’t really evidence but I have to use every weapon in my arsenal here so I’m adding Steven Deknight’s (writer of the episode) quote on my thread about Buffy, Spike, Faith, and shadow integration in “Dead Things.” This is a piece of the “extends far beyond homoerotic subtext” I was talking about, and has nothing to do with lesbian Spuffy, but insofar as Spike & Buffy and Buffy & Faith as Jungian Shadow Integration is relevant to the theory, it’s pretty validating. Not to mention how Spike taking on the role of and interchanging with a female shadow of Buffy’s plays into it.

(here is the tweet) (here is my original thread on dead things + the tumblr post equivalent)

In the end I would say the thing that links all of this together is balance. In the same way the Buffy and Spike act as mirrors to each other, they also act as mirrors in their attraction and gender. The balance of the feminine and the feminine, along with the balance of the masculine and masculine which offsets it. This acts in the same way a lesbian dynamic would, possessing both the stereotypically feminine in the form of your gender, and the stereotypically masculine in your desire of the feminine. Only when Buffy is able to come to terms with the inherent stereotypical masculinity and darkness of her slayer side, and Spike is able to shed the performative masculinity in his demon side by making the choice regain his soul they are able to fully develop a functional and long lasting relationship where neither feels shame, brining the metaphor of internalized homophobia full circle.

I would like to close this by saying that it’s only one interpretation. There are lots of ways to see the show, we’ve analyzed the canon and found there is a lot that supports this reading. I think that some of this subtext was done intentionally, some was not. However, you’re meant to find your own meaning in media and there’s certainly meaning to be found here. I’m not saying that Spuffy is a lesbian relationship in the literal sense, but I do think that there’s a lot to link them to lesbian dynamics and lesbian experiences both in sexuality and in gender politics. People certainly don’t have to agree but in the end we’re just having fun attempting to analyze a tv show, and in conclusion:

[avis-writeshq]

DETENTION — Damian Wayne 

inspired by ‘detention’ by melanie martinez

a/n: HELLAUURRR!! returning with a damian wayne fic, how typical of me hehehe >:D i actually wrote + worked on this fic for a while now, maybe two months ago? so i'm glad i've been able to post it!! i haven't edited it that much aside from the times i had to reread it to continue writing, so if there are any issues, lmk!!

tw: guns, stalking, kidnapping, s3xual assault, blood, psychopathic tendencies (not by reader or damian), arson, prayer talk, if there’s more lmk!

rating: 16+ for mature themes, coarse language, and mutual pining

wc: 6k

“Morning, Damian!” You smile, waving in greeting as you fell into step beside him. “Did you finish the maths homework?”

He nods, muttering a quiet greeting before fishing his exercise book out of his bag. “Of course I did.” He relishes in the way your eyes lit up as you grabbed the exercise book, quickly turning to the current chapter you were on. “How are you never able to do your homework on time but–”

“– But you’re the one protecting Gotham, yes, Damian, I know.” You roll your eyes as you finish his sentence, having heard the ‘lecture’ one too many times. “I was busy providing sanctum to the sad citizens of Gotham through cheese, garlic, and tomato.”

Damian was well aware of your job at Maria Pizzaria, one of the best pizza places in all of Gotham, and he was happy that you were enjoying your job — even if it did mean you couldn’t do any of your homework for the next day.  

“Alright, hurry up and finish your homework,” he says, chuckling at your frantic scribbling. “What time did you sleep last night, anyway?”

You groan, not ceasing your writing as you respond, “you don’t want to know. Ms Sanders decided to give me a one-thousand-word essay to complete, so estimate on that.”

Silence settles between you for a few moments before you snapped the books closed with a grin. “... and done! Thanks, Damian, you’re a lifesaver – literally. Oh! Did you hear about the new student? Her name’s Lilith, I think. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me about it earlier.”

Strangely enough, the name didn’t seem to ring any bells in his head. Maybe this student was incredibly new, but it’s weird that he hasn’t heard about it from his role as vice president. 

“I actually wasn’t told about any new students,” Damian remarks as the two of you enter the classroom. 

“That’s… weird.” Your brows furrow in confusion. “Did you turn up to all the meetings? Read all the emails?”

“Who do you take me for, of course, I did,” he huffed, taking his usual seat beside you in the centre of the class. “I never heard anything about it.”

