#Hope to meet more people and that I can be better socially!

[sickeddyville]

In Your Arms

Pair: zayne x reader

Prompt: you moved into a new city, but everything is a reminder of him

Genre: Angst, Hurt, Comfort

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: strong emotional scene, physical intimacy (slight making out), zayne's evol slightly getting out of hand.

Note: sorry yall (not srry) its still angst (hehe), but trust they will meet again🙂‍↕���. This is my first time posting stories, ty guys for reading it!! I hope u guys enjoyed this series 🩵🩵

Part 1 | Part 2

You stepped off the train, your heart still pounding in your chest as you adjusted to the steady atmosphere of the terminal. You had done what you thought was necessary. What you believed was the best for the both of you.

The bright lights of the terminal and the busy sounds of people moving around you felt like they were in a different world, one that didn't quite match what you were feeling. You had told yourself that you'd be free here, But every corner, every step forward only made you feel more distant from yourself.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You had hoped for peace, to breathe without thinking about what had happened—what you'd left behind. But there was no escape from reality. Zayne's name flashed on the screen, and with a shaky breath, you ignored it.

But it didn't stop. The messages kept coming, and the little pinging sound seemed to echo in your mind, gnawing at your thoughts like a constant reminder of him. He wasn't letting go.

♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡

It had been a week since I left, I had changed everything–my phone number, my socials– everything that could possibly lead Zayne back to me. I even talked to Tara, just in case he asks her about my whereabouts. I couldn't bear the thought of him finding me. It was better this way.

Winter had finally come and the streets are blanketed in snow and ice.

I stepped into the warm cafe, hoping the warmth of a hot chocolate might just be the one to distract me, even for a little while. As I browsed the menu, a young couple caught my attention. They stood a few feet away, their laughter soft and carefree.

"What do you think we should get?" the girl asked, her eyes scanning the display.

The guy leaned in, his gaze settling on the colorful tray of macarons. "The macarons look tasty," he said with a grin.

My chest tightened, the words striking a nerve I didn't expect. Zayne loves macarons, always eyeing them whenever we passed by a bakery. He'd get a box and insist we share, though he'd always end up eating most of them. I shook my head, forcing myself to move on.

As I stepped out of the cafe, I took a sip of my drink, but it did little to nothing in comforting me against the biting chill of the air.

Ahead of me, a little boy tugged on his mother's coat, his tiny voice cutting through the cold air.

"Mom, can I have a popsicle? Please?" His mother stopped in her tracks, turning to him with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "A popsicle? Are you serious? It's freezing out here!" she scolded.

The boy pouted, crossing his arms. "But I really want one," he muttered under his breath, "Not a chance," his mother replied firmly, taking his hand and pulling him along. "We'll get something warm when we're home."

I couldn't help the faint smile tugging at my lips, as I continued walking, the cold biting harder with every step. My thoughts swirled with the past I was desperately trying to leave behind, the memories I couldn't seem to shake. I tugged my scarf tighter around my neck, quickening my pace towards my apartment.

Macarons, Popsicle, Snow, Ice, Zayne— I froze mid-step, my breath catching in my throat. For a moment, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But when I looked again, there he was. Standing by the gate of my small apartment, hands shoved in his coat pockets

My heart stopped, and panic surged through me like fire in my veins. He noticed me and I marched toward him, with each step heavy and cold.

"What are you doing here?" My voice shaking with frustration and something else-something I couldn't quite place.

"Shall we go inside?" he asked gently, like he hadn't just ruined everything I'd worked so hard to build over the past week.

I didn't want him here. Not now. I needed him to leave. So I repeated, "You're not supposed to be here."

He ignored my words completely, as if they didn't matter to him. He let himself in and held the gate for me. Knowing this is a battle I can't win, I lead the way in defeat.

I opened the door and let him in, the air between us growing thick. As he sank into the couch, I stood my ground, keeping my distance. My face remained unreadable, hiding any trace of emotion.

"Come back home with me" he said his voice gentle but firm.

Frustration bubbled up inside me. This wasn't supposed to be happening. "Leave," I said, trying to sound firm, but it cracked as I spoke, betraying the fear and pain I had been holding inside. "Please..."

He didn't even acknowledge what I said. His eyes were full of that familiar, unwavering determination, and he stood up and took another step closer. "Should I help you pack or...?"

"Zayne" I interrupted, my voice barely above a whisper, as I backed away, but he just closed the distance instantly, reaching out to touch my arm.

I shoved him with all my frustration going forward, "Why are you doing this to me?" He caught my wrists easily, pulling me against his chest.

"Why don't you listen to me?" I cried, trashing against him, yet his hands held firm and steady, as if my struggle meant nothing to him.

"Just. Leave. Me. Be!" Each word came with a punch, my fists colliding with his chest in desperate defiance. But his hold only tightened, encircling me with a grip that left me no room to escape.

I'm exhausted, my knees giving up, and the tears start streaming, hot and fast, burning down my cheeks. I stopped fighting. I was unable to hold it together anymore. It all came crashing down.

He held me tightly, not letting go, as if he was trying to keep me from breaking any further.

"I dont care about what has happened or what's about to come." "But I need you, Y/N. My life does not serve a single purpose without you in it." he whispered, his voice full of raw emotion. In that moment, all I could do was cry.

I didn't know how to say what was in my heart. I didn't know how to tell him that this was never about not wanting him, but about wanting him too much.

He held me gently but insistent, like he was grounding me, holding me together. And for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything could be okay.

"I'm not going anywhere," Zayne murmured softly, his breath warm against my hair. "No matter what you think, I'm not leaving, not without you."

I'm crying uncontrollably against him. I couldn't help it anymore. I realized that nothing had changed. We were still stuck in this tangled mess of fate, the curse looming over us, and the future uncertain.

Yet in that moment, in his arms, I felt as though I could hold onto him forever—as if it made the world pause, and I might never have to let him go.

♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡--♡

Zayne moved around the apartment like it was his home, adjusting things here and there as though trying to make it feel like it wasn't just a place I had escaped into. He was patient with me, never pushing for answers I wasn't ready to give.

He seemed to understand the space I needed, but I knew, deep down, he was waiting for me to speak, to finally say what was in my heart.

Later that night, as we sat together on the couch, the silence was finally broken. Zayne turned to me, his gaze soft yet serious, his voice low.

"We'll figure this out," Zayne added, his voice thick with emotion. "Together."

"If you're scared I'm going to run away again... I won't." I chuckled softly, the tension in my chest easing just a little. "Probably not anymore," I said, my attempt at humor faltering slightly as I added, "I mean, there's no point. You'll find me anyway."

Zayne didn't laugh. Instead, his expression softened, and he placed his hands gently over mine. "I'm serious, Y/N. No more games. Stay with me. Please." His voice was so sincere, so filled with emotion, that it broke something inside me.

I inched closer, my breath catching in my throat. His eyes searched mine, a quiet plea in them. Slowly, I cupped his face, my thumb brushing across his cheeks.

He leaned into my touch, his breath hitching. And then, as if the world around us had melted away, he closed the distance between us, his lips crashing against mine. As he suddenly shifted forward, making me lie back on the couch beneath him, his hands moved to the back of my head, cushioning it. His weight settled on top of me, his body pressing into mine.

I kissed him back, tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer, trying to merge our bodies into one.

The kiss wasn't gentle–no, it was urgent, as though he couldn't wait any longer to feel me, to know I was still here, still with him. His lips were insistent, demanding, but there was softness too, a silent confession of the love he holds for me.

I weave my hands into his hair as I pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, and it felt like every part of me was drawn to him, as if this kiss was the only thing that could fill the empty space between us.

We pulled away for a second, our foreheads barely apart. Quickly, our lips found each other again– It was more than just a need, it was instinct; clinging to the connection that felt as vital as air we breath.

Suddenly, Zayne pulled away. We're both panting for air, and that's when I saw it–the snowflakes drifting softly around us. His evol...

"Zayne, are you okay?" I asked, my voice soft but urgent.

His eyes met mine, still flickering with an icy storm, but he shook his head slightly. "I'm fine," he said, his voice low and strained. "Did I hurt you?"

I frowned, I sat up, my hands gripping his shoulders tighter. "No, But your evol-"

"Don't worry," he said quickly, brushing off my concern as if it were nothing. "It'll be fine in a few moments"

I shifted closer, our knees brushing, I cupped his face and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes, his breath uneven as he tried to steady himself. I gave his hands a gentle squeeze before standing and reaching for him. "Come on," I said softly, tugging him toward me. "Let's go to bed, Zayne. You need to rest."

As we lay down, his arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me close.

"Goodnight, Zayne," I murmured, my head resting against his chest, "Goodnight, my love" he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

The snowflakes drifts slower and slower until they vanished entirely, dissolving into thin air like a fleeting memory. His body slowly warming up and his breath becoming steady.

As the night settled into quiet stillness, Zayne, always so aware, still held me close, his arms around me tight, as if fearing I would slip away if he let go. His grip was firm, yet tender, and it was the kind of hold that spoke of both reassurance and fear.

I lay there, my head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His breathing slowed, the tension in his body easing as he drifted off, but his arms remained securely wrapped around me, unwilling to let me go. It was almost as if, in his sleep, he was making sure that I was truly there and safe.

I tried to move, to adjust the pillow beneath me, but his hold only tightened. A quiet, soft murmur escaped his lips, something like a plea in whisper, but the words were too faint to make out. His body was warm against mine, and I felt the weight of the night settle around us, a heavy comfort I never wanted to leave.

I didn't protest, didn't try to pull away, knowing that his need for closeness–his silent need for security–was just as real as mine.

Slowly, sleep began to claim me as well, but before I fully surrendered, I pressed my hand gently over his, letting him know I was still there, still holding on.

In the quiet darkness, we found peace, bound together by something far stronger than any past, any curse, or any fear.

[nymphrasis]

Drawings are paused for a good bit, mostly because I want to both focus on working some gift art for Crimmus towards a few people ( I am hoping to possibly do more? Depends if I have the time to squeeze in more peeps to do art of >w< ) and I want to try to game more ( Since while I did play games this year, I have done a majority of my focus with art, game script, and irl life stress. Things have calmed down yesyes and I have slowly been gaming more this month, which has been a real good destressor! )! Esp since I got two new games, that being Eastward and Granblue Fantasy: Relink ^3^! Have yet to decide which to play first hehe >w<.

Really would like to try to do a bit less art for just a short bit! Mostly just to focus on other enjoyments nwn/. Not for super long. Just for a few days or so really!

I do want to say a few more things! 1) I am not ignoring any inbox messages! I have read them and didn't post just yet! I always read the messages that pops in whenever I log on >w<! There is already still one pending, which is to do fanart of another blog <3! I do still want to really do that one but I have been putting off on it ( It is a blogger who I super like too :D ). 2) Should all else goes well, later this month I should be able to move to my grandmother's place. I won't say the full details of what are the problems. Just feel that being away from something that hasnt been making me feel well mentally is a better move than to remain ^ ^". 3) I hope to make it a goal where I do more fanart and socialize with people more! I want to have that self improvement of talking with more new and old people ;w;! It has slowly gotten better and I hope to continue on with this process! Heck, I was even thinking of doing irl community activities to help with social confidence! I really want to rework on my groove, to be that social butterfly again ;w;. Because that was a trait that I really miss having like back then.

[katyspersonal]

Lrb honestly one of the most important things I've learned in this fandom is to not worry about "being annoying" or "worrying people".

I've been asking literally every person I could think of, to the point I should earn infamy amongst Soulsborne dataminers as that autist you really hope you won't attract the attention of XD And yet, one person DID answer my request for checking every Dark Souls 1 NPC properly and clarifying the three that supposedly don't have faces! Not only Rayan was so kind despite (what seems like) Dark Souls 1 being tedious to hack, but we even discovered curious unused content character and extra lore for Lautrec! But even just faces should have been shot properly a DECADE ago!

And that would not have happened, had I gave up after several times of receiving cicada noises on my questions, even from people who normally talked to me! Just remember to never give up, there is always a person who will help just because they can!

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent lounging babey images

[viro-lil-goat]

I really hope this reaches more people, I'm only reposting this information from Instagram, the least that I can do. (Update: I changed their upbringing as it appears to have been listed wrong) Wiki page

When I just saw this information I couldn't stop crying thinking about it, and now my heart aches. They were the same age as me, I know for a fact like any other teen they dreamt of their future, who they would want to become, what to achieve, create, wondering if they meet those in the future they can call friends, wondeting if it'll get better when they grow up, maybe wished to leave that terrible place or maybe wanted to stay. How could anyone let this happen, why were they discharged from hospital so easily? And the school, we all know why. I hate to think about how, even with all the progress made, these things still happen.

