#I hate generation loss (I love it but man)

[lexcat-11]

“I’m sorry kiddo.”

…

“I’ve got you.”

[g0dlyunsub]

on your own. | part two

part one | part two

you’re strapped to an explosive and left with three minutes to convince spencer to leave you.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

contents :: general cm themes, mentions/depictions of stalking, kidnapping, death, drug injections (dilaudid), explosives, angst angst angst so much angst

word count :: 3.3k

author’s note :: it's out!! reader is so mean to spencer in the beginning, but it's all an act, i promise :( please read part one if you haven’t already, and let me know what you think!

accompanying song :: as the world caves in by matt maltese

taglist :: @myuhh8, @pleasantwitchgarden, @babyspiderling, @kitty-kei, @delusional-4-fake-people, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @themindofmoe

can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been? – jodi picoult, nineteen minutes

his voice instantly fills the deep chasm in your heart.

the woman you were – a soul eager to give and receive love – died a year ago. lynne davis replaced your smile with the expression of a self-loathing woman, fed you with humiliation instead of warmth, and made you forget the taste of human companionship. you watched yourself fall apart more and more with each passing day and you never grieved your own loss, for you didn’t have the time.

so when spencer finds you in your wrecked state, slick strands of hair sticking to your forehead and the cuts on your face begging for urgent attention with their swelling undertones of red, you instantly put your head down. hearing your name stings your skin with humiliation and trepidation.

you curse under your breath. your cap wasn’t on your head anymore, so there was no shadow under which you could hide your eyes. there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, nowhere to fake. you were like a deer caught in his headlights, or like a rabbit caught in his bear trap, the shame swallowing you whole. maybe this was all karma coming to bite you in the back, its teeth sinking into your flesh so you would go cold in front of the one you once loved so selflessly.

still looking at the rocky asphalt floor, you contemplate whether you should make a run for it. for some reason, being chased down to the ground sounds more welcoming than being chased down with his words. you already knew a confession wouldn’t make up for your treason. so you turn and walk with heavy steps, steps weighed down with fear.

but spencer wasn’t willing to sit in silence for eternity. he felt a burning sensation crawl through his skin. all these months he was mourning your loss with the regret of washing the same hands that touched you. he relived your absence every day like a haunting crime, cursing his photographic memory for detailing every inch of your face as he ripped through your flesh in his imagination. he was hungry for answers.

his wide strides follow yours as the splitting sounds of the asphalt crunching under his shoes echo in your eardrums. each step pulls at the strings of your heart like a violent demand. crunch. say you’re sorry. crunch. say you’re sorry. crunch. say you’re sorry.

“y/n, wait.” 

you don’t stop. the air hits your tongue like bitter regret and sour ignorance.

“please!” 

the desperation in his voice knocks the wind out of you. hesitantly, you turn around.

you know he can smell the blood on you, the dirt rubbed into your wounds, and the grime stuck to your sweat. you clench your fist. you’ve seen this ending in your dreams so many times, where he lashes out at you with his boiling rage, and you listen because that’s the only justice you deserve. but you didn’t expect it to come so soon.

“you… you’re okay,” he says with a feathery voice, and his softness feels unintentionally cruel. why is he talking to you like that?

and why is he looking at you like that? you don’t deserve to be looked at with his puppy eyes, glossy with concern for you. 

why isn’t he yelling at you like a man seeking revenge, or glaring at you with monstrous rage?

your tone, by contrast, is icy and dark. “yeah, i… i am. you didn’t have to come looking for me.” 

“your stalker. what happened to him?” he ignores your statement and his cavernous eyes dig deeper into your gaze.

so he knew. you suck in a breath slowly as you grit your teeth.

“he’s down. i got him in the leg.”

a minute into a conversation that’s overdue by a year, and you’re already lying. but you’re so preoccupied with the thoughts of getting out of this helpless situation, you don’t realize how you’re putting down your defense.

he narrows his eyes as he studies your face. you hate when he does this, because you don’t know the thoughts he’s stirring in his head. 

after a second, he pipes up with a desperate roughness in his voice. “we need to get you to the hospital, i-i’ll let them know right now. let us help you.”

the urge to yell out no dances on your lips dangerously. you will not bring the others into this, especially not the rest of the bau. sensing the danger of his implication, you realize it’s now or never.

“there’s no need. i’m fine. i… really need to get going now.” 

you wish to say goodbye, just this once, but the hesitation that’s latched onto you since last year isn’t so easy to get rid of.

he scoffs and you think you see his hazel eyes flash with a speck of red. “yeah, just go and leave me, it’s not like you’ve done this before, right?”

your toes curl and dig into the foam of your shoes. his stare bores straight into your soul.

he doesn't give you a chance to reply. “all of our lives were in your hands. you didn’t think we had the right to know?”

his question sweeps your breath away. you wish he never asked. emotion cascades over you like a crumbling rock, and you can practically hear his rage gnawing at whatever patience was left in his body. 

“i just… i was never meant to make it this far,” you whisper quietly, so faintly you ponder for a brief moment if your voice is even audible. a penitent expression paints your face as you look away.

your response is the last straw.

spencer decides to wear you down to oblivion.

“you were never meant to make it this far? i didn’t leave my room for three weeks. for three weeks, y/n, i had to find a reason to stay alive!”

his icy tone impales your heart, and it’s a thousand times more painful than the needle your stalker pricked you with. but he doesn’t stop there.

“i’ll be honest with you because you can’t. i hated myself, y/n! did anything we ever talk about leave any impression on you? because the day you walked out of my life, just like my dad did, it really made me think that maybe everyone i loved was out to ruin me!” he throws fiery jabs with his words, each hitting harder than before.

with a crack in his voice, he adds, “i thought it was something i did that made you turn against me.”

a whimper threatens to leave your mouth. 

a choking cry sounds as he spills more heart-wrenching words. “i couldn’t pinpoint what it was, so i… i injected myself again so i could feel something. so i could feel sorry. it’s nothing you would care about, though.” he wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve, his chest heaving with shuddering exhales. 

you feel so stupid, so cruel, so god damned fucking stupid. his words tear your gut like it's a punching bag, knocking you down and throwing you around until you’re bruised to the bone. even the sun turns its warmth away from you, shunning you by making you face the shade. you stand like a lifeless doll, feeling your jaw clench as you bite down on the inside of your cheeks because the agony is too much to bear. 

for a year, you had to withhold yourself from running back to the office, to collapse into spencer’s arms. now that you were face-to-face with him, you couldn’t even look him in the eye to say you missed him.

“you’re right. i’m sorry that i couldn’t care. i don’t trust you, reid.” 

you shock yourself with the words that come out of your own mouth, and it feels like your body’s being controlled by someone else. the worst part, it’s not that he wouldn’t understand if you tried to explain. rather, it’s that you simply don’t have the time to explain. you couldn’t afford to toy with the idea of death when it was grabbing you right by the feet. 

“you’re lying.” his quiet voice ruffles the hairs on your neck, and you can almost feel the ghost of his hands brush your face. 

you certainly are. your shaking shoulders, your reddening cheeks, your watering eyes. your twitching lips, your sniffling nose, your sweating upper lip. the forced prolonged eye contact. after a year of not seeing each other, you wish he would’ve forgotten the behavioral markers that were your dead giveaway. but you couldn’t fool anyone with an eidetic memory.

with the outward shame crawling to your cheeks with a burning flame, your hands instinctively reach to touch the back of your neck. you stop when you feel a wire peeking from under your jacket collar.

shit.

“what is that?” spencer’s voice quavers with disturbed curiosity as he lowers his head to get a better view of your clothed neck.

you try to mask the wire by turning to the side ever so slightly, but spencer never fails to let a single detail slip past his attention. he’s already making steps towards you, and you take several of your own backwards, waving your hands.

“stop. don’t come any closer. don’t!” you yell, frantically shaking your head as you hold your arms up to try and bar him from coming any closer.

but he doesn’t listen.

he grabs both of your hands with one of his, overtaking your arms with such force you worry that he’s going to tear your limbs out, and unzips your jacket.

the last of your hope splinters like a glass vial.

a tear slides from your bottom eyelid, and you watch helplessly as it drops and trickles down along the vein of his arm. you hang your head low, afraid to look into his eyes.

but you’re forced to anyway, because the timer for the bomb on your chest activates with a beep, startling the both of you.

2:59.

“fuck. y/n, you…” the harshness of his voice scathes your already-wounded heart.

you shake your head, the darkness closing in as you fight to keep a steady breath.

“i need you to leave right now, spencer reid,” you beg with the words of a desperate plea.

“no,” he responds sternly, a glare splitting your walls with such anger you clamp your mouth shut. 

he forces the jacket off of you and turns you around to get a better view of the electrical components. he reaches for his phone, but you grasp his arm before he can call for a bomb squad.