You hum, taking in his words with full confidence that he was telling the truth. If there was one thing Damian never did to you, was a lie (aside from when he hid the fact that he was Robin from you – but that was on Bruce’s call, not his). 

“Alright class, can I get your attention please!” The teacher claps their hands with a broad smile. “Everyone, we have a new student today! Lilith, why don’t you introduce yourself?”

A girl, mousey looking with dark brown hair with blonde ends, piercing brown eyes, and she looked innocent enough. Just your average high schooler. But her eyes seemed… off. It was almost like she wasn’t all there. At least, it looked like that to you. Nevertheless, you were never one to judge a book by its cover, so you quickly offered to show her around the school. 

Lilith, as the girl was named, took the offer happily, saying in her thick Maine accent, “thank you, Damian. Oh, and Y/N.” Which you thought was weird, seeing that neither of you have introduced yourselves yet, but you figured that if she talked to the student council, they must have mentioned the both of you at some point. 

“No problem!” You smile, but Damian was unmoving, his eyes narrowing at Lilith and you notice the way his jaw clenches. “Damian…” You hiss under your breath, “welcome the new student.”

He doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to nod in acknowledgment. He moved his seat so that it was almost as if the two of you were sharing a table while Lilith sat in front of you. 

“Anyway,” You turn your attention back to Lilith who was staring a bit too hard at Damian for your liking. “I can show you around the school after class. Can I see your timetable?”

“Sure,” Lilith pushes her glasses up, digging into her bag. “Here you go.”

You read through her timetable, humming and nodding at the subject choices. “I have a few classes with you! That’s good, I can show you around then as we head to class. What do you think?”

“Is Damian coming with us?” She asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Uh…” you falter, trying to ignore the small stab in your heart the statement made. 

“I’ll be there,” Damian cuts in quickly, and you don’t miss the way he brushes his pinky with yours from under the table. 

You notice how her smile widens at his announcement, and you shift awkwardly in your seat. There was one thing you knew for sure – 

*** 

“I don’t like her,” you announce to Damian over the phone, “she seems sketchy.”

“What happened to ‘I never judge a book by its cover’?” Damian snorts, and you hear a page being flicked in the background. “But, I do agree.”

“Maybe she’s just nervous,” you say, more to yourself than to him as you move to sit on your bed. “I mean, she is at a new school. Maybe she just feels awkward about it.”

You can practically hear him nod as he reads his book. Today was one of the rare times he didn’t have a patrol. Instead, Dick decided to take his place, saying that ‘a kid like him needed some down time’ which, to be fair, you couldn’t deny. 

“I agree with you,” Damian says before continuing, “give her a few days though to adjust. We can see her true nature then.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” You say, eyes glancing at the digital clock that was glaring at you from your bedside table. “Sorry. You’re probably tired. You go get some sleep – you always sleep past midnight.”

“Coming from you that means nothing,” Damian remarks, and he laughs when he hears you groan in frustration. “Okay, I’m going to bed soon. I just have to change Titus’s litter box and finish the physics homework Mr Daven gave me.”

You grin at his words, “imagine taking physics. And you’re supposed to be the smart one.”

“Why do you think I’m taking physics?”

“Shut up.”

You hang up on the phone a few moments later, falling backwards on your bed with your back against the pillows. What you didn’t know – and who would have thought – were two brown eyes who stared into your window. 

*** 

“I didn’t know you work here.”

A familiar – albeit, annoying – voice enters your ears and you do your best not to cringe. Lilith seemed to be following you everywhere. The mall, your classes, your hangouts with Damian, and now here. At Maria Pizzaria. When you saw her at the doorway, you felt the bile in your stomach begin to rise.

This has been happening for weeks now and you doubted that it was a coincidence. Damian understood your worries, saying that he’ll do a background check on this so-called Lilith Hart-Stone. So far, nothing. He did checks on her family, on her previous schools, on her life in general and it all points to one thing: completely and utterly normal. Even still, you couldn’t shake the uneasiness you felt every time she walked into the room. Damian would do his best to reassure you every time saying that she was ‘harmless’ and that he ‘wouldn’t let her hurt you if it came to it’. 

“Aneko can you take her order, please?” 

“No problem, do you mind sending this over to table 5?”

You nod, wordlessly taking the margarita and pepperoni pizzas to the table. You feel a sinking feeling in your chest, and you really hope that this ‘bad feeling’ is just you being paranoid. 