"murdered schoolgirl Brianna Ghey on February 16, 2023. Candlelit vigils are being held across the UK this week for Brianna Ghey, 16, who was stabbed at Linear Park in Culcheth, Cheshire last Saturday. Brianna was a transgender girl and police are now investigating her killing as a hate crime. A boy and girl, both 15, have been charged with her murder"

An article that explains trans hate crime murders as on 2023

I hate everyone who have ever committed such vile hate crimes, I wish them in prison and hell. But i would never go down to their level. But I also blame the government, the school, and even those bigoted online accounts that teach their followers hate. In this case LibsOfTikTok, who targeted the teacher of this school, who supports lgbtq+, so they had to leave their position. It must have been the push for this to happen. I think their tiktok account has been thankfully deleten. But i have no idea about Twitter or any other. Please check and mass report them if it still exists. (Link to Instagram reel that this information is from)

ADDITION, PLEASE MASS REPORT THESE ACCOUNTS

[kitimeq]

surprise encounter 🤍 sylus 秦

pairing: sylus x reader

summary: You’ve been playing love&deepspace ever since the game came out and it became your comfort place now. You like all of the boys, but you have the highest affinity with sylus, who had your heart in a grasp ever since the beginning. Who would’ve thought that he shares the sentiment? And after your monthly absence from the game, he decides to pay you a little visit and finally confess to all of it (and maybe kind of try to kidnap you in the process too oho).

tropes: fluff, angst to fluff, fluff to angst to fluff? fluff to angst to fluff to angst to fluff???? idk angst with happy ending!

word count: no idea, it goes on for days sorry. (7k!!)

warning!: i apologize for any mistakes, i am not a native speaker of english!! if you see any errors you can write me a dm and i will correct them for sure ♡ and i think it gets better later! i can’t write for shi, especially the beginnings, and the second part was fueled by my delulu so it is probably much more fun to read 🤍

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

You liked days like these: quiet days, lazy ones, when you didn’t have any errands to run, meetings to attend, or people to please. You could just stay inside for the whole day, reading your favorite books and playing cozy games, spending your time however you wanted. Today was Saturday and you didn’t have to go to work until Monday and you decided that you finally deserved to have some rest after the last couple of weeks of almost working yourself to the bone due to the amount of the assingments you had to complete at work. You often had to stay after hours or work from home to complete everything in time. Your work was not usually that challenging, but there were certain times of the year when everyone at your job had their hands full and when it happened, you were almost completely cut off not only from your social, but also personal life. However, you never complained, because you actually liked what you were doing, and even if the occasional hard times were inevitable, your work brought you so much fun and satisfaction.

And today was a good day! You finally finished everything you had to do, so you could go back to your favourite game. You didn’t have time to play recently due to the amount of work, up to the point that you didn’t even bother to check in to grab some stamina. Usually, love&deepspace was an important part of your day - you logged in there at least twice a day, completed every task thrown your way and had a blast doing so, but these couple of weeks were so hard for you that you almost forgot about it completely. But even if you were too busy, you thought about the boys from time to time, as well as about the events that you were probably missing out on. You really hoped that if some new events had taken place during that time, that they did not involve Sylus, because if you had missed them, you would be slightly devastated.

Sylus was your favorite. Ever since the beginning, there was something about him that caught your attention. You downloaded the game after his announcement and haven’t looked back since. You played with other boys as well, but your time with Sylus was always the most memorable. Not only was he extremely attractive in your eyes, as well as the eyes of other players around the world, but you also understood his character, adored his little jokes and mannerisms, and could safely say that he made your life a little more exciting. You knew that it probably sounded lame to someone who didn’t play such games, and you were aware that he wasn’t real, but you enjoyed yourself regardless. In your real life, you had some experience with men and were pretty popular among them; however, you never felt comfortable enough to form more serious romantic relationships.

Here, with Sylus, you didn’t have to worry about such things. You were aware that he was only a game character and maybe that was why you were so honest with him from the very beginning. You knew that he wouldn’t judge you, misstreat you or make you miserable - he was created in a way that was supposed to make your playthrough enjoyable so you didn’t have to worry about your responses in the messages for him or your real life reactions to everything he said or did. You could just be yourself. And you loved how freeing that felt.

That is why you felt so excited ever since you woke up. Because you knew that today you could finally go back to playing l&d, and you could meet up with your Sylus after so much time apart. You quickly did your chores, spent some time on self-care to slightly relieve the fatigue from the weeks before, you put on your favourite cozy outfit and finally clicked the ”enter game” button.

And there he was. Sylus was standing in the cafe, wearing his extremally attractive biker outfit and you caught yourself sighing dreamily at the sight of him. You missed him so bad, you missed the little memories you shared and the sound of his voice. You missed playing kitty cards with him, catching plushies together and even looking for that bastard Tobias again and again. You couldn’t help but smile brightly at him.

“Hi Sylus, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” You said cheerfully, feeling kind of dumb for it but you couldn’t help yourself. You often talked out loud to him during your playtime.

You watched him blink slowly once, then twice, and you started to think that there was something wrong with the server because his response should have already been uttered. But then the look on his face changed. At first, he appeared really shocked and relieved, but then a little frown appeared between his perfect little eyebrows.

“Where the hell have you been?” He responded quickly and it shocked you. You didn’t know that they could swear in the game, but after connecting some dots you figured that it had to be included in the special responses after the player was away for some time.

“At work mostly, been so busy lately but now I’m back and ready to defeat some Wanderers!!” You fist bumped the air above you, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

You also noticed that his expression stayed the same. He was silent, looking at you through your phone screen with bewilderment, and he looked almost hurt. In an attempt to provide some comfort to him, you swiped your finger gently through his hair and across his cheek. However, when you touched his cheek, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into your finger, which made you widen your eyes in surprise. Was that always a thing? Was he always so responsive to your touch? It had to be a new feature; you didn’t remember him being so lively.

“Next time you decide to leave me without a word, I think I’m going to take more drastic measures, sweetie” He said while opening his eyes. You couldn’t help but notice he did look different than usual. More… realistic? Even the way in which he moved his body looked so smooth.

“If not for Mephisto, I would have worried sick about your safety. You can't do this to me every time you have more work than usual; you have to visit me, even if it's just for a minute. I won't exaggerate when I say that I almost went insane after the first week of your cruel silence” And at that you were completely stunned. Should he talk this much? He never talked this much. And how could he know that you had more work than usual? Was that a lucky guess on the studio’s side?

“That’s so weird…” You whispered and touched his hand to trigger some kind of reaction that would appear more usual than what was happening right now.

“Is that your way of catching me of guard? If you wanted to hold my hand so badly kitten, then you would have visited me sooner. I will not let myself be distracted by your cute little behavior” He raised the hand you touched and crossed his arms at his chest, while continuing to frown. And you were still so, so confused.

“Promise me that you won’t leave me again, I know where to find you now.” You raised your eyebrows and bit your lip gently. You started to feel a little bit out of place, you knew that he was not real, but he sounded kind of scary. His voice was demanding, and the part about him finding you? You shivered involuntarily.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue, kitten? Or did you finally understood the selfishness of your actions?” Sylus continued and you opened your mouth in awe. “Promise. Me.” He said slowly, his gaze unnerving. Suddenly you heard a series of loud caws outside on your balcony. The sound made you jump in place, and you dropped your phone on your bed. Was that a freaking crow?? Outside your apartament???

You quickly picked up your phone and cursed softly. You were going insane. You got scared just because the game had an update you did not know about. You almost wanted to laugh at how stupid that was. Almost. Because Sylus walked up to the front of your phone screen and spoke to you again.

“Why are you hesitating? Are you really planning to leave me again?” You swore you never heard him so hurt.

“No!” You said before you could think.

“No?” He answered immediately, which scared the hell out of you. “I am not sure I believe you. And I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being away from you anymore.” He took two steps back and closed his eyes.

That was when the game crashed. Your phone appeared to be broked too, after the colourful lines appeared on the screen, flickered a couple of times and the whole screen turned black. You threw the device away from you and your heart started beating so fast you could hear the blood pulsing in your ears. You were so confused and genuinely scared. Was there an update that switched the genre of the game to horror? You were stunned.

And then you heard the knock.

You almost jumped out of your slippers. You brought your hand to your heart in order to calm yourself down and you started taking slow, deep breaths. It’s just a game. It’s just a game. Besides, how did Sylus, of all people, managed to scare you so badly? You adored that character, and you should know that he was prone not only to exaggeration, but also to intimidating behavior. That was literally one of his characteristics. So you forced yourself to calm down and opened the damn door, because it was probably either a mailman, or one of your friendly neighbors, and here you were making a scene like some kind of a delusional psychopath.

One. Two. Three.

You opened the door, and at first all you could see was a huge cloud of black mist. You closed your eyes in order to keep the mist from clouding your vision and then you felt wind pushing you gently further into your apartament. You heard the door close and the sound of the key turning in the lock. Everything happened so fast. And when you opened your eyes your knees almost buckled.

Sylus.

Sylus was all you could see. He was standing in front of you, in your own apartament, looking so out of place that you wanted to laugh. The first thing that you noticed about him was that he was huge, you couldn’t really see past him, and the more you looked at him, the more real he appeared to be. Soft-looking silver hair, rugged skin, that perfect nose and those piercing eyes. They looked into yours now, and at first they seemed to be searching for something, and after one quick second they visibly softened. You could also see how his handsome, oh so handsome mouth started to display his signature little smirk. And that was when you started to tremble.

“W-wha—” You tried to say something, anything but your mouth was not working. You have never been so confused and scared in your entire life. “Who—W-who are—” He was starting to close the distance between you and that is when the panic finally took over your body. You flinched and went to take a step back, but you slipped on your soft carpet.

Yet you didn’t fall. You felt the gentle caress of the mist that managed to caught you before you hit the ground, and it streightened your posture so that now you stood tall in front of the man.

“Careful kitten, I do not think that falling on four feet applies to you.” He spoke out loud for the first time and the voice was so familiar to you. It was the same, deep, husky timbre that you loved to hear, the same voice that made you squeal in happiness, that lulled you to sleep countless of times. You couldn’t believe it.

“Oh my god, am I dead?” He laughed softly at your reaction and looked at you through his lashes. “This can’t be happening.”

”Oh but it is. I knew that I would find my way to you, I just needed time.” He said and tried to close the distance between you, but you didn’t let him. Every step forward he took, you took one back. “It was so hard to find you. But after you disappeared without saying a word I think I got desperate.” Something flashed in his eyes. You recognized it as determination.

He stopped walking when he noticed that you were getting too close to the balcony. He straightened his posture, and you almost released a gasp. He was huge. And he was real. Alive and so, so real, that you had trouble breathing. You were so scared, but at the same time, so happy to see him, that your body didn’t know how it should react. You just looked at him, taking him in, trying to assess whether it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you, or if it wasn’t some random man breaking into your apartment and your brain had created a new, fantastic defense mechanism. But no, the longer you took him in, the more similarities you managed to notice: the scar in the corner of his eye, his unevenly clipped fingernails, strong but dry hands, olive skin, slim lips, long, slightly furrowed eyebrows. The not-so-hidden gentleness in his gaze as he was taking you in himself.

“It’s really you.” You managed to breathe out.

“You’re so beautiful.” He answered and his voice was slowly starting to make you feel these familiar butterflies. “So, so magnificent.” He continued. You felt your cheeks heat up and he seemed to drink that reaction in. “Will you talk to me more? You sound angelic. I did not think that you could sound even better than you did through the phone but I guess you will never fail to surprise me, sweetheart.” He did not move an inch. He just looked at you, and you still didn’t know how to react, but you were slowly coming to terms with the fact that it was not a weird dream. He was here and he didn’t appear to have bad intentions. At least you wanted to believe that.

“You’re still trembling. Are you really that scared of me?” He pressed his lips into a line.

“I’m sorry. I just… I’m just not sure what is happening. I had no idea you were… real.” He laughed softly at that.

“You wound me, kitten. Is that your way of unleashing your little claws?” He continued with a small smile on his lips and you couldn’t take it. He looked… stressed. And you thought that was new for him. You spend so many hours playing with him in l&d but you have never seen him so stressed.