“don’t bother. we don’t have time.”

and your cover’s blown. the moment you say we, you know you’ve made a fatal blunder. if you really didn’t care, you would’ve let him dial the number.

he knows you care deep down, despite your abrasive words. 

“four wires, red, white, blue, and yellow,” he begins, and you know your denouement is set in stone. 

2:40. 

“if we cut the wire or fuse connecting the trigger and the explosives then we’ll have a chance at disarming the bomb. we still need to account for the possibility of a secondary trigger or the existence of several detonators, as well as if there’s a trigger mechanism that monitors when they’re being cut.” you can’t tell if he’s trying to comfort you while he starts his inchoate examination or if he’s trying to comfort himself. maybe it’s both.

“spencer, i’m begging you, please. go,” you say as you try to move away again, but he backs you up against the brick wall of the alleyway. he grips you even tighter, nails digging into your skin. it hurts like scalding pain.

you’re dying for him to stop trying. 

the kid inside of you cries a bitter symphony of hot, painful thoughts. you don’t want to die, not when you have decades ahead of you to redeem yourself. but you reason that you don’t deserve a good ending, and that spencer is the only one that should come out of this alive. 

but then again, survivor’s guilt is a dastardly power.

2:15. 

“spencer, please. it’s my last wish.”

he looks at you for a brief moment, locking his gaze with yours. he’s so close to you yet feels so far. 

“l-look. i need you to let me concentrate,” spencer says shakingly, lightly tracing his fingers along the blasting cap. your breath hitches in the back of your throat, and you forget how to exhale.

1:59. 

sweat trickles from your forehead, and you don’t dare move to wipe it. you hear his elevated breaths and watch as a concentrated expression overtakes his face. 

you close your eyes.

you hear the bickering chirps of the birds in the distance, the sounds of construction as steel clashes against steel, and the faint laughter of women ringing out like freedom.

it’s a beautiful rhapsody to listen to when you’re dying in the subtlety.

1:30. 

you open your eyes. in a stupor of fatigue, you decide to apologize.

“i’m so sorry, spence, i’m so sorry.”

it feels pathetic to say it now.

“i’m such a coward,” you cry, and you carry the blame with your fingers as you try to release his grip on your arm one last time.

1:15. 

“d-don’t. say. that.” the tears are now streaking down spencer’s face, merging at his chin and dropping like raindrops to the floor.

“you need to leave,” you croak out, biting back a bitter sob as he tries to look at the device harnessed around your chest again.

“please,” you try once more.

“i’m never leaving you.” his hushed voice cracks and slaps against your eardrums like whiplash.

0:59. 

“i never stopped trying to reach for you, y/n.” he breaks the brief silence like waves crashing against the coastline.

“you didn't say goodbye and a part of me thought you were coming back,” he continues, and you break down, the words gutting you like a brutal kick to your stomach. the waves relentlessly lap, rumbling deep in your shredded horizon. 

“i… encountered your article in the news journal by chance,” he reveals, and your heart plummets even further.

of course. how naive of you. how could you forget that he was subscribed to every news journal, when you knew he read the news columns and the advertisements every day? you should've known you would fall straight into his hands.

“all of the linguistic features screamed that it was you. you… never moved up to new york.”

a hiccup leaves your chest between gasps.

“i confirmed it was you by asking garcia to cross-check every writers’ name and id in the database.” his knuckles are white, and the vapor from his breath fogs the silver metal of the device.

“i went to every managing editor’s residence to ask if they knew anything about you,” he huffs and you hear a click as the glass shard he’s using as a makeshift knife saws through something. you don’t look down.

0:20. 

“i eventually came across the right person, because she gave me your email address. i sent you that email 48 days ago regarding your article, the hygiene hypothesis as an explanation for the increased rates of allergic disorders.”

“that– that was you?” a breathless whisper escapes your lips as disbelief tangles your thoughts.

you remember the email as clear as day. it was the only email that complimented your style of writing among the crowded stash of spam mails, and you starred it so you could look back at it any time. to think that spencer would never reach out to you online because he hated electronic correspondence made you completely overlook the option in the first place.

but did it matter? knowing this or knowing that couldn’t change your fate — and because you couldn’t even convince the man you abandoned a year ago to leave you, you were bringing him down with you.

0:10. 

you sigh.

what a shameful ending, to seal your fate in the arms of someone who never deserved to share your pain. what a terrible ending, to have just three minutes to let the world know your time is up. and what a regrettable ending, because even after losing everything you ever had, your stalker’s still forcing you to reap what you sowed.

if it makes you feel better, spencer, i've lived with regret every day since i left you.

if it makes you feel better, spencer, maybe in an alternate universe you and i never met. 

if it makes you feel better, spencer, you won’t ever see me again.

they’re all fragments of an apology left unsaid.

“why did you go through all of this… after everything?” you ask.

you don't expect an answer.

you let your hand fall to the ground because you don’t deserve to hold his.

0:03. 

0:02. 

0:01. 

——

“because i needed to hear you say it to my face,” a shaking voice pulses from your right ear. 

it sounds too real to assume that you’re in heaven.

you open your eyes. spencer’s eyes are already fixed onto yours, radiant under the sun's golden rays. they're almost blinding.

you look down at the timer.

it’s frozen at 0:01.

a quivering exhale leaves your mouth, and you let out a painfully scratchy sob. spencer’s hands lie pressed against the wall right above your shoulders, and his hot breath fans over your neck as he leans over you. his mop of hair lightly brushes against your skin, and goosebumps scale down your body as you catch your breath.

you then feel him tear the explosive vest away from your body, the sounds of velcro crisp against the still air. 

you don’t even ask how he did it. he’s alive, you’re alive, and that’s the only thing that matters.

a million thoughts buzz in your head, and you don’t know what to say, so you just breathe out his name with panting breaths. 

“you didn’t have a choice.” spencer gives you a sorrowful smile, and his words seem to absolve you of all of your mistakes.

with an angelic stare, he takes in the sight of you. every tear, every eyelash damp with your sweat, every crack in your dried lips.

“please don’t ever leave again, y/n. i don’t want to lose you.” he says beseechingly, his face peppered with glimmering tears. the sentence burns your tenderest flesh.

“i won’t, i promise,” you whisper hoarsely, and the two of you fall to the ground slowly, taking in each other’s hold for the first time in a long time.

as you hear the sirens sound in the distance, you let yourself succumb to spencer’s grasp and whisper a hundred thank you's against his chest. 

how beautiful, the way your heart beats in unison with his as he murmurs words of abounding love and warmth, the way his arms press against your convulsing muscles to summon comfort, and the way you don’t even have to say a word for him to understand.

because in every universe, spencer will fight everything and everyone to extinguish death from your sight, even when you have nothing to return. 

[mxnaceoo]

"𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐀, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐀."

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆;; Platonic!fatherly?Ddajki man x younger!gn!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Growing up in an abusive household and with parents that are too selfish and drunk to look out for you leads you to chase love in the wrong people.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓/𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒::: possibly yandere!platonic!father salesman and DARKK!!!! mentions of abuse, y/n is mentioned here, reader is in 4th year highschool and grew up in an abusive household, stalking, murder, violence, abduction?, reader develops stockholm syndrome shortly--, A fight going on but HE came to resolve their problems "without" violence, ooc ig, small swearing, starvation, bruises, father gambles and mother is a cheater and an alcoholic, always arguing about bs, mentions of forced marriage, bottles, also hints in the fic that he's been stalking reader for a long time, picturing w/o consent, small mentions of sx trafficking & p3dophilia, mother giving you away to someone you weren't familiar with, he frames your mother of murder of her boyfriend and your father

a/n: ending is quickly written bc I was literally running out of time HAHAHAHA ----sorry for bad writing just got back to it BAHSHAAHABABA anywaysssss (EDIT: I think I took too long --- sorryyyyy 😭)

word count; 3,535 words.....

enjoyyy :))

-If disappointed, leave instead of sending hate comments.

________________________________________

"You look hungry, little one."

A male, older voice startled you out of thoughts, looking up at the man who approached you whilst he stared down at you with a gaze that made you feel eerie about him. But the feeling faded away when a soft and gentle smile appeared on his face. Or atleast that's what you thought.

He was good looking, clean, and probably looked way more older than you...maybe in his mid 30s, you thought...

The silence of both you and the man was killing, silence breaking when you spoke up.

"Do I know you, sir?" You asked, your tone laced with caution, holding your bag to your chest. Not used to some scenarios in your days that strangers would approach you and ask some questions like that because you think they don't care, know this is your first approach with a stranger you already think you're getting abducted now.

Well, not yet.

The man gives you a reassuring grin, and shakes his head.

"Oh no, it's just that your thin state caught my eye. Almost thought you haven't ate for awhile.."

You think, he cares...he cares? Yet you never met this good looking man in your life. You were about to say that you weren't hungry so that you wouldn't appear greedy to someone who looked wealthy, then he unexpectedly hands you..bread?

You stared at the bread, thinking if he was testing you or actually offering you bread generously...