Your shift continues, long and dragging, throughout the night until 10:30PM sharp. Grabbing your bags and leaving through the back alleyway exit, you make your way to the main street. 

“So, you really do work here.” 

You flinch, spinning around to meet eye to eye with the one and only Lilith Hart-Stone, the very person you were told not to worry about. Her hair was put into two messy space buns, and an eerie grin stretches across her face. She reminds you of someone – some anime character or something – from the way she’s dressed. It’s nothing too crazy or abnormal: just her school uniform with her skirt rolled up a few times too much so that it rests a couple of inches above her knee. Even still, she looks weird. Scary, even, and you remind yourself to be on your guard.

“What about it?” You ask offhandedly, taking a step back. Bad move.

The twisted look on her face seemed to grow, and you do everything you can to not show fear, but the look on your face must have translated what you were feeling. 

“Oh, come no, Y/N. No need to be aggressive.” She giggles, high-pitched and jarring, and it takes everything in you to not cover your ears. “Don’t worry, Y/N. It’ll only hurt for a minute.”

And before you could question it, you feel a harsh blow to the back of your head, and everything fades away into yellows, greys, and blues. The last thing you see before fully slipping into unconsciousness is the evil glint in her brown eyes as she steps toward you. 

*** 

Damian doesn’t see you the next day in school. He waits outside the school gates well into the first period, and when you don’t arrive by the second class, his stomach doesn’t settle. Lilith didn’t come to school either, he notices, and he feels the burning in his chest worsen. Something was wrong – very wrong – and he pulls his phone out to call his father. Bruce answers immediately, knowing full well that Damian never calls during school hours. 

“Father, I fear something happened to Y/N.” Damian is running now, away from the school, ignoring one of the teacher’s cries of disapproval. “It might have something to do with Lilith Hart-Stone–”

“Talking about me, are we?”

Damian spins around, his eyes meeting the sinister eyes of the girl he was just enquiring about. 

Bruce asks through the phone, “Damian, what is going on?”

But he doesn’t respond. Instead, he focuses on the girl in front of him. The mousey, innocent-looking girl who didn’t seem to pose a threat. But, of course, nothing is ever as it seems.

“What did you do to Y/N?” He demands, eyes narrowing to slits as he slips his phone into his pocket.

“I’m insulted that you’d think I’d do anything to little Y/N.” She smirks. “Not that you’re wrong.”

Damian clenches his jaw, balling his hands at his side, ready to strike. His tone is dangerous as he demands, “What did you do to her?”

“Temper, temper,” she cackles before clicking her fingers, the smirk on her face never fading.

In an instant, two men are at Damian’s side and he twists around to land a sharp punch to one of their faces, and a harsh kick to the other’s torso. The men retaliate accordingly: one aiming for Damian’s head and the other aiming for his side. ‘They’re amateurs,’ Damian scoffs to himself, jumping out of the way and landing a blow on one of their necks, effectively knocking him out. The other man was not happy over the fact that a kid – even if he is almost 18 – knocked his partner out in the time span of five minutes, and aimed for another blow to Damian’s head. But Damian was quicker, and smarter, too. He grips the man’s fat wrist, pulling him down and socking him in the nose. 

Easy. Too easy. Something was amiss. Then he feels it. He swings around, just in time to dodge another attempted blow to his head, but not in time to dodge the knee that hit his stomach. 

Damian chokes, falling back on impact, his school bag as a cushion. The one who hit him in the stomach takes a hold of Damian’s collar, punching him across the face (finally landing the blow), before pinning him to the floor, face first, while another man pins his legs to the ground. There’s no escape. 

Lilith fishes his phone from his pocket, eyes flashing with excitement. Bruce, on the other end, is chanting, “Damian? Damian?” To which she responds with pure malice:

“Damian is a little busy right now. This is Lilith, by the way, but I’ll call you back soon. See you, Batsy!” She hangs up. 

“What do you want?” Damian asks from the floor, cheek scraping against the gravel with each word. “Unhand me!”

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be making demands, little bird,” Lilith squeals at her own words before nodding to the men. “You know what to do.”

Damian feels the pressure on his legs leave, and the man who gripped his collar lifts him one more time, and he takes in the smell of chemicals on cloth.

***

The cold air whips Damian’s face as he awakes, his eyes blinking as they adjust to the bright city lights. It is dark now – around 7, Damian figures – and the bright city lights flash in his view. Lilith stands over him, grinning ear to ear. It is only then that he realises the situation he is currently in: wrists chained to a pole on the roof of some skyscraper, and you sat in front of him, seeming to be in the same position.