Everything that came out of his mouth was slow and precise, not a word was spoken without a purpose. However you could see by his appearance that he was uncertain.

“Of course I’m real. And all the time we spent together is real too. Was it so wrong of me to expect that you would be at least a little bit happier to see me?” He was starting to look hurt. But not angry, not displeased. More concerned than anything, and that was when most of your worries started to disappear. He was your Sylus. He really was.

“I am happy to see you. I really am.” You said truthfully, the fear slowly dissolving. “What are you doing here? How did it happen?”

“When you left me, I was worried to death. I had to come see that you were alright for myself.” He said, not taking his eyes off of you. “I found a path between our worlds, and first I sent Mephisto after you. And that was how I knew you were fine, just busy.” He started explaining slowly and put two fingers at the bridge of his nose. This gesture was so familiar that you felt a slight pang in your chest. “Which l understand. But you stopped visiting completely and I panicked that I lost you. And that you lost your interest in me. And when you logged in today I guess I just lost control over myself.”

“I had to see you. I had to feel you. I needed to know that you will never leave me like that again. But how could I be so sure if you thought I was not real, sweetie?” His voice carried a hint of a ridicule. He smirked slowly and you allowed yourself to relax. You spend so much time with him on your phone, that you knew when he really needed reassurance. And it was the first time you saw him being so honest about his own feelings.

You decided to step closer to him and his eyes widened slightly. His body tightened because of the sudden change in proximity, and when you gently touched his hand bringing it to your mouth, he appeared to be rendered speechless.

“I would never leave you, Sy. At least not without saying goodbye first. You are my safe space, remember?” You said quietly and smiled at him brightly, reminding him of what you had written in your game bio. And then you brought his knuckles to your lips and placed a soft kiss upon them. His hands were much warmer than you expected them to be. They felt harsh, but gentle.

The next thing you heard was a soft grunt and you felt yourself being suddenly lifted in the air. You yelped and found yourself pressed against his big, solid chest. Sylus hugged your body to his by wrapping both of his arms around your torso, and when he realized that you weren’t comfortable, he put one hand under your thighs and brought your body to his by your waist. You let your arms wrap around his neck and squeezed, and he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale your scent and his breath became rigged, as if he could not contain his excitement. You also became familiar with his scent. He smelled so manly and comforting, you could catch some notes of wood and leather, and something surprisingly sweet.

“You smell divine. You’re so soft, so warm.” He breathed against your neck and you felt goosebumps spreading throughout your whole body. You were so embarrassed, you felt like you needed to release some tension.

“I did not expect you to be so open with me. You’re usually the teasing type.” He chucked deeply and put his forehead against yours, while closing his eyes. Your cheeks burned. You couldn’t believe it wasn’t a dream.

“There will be a time for teasing you, kitten.” He rubbed his forehead against yours slowly. “Right now let me enjoy you for a bit. I can’t believe I finally got to see you.” He squeezed you harder to him. You reciprocated the hug with all you had. You were actually kind of scared that your grip was too hard, but he seemed to bask in it. “Communicating through that small device was not nearly enough for me. I could always see you and I heard your little responses to everything I was saying. But it took me some time to figure out how to change some things up.” Your eyes went wide at the mention of your reactions, you knew that a lot of times there were beyond embarrassing, but you decided your blush to speak for itself. But what truly caught your attention was how he managed to appear in your home.

“Change things up?? You must have made such a mess, will it really be okay?” The concern in your voice made him look up and find your eyes with his. You were now looking at his beautiful red ones, so full of adoration and determination. You could see that the consequences of his actions did not matter to him at all.

“Sweetie, I would gladly burn the world down for you, even if it meant that I could see you just once.” You swallowed audibly and proceeded to shy away from his piercing gaze. You started to feel unworthy of such attention, you couldn’t quite grasp what exactly made him care about you to such extend. “Fortunately for everyone, the process did not involve starting an intergalactic war.” He smirked slowly, his eyes finding your lips and staying there for much longer than necessary. “Yet.”

You chuckled at that and proceeded to bury your fingers in his hair, stroking the strands with care. They were so soft to the touch, they reminded you of silk. He closed his eyes and let you touch him to your heart’s content. Your hand quickly found its way to his forehead, and then to his cheek, stroking the skin delicately. You couldn’t believe how someone so handsome could really exist.

“See something you like, kitten?” He said and nuzzled into your palm, pressing a kiss right there. ”You will have all the time in the world to touch me when we arrive in the N109 Zone.” He seemed so peaceful, so content with himself, but the mention of the N109 Zone stopped you in your tracks. You tensed visibly and he opened his eyes, noticing the change in your posture.

“The N109 Zone?” You asked puzzled. “Are you taking me away for a weekend?” You took your hand from his face and he used his Evol to bring it back to his cheek. The mist around your fingers felt weird, but not unpleasant.

“For a weekend? No, no.” He locked his eyes with yours, his head slowly closing the distance between you. He licked his lips and looked at your mouth once again. “I am taking you away forever.” And before his lips managed to touch yours, you flinched. Your hands quickly pushed him away and the panic returned to your features.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I meant what I said. Pack your bags if you believe there is something that I cannot provide for you quickly enough, and we will be off shortly.” He said matter of factly, kind of annoyed by the distance you decided to put between you. “Luke and Kieran have already prepared a room for you, although I think that you will have more than enough space for your belongings in mine.” His eyes brightened with excitement that you unfortunately could not share. Instead, you lightly pushed his torso, making him lower you to the ground grudgingly. His brows were once again furrowed.

“I can’t go with you Sylus. At least, not for forever”

“You can. We can stay together for the rest of our lives and no one would have any objections. I took care of everything.” He reached to grab your forearm and stroked it softly with his thumb. He was so sure of everything he was saying that you could feel how much he let himself get lost in his fantasy. It did make you feel wanted, loved even. But no matter how happy you were that he was real, and apparently shared your feelings, you couldn’t agree to his plan.

“No, Sylus. I need to stay here, I have built my whole life in this place.” You could feel how much your words shocked him. He was looking at you so puzzled as if he didn’t think that you declining his offer was even an option. “I can’t leave everything that I managed to achieve, I really am content with my life, despite how complicated it can be.” You said truthfully. A part of you wanted to go with him, to feel safe and cherished for, for the rest of your life but you knew that was not realistic. You wanted to achieve more, you wanted to have your own life and your own space. You needed to be independent, to feel that you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself and your own needs.

“I do not understand. Don’t you want to be with me?” It pained you how quickly he jumped to that conclusion. And you hated the look on his face - it made you feel like you were betraying him.

”I do want to! Oh my god— I really, really do want to Sylus. I don’t think that I can live without spending time with you anymore.” You smiled at him, and took hold of his huge, rugged hand. “But I can’t live with you in the N109 Zone. I can’t leave my whole life behind.” And the fact that he wanted to make you do that somewhat scared you. Made you feel distressed.

“I see.” He sounded deep in thought. Then, he broke the eye contact for a second, looked at his hand in your hold and before you could even react, he grabbed your body gently with his Evol and picked you up. Your whole body was above ground and although you felt secured, you looked at him with surprise.

“What are you doing?” You wanted to get free from the hold of the mist, but it was impossible with how tight it was. “Sylus, you have to let me go.” You tried not to panic, you knew that you weren’t in danger. But he looked relentless, unforgiving as if his mind was already set in stone.

“No. I can’t. Not now when I finally got to have you.” He looked up at you, with his eyebrows still furrowed, and you could hear a hint of a growl in his voice. “If you do not wish to go with me, I guess I would have to take you by force.”

It was then that you felt a sense of panic. You knew him, and you knew that if he wants something, he always gets it. It just did not cross your mind that he would ever go against your own wishes.

“No. No, no, no, Sylus, please calm down.” He narrowed his eyes and stood motionless before you, his face devoid of almost any emotion. Almost, if not for the desperation shining through his watchful eyes. “You cannot take me away. At least not for now. But I will do anything you ask me to! You can also stay here for some time, and visit me whenever you want to, I swear, I would be so happy to have you.” You just needed him to listen. You knew that you could change his mind, he always listened to what you had to say, he just needed a little bit of persuasion. Maybe he didn’t even think about alternative options?

“And I would make you happy in the N109 Zone with me.” You laughed with disbelief. He was completely missing your point. You decided to once again yank your hands from the grasp of his mist, and then hissed with pain when it did not loosen up its hold. “Your struggle is futile, please stop, I do not wish for you to get hurt.” He was annoyed with you and your disobedience. He did not think that you would have any objections, he started loosing his cool.

“You would never let me get hurt.” You answered, wanting to assure yourself of it as well. You didn’t like how commanding he sounded.

“Yes.” There was no doubt in his voice. “Yes, you know I would stop at nothing to protect you.” His gaze never wavered from yours. He truly thought that what he was doing was for the best. And you just had to let him know how wrong his approach was.

“Yes! Yes I do know that! Because I know you, Sy.” You started to sound as if you were pleading. Deep down it scared you, send uncomfortable shivers down your spine. “I know you, and I know that you also know me.”

He placed his hand on his heart.

“And I adore every single piece of information. And I still wish to know you much, much better.” You tensed when you noticed that his right eye was starting to glow. You did not know if that was intentional, or just a trick of the light.

“Then you MUST know how much this life means to me. How much I like my stupid job, and how much I love the people that are here for me. My friends, my family.” You noticed that your reasoning started to get to him when he clenched his fists and avoided your eyes for a second. “And you have to know how much it would hurt me if you were to take me away from them.” He appeared taken aback. It seemed that his longing for you clouded his judgement, and now he started to notice the faults in his plan.

“But I cannot stand to be apart from you anymore, sweetie.” In normal circumstances that would be so touching to you. But nothing about this situation was normal, and you guessed you just had to show him how normal looked like.

“You won’t be. You can visit me anytime you want. Stay for how long you want.” You wanted that too. So bad.

“But that is not ENOUGH.” It was the first time you heard his raised voice and you started to tremble. His outburst must’ve thrown him off guard too, because he wavered and the grip he had on you loosed. You acted instinctively. You freed yourself from the mist and started to run towards your door. And although he was stunned by your reaction, he quickly teleported so that you ran straight into his chest. His hands grabbed yours in order to protect you from falling due to the impact.

He gently caressed your now slightly red forehead and sighed loudly. You could hear that he was hurt. You cried out from frustration.

“If you really thought that you could run away from me then you must be a total fool.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and lifted your chin up with his finger. “Usually I like playing cat and mouse with you, but I do not like the fact that you appear genuinely scared of me right now.” He hugged your waist and brought you closer to him, lowering his head at the same time. “And that you tried to run away from me when I only want to offer you my protection.”

“It doesn’t sound like protection, it sounds like imprisonment.” You used strong words, but you sounded so small. You did not know what to do with him, you were so scared. ”I’m just scared. I tried to run away because you scared me, Sylus.” You sounded desperate for him to understand you. To look past his own clouded vision.

“You do not have to fear me. I just want what is best for you. For us.” His grip on your waist tightened, and he also proceeded to grab your wrist.

“No. You only want what is best for you. You are not listening to me. I do care about you Sylus, but I cannot leave this place.” You tried to stand your ground but you two never argued before. It was an unfamiliar ground to you, especially when it was the first time that you had a conversation in person. Everything felt more intense and dangerous when you remembered the extreme measures he was always willing to take to achieve his goals.

“You can. And I will make you leave.” He almost growled and a cloud of black and red mist surrounded both of you, and that was enough to bring tears into your eyes.

”Sylus, no, please, I don’t want to. Please, just listen to me, please.” And it was at that moment he started to came into his senses. Your quiet voice and your eyes full of tears made his breathing stop. It was the first time he was seeing you react like this. He hated how broken you sounded. How small. “I’m so scared, Sy, please stop scaring me.” Your voice sounded choked and you could feel that the tears started streaming down your face. Every single one physically hurt him. It was your first meeting and he already made you so miserable. He wanted to scream. “Please.” You tried once again and it shocked you that it finally worked on him.

He tensed and released you from his grip. The mist also dissipated as he took a step back from you. You could hear him breathing deeply.

“I cannot do this." He sounded panicked. “I did not want to scare you, and I cannot listen to your little broken pleas. They break my heart.” He hidden his face in his hands and curled in himself. He felt as if someone pierced his heart with a knife and twisted it. He could not bring himself to look at your beautiful heartbroken face again. “They really do. Please, just stop crying. You won.”