"What? Never ate bread before?" The man interrupted your thoughts, the hand that held the bread never moving away from you and stayed in the same position.

You shook your head, "Sorry, uhm..." You were at loss for words, not knowing how to respond to a stranger giving you something. Like bread.

Feeling your stomach grumble, you shyly took the bread softly giving the man a "thank you, sir." With an shy but thankful smile at the man, in which he smiled back and replied with a "Your welcome, little one..have a good day."

He disappeared just in milliseconds, didn't bother to ask for your name...but neither did you. But you were thankful to have something to eat, it's like an angel answered your prayer.

After the man, disappeared from your sight. You then looked down at the bread given by him, it looks good and untouched. You carefully teared open the wrapper like it's an expensive gift before taking the bread out of its wrapper.

But you didn't eat it right away, you wanted to know first if the bread isn't expired, poisoned or like filled with anything that could kill you. Cautiously looking at the expiration date of the wrapper which is in two years from now, smelt the bread for any scent that isn't supposed to be in a good bread. After making sure the bread was completely untouched, you look a small bite..the taste of the bread hitting your taste buds, you began to eat more of the bread until you finished it. Happy that you have something to fill your stomach after your careless mother 'forgot' to prepare your lunch and didn't bother to give you any lunch money so you just sat in your classroom and starved while your classmates had something to eat.

You finally reached home, after waiting for a friend to walk home with you which their home is a few blocks away from yours. You both said their goodbyes and a "see you tomorrow!" Before going both your ways. Usually getting an eerie and strange feeling everytime and always, and you didn't know what it meant or how to deal with the feeling...the feeling of being watched and stalked.

Sometimes, when you're brain is feeling active you could hear a faint shutter in a very distance then you would turn around and find the origin of the sound coming from...only to find none.

Somewhere in the school garden, school gates, internet cafes. You rarely hear it at home.

Or so you thought.

You reached home, usually the quiet, melancholic home..the smell of alcohol filling your nostrils making you gag, passing the living room you saw your mother watching an adult movie with a stranger, probably her 100th boyfriend whilst both shared a feast of drinking a bottle of alcohol and no cups. You ignored it and walked to your room.

You were used to this lifestyle since childhood, thought it was normal until you shared that childhood of yours to your friends around your first year in highschool which they warned you its not normal and you should talk to a teacher or an officer. And you told one teacher about it because...who would believe a little kid? You which you never did, when you were second year in highschool and did nothing about it.

"Y/n? Is that you?" Your mother called out from the living room, using that cold and neutral tone as usual with you as she looks back from the television to you. Stopping in your tracks, you replied to your mother.

"Its me, mom" You replied back, your mother didn't say anything else and looked back at the television while being all lovey dovey with a stranger beside her and whose arm was wrapped around her shoulder. Of course your mother wouldn't ask anything else about your day, she doesn't care like.

Did she love you when you were born? You don't know.

You were always destined to be born, you were just born in the hands of the wrong family and society.

You always wondered why your parents are like this, they're husband and wife.. they're supposed to love each other right? Why would they even marry if they wouldn't be faithful and love each other later on?

Despite all those, your friends still understand you and never left you out. Though they would make some rumors that maybe it's a forced marriage and either one of them threatened to shoot if you don't agree to marry but you refused to live your so 'miserable' life in those rumors. If you've knew your relatives in both your parent's side of family, you'd probably knew why. Though you never met them and never asked them about it.

Why? Because you're scared of them, scared of your mother cursing you and threatening to throw a bottle at you and could've if her boyfriend didn't visit. Your mother's boyfriend was a nice man obviously, your literal savior before your mom could hurt you more physically than mentally, your father...? He's almost always absent in your life and if he's back home, he would give you a cold and strict look finding an argument with your mom until he leaves the house again in the middle of the night. You grown up to survive these real life loveless households, it's still affected you in any way. Hell, you don't even know what's father's day, mother's day, family day.

You finally reached your room, dropping your bag on the door before plopping on the bed you arranged this morning. You hated going back home everytime, it's the worst part of your school days..you wished you could stay at the school where you make friends, spend time and have mini picnics with your friends at the school cafeteria. Going home to your loveless and abusive mother with a stranger that you never knew or saw in your life.

Just two more school years to go, then you can graduate to college, get yourself a dorm near your college and move out from that hell of a household. You just need to wait for the right time, if you can still handle their neglect and abuse of course.

An eerie feeling hits you, similarly to the one you felt earlier..you felt..watched. You never knew what it means of yours, your parents barely teach you anything...you never knew anything of manners, but of course you still remained nice because of the kind people you meet outside your family life.

You thought about the man who offered you a loaf of bread earlier when your stomach growled, you didn't bring lunch because your mother who never had a job and relies heavily on your father's money in which he often looses it through gambling. Your mother wouldn't even give you lunch money even if she had earned money for going on dates with men through dating app.

Maybe the Gods heard your prayers, gave you a lucky day and something to fill your stomach. It's like sending a guardian angel to protect to you to protect you.

Not knowing what else to do in your room, you took out your phone and decided to watch some movies and play some games to feed your boredom.

Feeling like you need dinner, you went out of your room, heading to the kitchen to get some food passing by your mother and her boyfriend now with the television still on and your mother now seems to be sleeping on his shoulder while his head lays on hers. You'd feel jealous of these men your mother keeps bringing home and being all sweet with them, they are literally strangers and not her blood. But chooses to be that way with them than to be sweet with her descendant.

You opened the fridge, half the food inside the fridge now consumed and as usual the shelf is stored with soju bottles, some already finished and some were drank but half was left, very little of them were still untouched.

Seeing that there's only some cold rice there, you took it with you along with chopsticks to eat.

For the whole night as usual, you ate, watch movies from the television you bought with your saved money from either stealing some of your mother's money or from a loving aunt next door, doodle on unused papers and lay on your bed thinking about life and its actual purpose.

And when the clock hits 10:00 in the nighttime, you finally prepare to go to bed..brushing your teeth, check, changing to something comfy, check, daily hoping a time you'll get out of the household from hell? Check.

Then you finally close your eyes, shutting your eyes to sleep to the dark world around you as you hug your plush under your blankets.

.

.

.

.

As usual, you waited by the school gate for a friend..this time with your circle of friends, you all had a quiz by the next day so you all decided to study and pass together for the next day..discussing that you'll study at one of your friends house and walk each other home.

As you laughed with your friends by the school gate, the same faint shutter reached your ears. You learned to ignore it, but it usually gets concerning sometimes. You took a quick glance behind you to see any suspicious people or someone holding a camera to confirm your suspicions

At this time, you forgot to contact your mother that you'll be home late because you had to study with your friends at their place. You knew if you're gonna be home late without a reason, there's no other punishment other than to slap you harshly on the face and lock you in your room without having any food leaving you starving for a night.

You we're starving while studying at a friend's place, good thing their mother was kind enough make food for her child's friends.

Unlike your mother.

When you wave your goodbyes with your friends after walking each other home, you finally reached your "home".

Oh you were in for a bigg surprise. Or maybe that's what you think...for the moment.

When you thought you're gonna get dragged inside and get slapped and cursed by your mother for going home late, usually you'd see your mother by the doorway but it's unusually empty.

You stepped inside, peeking through the living room to see your mother and her boyfriend passed out on the couch, a few bottles on the floor whilst the television was still playing. The usual routine she does, drinking, dating and watching television.

Is that all that makes her happy? You asked yourself as you quietly went to the kitchen, to get snacks and reached your bedroom. Taking your backpack off your shoulders as you change into pajamas to relax for the night, tomorrow was finally the weekends. Acads have been putting a weight over your shoulders for a while.

You finally took your phone from your bag, hopped onto your bed to scroll through social media, chat your friends and watch videos to cure your boredom. You don't really do much in your room other than doodling and using your cellphone even on weekends.

Your friends messaged you if you could come to an outing with them and if your mother would allow you, you messaged them back that you can anytime, not like your mother cares.

After a while of using your cellphone distracted, a slam of the front door startles you out-of your thoughts. A familiar masculine voice echoing throughout the house even reaching your room.

You could literally hear the drunken tone of your gambling father as he yells at your mother and her boyfriend.

"Who is this again? Didn't I tell you no damn boyfriends in my house you slut?!" Your father shouts, sounds of glass bottles breaking and throwing could be heard as your mother is also yelling back at your father.

"Why not? Not like you come back home every single damn day!"

You hated hearing this, it leaves wounds on your heart everytime. Even when you were still in elementary, you never get used to your parents arguing.

You hear sounds of punching, throwing, and shouts from your mother, your father and her boyfriend. More glass throwing and breaking. Even one was hit at your door making you jump at the sound.

You knew the next day when you wake up, you're gonna broken glass bottles, a living room and kitchen that will look like a whole war zone and maybe possible blood.

Not able to bear the sounds. You turned off your cellphone and forced yourself to sleep with a pillow on the side of your head...not wanting to hear it, you silently teared.