“So the little bird finally decided to wake up after all.” She shrieks with delight as his eyes open. 

Damian grits his teeth as he fights against the metal chains. “What are you trying to do?”

Lilith hums sadistically, playing around with the gun in her hands. “You know what? I’ll amuse you. I’m doing it because I’m in love with you.”

Her words make him sick. His stomach churns and he tries not to gag. She thought that he’d be in love with her too? After all the stunts she’s pulled? What kind of person did she think he is?

“I know, I know… ‘I don’t even know you’ and all that.” She rolls her eyes, flicking her dyed hair over her shoulder. “But what you don’t know, my love, is that I know plenty about you – everything – about you. I know what time you go to sleep, what your hobbies are, how many pets you have, all your brothers, and where you came from. I know the exact route you take to get home, I know your favourite food, your secrets, everything.”

She lets out an almost sad sigh as she says, “I just don’t know how you feel.”

“That’s an oxymoron,” Damian scowls, eyes narrowing to slits, “and I feel disgusted.”

Lilith laughs, and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard. “My naive little bird. I mean… physically.”

She’s close to him now, her face was in front of his and their noses are almost touching. Her free hand tiptoeing up his chest. He pulls away, baring his teeth in retaliation. 

She scoffs, “you put me on too low a pedestal, Damian, while you make her out to be an angel. Tell me, Robin, why is that?”

The boy spits back, “Someone like you could never understand.”

She scoffs in surprise. “Don’t tell me… you’re in love with her! Big, bad, Damian Wayne – Robin himself! – is in love with poor, little, Y/N.” Lilith laughs a manic, psychopathic laugh, and Damian suppresses every feeling of wanting to lash out and yell. She continues, “and to think of all the trouble that could happen if this little… scandal came out.”

Damian doesn’t hold back as he tries to lunge at her in anguish, the cold metal chains digging into the flesh of his wrists. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, but I would,” she smirks mockingly, and Damian watches in horror as she lifts your chin with the barrel of her gun. “Y/N was so nice to me, too… but she’s the one who’s taking you away from me.” Her eyes flash dangerously, “But if I can’t have you, no one can.”

She drops your chin, and Damian sucks in a breath of relief – at least now he had a little time to come up with a plan. His father should be here any minute, but she’s armed and dangerous. She has two hostages, himself and you. There’s a fire escape on his left, but it seems to be barred and chained, preventing any sort of escape. Damian swears silently to himself. He should have seen the signs. He could have prevented all of this but he didn’t. He knows exactly what you would say to him if you heard him – “it’s not your fault” and “you couldn’t have known”. 

Lilith chuckles darkly, “you should see your face! Your look of regret…” With a powerful swing, the hilt of her gun made contact with the side of Damian’s face. “Pathetic,” she muttered, and Damian watches as she checks her watch, a sinister smile stretching across her face. “Oh don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. I just have to get your father’s permission to be yours.”

She snorts, “not like it matters! You’ll be mine either way – especially if you value your life.”

His eyes widen, Father. Of course, all his father was doing was buying him some time. He watches as Lilith skips away, swinging the gun haphazardly as she leaves the rooftop. Now was his chance. Pressing a button on his watch, letting out a breath of relief at the feeling of the machine turning on, preparing for usage. Seconds later, he was free from his bonds, and he shook out his wrists, muttering quietly to himself, “thanks, Pennyworth.”

He rushes over to you, shaking your shoulders in an attempt to wake you up. “Come on, Y/N…”

A quiet, almost inaudible, groan squeezes past your lips and Damian’s heart relaxes. He got to work at your bonds, and they gave way relatively easily – the chains that were wrapped around your wrists were rustier than his. You fall forward into his arms, shaking you awake, and you grunt in discomfort. 

“Damian…?”

“Y/N…” He lets out a breath of relief, helping you up to your feet as you massage your temples. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You mumble, clutching your head as you adjusted to the bright city lights. “What’s- what’s going on?”

The boy pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, his gaze shifting to the barred fire escape. “You remember your friend Lilith?”

Your expression changes with the blink of an eye. “She did this? Are you okay? What did she do to you? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” He says gently, brushing some hair out of your eyes. “But that’s the least of our worries. We have to get out of here.”