You sniffed softly and touched your wet cheeks. You tried to calm yourself down, he finally listened to you.

“It does not feel so good this time for some reason.” You answered, referring to your Kitty Card battles. You wanted to relieve the tension somehow. You knew that he didn’t want to hurt you, you understand that he lives in a different reality where danger awaits everywhere. You could understand why he wanted to have you beside him at all times. But it scared you how insistent he was, how brutal and final. “Do you really understand why I got so scared?”

He nodded helplessly. “I won’t steal you away. Not when I know how much you despise the idea of spending the rest of your time with me.” You noticed how hard he was pressing his hands to his face and you grabbed them in your own. He let you uncover his eyes and you saw how much it hurt him to let you go.

“Oh, Sy.” You whispered and hugged his hands to your chest. “You know that’s not the reason.”

“Stop calling me that. It drives me crazy.” He breathed and met your eyes. “You drive me crazy. What am I going to do with you? How can I make sure you are safe now?” You took his hands and made him follow you into your bedroom. You sat on your bed and urged him to do the same. This way you could finally talk with him more comfortably.

“Sylus, we have to talk about it.” You squeezed his hands and he looked at yours and took notice of how much smaller they were in comparison to his. So fragile, so breakable. He couldn’t stand it. His whole body longed to protect you. “I do not despise the idea of spending my time with you. I just can’t randomly leave everything I know and love. And this world is different from the one you know, we have our dangers but no one wants my head.” You explained to him slowly. “There are no Wanderers. No protocores.” He looked conflicted.

“I already know that sweetheart. I do. But when you disappeared for such a long time I couldn’t help but think that something bad happened to you” he gritted through his teeth. “I nearly lost my mind looking for you everywhere. It was terrifying, that thought in my mind and the idea that I would never have another chance to speak with you. To see you.” He touched your forearms and brought you a little closer to him. “And when Mephisto found you safe and sound I thought that I never want to feel that fear, that helplessness again. And the only way to do that is to keep you beside me at all times. To guard you with my own body and soul.” He took your hand and rested it on his chest. You could feel the fast and steady rhythm of his heart. You could feel his desperation, his complete devotion. And it almost made you tear up.

“I-I’m so sorry that I made you worry this much.” He studied your face with intention and you shake your head. “But I didn’t even know that you were real. I really thought it was just a game that made me feel less alone and now…” You swallowed audibly. “Now I know that everything I built with you during our time together was very much real and I’m still having trouble to wrap my head around it to be honest.” You smiled at him softly and he nodded with understanding.

“And then you came in and wanted to kidnap me to a world much more dangerous than mine where I do not have my close ones and—“

“I did NOT mean for that to be a kidnapping I though that you shared my sentiment, and also wanted to spend some time—“

“SOME time?? Sylus you wanted me to switch literal worlds and live with you in your freaking villa in the middle of nowhere—”

”I live in an apartment that has a fantastic location, mind you, and you would feel so comfortable in—“

”Apartament??? You cannot possibly be a freaking leader of Onychinus and live in an apartment complex, are you being serious with me right now??”

“Have you ever heard of a saying that the darkest place is under the candlestick, kitten? Besides there is no one in the whole N109 Zone that would pose an actual threat to me—” He cut off when he met your eyes full of laughter, and then he heard that beautiful sound. You burst into giggles right in front of him and you touched him by the bicep and brought his forehead to yours. He couldn’t help but chuckle too, understanding the absurdity of the situation. Feeling your forehead against his, hearing your adorable chuckles and inhaling your sweet scent made him feel so at peace that he closed his eyes to embrace the moment completely. He couldn’t believe that he almost ruined your relationship by being so selfish.

“I missed this. This back and forth with you” You said and he chucked deeply. “I really am happy to see you, Sy. And I swear that we will be able to talk and spent time with each other more often now. And actually see each other in person.” He nuzzled into your face more and you caught his smirk by the corner of your eye. “We can stay in touch at all times, so that you won’t have to worry about my safety so much.”

“So bossy, kitten.” He answered, but the small smile did not leave his face. He couldn’t make it go away even if he tried. “Forgive me for scaring you earlier. I was not thinking straight. I was just so elated to finally have you in my arms that I let my selfishness get the best of me, and for that I’m sorry. I did not want to ruin our first meeting, sweetie.” You hugged him by bringing your arms around his chest and he closed his eyes drinking in the proximity. You were too small, too adorable, too attractive for him to take it. Too honest. Too lovable. Made just for him to adore. To protect.

“You did not ruin anything.” You said into his shirt, hugging him tighter. “I understand you, Sylus. And I like you a little selfish if it means that’s what brought you to me” He smiled into your hair and reluctantly let go of your fragile frame. He touched your chin and delicately lifted your face up to face him. His eyes were once again drinking you in, committing every single one of your features to his memory. He sighed contentedly.

“Selfishness was not the reason of my visit.” You could see how his eyes softened and you felt your chest squeeze. You brushed his cheek, loving the way how he seemed to relish in your touch. His eyes wandered to your lips: pink, plump and so inviting. “Adoration was. The complete love and devotion that I have felt for you for quite some time now.” You gasped quietly and opened your lips slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Sy—”

“And I guess a little emotional push was what made me finally find my way to you, my beloved.” He half-whispered, leaned in, and pressed his lips to yours, locking you in a sweet, passionate kiss that went on and on, seeming to deepen with every minute you spent in his embrace.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour.

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: You’ve been very intrested in Alastor ever since you met him. He invites you to see his recording studio, which you accept. Then you ask if you can stay and listen to him host! While listening, you fall asleep. How does he react?

Word count: 2844

Warnings: Ummm not really much? Alastor being Alastor! One mention of not being able to sleep sometimes, mention of seeing people in hell doing dr*gs, k*lling eachother, and fighting, mention of reader having bad social skills (?)

part two

A/N: UM!! this is my first time writing for alastor, so apologies if it isn’t the best. Please give me any feedback you want, I’d love to hear it! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy :’)

Alastor the radio demon. You know of the things he’s done, you know that people are quite literally terrified of him. But for some reason... you feel a certain way towards him that you can’t describe, but it’s surely not fear.

You’ve had a some-what odd admiration of him since you landed in hell, only a few months ago. You got spotted by Charlie when you first got to hell. She noticed you looking around nervously and lost, and put two and two together that you must be new. She very kindly introduced herself which was refreshing because.. well.. it’s hell. Everywhere you looked people were fighting, doing drugs, and even killing each other. You were glad there were kind people even down here.

“Hi, you! Uh, you lost?” Charlie smiled you and waved.

“Um yeah! I’m guessing this is hell, huh?” You awkwardly chuckle. Social skills weren’t ever your thing, it seems they haven’t got better after you died, either.

“Yep! This is hell! You must be new? I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! My names Y/n.” You politely smiled back and shook her hand.

After that meeting, Charlie showed you to the hotel in which you eagerly accepted to stay at, her being the only sane thing you’ve seen down here. It was a pretty nice place, no 5 star hotel like back on earth, but it was something you’re very grateful for. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if you haven’t met her.

While she was showing you around, someone caught your eye. He was a tall man, very polite and respectful looking. He was dressed head to toe in old fashioned attire, with a cane to suit his charming look. He was smiling in a way that made you look at him like he was something you wanted to inspect under a magnifying glass.

He glanced at you and smiled larger, stepping over to you and Charlie.

“My, my! What do we have here? Charlie! You didn’t tell me that we’ve got more guests? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear! The names Alastor!” He spoke politely.

His voice was sort of.. Radio-like? You found it soothing.

“Haha yeah! I found them wandering around on the street this morning! They’re a newcomer, their name is Y/n.” She spoke back, excited to introduce you.

“Y/n! Well, my, my. That’s quite a lovely name!” He said. “Say.. do you listen to radio? I host a brilliant radio broadcast that’ll give you some real insight on this place!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh.. haha thank you” You smile. “I do actually! I love radio shows.” You immediately feel drawn towads him. You cant tell if it’s just the new scenery or what.. but you want to just sit and chat with him for hours.

Alastor perks up at that. “Oh you do, do you?” He smiled more.

“Yeah! Back when I was.. uhm.. alive, I actually had a whole playlist of them! What do you do your show about?” You ask.

Alastor is delighted to have you take interest in his show. “Well, dear, I do all sorts of things on there! Yes, yes, you think of it and I’ve most probably done it! Most commonly known is the souls I entrap and prison, as I broadcast their screams of horror all over this horrible place and people get to hear the noises of their never-ending torture and demise. But! I also just made a wonderful segment on my mother’s Jambalaya recipe!” He stated.

While part of those sentences gave you chills, you still seemed to take interest in him.

“Well,” you chuckle. “I will certainly check it out!” You smile.

“Ah! Wonderful news, my dear.” He said while he twirled his cane.

Charlie was watching you interact with him and noticed how you looked at him, as if admiring. She smile and said, “well! We better finish the tour.”

She motions for you to follow her and you do, waving Alastor goodbye.

He waves back and yells, “goodbye, sweetheart! Lovely to have met you.”

After that, you wanted absolutely everything to do with him. You’ve also got to know the other people staying at the hotel. Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious. They were overall kind people. Husk found your interest in Alastor to be no good.

“Yeah, no. That, whatever thing you have created in your mind about him, isn’t true. He’s vile, Y/n. Trust me on that.” He grunts.

Angel thought you had some kind of kink towards “scary, creepy men.” Which wasn’t true because you didn’t even find him scary. You found him charming.

“Ah.. Alastor? Fucking sexy weirdo if I do say so myself. He’s got some reaaal problems but hey, if you’re into that-“ You cut him off by saying it wasn’t like that & that you don’t think anything sexual towards him.

One day, you were talking to Sir Pentious about his “crush” on Cherry Bomb. He completely denied it but you could tell from his blush and his nervous demeanour that he was very interested in her.

You were caught off guard when you heard that radio voice coming up from behind you.

“Y/n, my dear! I have a question for you.” Alastor came and stood beside you, looking down from where you’re sitting.

“Al! Hey, what’s up?” You ask, containing your excitement.

Sir Pentious excused himself quickly, seeing one of his “egg boys” were being played with by Niffty. She isn’t one to be gentle.

“So, I know how you’ve been listening to my radio show as of late, and I was wondering if you’d like to see where the magic happens!” He states.

“R-really? I’d be honoured!” You say, smiling.

“Ah! Lovely. Come now, this way.”

You get up and he locks arms with you and chats about his new microphone that he got.

Once you guys arrive, you’re shocked. It looks very professional and comfortable. It suits him heavily. There’s a big open window, a desk, some chairs and sofas, a bunch of technical stuff on the desk along with his new mic that you recognize from his descriptions, and a deer coat hanger?

“Wow, Alastor. This place is so actually so sick. I love it. And the new microphone suits you!” You say. “Thank you for showing me, really.”

Typically, Alastor would never show someone something personal of his, including his studio, but you are an exception. He isn’t sure what it is about you but he doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he does with anyone else. At first he was weirded out, but now he just embraces it. He also feels protective of you. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re even down here. For as far is he can tell, you’re an angel. Always being kind even to those who aren’t kind to you, always saying “please” and “thank you,” all that jazz. Jazz! You even like jazz music, his favourite. He told you that he lived on earth the time jazz music was popular. The 20’s and 30’s. That explains his vocabulary and how he dresses. You just find it more interesting and take time to ask questions about what it was like in that time.

“Why of course, my dear! If I’d want to show anyone here, it would be you.” He says, giving you his iconic smile.

You have a thought. “Hey, Al? Would it be alright if the next time you do a show, I could stay and listen?”

You hope he doesn’t think this is odd.

Alastor raises a brow. “Why would you want to do that?” He asks.

You panic, thinking you went too far by asking and now he’s going to cut you off or something.

“Ha! Kidding, sweetheart! Of course you can. I love when my broadcast is wanted to be listened to. Though I love it as well when they don’t want to.” He says.

You’re relieved, a bit scared, but still relieved.

“Say!” He says. “I was going to make one tonight talking about this silly technology box that thinks he is better than me! You know, expose all his lies and secrets to my listeners, and unwilling listeners. Maybe broadcast it all throughout hell!” He starts laughing manically. Then calms down and stares at you.

“Would you want to stay and listen, hm? I can do it now! I didn’t have any plans today going forward and well, getting it out sooner is better than later, I always say.” He asks.

You know he’s talking about Vox when he mentioned the technology box. Him and Vox have a sort of rivalry going on. Though Alastor seems to not care much about him, Vox is sure obsessed. He’s even gone so far as to making posters about him. Which areee.. not much of a resemblance.