You, exhausted much. You were able to slowly fall asleep despite the blood being shed outside of your comfort space.

The fight continued and continued.

On the brink of falling asleep, you could hear what once was anger, now surprise and confusion.

"Who are you to get intrude into my house?! This is my house you just intruded!!"

You could faintly hear the unfamiliar voice's respond to that, but you knew it was another masculine voice.

Do you recognize that voice? You don't know because you were about to fall asleep.

Maybe you could worry about that tomorrow....

A thud.

A thud, woke you up, you checked your phone from the nightstand to see what time it is. It was 1:29 AM, pretty early, it's unusual to hear some thud in the middle of night.

You could hear a faint voice talking outside your room, it wasn't your mother, father, or her boyfriend talking. It was someone else. Now curious as to what happened earlier? You were actually curious as to what happened after that nasty fight, you finally got up and stood up from your bed to reach for the door.

But you don't open it immediately, you press your ear to the door trying to pick up the sound of someone else's voice outside. You could only pick up the faint voice but can't pick up the words they say.

You finally opened the door, open enough to peek your eye to see what's going on. It was dark. But you can finally hear the voices clearly, probably from the dining room. You opened the door completely and stepped out, cautiously heading to the dining room only to see the aftermath of the chaos that happened last earlier, when you peeked more into the dining room your toes hit...a body.

You saw your mother's boyfriend laying dead, a bad gash on his head with blood pooling his head. Luckily you didn't step on the blood.

"I would shoot you like I did to your precious boyfriend and your husband, but I'm not that kind of man."

HELP I LIKE TO THINK HE NEVER SHOOTS OR HIT WOMEN TOO HARSHLY BEAR IT WITH ME / You hear, eyebrows furrowing as your brain tells you the voice isn't unfamiliar and you probably have met that voice before. You can't pick up where you met that man with that voice.

"I have a teenager, in her room--" Your mother shakily talks.

How did she know you were in your room?Why are you being mentioned now?

"Please spare me...do anything you want with them, just don't-- sniff shoot me like you did with my husband--" You could hear your mother tear up, Is she giving you away to someone? You were glad you came there to hear that your mother is giving you away for the sake of her own life.

Little do you know though, you didn't see him stepping back to check on the hallways to your room.

Now a bit afraid, you immediately stepped back and was about to go to your room when...

"Oh, they're awake."

You finally froze in your tracks, turning to face the man. It was that man.

From two days ago...

"Ma...what are you doing?" You lowly spoke, your tone slowly getting defensive as you take a step back.

"Get your things."

Your mother coldly speaks, you can see bruis3s on her face, especially on her left eye. The fight must've been bad earlier.

"Ma--"

"Don't 'Ma' me, brat. When I say you get your things, you get them."

And with that, you only went back to your room to get your things. That man told you didn't need your school bag or your things for school, he didn't tell you why unfortunately...you only took that brings you comfort and your clothes and essentials.

You didn't know, why you just suddenly gave in the idea that your mother is giving you away to someone you're still unfamiliar with. Honestly you don't know how to say no much, but the thought of living a life outside of abuse and a loveless family.

He isn't a pedophile, right? Not a sex trafficker?...

Would this still happen if you're family was the opposite of abusive and loveless? Maybe the gods thought you were born at the wrong place and so they sent someone to be your new parent.

Someone who will give you the love you craved and love, who will teach you things about family that you never were taught about.

"Aren't you the man who gave me the bread the other day, sir...?"

You quietly asked the man who walked you out of that house, leaving your father who was shot in the head, her boyfriend, and your mother laying like a dead body on the floor. And onto the streets.

"Appa, call me appa."

He immediately replies right after you asked, but he didn't reply to your question but only corrected how you address this man now.

You felt anxious, but at the same time freed. Was this child protective services that's taking you away from an abusive household in the middle of the night?

A part of you thinks this is wrong and he could be a bad guy, but another part of you thinks otherwise, you were told to call him appa. So maybe you thought, he's gonna be your new parent...

For a long time, he's seen himself when he sees you. As he looks at your photos from afar, he feels... paternal, why? You're not his blood, hell you're from a complete different bloodline other than his.

News eventually broke out that your mother was arrested for domestic abuse and the murder of your father and her boyfriend after an anonymous call reached to the police that they witnessed your mother attacking her boyfriend and shooting her husband but never catch sight of you. You were nowhere to be found and after doing a little search and putting missing papers around the town they eventually closed the case and considered your disappearance a runaway because your things were also missing when you were given away to someone else.

You missed your school and your friends, but you mostly didn't want to go back to the pain you endured for a long time. Atleast he leaves freshly cooked breakfast on the stove before his leave for 'work'.

You didn't know him, and he never told you about himself. You wonder what you're future will be here..but he reassures you:

He can be a better parent than them.

____________________________________

The ending part is pretty rushed, I know but I wanted to finish this before afternoon :(( I just got back to writing, I'll do better I promisee--

taglist :: @5cookiekitty @chunkzdeluluwife @deepmiraclearcade @murderofravens @betty-boop-lips-05 @menabuser16 @skibidirizzlerrrr @emmynotawards @creativerambling @chrisstyle @donnaaurelia @ilovethe141 @louismae @ennvfv @4inchfae

If anyone wrongly tagged above this note, lmk!!

[astrotruther]

Astro Observations

misc. (i)

⛔️ TW: mention of anorexia and drugging❗️

♡ Venus Square Mars may attract obsessive people. In particular, people who obsess over their looks or fetishize them in some way. Brooke Shields had a whole nation obsessed with her at the mere age of 12. Eugenia Cooney has infamously attracted hoards of anorexia fetishists with her content. People with this placement may have a higher risk of drastic weight loss or gain.

♡ Either I meet too many Capricorn Suns by coincidence or it's a rather common placement. One reasoning could be that April is an ideal month for marriage in many places, especially ones where it gets unbearably hot in June. Spring adds to April's allure. Traditional couples often conceive right after tying the knot, making the pregnancy due in Capricorn season.

♡ Lilith is associated with sexuality but people focus too much ONLY on that facet of it. Lilith is associated with many other things like power, revenge and how one becomes a social pariah.

♡ Planets at 0° may symbolize struggle. Lana Del Rey has Sun at 0°. The Sun represents our ego. She had many controversies in 2020 including the mesh mask and her Instagram rant undermining POC artists. Even after criticism, instead of apologizing, she remained defensive. I believe that planets at 0° provide a lot of room for growth if the individual is genuinely interested in self-improvement.

♡ Aries Moon (ruled by Mars) and Scorpio Moon (ruled by Pluto, traditionally by Mars) despite being similar are perceived quite differently by people. The sign of Aries gives child-like quality to the native. They come off as cute and their sarcastic remarks are perceived as good humor. E.g. Rihanna roasting Helena Bonham Carter's sense of fashion. Meanwhile, one eyeroll from a Scorpio Moon, and they may come off as hateful and jealous. My advice to Scorpio Moons who want to be in the public eye, please never put on the mean girl persona. Tap into your kind side, it'll be received in a positive way and you'll attract genuine support.

♡ Venus-Mars aspects symbolize beauty; the difference may lie in how people perceive it. Venus Trine Mars are often called cute. People with this aspect are well-liked and have a good reputation. These are the people who may never be cancelled due to the halo effect they have. No matter how massively popular they are, people won't be digging up dirt on them, which is also why very little is known about these people's personal lives. These people often become a household name due to that one iconic thing they did, even if they decide to adapt a lowkey presence afterwards. Let me emphasize this with an extensive list of examples:

✧ Nina Dobrev (The Vampire Diaries), Zayn, Leighton Meester (Gossip Girl), Adele, Kit Harington (Game of Thrones), Sabrina Carpenter, Tobey Maguire (Spider-Man), Kate Middleton, Mandy Moore (A Walk to Remember), Jackie Chan, Jenna Fischer (The Office), Ana de Armas, Josh Hutcherson (The Hunger Games), Constance Wu (Crazy Rich Asians), Rowan Atkinson (Mr. Bean) and Alan Rickman (Harry Potter) have this aspect.

✧ Taeyang being the only member of former K-pop group BIGBANG who's had no controversies (also managed to keep his relationship hidden for a long time before revealing it with a wedding announcement), Khloé Kardashian being the least disliked Kardashian/Jenner sister, Cardi B admitting to drugging and robbing men, starring in Hustlers that glamorized it, hitting her career peak with WAP the very next year really drives the point home.

✧ I've also noticed this aspect in almost all Bollywood IT girls of their time: Priyanka Chopra, Aishwarya Rai, Anushka Sharma, Ayesha Takia, Dia Mirza, Divya Bharti, Parveen Babi - all loved by the general public despite the media scrutiny and misogyny that prevails within the industry.