“Damian, wait. You have to know what I heard.” You let out a breath, catching his arm. “When she knocked me out, she didn’t do a very good job at it. I went in and out of consciousness and- and I could hear everything.”

“What are you talking about?” Damian demands, holding your arms as he searches your eyes for an answer. “What do you mean?”

“She’s going to set the whole building on fire. She’s going to–” the words get caught in your throat and you shake your head in disbelief. “She’s going to burn us alive. Damian, there are people in here – civilians.”

The vigilante freezes at your words as he processes the severity of the situation. How many people could be in this building right now? There are around fifteen stories, from what he could tell, but it was already past the average working hours. Maybe five on each level? That’s still seventy-five people inside the building. He had no way to contact his father – Lilith and her lackeys decided to take his phone – and from the looks of it, you didn’t have anything on you either. 

From down below, he could hear the commotion of police officers with their loud sirens and bright lights. One of them was holding a megaphone, ready to state their claims, while firetrucks and police officers readied themselves if anything were to go wrong. 

“We need to get out of here and evacuate everyone,” Damian says, eyes flitting from the locked door and the officers on the ground. “I’m going to jump off the building.”

Your eyes budge out of your head at his words, snapping your head to look at him so quickly you got whiplash. “What do you mean you’re doing to jump off the building?” 

“There’s a hose next to the fire escape, we’ll use that. It’s bound by a metal fire reel and you’re going to hold onto it. I’ll scale down to the floor below us and break the glass. Then I’ll open up the fire escape.” He lets out a breath, blue-green eyes looking at you intently. “(Y/N), can you do that?”

“I-” you stammer, head reeling with the fact that you needed to support Damian, an almost 18-year-old who was mostly muscle and reached six foot two last Tuesday. “I- I don’t know, I’ve never–”

“(Y/N).” He says your name in a way you’ve never heard him say it before; with a softness and a kindness that sounded strange coming out of his mouth. “You can do it.”

You exhale, eyes shifting from the ground, to the hose, and finally to him. “Okay.”

He smiles, and you can tell it’s meant to be reassuring, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Okay.”

In moments, he’s attaching the hose to his belt loops and you’re testing the strength of the hose. The thick plastic is enough to give yourself a heart attack – what if itsn’t stable? What if it breaks? What if it unties? – but you have faith in Damian. He’s Robin; he can do this. You can do this. 

“On the count of three,” Damian says carefully, standing on top of the balcony wall. 

“One…” He tightens his hold on the hose. 

“Two…” You widen your stance against the brick safety wall that separates you and the 150 feet fall. 

“Three!” 

He begins to fall, and on his command, you grip the hose as tightly as possible, your feet digging against the wall. You feel him come to a stop and your heart lurches as you feel the pressure sink into your stomach. 

“I’m going to swing now!” You hear him yell and you wonder how his voice doesn’t waver. 

“Okay!” You scream back and your grip tighter. 

He swings, and you can feel weight of the hose shift with each movement. You’re praying now, you don’t know who’ll hear you, but you’re praying that he’ll be okay. 

Once, twice, three times he swings and finally, the fourth time you feel him swing back towards the building you hear a shatter. The glass gave way. He’s in the building. 

You’re still gripping onto the hose just in case until you hear him call, “I’m in!” 

The adrenaline is still pumping through your body, and you release the makeshift tether, collapsing backwards onto the harsh floor of the rooftop. ‘He’s okay,’ you repeat in your head, trying to calm the quickening pace of your heart. ‘He’ll be here soon. He’s going to evacuate everyone then we’re free. We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay, we’ll be okay, we’ll be okay…’

The rattling of the lock on the fire escape snaps you out of your thoughts and your heart quickens in your chest. ‘Please, please, please…’

Your gaze doesn’t shift from the door, begging to whatever higher entity there is that it’s Damian. And when the red metal door finally swings open so that your eyes meet with blue-green ones, you’ve never felt more relief in your life. 

“You’re okay.” You breathe, and you shake as you get back onto your feet, stumbling towards him. “You’re okay, you’re okay…”

He chuckles, reaching out and bringing you closer to his chest. “I’m okay. You did good.” His lips brush against your forehead and you can feel the tears in your eyes begin to fall. “You did really good.”

He pulls away from you, his gaze softening and he cups your face in his hands, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks. “We have to get out of here. I don’t know how long father can stall her for.” He pauses before continuing, “are you okay?”