This offer strikes you and you immediately perk up. “Yes! I’d love to.” You say.

You don’t think Alastor knows this but whenever you’re struggling to sleep, you put on his radio show and his voice comforts you to sleep. You’re sure if you told him, he would find it weird.

Little did you know, Alastor already knew. He walked past your room one night and heard static sounds coming from your quarters. He immediately was intrigued and put his ear close to your door to hear his voice. He was surprised, but not weirded out. He found it delightful that you found comfort in his voice. It’s not everyday someone does. Usually it invokes terror and anxiety on anyone who hears. This was new, and he didn’t hate it.

“Lovely! Let me get all set up. You can sit wherever you feel the most comfortable!” He says, adjusting his mic and pressing a buttons on his table.

You find a spot and sit down. Feeling honored to even be in the same room as him, let alone HIS room.

“Ahem! Welcome ladies and gentlemen-“ He goes off into his introduction, before winking at you and starting.

After about 20 minutes, you begin to feel tired and put your head on the side of the wall, still listening but with your eyes closed.

Alastor immediately notices and smirks, knowing how his voice effects you. He continues on and after about another 20 minutes, he finishes up. You’re asleep, slightly smiling.

He walks over to you and looks down.

“My, my. You really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” He whispers. He smiles more softly than he usually does and looks around to find a purple blanket hanging on his deer coat hanger, and gently places it on you.

He feels his heart fluttering while looking down at you and he immediately shrugs it off.

“Mm well, my dear.. I guess you can stay here. I’ll just be over there, transferring my broadcast to the other radios around town.” He says and points to his table.

“Sleep well, amour.” He speaks softly.

[norrisainz33]

New Girl || GR63

☆ summary: george has got himself a new partner and fans are obsessed but can’t seem to find her on social media

☆ pairing: george russell x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for taking the time to request 🤍

☆ part 2 here

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

F1Gossip has made a post

liked user1, user2, user3, user4, yourbff, user5, user6 and 15,637 others

f1gossip: looks like george russell has been getting cozy with his new partner over summer break! here’s what we know so far about gr63’s new girl: 1) her name is y/n, 2) she’s not famous (that we can verify), and 3) she has no social media. if any of you have any information, let us know!

view all 453 comments

user1: so it IS possible to be a wag and not be a famous model. there is hope 😫

user2: when is it my turn ?!!?!?!!!

user3: how is it possible she has no socials

user4: i went through all of george’s followers and can’t find a single one that looks like her

user5: i have dug through every pocket of the internet and can’t find her either

user3: honestly if we can’t find her then she def isn’t on here bc y’all are like the fbi

user6: oh to be a normal girl AND be george russell’s partner

user8: she’s living my dream

user9: if she goes to zandvoort one of y’all BEST ask her some questions

user10: or at least get some photos 😭

user11: i’m like 90% sure she went to uni with my brother - he says he recognizes her from one of his classes. so she MAY have gone to [insert university]

user9: obsessed with these CRUMBS

user10: y/n if you see this we accept u with open arms

user12: maybe just maybe george will hard launch over break so we can get more crumbs

gerogerussell63 added to his private story

view all story replies

alex_albon: georgie mate when am i going to meet this girl???

georgerussell63: she might be at zandvoort! we’re taking things a bit slow

alex_albon: says the man who has paparazzi photos of him and his girl sucking face

georgerussell63: alright alright fair point. y/n is just really shy and i don’t want to overwhelm her. maybe we do something low key together during break ?

alex_albon: i get it mate don’t worry!

landonorris: 👀

georgerussell63: 🤭

danielricciardo: oooo who is this?

georgerussell63: my girl ☝🏻

danielricciardo: thank you captain obvious 🧡

lilymhe: she’s so cute!! can’t wait to meet her 🤍

georgerussell63: you’re gonna love her. alex and i planned a double date for the 4 of us 😉

lilymhe has posted to her story

view story replies

user1: IS THAY GEORGE

user2: GEORGE AND Y/N SPOTTED??????

user3: this is the first time anyone has posted georgey/n that is NOT a gossip account ,, this is a huge day for annoying ppl (me)

georgerussell63: it was so good to see you both!

lilymhe: likewise! y/n is so sweet. you should keep her

georgerussell63: trust me, i plan on it

user4: thanks for feeding us georgey/n crumbs

user5: lily imma need you to spill the beans! i won’t tell a soul i promise

user5: ok i lied i definitely will tell people

georgerussell63 has added to their story

view story replies

user8: she’s hot i see why you’ve been gatekeeping

user9: the hard launch we’ve all been waiting for

yourbff: ok this is so cute 🥹

georgerussell63: she is the cutest

landonorris: ohhhh she made the non private story i see things are getting serious

georgerussell63: perhaps 👀

landonorris: you better bring her by mclaren in zandvoort i wanna meet her

georgerussell63: only if you promise to be normal mate

landonorris: when am i not?

georgerussell63: 🙄

user11: george russell when i catch you

user12: quick drop her @

user14: wow george i thought we had something special!

georgerussell63 has made a post

liked by yourbff, mercedesamgf1, alex_albon, f1gossip, landonorris, lewishamilton, and 567,347 others

georgerussell63: if only summer break lasted forever. off to the races we go! see you all in Zandvoort 💪🏻

view all 634 comments

user12: SHES MADE IT TO AN INSTA POST

user8: still no tags tho she must really not be on socials

user9: and honestly,, good for her

user12: i wonder what it’s like to not be chronically online

user13: omg y/n!!!!!

mercedesamgf1: looking forward to seeing you back out on the track!

georgerussell63: can’t wait 😍

user33: summer break george you will always be famous

lilymhe: omg look it’s my new best friend

georgerussell63: wow i’m flattered

lilymhe: NOT talking about you

user45: he’s made it insta post official

user56: oh to be on a boat with the george russell

lewishamilton: ready for a strong second half of the season!

georgerussell63: 💪🏻

user27: y/n is the blueprint fr

F1Gossip has made a post

liked user1, user2, user3, user4, yourbff, user5, user6 and 17,637 others

f1gossip: y/n attended her first grand prix! here are some photos of her from the weekend and an anonymous update from a fan who was at the gp: “y/n was one of the sweetest wags i’ve ever met. she was very shy and unsure of the all the attention but throughout all of the interactions with fans she was super kind and attentive in ways she definitely didn’t have to be. a few of us asked her some questions and this is what we got: she’s from [insert home country] which you can tell immediately by her accent, she doesn’t have any social media and her and george met while she was on vacation in barcelona ahead of the gp in spain.”

view all 324 comments

user22: oh my god shes so pretty wtf

user65: i’m so jealous of her,, she literally cracked the code

user99: i met her in zandvoort! she was so shy but literally so kind it was ridiculous. she told me she liked my george friendship bracelet so i gave it to her and you can see it in the first pic. she then proceeded to give me a bracelet she made 😭

user89: omg obsessed with her already

user77: wait this is so sweet?

user75: god i see what you have done for others

user47: brb booking tickets to monza and gonna walk around looking confused till i find myself a hot f1 boyfriend

user66: genuinely begging someone to get the story of how they met

georgerussell63: we were at a cafe in barcelona, i was in a rush and talking on the phone while grabbing a cup of tea (mistake) and i turned too quickly on my way out and ran directly into y/n making a complete and utter mess. she apologized to me for like 2 minutes straight even though i was the one who messed up and ruined her dress so i told her id buy her a new one after i realized i was talking to the prettiest girl i’d ever seen and the rest was history

user66: GEORORGE WHAT ARE YOU SOING HERE

user57: ohhhhhhh my god this is so cute

yourbff: can confirm it was really cute 🥹

user34: the meet cute to end all meet cutes wtf

user23: i also met her at zandvoort and i asked her how it felt to be living every tumblr blogs dream life and she laughed and said she knows she’s super lucky and won the lottery with meeting george 😫

user43: ok we stan tf out of her

user96: mother behavior

yourbff has made a post

liked user1, user2, user3, user4, yourbff, user5, georgerussell63, user6 and 8,657 others

yourbff: now that my bestie is a niche internet micro celebrity, here’s some pics from the infamous barcelona trip (don’t worry, she as approved the post and says hi to you all)

view all 297 comments

user1: two pretty best friends

user2: now we’re talkin , this is the sorta content we needed

user3: oh my god!!! it’s y/n!!!!! hi y/n 👋🏻

user6: quick someone convince her to make an account

yourbff: i’m working on it 😫

georgerussell63: i 🤍 barcelona too

yourbff: aww george 🥹 -y/n

user89: HELP SHES LIKE TOTO YSING SOMEONE ELSES WCCOUNT

user14: i’m obsessed with this

user39: hi y/n!! welcome to the wonderful world of being a mercedes fan 🫣

user40: everyone say thank you yourbff for the y/n post!

user98: thank you 🤭

user27: thank you mother

user76: making sure we are fed fr

user45: 📝go to barcelona to find hot bf

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated! still slowly working through requests

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[dearsnow]

BIRDS OF A FEATHER

- phoenix and her girlfriend set you up with a wso they insist will be right up your alley. (robert “bob” floyd x fem!reader, fluff, reader is meant to be similar to bob, ie quiet, sweet, and nerdy, mentions of being drunk/having sex but nothing explicit)

word count: 2,003

a/n - this fic is parallel HEAVY, so don’t be surprised if you see the same phrase passed around. it’s truly a mindlink esque situation lol. and it’s 100% self-indulgent because the reader’s personality is so similar to mine (i am nothing if not a self caterer)

“Nat, I’m really not sure.” Bob tries to protest. “You know I’m no good with dating and stuff. Who’s to say she’ll even like me?” Natasha pats him on the back, firmly enough for him to know she means it.

“You guys are birds of a feather. Trust me, she’ll like you.”

“Jamie, I just don’t know.” You frown. She’s trying to set you up with her girlfriend’s friend, claiming that you’d be the perfect match, but you know you’re not the most amazing when it comes to meeting new people. You’re slightly awkward at best, socially anxious at worst. “He probably won’t like me. And if we’re really so similar, don’t you think it’ll be stiff and weird because neither of us can say the right, flirty thing?”

“You don’t need to be ‘flirty’ to have a good connection. Not every relationship is going to be like Natasha and I, all fire and flame. Sometimes it’s slow, and slow is good. It’s exactly what you need.” Jamie chides, putting a soothing arm around your shoulder. “Trust me. Birds of a feather, right?”

You shift uncomfortably in the booth you’re sitting in, Jamie’s hand rubbing the side of your arm comfortingly. It’s ten minutes before your supposed double date, and Natasha affirms that it’s about five minutes before he shows up. “Bob’s always early,” she stated, “so we can be even earlier to give you some prep time.”

You’re quiet. Shy, even, and you don’t have the best track record with social events. You’ve never really had a date that understood why you don’t want to get roaringly drunk and have sex in a bathroom and whatnot. The two girls, one in front of you and one by your side, have assured you that Bob will be different. He’s quiet too, but he stands up for himself. He’s strong and capable, with a humble attitude and the slight southern charm that you can bring home to your parents. If he’s really so great, though, what the hell is he doing going out with you?

Bob can see your booth through the door of the diner, and he steels his nerves quietly. He’s got this. He’ll make it a nice dinner, a nice experience, and he will not, under any circumstances, fuck it up. He owes you that much. He knows he’s probably not what you want in a guy. Natasha described you as hardworking, kind, and a good listener. He can’t help but think that you deserve much better than him.

He takes a breath and pushes open the door, the flowers in his other hand a little damp from his sweaty palms.

When he finally rounds the server stand, he can see you. And you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever had the pleasure of setting sights on.

He’s royally fucked, he thinks.

Oh my god, he’s so hot. You smile at him and curse a bit under your breath, careful to not let anyone hear. He’s everything you imagined and more, with sandy colored hair, bright blue eyes, and glasses that look like they’re just a little crooked. If you were bold, you’d reach across the table and fix them as he sat down. You’re not, though, so you just fidget with your hands under the hard wood.

He clears his throat and hands you a small bouquet of daises, sliding into the spot across from you. Nat gives a little self-satisfied smile from next to him. “Hi. I didn’t know what you liked, so I hope that’s okay. I’m- I’m Robert by the way, or Bob, whatever you prefer.”