Click daily to help Palestinians🍉🙏🏽: https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[seungminsleftear]

Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Word Count: 5470

Genre: angst

General Notes: Lila x Five did happen here folks :/, sexual themes, crude language, this does not correlate with whatever happens during seasons 4 other than Lila and Five jumping into a different timeline together for seven years,, Reader is referred to as female and wife,

Trigger Warnings: Infidelity and Betrayal, Emotional and Psychological Trauma, Unresolved Grief and Loss, Intimacy and Relationship Issues, Family Conflict, Self-Worth and Identity Crisis, Anger and Violence, Emotional Isolation, Suicidal Thoughts or Self-Harm, Intimate Relationship Details

Author’s note: I have not watched season 4 and yet I know about Five x Lila… Kms

Spoiler: All you get is, There will be a part 2

Click here for part Two!

I MOVED ACCOUNTS THE REST OF THIS FIC WILL BE PUBLSIHED ON @seungminsbaldspot !!

They had been missing for a few hours now, and the anxiety was beginning to gnaw at your insides. You could only guess that Five and Lila had gotten caught up in a different timeline—something your husband was well-acquainted with doing. You tried not to think the worst. After all, Five was skilled, perhaps the most skilled among you, but the worry persisted like a shadow clinging to your every thought.

He had told you stories about when he was young, disobeying his father, and jumping through time. He saw the apocalypse, lived through it, unable to return to his original time. He would speak of the chaos and destruction, the sense of being unmoored in a fractured world. Then he told you about the moment the Handler found him, plucked him from that desolation, and invited him to join the Commission. And that's when he met you.

And oh, how he hated you.

You were, and still are, the complete opposite of that grumpy old man. You were always precise, a stickler for the rules, never one to color outside the lines. The Handler loved you for it—your discipline, your meticulous attention to detail, your unwavering commitment to the Commission's goals. You were reliable, the perfect agent, the kind who made her job easier.

He, on the other hand, was a wildcard. Reckless and unpredictable, he saw rules as suggestions rather than absolutes. He didn't care about the consequences, not when there were bigger things at stake—things only he could see in the chaos of time. He was a man who thrived in the midst of uncertainty, a constant challenge to your carefully ordered world.

But that was part of what drew you to him, wasn’t it? That contrast. The way he lived life like he was on borrowed time, like every moment was his to seize. You hated how he would disregard protocol, how he’d show up late to missions or disappear altogether, chasing his own ghosts through the folds of history. And yet, there was something about that fearlessness that fascinated you. Something about the way he could stare into the abyss of time and laugh, as if daring it to swallow him whole.

The Handler loved assigning the two of you missions together. You were the perfect team, each of you balancing out the other's weaknesses. She liked to say you were two sides of the same coin—your precision and his improvisation, your strategy and his audacity. Together, you were unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with.

It wasn't always smooth, of course. He had a way of getting under your skin, pushing your buttons in ways no one else could. He loved to rile you up, to watch that carefully maintained calm of yours crack, just a little. He’d tease you mercilessly, call you names, question your every move. But you never let it show, not in front of the Handler. You knew she was watching, always assessing, always deciding where her next move would take her. And despite your irritation, you couldn't deny that he had a knack for getting results.

And you hated that. Hated that he could bend the rules, defy protocol, and still come out on top. But the more time you spent together, the more you began to understand him, to see the method in his madness. He wasn’t just a reckless fool; he was smart, sharp, and had an uncanny ability to read a situation and turn it to his advantage. There was a reason the Handler kept pairing the two of you up, and it wasn’t just because she enjoyed watching the sparks fly.

You had never thought Five had cared so much about you—not until that one particular mission.

It had been a long day, the kind where the hours blurred together, each minute weighed down with tension and danger. You were both exhausted, having fought your way through the tangled threads of time, dealing with threats at every turn. Endless close calls, contact after contact, each encounter more chaotic and draining than the last. You were used to this kind of work, but that day felt different. Maybe it was the weight of the mission, or maybe it was something else—a premonition, a sense that something was off.

You and Five had been tracking a target across multiple timelines, chasing down a loose end that the Commission desperately needed tied up. The mission had seemed straightforward enough at first, but complications arose as they often did, turning what should have been a simple extraction into a drawn-out battle. After hours of fighting—ducking bullets, dodging blows, and navigating through the chaotic flow of time—you were growing weary. You prided yourself on your precision, your ability to remain sharp under pressure, but even you had your limits.

You weren’t thinking straight. The fatigue was getting to you, and in a moment of distraction, you let your guard down. It was only for a second, but that was all it took. A sharp pain tore through your side, and when you looked down, you saw the knife buried deep in your abdomen. The world seemed to slow around you, a haze of shock and disbelief clouding your vision.

You staggered, clutching the wound, trying to maintain your balance, but the pain was overwhelming. You heard Five shout your name, his voice cutting through the fog of agony. There had been a strange edge to it, a raw urgency that you hadn’t heard before. You had always thought of him as the consummate professional—gruff, detached, always in control. But now, there was something different in his tone—something almost frantic.

He was at your side in an instant, his figure blurring with the speed of his movements as he dispatched the remaining threats with a brutal efficiency that was startling even to you. His face was tight with concentration, but his eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes that were usually so unreadable—were filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Fear, maybe? Or was it… concern?

“Stay with me,” he had commanded, dropping to his knees beside you. His hands moved quickly, one pressing against your wound to staunch the bleeding, the other rummaging through his coat pocket for something—bandages, maybe, or some kind of first aid. He was muttering under his breath, a stream of curses and commands, as if he could will you back to health with words alone.

You tried to speak, to tell him you were fine, but your voice came out in a weak, strangled gasp. The pain was spreading, a hot, searing sensation radiating from your abdomen and up through your chest. You could feel yourself slipping, the world around you growing dim and distant. But even through the haze, you could still hear his voice, sharp and insistent, pulling you back.

“Look at me,” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. You forced your eyes open, focusing on his face—his furrowed brow, his clenched jaw, the way his lips were pressed into a thin, determined line. “You’re not dying here, got it?”

There had been a fierceness in his voice that surprised you, a kind of raw intensity that you hadn’t heard before. You’d seen him angry, sure, and you’d seen him frustrated plenty of times, but this was different. This was personal. And it was then that you realized: he wasn’t just afraid of losing a colleague. He was afraid of losing you.

“Five,” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. You wanted to say something comforting, to let him know you’d be okay, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was reach out, your fingers brushing against his, a silent acknowledgment of his efforts, of his fear, of his care.

He grabbed your hand, his grip firm and unyielding, his gaze locked onto yours. “I’m not losing you,” he said again, his voice softer now but no less intense. “I’ve lost too many people already. Not you. Never you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the chaos around you fading into the background. It was just the two of you, caught in this strange, suspended moment, connected in a way that was deeper than words, deeper than time.

He worked quickly, efficiently, binding your wound with a piece of his own shirt, his movements precise and controlled despite the tension radiating from him. You could feel the energy building around you, the familiar sensation of time beginning to warp as he prepared to jump you both back to the Commission. His hands were steady, but there was a tremor in them that betrayed his calm façade.

“Hang on,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Just hang on a little longer.”

And then, with a blinding flash of light, the world around you shifted, the familiar pull of the time jump tugging at your very being. The pain in your side flared, a sharp spike of agony that ripped through your consciousness, but you held onto his hand, your grip tightening as you were pulled through the fabric of time.

When you opened your eyes again, you were in the Commission’s infirmary, the sterile white walls and the faint hum of machinery a stark contrast to the chaos you’d just left behind. Five was still there, his hand still holding yours, his face pale but relieved. He didn’t say anything, just sat there, his eyes never leaving your face, as if making sure you were really, truly okay.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” he muttered after a moment, his voice rough, but there was a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “You scared the hell out of me.” Despite the pain, you managed a small smile. “Didn’t know you cared so much,” you replied, your voice weak but teasing.

He rolled his eyes, but there was a softness in his gaze, a kind of tenderness you’d never seen before. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head,” he said gruffly, but you could hear the relief in his voice, the unspoken gratitude that you were still here, still alive.

And in that moment, you knew that things had changed. You’d always been a perfect team, but now, you were something more. You had seen a side of Five you’d never seen before, a vulnerability he’d never shown anyone. And you knew, without a doubt, that he cared about you—deeply, fiercely, in a way that went far beyond mere partnership.

As you lay there, your hand still entwined with his, you felt a strange sense of peace, a quiet understanding passing between you. Whatever happened next, whatever dangers awaited in the tangled web of time, you knew one thing for certain: you wouldn’t face them alone. Not as long as Five was by your side.

Since that day, he had been inseparable from you. At first, you found it strange—his constant presence, the way he seemed to hover just a little too close, always watching, always ready. Five had never been the type to show affection, to offer comfort. He was all sharp edges and quick wit, a perpetual storm in human form. But now, there was a softness to him, a quiet protectiveness that he tried, and mostly failed, to hide. And you no longer minded. In fact, you found it endearing. You came to cherish his closeness, his silent support.