You nod, head still spinning and heart still pounding in your chest. “I’m okay.”

“Let’s go.”

He doesn’t risk using the elevator, instead choosing to run down each flight of stairs and ordering for everyone to leave before the building to erupts into flames. The loud screams of the workers fill your ears as you continue to go down each floor of the skyscraper, but when you finally get to the lobby, everything seemed to be eerily quiet. 

“There’s no one here…” you pant, hands on your knees as try to catch your breath. From the corner of your eye, you can see the civilians running outside and being questioned by the police. Luckily, all were safely escorted outside while you and Damian trailed behind just in case someone was forgotten.

The crashing of a vase makes you whip around behind you, only to be met with the sinister eyes of Lilith herself. She lets out a strangled scream, her hands pulling at her hair as scrunched up her face. Her breaths heavy and her eyes narrowed dangerously into slits, she whips the gun from her belt, pointing at the two of you.  

“You!” She screeched, hands trembling. “You little bitch. You always want to make my life miserable!”

Damian pushes you behind him and you know what he’s really trying to say. Get out of here. But you know better than to leave him here by himself. 

“Always getting in my way,” Lilith rattles on, glaring at his actions. “Always acting as if you’re better than me. Well jokes on you! This building is going down, and you’re going down with it!”

“Lilith, let’s talk about this…” Damian says slowly, and he side eyes the exit. “You don’t have to do this.”

Another scream of anguish escapes from the girl, and she fires a shot into the air, hitting the ceiling. You jolt at the sound, eyes widening at the hole in the roof. 

Damian’s gaze darkens. “Drop the gun, Lilith.”

“I have to do this!” She screeched, hands trembling. “The building is about to catch on fire anyway! Burn in hell!”

“Lilith, you don’t need to do this!” You try, “we can–”

She lets out a laugh at your words. “There is no ‘we’ in this equation! And you’ll never understand because you get everything you want in life! So shut the fuck up!” 

The sound of something exploding from the floor above you makes you jump and you feel your heart jolt in your chest. Damian’s hands find yours as another explosion sounds. Bigger this time, and Lilith’s lips stretch to a wide grin. Smoke begins to billow from the doors and so does the fire. Another bang! on your left near the exit, and it promptly lights up with reds and oranges. Waiting area is quick to catch flames and the smoke fills your nose and lungs. 

“Ooh, it’s almost done! A few more explosions to go! You know, I thought you were going to be on the roof by the time I was done, so I rigged the whole thing to start at the top floor but…” She trails off, swinging the gun around again before meeting your eyes, “now I can watch you burn.”

Damian scoffs and he pushes you towards the exit. You start running just as he speaks, “Over my dead body.”

Lilith shrugs, lifting the gun and aiming it directly at the Wayne heir. “That could be arranged. But…” the smirk returns. “I’d rather kill her.” 

“Wait-” 

She doesn’t. Instead, she points the gun at you and fires. You try to move, you try to get out of the way. Your mind is screaming at your legs to do something – anything – to avoid getting shot. Damian is running after you, trying to take the bullet, but it’s too late. 

A searing pain burns through your abdomen and you press a hand to where the pain sits. Crimson stains your shirt and you look up. Your head is spinning and a metallic taste settles in your mouth. You stumble backwards, just in time to fall into Damian’s strong arms. A sharp beeping sound starts screaming in your ears along with Lilith’s loud cackling. In a quick movement, he picks you up and starts running out the door, only for the building to erupt in flames seconds later. Black spots line your vision and you see people in dark blue uniform surround you. Damian is yelling something, you can’t make sense of it, before he presses his forehead to yours. 

“You’ll be okay,” you hear him whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

You want to ask, ‘what are you sorry for? It wasn’t your fault.’ But as the noise starts and you feel someone take you away from him, the only thing you can do is close your eyes. 

*** 

“Thank you…” you mumble, taking the glass of warm water from Alfred. 

He smiles in return, “of course, Miss (Y/N). Let me know if there is anything else you require. I understand it must be difficult to be here.”

Your current situation involves one of the many spare rooms at Wayne Manor after your surgery, and despite how loud the manor usually was on your visits, the area Alfred placed you in was all too quiet. In fact, you would think that the entire family was avoiding you – best friend included. 

“It’s okay. Thank you for letting me stay here.” 