You think your cheeks will split open from how hard you’re smiling. It’s such a small gesture, but the blush on his cheeks tells you that it’s earnest. “They’re perfect. Thank you, Bob.” You introduce yourself with the next breath, and he shakes your hand like it’s a business meeting. His palms are warm and just a little bit damp, but when his fingers curl around your own like they were meant to fit together, you couldn’t care less. “So,” you begin, somewhat shyly, “you’re Natasha’s WSO?”

When Bob hears your quiet voice, he knows he’s in deep. “Yeah. She’s a great pilot.” His praise earns him an elbow from Natasha, a silent ‘talk about yourself, dipshit’ evident in the action. He smiles nervously. “We do a lot of the weapons bits so the pilots can fly safely. How about you, what do you do?”

“It’s not as important and exciting as your job, that’s for sure.” You laugh before explaining exactly what you do.

“Honestly, that is important and exciting. I’m sure you excel at it, too,” Bob offers, somewhat bashfully. What makes your head spin is that he seems like he means it. He’s sincere, wonderfully so.

As that statement quirks the corners of your mouth up, Bob’s heart explodes. You’re charming and beautifully sweet, with a pretty smile and dashing eyes to boot.

Jamie enters your conversation carefully, like she wants to help but isn’t forcing anything. Natasha pipes in a few times, but overwhelmingly, it’s you and Bob. Neither of you have ever spoken so much in this type of setting before, and it’s great. You bounce ideas and jokes and quips off of each other like you were meant to. You feel like you were meant to, because everything just comes so easily with Robert Floyd. You’re finally talking to someone who understands every bit of you, polishing the hidden parts of yourself until they shine. You never thought you could feel this way with another person.

“Wait, have you read this book called For One More Day?” You ask, finding every opportunity to drag out a subject you enjoy so deeply. “It’s really sad, like a fictional memoir, but I think you’d enjoy it. The whole story is basically an ode to loving your parents while they’re still around.”

“I haven’t, but I’ll be sure to check it out the next time I go go the library.” Bob says, giving a slightly lopsided grin that makes your heart scream. “It seems right up my alley though. I like non fiction books, mostly, but I could go for a change every once and a while.”

Your food is almost forgotten in the midst of the conversation, and his is too. “When you do read fiction, what genres do you go for? I have a million recommendations, so help me narrow them down a bit.”

Bob will never admit this to his friends, but he’s an avid reader. He’s a sucker for a true story or anything about dogs, however, he’d read anything you could ever think to tell him about. He has already made a mental note to check out For One More Day and is currently making more notes as you list off more dog-central books. You, as you’ve told him, go for more of the fancy prose-d, heavy drama-d, and emotion-filled stories. It’s nice to see you like this, talking about something you’re honestly passionate about. The light in your eyes makes you look like a ray of sunshine.

Jamie grins at Natasha from across the table, utterly and unashamedly content that her plot has worked. Natasha rolls her eyes. “Alright, you two,” Nat says, “can we move on to something more exciting? Like planning a second date, maybe. One where Jamie and I can be happy at home while you two nerd out.”

Bob’s face reddens and you give a small, sheepish smile. “I’d like that.” You say.

“Me too.” Bob adds. Natasha can firmly say that she’s never seen him so happy, not even after a successful flight. It’s like he’s finally found the thing that made him tick, like you reached into his chest and wound up the gear box in his heart. “I’m free this Friday, if you’re up for it.”

You tap your fingers on the tabletop, thinking. “This Friday… this Friday is when I’m doing a book reading for the kids at our local library at lunchtime. We could have dinner after that, though.” You want to spend the entire day with him, but if a few hours is all you’re given, you’ll take it. You’d take anything.

Bob’s hands move to touch yours, just barely. His warmth radiates out, perfectly soothing your nerves. “If you want, I can make lunch and help you out at the book reading. I like those kinds of things, but I don’t want to impose.”

“You absolutely should.” You breathe. “You wouldn’t be imposing at all. In fact, I think the kids would really like it if Mr. Naval Aviator read a few books to them. You’d be like a superhero in their eyes.”

You’re a bit astounded by how much Bob’s face flushes. If you thought he was a bit pink before, he’s got a drunk man’s glow now. And you were being completely, one hundred percent honest when you said that the kids would like him. They’d love him. Micah’s father was in the Navy when he was younger, so there’s one connection, and April loves airplanes with a passion. It would be amazing.

“Then I’ll be there. Here’s my number, so you can text me when and where.” Bob slides a little piece of paper over to you, one that he must have written a bit ago, because his pen is securely clipped to his pocket. He likes you so much he wrote down his number while you were (probably) explaining your love for reading, or crafts, or small animals? You’re going to swoon if he keeps this up.

Natasha eyes where your hand is touching Bob’s. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Now eat your food.” She gestures to your half-touched plates. You and Bob both stutter a little, completely having forgotten what you’re going to have to pay for.

The rest of the evening goes amazingly. You talk about so many subjects that by the end of the day, when the sun is slipping below the horizon, you feel like you’re floating on air— light and unburdened by the way you’ve been able to express yourself. Bob insisted on paying for your meal, and though you protested, a little part of you feels giddy that you’re worth spending money on. Bob walks you to your car, tucking your flowers into the cup holder between your seat and the passenger side.

“I really enjoyed that.” He muses. “I really enjoyed you. I thought Nat and Jamie were kinda full of it when they told me about this whole double date, but I’m glad they weren’t.”

“Me too, oh my gosh. I was totally expecting some stuck-up Navy nerd, but I’m glad it was you. I enjoy you too, Bob, probably way too much.” You’re standing by your door, but you feel like you can’t leave just yet.

He looks at you with something you hope to think is affection in his eyes before glancing down towards your lips. “I’ll let you get going. Text me anytime.”

You hesitate, staring up into his ocean blue eyes. Before you can stop yourself or tell yourself it’s a bad idea, you take the collar of his shirt in your hand and kiss him.

It feels right. His hand coming up to rest on your waist, his body pressed against yours as he stabilizes himself on your car, it’s everything you’ve always dreamed of. His lips work in tandem with your own, like they’re collaborating on some sort of secret mission, and he kisses you like he loves you.

His pupils are blown up and he’s panting just slightly when you pull away. He misses the feeling of your lips on his as soon as it ends, the tingling sensation working its way down his face. “T-Thank you…?” He whispers. You laugh, the sound music to his ears. He can hardly believe that that just happened.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Definitely.“

You give him a small peck on the cheek and step into your car, so happy you think you could explode. As you pull out, and as he waves at you from the parking lot, you make an effort to remember to thank Jamie and Natasha.

Who would’ve thought that you really would be birds of a feather?

Taglist: @seitmai

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

Hi hi!!!

Can I request a yandere Orion Pax/Optimus Prime x cybertronian! Reader??? (Transformers One)

Yes yes, more TFO Orion Pax and Optimus Prime yes yes. ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

(TFO) Yandere!Orion Pax / Optimus Prime x Cybertronian!Reader - "Rebirth"

WARNINGS: Yandere behaviour. Obsessive and possessive behaviour, Reader gets basically kidnapped and isolated. Reader is gender neutral.

The days in Iacon started to slowly become brighter - the public murder of Sentinel Prime and Megatron's banishment shook Iacon for too many days, making the days feel tense. But Elita-1, Bumblebee and Optimus Prime did such good job at becoming the three lights of hope and guidance for Iacon.

Still, you couldn't help but miss the old days (of course, leaving out the corruption and social injustice of those days). You really shouldn't be remembering with some kind of nostalgia those days of hard shifts to be done until you were nearly feeling all of your joints hurt and have to suffer verbal harrassment from the guards just because of the work title you had as a miner.

... but deep down in your spark, you missed the Orion Pax you once knew.

Orion Pax, the pain in the aft for the guards and the mech who sometimes acted before thinking, having both Elita-1 and D-16 behind him and trying to keep him from getting in trouble or drag someone into the trouble (D-16 was always the one to suffer the latter). And the mech who was constantly courting you - little flirts and pick up lines, holding your servo at recharging hours, helping you in the working shifts, supporting you emotionally or making sure you didn't got hurt.

You were sure Orion Pax was the mech you wanted to court back oficially and become his Conjux - and he was damn sure he wanted that too! You miss those recharge hours that, before going into stasis mode, he would promise you to become your Conjux Endura and you, his.

And sadly, as the new Prime and head of Iacon, Orion - well, Optimus now didn't had that much free time: he had to be a leader, take decisions on the reconstruction socially and morally on Iacon, plan defense tactics against the Quintessons, and also keep an eye for any Decepticon activity as they have recently started to make a few little troubles outside of Iacon. And you were perfectly aware at how time consuming and sacrifice those tasks were - Optimus was moving for the sake of moving his people to reach a better life. And that only made you yearn more for him and love him silently, too.

Primus was still merciful, for whenever you and him managed to cross paths, Optimus Prime would give you those soft smiles you were used to, wishing you a good day and make sure to at least visit you a couple of kliks before you went to recharge.

"He still loves you." Elita-1 said to you one day you and she got to match your breaks.

"Really?" You ask, hopeful as the pink fembot nods her helm.

"He is always counting the kliks before it is time to go and recharge and see you again. Primus - he sometimes gets lost in his own thoughts and when Bee points out that he might be thinking about you, Optimus gets all blue of embarrassment." The fembot chuckles, making you chuckle as well and feel your spark warm.

That talk made you feel at ease - Optimus still loved you, just as you loved him. Still, you couldn't help but feel saddened at how much the two of you had to do and that kept you away from being with each other - to finally confess your feelings for the mech.

You shake your helm a little, taking a deep breath to then exhale as you place carefully a few datapads in their respective shelves at one of the recording rooms. "Keep your helm cool, (Y/N) - he is a Prime now and he is acting like one, he must look for our people... there will be time soon to meet again and bond with him." You try to tell yourself and lift your own mood. You smile to yourself, deciding to remain hopeful yet with your pedes on reality and keep working.

As you work, a big frame remains hidden from your knowledge outside of the room, a few steps away from the entrance.

When Orion felt his cold frame be embraced by the warm light of the Allspark and his spark be set on once again - to then hear his new name be called... he came to terms that he died. To then be reborn.

Rebirthing was always been a studied yet not spoken concept in the Cybertronian society. There were many theories that being reborn was possible - Primus works in such interesting ways... of course, many that believe in said concept always come to the same conclusion: a cybertronian can go through the process of rebirth. But it will never be the same.

You name it - lost memories that are now deep buried in their systems and softwares, old mannerism from their past lives still engraved in their spark but never recalling when those mannerisms appeared in the first place, and so on. The same, but changed.

And that's what happened to Orion - he knew who he was before dying, but also didn't feel like Orion, but now as Optimus Prime. The same, but changed.

His love for you... did change, too.

He still loved you - with such a fiery passion, the same one that kept him pushing and moving when he was out of Iacon with Elita, Bee and (his now lost) D-16. He wanted to bring justice for his people and you, give you what you were taken from: the right to live.

He still felt his spark buzz and pulsate at the sight of you - precious, beautiful, ethereal you.

But, while when he was just Orion Pax, his love for you felt fuzzy, warm and innocent... now it felt - too complex.

When he saw you again after Megatron's banishment and your T-cog making your frame change a little, he felt his spark vibrate with such intensity. He wanted to hold you and not let go, let his spark and yours fuse until they were just one. He wanted to keep you in his arms and carry you, never let you once again work, walk or waste energy in any sense - he wanted to keep you safe and sound, in his hold, hugging you and let you rest as much as you want.

Each time he saw you interact with others made his spark hiss - it scared him as the need to take you and not let others talk or see you grew and grew. He knew it was wrong. It was more than wrong. He always prayed to Primus silently for strenght, trying to force himself ot not seek out for you just to see you - but his spark would agonize, pulsate with such hysteria and pain that it would only calm down after setting Optimus' optics on you from afar.

Optimus wants to feel guilty for this changed love for you and how he takes advantage of his new title to task you with small jobs that keeps you isolated from others, like fixing archives and datapads in the recording rooms or such.

He begged to Primus to have his spark teared off - he was becoming the same false Prime that ruled over them before. Or worse.

"Oh, Or- I mean, Optimus." Your sweet voice makes Optimus click back into reality, finding you right in front of him, holding a few datapads with your servos, giving him that gentle smile with your faceplate.

"I was looking for you." Optimus announced as you left the datapads on the desk of the recording room. And his spark purred at the sight of your smile growing, brightly as always.