You liked the constant teasing and the bickering that filled your days, a steady rhythm of banter and back-and-forth that felt more like home than any place you had ever been. It was comforting to have someone with whom you felt so... normal, someone who could keep up with you, match your pace, challenge you in ways that no one else could. The loneliness you’d once felt in the vast corridors of the Commission faded away with him by your side, replaced by something you never thought you’d have—companionship. Friendship. Love.

Many years later, during a quiet moment in the middle of another mission, Five finally confessed that he loved you. It wasn’t a grand declaration, nothing like the romantic stories you’d heard growing up. It was simple, almost matter-of-fact, the way he said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You had been stitching up a wound on his arm, your fingers deft and practiced, when he suddenly blurted it out.

“I love you,” he had said, his voice gruff but sincere, his eyes not meeting yours. For a moment, you thought you had misheard him. But then he looked at you, really looked at you, his expression more open and vulnerable than you’d ever seen. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” he added, softer this time, as if testing the words.

Your heart had skipped a beat, and you found yourself smiling, a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t felt in years. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was the truth, the simplest and most profound truth you had ever known.

Not long after, he asked you to marry him. It was as unceremonious as his confession of love, almost awkward in its delivery. You were in the middle of cleaning your weapons, preparing for yet another jump, when he looked over at you, his brow furrowed in that familiar way of his. “We should get married,” he said, as if he was suggesting you grab a cup of coffee.

You blinked, taken aback by his suddenness, but then you laughed—a soft, genuine laugh that felt good, felt right. “Yes,” you said, without hesitation. “Of course, yes.” There wasn’t a doubt in your mind. The life you’d built together, the bond you shared—it was more than enough.

The two of you quietly eloped, keeping your marriage a secret from the Commission. It wasn’t their business, after all. They didn’t need to know about the life you were building together, the small moments of happiness you stole between missions, the way you found comfort in each other’s presence amid the chaos of time. You had your little secrets, your private world carved out of the madness, and you intended to keep it that way.

And when Five decided he needed to go back to his family, “The Umbrella Academy,” you didn’t hesitate. You went right along with him, standing by his side as you always had. You knew how much he had sacrificed, how much he still carried with him—the weight of his past, the ghosts of his mistakes. But you also knew that he had found a new purpose, a reason to keep fighting, to keep moving forward. And wherever he went, you would follow.

And with that, you find yourself back into the present. You’re pacing around the room. Every minute feels like an hour, and every second that ticks by without a word from Five or Lila makes your heart pound harder in your chest. The silence is broken only by the occasional murmur of conversation or the soft shuffling of footsteps.

Then, suddenly, the air around you seems to shift. A low hum fills the room, and the familiar tingling sensation of a temporal disturbance ripples through you. Everyone turns toward the source, eyes wide with a mix of hope and apprehension.

A flash of blue light erupts in the center of the room, and for a moment, it’s blinding. You shield your eyes, your heart leaping into your throat. When the light fades, you blink, trying to clear your vision, and then you see them—Five and Lila—standing there, slightly disheveled but very much alive.

The two of them share small, strained smiles, a strange new tension between them that wasn't there before. Diego rushes at Lila, hugging her tightly, his strong arms pulling her close. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispers, his voice breaking, betraying the tough exterior he usually maintains. Lila laughs softly, but it sounds different—almost forced—as she returns the embrace, her eyes darting briefly to Five.

Five stands apart, his expression carefully neutral, he struggles to make eye contact with anyone — especially you. He scans the room as if searching for a distraction, his posture stiff, his hands clenched at his sides. "Good to see you're all still in one piece," he mutters, his tone flat. When his gaze accidentally meets Lila's, he quickly looks away, as if the sight of her is too much to bear.

You smile at Five, offering a small nod. You both aren’t much for public attention, and you hoped a subtle acknowledgment would be enough to connect, to let him know you’re there. But Five never meets your eyes. His gaze is distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Your smile fades, replaced by a furrowed brow. What’s your deal, Five?

You feel a knot of worry tighten in your stomach. Something is off with Five, more than usual. You’ve known him long enough to recognize when he’s hiding something, but this is different. It’s like he’s shut down entirely, locking everyone out—including you.

The others, caught up in their own reunions, don’t seem to notice the tension radiating from Five and Lila. Diego pulls back from Lila, holding her at arm’s length to look her over. “What happened to you two?” he asks, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the subtle changes in their appearances—the slightly haunted look in their eyes, the way they seem older somehow. “You’ve only been gone for like 4 hours”

Lila’s smile is tight, almost brittle. “Feels like a lifetime,” she says with a small, hollow laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. Her gaze drifts back to Five, and for a moment, there's something almost like longing—or maybe regret.

Five flinches at her words, just barely, but enough that you notice. He looks down, his jaw clenching. “Doesn’t matter,” he says quickly, cutting off any further questions. “We’re back now. That’s all that matters.” But his voice wavers slightly, betraying a crack in his composure.

You step forward, unable to keep the concern from your voice. “Five…what happened?” you ask softly, hoping to reach him, to break through whatever wall he’s put up.

He finally looks at you, but there’s a hardness in his eyes that makes your heart sink. “Drop it,” he snaps, a sharp edge to his tone that makes everyone else in the room go quiet. The silence that follows is heavy and uncomfortable, the unspoken tension between him and Lila now impossible to ignore.

Lila clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, maybe we should all just… take a breather,” she suggests, trying to lighten the mood, but there’s a nervousness in her voice that makes it clear she’s not as relaxed as she’s pretending to be. She glances at Five again, and you see it now—how her eyes linger on him just a moment too long, and how his jaw tightens in response, his expression guarded.

Diego, picking up on the strange atmosphere but not fully understanding it, frowns. “Did something happen between you two?” he presses, his eyes narrowing as he looks between Five and Lila. His gaze drops to Lila’s wrist, and his eyes widen slightly. “You hate wearing bracelets,” he points out, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Lila instinctively pulls her wrist closer to her side, but not before Diego catches sight of the handmade leather bracelet. “No, I like them,,” she says but her voice lacks conviction. Diego shakes his head, his frown deepening. “Yeah, you do. You traded the one I gave you for a vacuum, remember?” His voice is heavy with accusation, his eyes now fixed on the bracelet. “Where’d you get that one?”

Diego’s eyes narrow even more, his gaze shifting to Five. "Did you make that?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous, cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. The question hangs heavy in the air, charged with accusation and disbelief.

Five’s expression hardens, his eyes narrowing as he glances at Lila, then back at Diego. His jaw is set, his posture rigid. “I sure as hell didn’t make that bracelet for you,” he replies coldly, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade. There’s a finality in his tone, a hint of something unresolved but unapologetic.

Your breath catches in your chest, a painful tightness forming there. He made it… For her…? The thought is like a dagger, twisting in your gut. You blink, trying to process the revelation, the reality of it sinking in like a stone. A handmade bracelet—something so personal, so intimate.

You glance at Five, but he’s not looking at you. His gaze remains locked on Diego, unwavering, as if bracing for whatever comes next. A storm of emotions swirls inside you—betrayal, hurt, confusion. The room seems to close in around you, the walls pressing in, the air thick and suffocating.

Diego’s gaze shifts from Lila to Five, and you can see the pieces slowly clicking into place for him. His face hardens with a mix of realization and fury. “Did you screw my wife?” he demands, his voice a low, dangerous growl. The words explode into the room like a bomb, the air suddenly charged with tension.

Five’s eyes remain steady on Diego, his face an unreadable mask. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something—anything—but Diego’s not interested in hearing it. His fists are clenched at his sides, his entire body radiating a barely restrained fury.

“You did, didn’t you?” Diego’s voice rises, each word heavy with the weight of betrayal. "All this time, and you—you were cheating on me?” His accusation shifts to Lila, his eyes burning with hurt and anger.

Lila quickly steps between them, placing a hand on each of their chests as if trying to physically push them apart. “Guys, let’s not do this right now,” she urges, her voice firm but laced with a hint of desperation. “This isn’t the time or place.”

You stand frozen, disbelief washing over you. Your mind reels at the weight of Diego’s words. Cheating? The idea feels like a punch to the gut. You’ve spent countless years with Five, fought battles by his side, faced the end of the world more than once. And he gives it all up—for what? For his brother’s wife, over the course of seven years in another timeline?

Your breath catches, a sharp pain blooming in your chest. You try to swallow it down, but it’s too much, too fast. The reality of what you’re hearing—of what Five has done—feels like a betrayal deeper than anything you’ve faced together. The walls seem to close in around you, the weight of the revelation pressing down on your shoulders, threatening to crush you.

You look at Five, searching his face for some sign of denial, of regret—anything that might soften the blow of this new reality. But he’s still staring at Diego, his expression unyielding, almost defiant. His jaw is set, his eyes cold and distant. There’s no apology there, no remorse—just a cold, hard acceptance of what’s been done, of what can’t be undone. The sight of his indifference twists the knife deeper into your heart.