“It is our pleasure to have you here,” Alfred responds graciously, and you know he isn’t lying. “I’ll have Miss Barbara change your bandages tomorrow if that is alright. Ring the bell if you require any assistance.”

“Thank you, Alfred. And you know you can just call me (Y/N) right?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I am aware. However, I believe that calling you Miss (Y/N) is more suitable.”

With that, he bids you adieu, and you’re once again left to your own devices. The silence of the room has you shivering despite the warm cup in your hand. The books you half-finished lay haphazardly on the bedside table, and the tv on the other side of the room deemed itself to be useless when you’ve watched every good Netflix show in the past two and a half weeks. 

You glance at the clock; fifteen past one. You would usually be asleep at this time, but it hasn’t always been easy. The pain medications make you drowsy, sure, but the feeling of sleep doesn’t wash over you like it once did. Before Lilith. 

The newspaper sits on your bed, the front cover bearing words you so desperately wanted to read. ‘The perpetrator who kidnapped the youngest son of Bruce Wayne alongside local teenage girl pronounced dead in skyscraper fire’. To you, those words released the weight from your shoulders. You didn’t have to be scared anymore. You shouldn’t have to be scared anymore. But you were. No one in the Wayne family, except for Alfred and Barbara, have spoken to you since the incident. To be fair, Dick was in Bludhaven and was probably still caught up in his work to even notice what was going on in Gotham. Jason hasn’t been to the manor in a while doing some sort of undercover mission. Tim was with Stephanie on a mission (to Greece, of all places!) while Cass came and went as she pleased. But out of all of them, you would have at least expected for Damian to show up – even if it was just for a moment. 

The quiet creaking of the door lulls you out of your thoughts, and your eyes widen at the sight of the person in front of you. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Neither do you. But like everything, the silence must be broken. 

“You should be asleep,” Damian says curtly, stepping out of the doorway. 

A scoff exits your voice. “You shouldn’t have to wait for me to fall asleep to visit me.”

He flinches at your tone, a tone that you’ve never taken with him, and he closes the door. “I didn’t think you would have wanted to see me.”

Anger replaces your faux disappointment and you shoot him an icy glare. “I was knocked out, kidnapped, almost a victim of arson, shot, and you don’t think I would have wanted to see you?!”

You throw the covers off of you, stumbling as you stepped over to him. “I almost died, Damian, and you didn’t think I wanted to see me best friend?” Your chest aches and you can’t tell if it was from the gunshot or from your heart. “You thought I didn’t want to see the person who went through the same thing as I did?!” 

You jab a finger at his chest, tears falling down your face, blurring your vision; you can’t see his reaction. “I saw you jump off the fucking roof! You jumped off the roof and- and-” you swallow the lump in your throat. “You could have died! We could have died and you avoided me! I haven’t seen you in weeks, Damian! You could have been dead for all I know! And the last time I saw you was the second before the doctors took me and-”

He gently brings you into his arms, effectively rendering you speechless with surprise. With his arms wrapped securely around your waist and his nose against your jaw, you wonder if this really is the same Damian you knew before the incident. 

“I’m so sorry,” He breathes, pulling away to look you sincerely in the eyes. “This never should have happened, I– (Y/N), I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me–” he scoffs in protest but you continue, “–you saved me.”

He shakes his head adamantly, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again. “You shouldn’t have needed saving in the first place. You got hurt out of my own inadequacy and my own misjudgments. You got shot because of my incapabilities and foolishness. None of this should have happened.”

“No.” The word comes out harsher than intended but you speak nonetheless. “Lilith fooled everyone. It’s not your fault she did what she did. And you saved me, Damian. You saved so many people that day. Without you, none of them would have made it out of the building. We wouldn’t be here right now. You got us out of that mess – a mess that you didn’t make.”

He’s quiet for a moment, gently leading you to your bed to sit down and he sits besides you. He dries your tears with his thumbs, cupping your face gently with his palms as he does so. 

“You shouldn’t have to look at a failure.”

“Dames, you’re the furthest thing from a failure.” You rest a hand over his, gently stroking the back of his hand with your thumb. “You’re a hero.”

You press your forehead against his and you feel him lean into your touch. “I love you.” He whispers, not an ounce of shame or guilt or embarrassment in his words. “I love you so much.”

You smile, your heart bursting in your chest at his words. “I know. I love you, too.”

reblogs are always appreciated!!

no hate to people who have the name lilith 😭😭