"Oh, really? I mean - what can I do for you?" You ask. And your spark twirls when Optimus extends his servo at you to hold. And you gladly take it, his hold strong and warm, still gentle with you as he starts to walk. And Optimus can't help but smile softly as he sees how you follow him.

The Prime looks down at you, his optics holding that genuine love that was slowly twisting into something that scared him - and yet, allows to keep going. After all, his mind didn't stop his body when he started to walk towards your working area.

"I've been meaning to... speak with you - sadly, my tasks as a Prime had kept me from looking after you before. But I've decided to no longer await." Optimus explains, his thumb gently caressing your servo. "Would you... care for a little chat in my headquarters?"

You nod - Precious you. Perfect you.

Optimus feels his spark twirl, again. He hoped you liked the idea of living with him now. After all, if he wanted to court you properly to become a worthy Conjux, he needed to show you how much you meant to him. How much he loved you.

Don't worry - Optimus Prime will keep you safe. Away from any danger, away from anyone, away from the world.

Hehe I love Optimus Prime. o((>ω< ))o Vhaos out!

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

-

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[nathaslosthershit]

Media Interrogation [Part 2] (LN4)

(Read part 1 here!)

Summary: He had prayed the media would leave his newfound ‘friend’ out of their questions, only focusing on the race. But Lando Norris would soon see he wasn't so lucky.  A/N: I don't know how Twitch works so excuse the poorly explained streaming things.

A little less than two weeks after Lando had met his new neighbor, they had spent any time they could together, and any time they couldn’t they were texting and calling. It was exciting, they weren’t dating per se, still trying to get to know each other before they jumped into anything, but this newfound friendship had been great for both of them. Slowly, Lando had been introducing her to some of his friends, and with all the new faces, she didn’t feel half as lonely as she used to. 

It was wonderful.

He had warned her about the stream, leaving the details of him turning bright red, giggling, and Max admitting that Lando had called her his “cute neighbor” out. But, of course, after she spent far to long going through the #landonorris tag on various social media sites, she had found a clip of the interaction. Seeing how giddy he was about it, even after meeting her for only a minute, made her giddy as well, happy to know that it seems her feelings weren’t one sided.

He had invited her to the race, being as it was at Silverstone, but the thought of going there and meeting new people and being seen by the media so soon after her and Lando just met made her nervous, so she politely declined. 

Although he was a bit upset, he understood her reasoning. 

Before the race, Lando was with Oscar giving various interviews, with mostly race related questions. ‘How was the car feeling?’, ‘you think you guys can give Max a run for his money this weekend?’, etc. It was easy and he wasn’t worried about intrusive questions.

Until they opened it up to the fans.

When they said they’d take fan questions, Lando began to sweat. Beside him, Oscar let out a laugh, knowing what the first question was bound to be.

“Lando, it seems you made friends with you “cute neighbor” while streaming, have you guys talked more?” one of the fans asked.

Shit.

He probably should have warned her this would happen but, maybe it was wishful thinking, he hadn’t expected to be asked about it. And maybe his cute neighbor wasn’t even watching. 

“Uhhh” he said as he let out an awkward laugh, “Yeah, we have talked a bit more. The cookies were really good so I’ve been trying to get the recipe.” Lies, he hadn’t asked for the recipe, he just wanted her to make the cookies for him again.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Another fan yelled out.

There was a beat of silence from Lando, causing fans to laugh at his awkwardness around the situation. Oscar, now feeling bad for his teammate, jumped in.

“He shared some of the cookies with me too. He wasn’t kidding when he said they were really good. Might have to ask her to make me a batch.” Oscar jokes. 

Seeing as he wasn’t going to answer the girlfriend question, which wasn’t even a proper question as the fan just yelled it out instead of waiting to be picked, the interviewer moved on. 

He really hoped she wasn’t watching this.

She was totally watching this and enjoying every second.

It felt nice to see Lando blushing so profusely at the mention of her, which made her feel better for also blushing profusely when he talked about her.

Since she saw the stream, she had noticed he definitely had a bit of a crush on her, but she didn’t know how deep it went. If it was a tiny crush that was bound to fade as they became closer, or if this closeness was going to lead to an even bigger crush. Only a few weeks into their friendship though, and she had already fallen fast and hard.

She couldn’t do anything. She'd never do anything, even though she so badly wanted to. All her new friends were Lando’s, if he wasn’t as serious as she hoped about his feelings, it would crush her. She wouldn’t be able to stay friends with him and in turn would lose all the new friends she had made. 

So she vowed to not make the first move.

Eventually, three months had gone by and the pair only became more inseparable. Instead of planning mini vacations and trips between races, Lando always tried to get home so he could see his favorite neighbor, who he now knew he had massive feelings for.

She had started work and it was going great! Her worries about being alone if she lost Lando went away as she made more non-Norris-acquired friends. 

The two had also graduated to an even deeper level of intimacy. They weren’t sleeping together, or straight up kissing. But holding hands, cuddling, kisses on the cheek or forehead, were all normal for the pair. Sure it seemed so childish to dance around their feelings at their grown age but it's all they could do for now.

Baking had become a new hobby as well. Before moving, she couldn’t really say she was much of a baker, only doing it when it came to birthdays or bake sales. But with Lando becoming increasingly more obsessed with her cookies, she had started to branch out with other flavors, even throwing in muffins or a pie. 

She had just finished a new recipe her mom sent her, which were divine, when she knocked on Lando’s door, flashbacks to the first time they met those few months ago going through her head.

Lando, also like those few months ago, had been streaming when he got a knock on his door. Smiling to himself as he already knew who it would be, which the fans most certainly caught, he quickly excused himself to go open it. When he saw her there, he immediately pulled her into a hug.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbled into her neck.

“You saw me yesterday.” She laughed, happy to know he missed her as much as she did him.

“Can’t blame me for wanting to see my favorite girl all the time.” He replied.

“Favorite girl, huh? It's an honor. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a title.” She teased.

“Your cookies, of course!” He said as he pulled back, when she shot him a look, he continued, “and your wonderful personality, and how great of company you are.”

“That's more like it. Speaking of, I tried a new recipe and, not to toot my own horn, these are the best yet.” She said as she grabbed the container of cookies from her bag.

“Yes! Thank goodness I was beginning to experience withdrawal. I am streaming right now, they are always asking about you since the- anyway, could I do a taste test? You can join me, I think the chat would love it. I would love it. But you don’t have to if-” He began to ramble, clearly feeling awkward at almost admitting just how much she is brought up on his streams.

“No, that sounds great! I definitely join.” She immediately regretted the words the moment they left her mouth but the look on Lando’s face stopped her from taking it back. He has lit up in a way she hadn’t seen and all she wanted to do was forever make him light up that way.

He quickly pulled her to his streaming room, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling her onto the screen. “I’ve returned with cookies, oh and of course a special guest. Guys, please don’t be weird. Be normal or I'll end the stream.” He joked, but also prayed that his fans would for once listen and try not to embarrass him for their own entertainment. He knew they wouldn’t listen though.

Immediately after saying that, someone donated and got their message read out loud,

‘Are you the cute girl that gave him cookies?’

“Uh I don’t know. That depends. How many cute girls give you cookies, Lan?” She teased.

“Oh hundreds, I am constantly drowning in sweet baked goods. My trainer hates me now.” He teased back.

“Then I guess I should take these back, don’t want to make your trainer even more mad.”

“Over my dead body. Seriously, you’d have to pry these out of my cold dead hands. Anyway, this is a taste test of a new recipe, as was explained to me ‘it's the best yet’. You guys can’t eat them obviously so I’ll try to be descriptive.” 

After one bite, Lando started moaning in a way that was uncomfortable for everyone except him. Her face had never felt hotter at the sounds he was making and she was far too scared to check to see if her face was as red as it felt.

Do you hear him make those noises a lot?

“Alright! I told you if you guys made it weird I’d end it, so you lost your privileges. Goodbye everyone, think about what you did.” Lando was kidding, his fans knew it, but it was a pretty crazy question to ask. Not that the chat cared.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting all that.” She said once he turned off the stream.

“I know, I’m sorry they get like that.” He replied, feeling bad that he hadn’t explained well enough what she should expect. 

“No, I thought they would be worse to be honest, I meant the moans you were making from my cookies.” “Oh come on they weren’t that crazy, and the cookie was amazing, I had to.”

“Lando, those noises were nothing short of erotic, I was worried how far you were going to go if you had another bite.” She teased.

They both laughed and after a few seconds, a beat of silence fell over them. As they looked into each other’s eyes, the energy in the room shifted. Finally, Lando spoke up.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

“Please,” She replied.

Explosions, fireworks, sparks, whatever you want to call it, they felt it. It was so cheesy but it was so electric, they couldn’t help but feel like they did in the movies.

After a much needed breather, before going in for more, Lando asked, “Let me take you out, properly, please? Like an actual date.”

“Only if it's not a seafood place, I’m allergic to fish.” 

“Good God, I’m gonna fall in love with you.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Queen Step Sister

She wasn’t always a queen 

Like every queen before she was a princess

But before she was a princess she was a count from a low-class duchy

Her mother had found your father

Old, ill, and enticed by the countess willing to entertain him

The countess herself wasn’t awful

She was civil, for the most part the only problem with her was her daughter

“And this is your new sister—Harley! Say hello!”

“Hmph just because your Dad’s the King doesn’t mean I have to like you!”

“Harley!”

Harley was a menace

Snooty and rude

Every time she spoke to you it was like liquid acid spraying specifically at you

She was typically spoiled but she never mistreated the servants 

She was decent to your father 

But to you, it was like she hated your guts from the very beginning

“I’m glad I spilled all that cranberry juice on you! The little outfit you were wearing before matched your ugliness a bit too well.”

“That was a gift from my late mother!”

“Hm figures.”

Of course in turn you hate her too

And you don’t bother hiding it from your father when he weakly asks you to hang out with her

“Did you hear what she said to me? I honestly couldn’t care less if that horse she spooked stomped her flat.”

“(Y/n)! Hold your tongue, she’s your new sister.”

“She might be your daughter but that thing is not my sister.”

He doesn’t seem convinced as he continues putting you together with her in hopes it will strengthen your bond

It does not

And it will never be as your father succumbs to his illness

Naturally, you prepare to take on the throne despite your young age

But alas nothing goes the way it should since she’s been forced into your life

“As the former partner of the King, I gladly will take up the role until our child is ready.”

It’s infuriating as the advisor reads a part in his newly written will about this

How he ordained that his second wife have you in her care and the kingdom in her control

And of course decency dwindles as she becomes drunk on the social power

Fueling her gremlin of a daughter

“Mother’s forbidden you from leaving your room. So I figured I’d give you some of my company! You're welcome.”

“Go jump out the window.”

“How dare–MOM!”

It just gets worse and worse

You do think for a moment things will get better as The substitute Queen keels over her wine at a banquet

Thanking the heavens for whoever poisoned her, you’re prepared to take the throne

“I am so sorry (Y/n) but the council has ruled that for your safety as the kingdom’s only true heir, it’d be dangerous to let you take the throne. So we’ll give the role of Queen to Harley.”

It takes you everything not to stab the brat as she puffs her chest and flips her hair

“Won’t you congratulate me on my coronation!”

It’s agony that ripples under your skin as you have no choice but to flee the castle grounds to escape her stabbing presence and that only works for a day at most

With her mother no longer ruling she isn’t forced to take etiquette lessons away from you

Now she can demand your attendance for any minor meeting

“I don’t think we should mobilize our militia on that border. It’s far too much of an overreaction.”

“What about the villages that have been burned there? The people who need medical attention?”

“Hush (Y/n) I didn’t say you could talk in this meeting.”

It's all so frustrating feeling trapped

But you’re not the only one 

Harley is incredibly frustrated because of what keeps her trapped

And that’s her inability to say anything that she truly means

Especially with manners of the heart

Underneath layers of cruel insults, stifling rules, and personal jabs 

Is a step-sister who adores your very being but is stuck with her thorny exterior

She is forced to stick her nose up and sneer at you when you look her direction

When she’ll say “You look like death with the new family brooch. You might do better to just leave it off.”

What she means “I think you look even more gorgeous than usual with the family brooch, don’t ever take it off.”