You feel your chest tighten, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Your hands are trembling, fingers curling into fists at your sides as you fight to keep yourself together. You want to scream, to cry, to lash out and demand answers. But you know it won’t change anything. The damage is done, and the betrayal runs too deep. You feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not now. Not in front of them. Not in front of him.

You shake your head, unable to look at Five any longer. The pain is too raw, too intense, and being in the same room with him feels unbearable. You can’t handle this—not now, not like this. The walls are closing in, the air thick and suffocating. Your heart is pounding in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of what’s been shattered between you.

Without another word, you turn on your heel and leave the room, your steps quick and unsteady. You feel the eyes of the others on you as you push past them, but you don’t care. You can’t stay here—not in this room, not with them. Not with him. The hallway stretches out before you like a lifeline, and you move toward it, your movements frantic and desperate, as if putting distance between you and Five might somehow ease the ache in your chest.

You stumble into the hallway, your vision blurred by unshed tears. You don’t know where you’re going—only that you need to get away. Away from the pain, away from the betrayal, away from the suffocating weight of it all. Your feet carry you down the corridor, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you fight to hold back the sobs threatening to break free.

You finally reach an empty room, but as you reach for the door, you realize with a jolt that it's the one you and Five share. The one where you slept beside him last night, completely unaware of the storm that was about to hit. The memories of your shared moments—whispered conversations, late-night confessions, stolen kisses—flood back, now tainted with a sense of betrayal and loss. You hesitate, your hand hovering over the doorknob, but then you push it open and slip inside, closing it behind you.

The moment the door clicks shut, you collapse against it, your legs giving out beneath you. You sink to the floor, your back pressed against the wood, and the tears finally come. Hot, angry tears spill down your cheeks, and a broken sob escapes your lips. The room is quiet, painfully so, and the sound of your cries seems to fill every corner, bouncing off the walls and echoing back to you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, as if trying to hold the pieces of yourself together, but it’s no use. The dam has broken, and the flood of emotion is too strong to contain. You bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs. You cry for the loss of trust, for the betrayal, for the love you thought was unbreakable. You cry for everything you’ve lost and everything you can never get back.

The bed looms in the corner of your vision, a cruel reminder of the intimacy you once shared with Five. It’s still unmade from this morning, the sheets tangled from where you both slept. You remember the warmth of his body beside you, the way his hand would always find yours in the dark. The way he would hold you when you were scared, whispering promises of forever. Promises that now feel like lies.

You lift your head, your eyes red and swollen from crying. You look around the room, and all you can see are the remnants of a life that no longer feels like yours. The books on the nightstand that you read together, the photos on the wall of happier times—all of it feels like a cruel joke, mocking the trust you placed in him. The room, once a sanctuary, now feels like a prison, filled with ghosts of a past that will never return.

As the tears flow, you realize something with a cold, hard clarity that cuts through the haze of your grief—nothing will ever be the same again. Not between you and Five, not between any of you. The damage is done, and there’s no going back. You feel a hollowness settle in your chest, a void where your love for him once lived. You wonder if you’ll ever feel whole again, or if this betrayal has shattered you beyond repair.

It’s been a few days since the cheaters blinked back to your timeline. Each day has dragged on, an endless cycle of numbness and pain. The initial wave of tears has subsided, replaced by a slow-burning anger that simmers just below the surface. How could he? How could she? The questions run through your mind on a loop, feeding the fire that burns inside you.

You try to go about your daily routine, but everything feels off, wrong. The house feels different—colder, emptier. The others tiptoe around you, unsure of what to say, how to act. They’ve seen the hurt in your eyes, the way you flinch whenever Five enters the room. They’ve heard the way your voice trembles when you speak, how your words are laced with a bitterness you can’t seem to shake.

And then there’s Five. He moves around the house like a ghost, his presence a constant reminder of the betrayal. He tries to talk to you, but you can’t bear to look at him, let alone hear what he has to say. His words mean nothing now; they’re empty, hollow, like the promises he once made. You’ve built walls around yourself, high and impenetrable, to keep him out—to protect what little remains of your heart.

Your anger grows each day, festering like an open wound. It fuels you, giving you strength when the pain becomes too much to bear. It’s the only thing that keeps you going, that stops you from collapsing under the weight of it all. You cling to it, because without it, all you’re left with is the emptiness, the loss, the heartbreak.

We have been married for years, you think bitterly, and yet we never even once slept together, let alone him see me naked. How in the hell could he have fucked Lila over the span of seven years? The thought is a searing ache, cutting through the numbness that has settled over you. He always said we were too busy for such nonsense.

The double standard gnaws at you, a relentless, cruel irony. All those times he claimed there was no time for intimacy, no room for such personal moments because of their dangerous, high-stakes missions. And now you have to grapple with the fact that he found time for Lila—time to build a relationship, to share moments that were supposed to be sacred between the two of you. It feels like a betrayal of not just your love but the very essence of your marriage.

You remember the conversations where he would dismiss your need for closeness, brushing it aside with promises of better times to come. “We’re too busy,” he’d said, “We have a world to save.” Yet here was the proof that when it came to Lila, the rules were different. The lies, the excuses, all of it crashes down on you, leaving you gasping for breath.

The anger is raw, a jagged edge that you can’t seem to smooth over. It’s not just about what Five did; it’s about the betrayal of trust, the violation of promises made. The fact that he could share himself so completely with someone else, while withholding even the smallest gestures of intimacy from you, cuts deeper than any physical wound could.

You pace the empty room, the anger simmering, demanding an outlet. It’s a fire that consumes everything in its path, burning through your hope, your trust, your love. And it leaves behind a desolate landscape, a place where you’re forced to confront the stark reality of what’s been done.

How could he justify this? you wonder. How could he reconcile the intimacy he shared with Lila while claiming there was no time for us?

[mnnuni]

Domestic

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean's perspective of Sam and Reader's relationship; Sam and Reader are two cutie patooties Words: 1450 Warnings: none, very fluffy Author's note: I actually don't know if I love this or I hate it

A solid faithful relationship into the hunters' field was almost rare: if they were married they were either consummed for loss or full of affairs and if they had boyfriends or girlfriends they will fight for the distance or the different visions of life. And then there was the rarity, the true love cases, the one in which they would share their life of hunters as easily as a piece of bread.

Dean Winchester never really believed in those rareness, never really believed in love in general... that was untill he really saw Sam and (Y/N) together.

Their love started slowly, it was one of that things that people would say "we already knew" when they eventually announced their relationship.

Dean was convinced that Sam's heart decided from the very beginning of their story that he would beat out of his ribcage only for her in his entire life; Dean saw it in the way Sam didn't just pass (Y/N) the milk and sugar for her coffee for her second cup of that day on their first case together, but he put them in her mug while she read out loud some articles for Dean. Sam didn't put much thougth in that action, but when she realized (Y/N) blushed because he remebred the exact order and amount of products she used after only one time.

But Dean also knew that he approved of their relationship when it was him that proposed to Sam to pick the impala and take (Y/N) somewhere special, just because she deserved all the effort his brother could put in a date and even more. Sam wasn't so surprised about that because he also saw how Dean had grown fond of (Y/N), to the point she was the only girl ever that didn't receive the "hurt my brother and I will end you" speech but it was the other way around.

When (Y/N) confined in Dean one night he really wasn't expecting what she was telling him, after more than an year of being officially with Sam.

"I know he loves me" that was her premise, and Dean could have screamed "WE ALL KNOW" but he let her keep going "but sometimes i whish things were easier" at this the Whinchester quirked an eyebrow and Y/N started rumbling then "I'm not saying it isn't easy with Sam, I just want to say that ... there's never a period of peace in our kind of lifes and we all accepted this when we decided to be hunters, but sometimes I find myself of dreaming one night together without running from something or cleaning up eachother scars... I need normality"

Dean knew that this was also Sam's dream, his little brother wanted this since Stanford, but he also knew that both of them needed to hunt because that was what gave them the hope to make the world a better place and the adrenaline that every man and every woman would need to go throu life.

After this conversation with (Y/N), Dean almost ran to Sam to order him to organize something special for his lady; he wasn't surprised to find him already writing a list of things he wanted to do with her, "I know I didn't give her the right amount of attention these past weeks, shoul I go for a picnic or romantic restaurant?". Dean tried not to smile at his answer, even if he really admired how Sam could know how his girlfriend felt withouth even say anithing and his commitment to their relationship; "The picnic is cute, but not for this time of the year. No reastaurant. She needs something calm, be domestic dude"

He left him like this to think of something, he was sure his brother would have find the right thing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day Sam was adjusting one of the bunker's biggest room, he bought a projector and a too big amount of movies -even if he thought that he could never do too much for (Y/N)-

He asked Dean to help him put her favorite couch in there and order a lot of her favourite snacks.

Dean was really proud of how Sam behaved with (Y/N) and for (Y/N), never saw him so whipped for no-one.