If she wasn’t as backward demented as she was it probably wouldn’t be so hard to try being nice

To switch her compliments to insults for just a day to give you a kind compliment

But she hates actually making it so that

Naturally, this is why she killed her mother

She’d gotten in the way of her free time with you 

On top of looking down on you which she absolutely hates the most

Granted she’s certain you hate her with how much time she spends attempting to bring you down expressing her affection the only way she can

Sometimes she’s tempted to put it in writing 

just explain her condition so that she can jump into your arms as you connect the dots

But every time she’d written something out, she couldn’t help but confess how obsessed she was with you 

How happy she was that her whole job now was protecting you

She wasn’t exactly fond of the kingdom other than it being an inheritance for you

She hopes you’ll forgive her as she’ll  prioritize you and your safety above all else

No one but your father’s trusted advisor may see past her biting personality

Convinced with the council that it’s best to have her temporarily rule

If only until they get to the bottom of both the King and the Queen’s deaths

Should any council member question her or her motives 

she’d be quick to shut that down

She can’t have these old nobles get in the way of her dominion over you

“I hope you enjoy the joys of being accused of fraud. It’ll be nice to look back on your time when on the council when you’re rotting in jail.”

She has no mercy for anyone but you

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

I feel like advice on loneliness comes in only three flavors:

"It's all mindset, learn to embrace being alone and you'll never feel lonely!"

"Your head is lying to you, you have friends and they love you!"

"Here's a list of places you can go to hang out with people and make new friends!"

Those are usually well-meant and I'm sure there are situations where they do help someone feel better - but they're definitely not universally applicable.

The first one is even plain wrong: connection is a basic human need. You can't just "change your mindset" and turn that off, the same way you can't turn off your need for food or air or mental stimulation. Humans are group animals. We absolutely need social interactions to stay healthy and sane. It is true that some people do not need a large number of friends and are happiest with just one or two close friends, and it is also true that some people prefer to fulfill their social needs in other ways than what's traditionally defined as friendship - but that's not something you can (or should) try to train yourself to do, that's just natural differences and preferences!

The only thing you could "train" yourself to do would be to learn to ignore your social needs and bury them deep down under layers of denial... and you don't need me to explain to you why that's a very unhealthy idea. It's sad enough that so many people have to do that to not lose their minds in loneliness, we certainly don't need to celebrate an unhealthy coping skill as a "superior mindset".

The other two at least get a bit closer to the truth: the solution for your unmet need is not to kill the need, but to fulfill it... but that's easier said than done, isn't it?

After all, "Don't worry, your friends love you!" doesn't help if you have no friends. Loneliness is not always "all in your head": Maybe you moved to a new place and don't know anyone there. Or you cut off contact with all your friends after a big fight. Or you grew up neurodivergent (or got mentally ill at a young age) and had no chance to learn how to make friends at the age most kids do, and by now you have been friendless for so long you don't even know where to start.

Same with "just go to a bar and talk to some new people" or "Take a pottery class and you'll meet some interesting people there" - that's not factually wrong, but also not helpful if the reason you feel lonely is that you struggle to make friends (or even struggle to just talk to people). Which can also be part of neurodivergence or mental illness, or just be a part of your personality (shyness), or be a result of isolating circumstances (like having spent a lot of time in a closed environment, for example a long hospital stay, and now feeling unsure how to connect with people outside of that environment). 

And those are just a few of the many, many possible explanations why someone may be lonely that require a more individualized approach - which is why we can’t solve loneliness with any one-size-fits-all solution.

That may be a somewhat disappointing-sounding conclusion in a letter on loneliness, so let me also tell you: hope and support are always within reach, even if it might take some time and patience to find them. The key is to remember that your feelings are valid and that you're not alone in your struggle.

First, recognize that admitting that you feel lonely, and wanting to take action based on that feeling, is a sign of strength, not weakness. You’re pretty insightful for recognizing your loneliness and super brave for wanting to reach out!

Secondly, be kind to yourself and allow yourself to take small steps. Small, actually manageable steps are crucial in any healing journey! If it’s not an option to just go to the bar or that pottery class, then it’s okay to start somewhere else. Maybe a therapist, a support group, or even online communities can be valuable “training sessions” for social connections. Even reaching out to one single person can make a significant difference over time. Your journey to finding companionship and connection might be different from someone else’s, but that doesn't make it any less valid (or achievable!).

Lastly, do consider embracing new activities that you may enjoy - but not just for the sake of meeting others. It’s important to nurture your own happiness and well-being when you’re feeling lonely. Those can be activities you can try out alone and even at home, for now! Anything that enriches your life is good. Long down the road, maybe it will lead to opportunities to connect with others, but even if it doesn’t: it’s important to incorporate new experiences into your life.

While there isn't a universal solution to loneliness, I truly believe there is a path forward for everyone. It's all about finding what works for you.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[loosescrewslefty]

Screaming, crying and OBSESSING over the way Anya and Demetrius are on opposite sides of the Neurodivergent scale and also far more similar to one another than either one realizes. More than any other character we've seen so far, it feels like these two are Yin and Yang, opposite sides of the same coin.

Demetrius easily absorbs facts, figures, and other information that follows a set pattern. But people confuse and frustrate him, and he deals with that by not dealing with it. Anya has the ability to understand more about strangers she passes on the street than people who see them regularly ever could, but traditional academics can overwhelm her so she is resistant to studying. And yet both of them are othered and seen as abnormal by everyone around them, building a wall between them and their peers that they both find difficult to overcome.

Anya tries to fit in through masking, pretending as hard as she can to be normal (with limited success) but Demetrius has given up after going so long without anyone helping him better understand others which leads to him disassociating in social situations as a self defense mechanism, to get in and out as quickly and painlessly as possible while telling himself it doesn't matter.

Except it does.

Demetrius didn't need to ask about Damian's stella. But he did. Because he wants to find some sort of common ground with his brother even as he reassures himself that it doesn't matter and he doesn't care. He doesn't pick up on the fact that this makes Damian feel self conscious, that he's comparing his one stella to Demetrius' six and worried their father will love him less for not being as successful. Demetrius doesn't understand how the subject switched to Donovan at all, and shuts down hard when their father is mentioned. Just like he did when Damian called and asked him to be a bridge between them way back when.

(Demetrius warning Damian not to get his hopes up about Donovan coming to meet him also conflicts with his internal dialog about how the people around him don't matter and he doesn't need to care about understanding them. If it actually doesn't matter to him, then he wouldn't care if Donovan blew Damian off.)

Circling back to the original thought though, I desperately hope that we're going to get Demetrius and Anya interacting directly with one another at some point in the future because I have a feeling that Anya's blunt, child-like nature will lead to her just directly telling Demetrius the things that are eluding him when he interacts with others, demystifying all the unspoken social cues he's supposed to yet cannot intuit for the first time in his life. And he is going to be in awe of this child for her ability to not only understand others, but translate for him when he cannot grasp whatever it is they are trying and failing to say to him.

Demetrius could appreciate Anya's abilities, rather than being afraid of or disturbed by them. And they could both understand the feeling of not fitting in with the crowd. Of knowing that others regard them with fear and contempt, or want to use the things that make them different for their own purposes and treat them like they are just a tool instead of a person. The potential is there for a very interesting platonic relationship between two kids who have spent their whole lives feeling like their differences alienated them from everyone else in their life, and in Anya's case a fear that the discovery of that difference would lead to her losing the love of everyone important to her in her life.

[venus-haze]

Reach Out, Touch Faith (Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader)

Summary: Day 22 - Thigh Riding. Someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. No spoilers for the show in this fic. I finally caught up on Grotesquerie and had to write something for Father Charlie! Shoutout to @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok for even putting this show on my radar. Title comes from Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content involving a member of the clergy, thigh riding, some degradation.

Only Father Charlie could walk the line between a wet dream and a saint. You found this out rather quickly after becoming a parishioner. It’d been years since you went to church, but moving to the small town offered little in the way of a social life outside of work, so you swallowed your pride and began showing up to mass, and then getting involved in everything from the soup kitchen to movie nights. He didn’t judge you when you admitted you were there to make friends. In fact, he encouraged it.

“People feel increasingly isolated these days,” he had told you. “The church used to be a place for people to meet and make connections, I’m glad it’s serving you that way. Gives me hope for the future of our parish.”

After just a few weeks, people actually got to know you, to the point where you were invited to get coffee with some or join others for dinner. But in your heart, you knew you were mostly showing up for Father Charlie. Especially since he followed you on Instagram, and you almost considered softblocking him so he couldn’t see what you were up to. Morbid curiosity got the better of you, and you followed him back, dragged to the depths your desire by the videos of him exercising on his feed—his toned muscles flexing, skin glimmering with sweat. Your hand flew to your mouth when he squirted water from a bottle on himself. What the fuck kind of priest even did that?

You could hardly look him in the eye the next time you saw him. When he cornered you after a book club meeting, it was almost like he knew.

“You know, for everything you’re involved in, all of the meetings and events you show up to, I’ve never had you for confession,” he said.

It was the way he said it—had you—that made you take pause. As if his being a priest obscured something close to lust, almost implied consummation.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to know who’s confessing,” you said.

“I’d know your voice.”

“I guess I’m just scared, Father.”

“Of what? God’s judgment?” he asked. “He’s merciful if you bring your sins to Him.”

“More along the lines of what you’ll think of me.”

He smiled. “You haven’t killed anyone, have you?”

“God, no!”

“Well, there’s blasphemy,” he joked. “Come by tomorrow at seven. No one else will be here. No pressure.”

Sitting in the confessional almost made you feel claustrophobic. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you folded them across your lap, waiting for Father Charlie to speak from the other side of the screen.

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

You paused, trying to remember an exact date, but nothing came to mind. “A few years, probably.”

“That’s alright. What sins do you bring forward today?”

“I don’t know,” you lied.

“You don’t know?” he repeated incredulously.

“No. I can’t think of anything.”

He scoffed. You could practically see the sneer on his face through the screen. “I can list off some. Pride, selfishness, leading others into temptation—do you have any idea what you’re capable of doing? The depths you can cause a man to sink to? The sins of the flesh proliferate every aspect of our modern lives and you—you just—”

“Father?”

After a few moments of tense silence, he spoke your name softly. “I want you to leave the confessional. If there’s no one around, come over to my side.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Against your better judgment, you left the confessional and rounded it to the other side. When you opened the door, he looked at you expectantly, curling his pointer and index fingers to beckon you inside.

You hesitated. Almost took a step back, except he reached for you, pulling you in with him. If you thought it was claustrophobic before, your body, cramped in so closely with his, would have been enough to make you anxious on its own, but the proximity, his body heat, his dark brown eyes blazing with a vengeful lust, drew a whine from you when you were maneuvered onto his lap, one of his thick thighs between your legs. You suddenly wished you hadn’t worn a skirt—knee-length, modest enough when you picked it out, but woefully inadequate for the way his hand slipped up it, his fingers brushing your pussy through your panties.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, dripping with arousal in the house of the Lord.”

Rage filled your chest at his taunt. “You have some fucking nerve to accuse me,” you hissed. “Your socials are shameless. I almost thought I was on OnlyFans, the way you flaunt yourself.”

“But you liked what you saw, didn’t you?” he pressed. “Why else would you have come to confession if not for your guilty conscience?” He flexed his muscular thigh beneath you, a pathetic sounding whimper echoing from your lips in the confessional. “Unless you’re only chasing lust, that fleeting, deadly sin.”

“For the love of God, put up or shut up,” you snapped.

He was at a loss for words, then, and letting your pride get the better of you, you kissed him—claiming him was more like it, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip until he shivered beneath you. 

Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you rocked your hips back and forth against his thigh, the friction from the fabric teasing your clit so perfectly, you couldn’t help the cry that tore from your throat until he silenced you with his mouth on yours. Sweat rolled down your back at your exertion, making your blouse stick to your skin, the confessional almost suffocatingly hot.

“Is this what you had in mind, Father?” you mocked, your voice husky and almost cruel, though you knew if anyone walked in, they’d be able to hear. Wouldn’t take very long for a keen listener to figure out what was going on. “Is this my penance?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, his strong hands kneading your ass.

You chased your orgasm, finally finding it when he moaned your name in your ear like a prayer. Rode out your ecstasy on his thigh, a sick thrill rushing through you at the thought of the wet spot you’d leave on his pants, the physical evidence of your debauchery, if the only witness to it was the ever-silent, omnipresent, judging eyes of God.

“Is that all, Father?” you asked breathlessly, glancing down at the prominent tent in his pants.

With a shaky sigh, he leaned his head back, palming his crotch. “Go—go say ten Hail Marys.” 

When you knelt down at the pew just outside of the confessional, you began the first of your penitent prayers with the sound of his groans and soft curses echoing in your ears.