When (Y/N) got out of her shower, she was ready to jump into Sam's bed and sleep for two days if she could; instead she found Dean in the kitchen with a blindfold in his hands, "I promise, you will lovee what you'll see after this" he winked and then put it on her face.

"I swear to God Dean, if you're tricking me..." they were walking a pat she never did in the bunker "oh please you love me too" "if you think so...", Dean stopped her in front of a purple metal door and took the blindfold off "oh i know so" he whispered and then proceeded to walk away from there.

(Y/N) was left to wonder what the hell was going on when Sam opened said door and smiled "Hi", it had the same emotion he carried during their first date, (Y/N) smiled too and got on her tiptoes to give him a light kiss. He grabbed her hand and walked her into the room, she would have cried if she realized sooner everything there was in that room.

"You did all this for me?!"

It was clear in her voice that she was emotional in that moment and Sam hated the fact that she underestimated her value for him, "baby, that's nothing. Perhaps I should have done something sooner when I first started to notice you needed some time alone" "thank you". Sam smiled and gave her a kiss.

When they finally settled onto the couch (Y/N) was analyzing every detail there was in Sam's preparation: he put three blankets on the couch 'cause he knew he was too tall to tall for them both be covered entirely just by one and also added few pillows because (Y/N) loved the fluffy feeling of them while watching a movie; he made a little table with every kind of chips the market sold and four bottles of her favorite soda, on the shelf under it there were two or three packages of cookies too. Sam also organised something like fifteen movies, all divided by genre and number of stars (Y/N) gave them when they first talked about it.

Sam chose the first movie of the night -obviously a musical- and settled next to his girlfriend. She was so fucking happy about all Sam had done for her.

(Y/N) put her head on his chest while Sam's arm was around her shoulders, drawing figures on her arms to make her relax some more.

Dean snuck in after the first two songs of the musical and rested with one shoulder leaned on the doorframe to look at them: they were adorable. At first when they were on their honeymoon phase Dean felt the need to puke every two seconds, but now he loved to look at them from afar and be happy of their happiness

(Y/N) lifted her head to look at Sam: he was so focused on the screen,the lights of the scenes illuminated his face in a way that made his eyes sparkle.

"I love you", she whispered and Sam's face turned instantly. She still blushed when Sam looked at her that way, "and I love you".

Dean didn't see the kiss because he closed the door immediately after his brother said those words, that was another of the things that made Dean root for them: they never said "I love you too", like they had to say it just because or to not be in an embarrassing situation; every time they proclaimed their love for eachother they made sure to let the other know how much they actually loved eachother and how they really believed in what they said with that "I love you".

Sam and (Y/N) watched another movie and a documentary, they finished almost all the chips and sodas. After about the half of the documentary (Y/N) fell asleep snuggled up to Sam, who was massaging her head -he already knew that after one cookie she was about to pass out, so he made sure to get her in the most comfortable position and help with his hands in her hair to allow the sleep to finally set-

Dean never got back in that room, because he knew that they would have fallen asleep eventually. He made himself a burger and drank one too many beers, but it didn't matter because that night Dean too slept so well knowing that his brother and his sister were okay.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

He's my collar

Synopsis: You were saved by your ex-mentor, then Batman saved you from him. Even with your habilities It seems like you will never stop being a damsel in distress. Don't worry though, you are just a puppy who just got adopted by the best caretaker ever. And he knows what you need even better than yourself.

Pairing: Yandere!Batman X Villain turned hero!Gn!AFAB!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: 18+; Dubcon between Yan!Bruce X Gn!Reader; Reader has a pussy and an uterus; Grooming?!; Reader is inexperienced and a virgin; Reader is a people pleaser; age gap (Reader is 21 and Bruce is on his 40’s); fingering!reader receiving; mentions of sexu4l harr4sment, s3xual 4ssault and pedoph1lia (nothing happens, reader was just afraid of being a victim growing up); Bruce is very touchy and Reader doesn't know how to feel about that; power imbalance; Reader has intense daddy and trust issues, intrusive thoughts and a rough background; mentions of family loss; fluff, suggestive and angst; manipulation and guilt tripping; platonic!batfamily are happy, Damian loves you and no one knows Bruce is a yandere for you, but they are kinda weirded out by the age gap; English is not my first language.

Word count: 8,5k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: that's how I’m picturing villain!reader suit and that's the vigilant suit. Also It was really hard to find cool names for reader’s villain ex-mentor and reader’s villain and hero persona, but you can imagine whatever suit and name you want

General masterlist | He's My Collar - Series masterlist

You were 11 when your deadbeat father handed you over to Overkill to appease the criminal’s anger. That day, you lost your birth name and became Onslaught.

When you joined him you were afraid your fate would be to become his sex slave, it wouldn't be absurd to think he wanted to use you like that since the last time you saw your father, when he was on his knees, crying for his life to be spared, he cried an offer that your mentor accepted: my kid! Take my kid! They already bleed! Check their underwear! They're already grown, take them and do whatever you want to them! Don't even have to bring them back, take them with you if you want! They can clean and cook and will do whatever you want, I swear! they will keep quiet! I won't tell anyone!

Tsk. Pathetic old man.

Later he told you he only took you in because cruelty against kids was the only line he refused to cross and hated who committed It. He said you were better off with him If your own father made a strange and violent man an offer of such disgusting nature.

Overkill never touched you the way your father expected. If 99% of the time he didn't treat you like a minion, and 1% as his ward, you could even love him. He definitely was your second (shitty) father figure.

Instead, he did make you cook and clean, but only when you weren't training and studying to be his sidekick. He was a villain-for-hire. Sketchy civilians, crime bosses, supervillains and corrupt politicians would hire you both to do the stealing, killing and terrorizing. When you became his, it meant he could get more jobs while working less and earning more. He got 99% of the money and you would get 1%. Literally. If he was in a good mood, felt you deserved a treat or one of the clients showed a liking to you, he gave you more, never more than his own part though.

It was just one more way to keep the leash of the puppy attached to him. Keep you dependent. He also used psychological methods for that, you knew that now.

When you were a kid, before he became your mentor, like every normal child, you developed an obsession. Some liked dinosaurs. Some liked princesses. Some liked insects. You liked wolves. You used to spend hours imagining yourself being one of them. Running through the woods with a pack that would accept, love and protect you. Your cries for help, the night that your father beat your mom to her grave and was close to doing the same to you, were howls to the moon. Calling for help. Calling for someone. But the only one who could hear your frequency was him.

Your savior. Your keeper. The alpha of your little two member pack.

When you were 21 your whole life changed for the second time. Batman caught Overkill, cut off his claws, put a muzzle on him and left him in Belle Reve.

He was merciful to you though, he was a hero after all, and he investigated your history. He gave you options: 1-Live a civilian and lawful life. 2-Learn his ways and become a vigilant by his side, saving lives and all that shit that made heros panties wet. 3-Keep the lifestyle of a criminal and next time he saw Onslaught in action he would break your legs and put you in a cage right next to your packleader's.

You chose the second option.

And that was how Onslaught was dead and Silverclaw was born.

Batman set you up in one of his safehouses, helped get a new identity and you were to patrol the city with him every night. You thought because you were an adult he would leave you on your own when It came to education and a job, he didn't. He insisted on giving you money until you found a common daytime job.

— Are you doing that to make sure I’m not gonna try to monetize from saving people? — You looked at him suspiciously, searching for a facial reaction that could give him away. None came. Dude was really stoic.

— No.

— You are trying to control me then. — You crossed your arms, being mindful of your new claws.

— I’m trying to help you. — Batman stared at you a lot. If you didn't know better you would think he was a statue in the middle of your new living room from how still he was. You huffed. — You can trust me…

— Can I, really? Can you trust me? — You challenged him, half stepping forward and learning slightly in his direction while touching the bat in his chest with the tip of your claw. He didn't react.

— You will show me.

You chose not to respond and resumed your previous actions of looking around your new home. You pretended to just be touring curiously but the man knew you were searching for cameras or bugs he could use to secretly monitor you. Or just have a peepshow.

— You always do this to the rest of your bats? — He didn't answer. — Maybe not all, I imagine Red Hood wouldn't like it. You don't mind that he is a crime lord right? Or is that the reason you are always fighting?! — He still didn't answer. — Wow, Geez, you never shut up, you know?! Let other people talk. Uh, sorry, I shouldn't be talking like that with my new boss, right?

— I'm not your boss.

— Babysitter then?

— Mentor… Until you can work on your own… — You roll your eyes. So much for admitting he didn't trust you yet. Well, you didn't either.

After three months he changed your suit to have a bat brand on your left shoulder, you were an official member of his team, and gave you access to the batcave. You always saw him, some of the others and his butler coming and going from the elevator, but never tried It, even If he never out loud forbade you from doing it. You noticed they were all very close and didn't feel like you belonged among them, so you didn't need to know where that elevator took you, even If you were often in the cave.

On the 5th month you passed out from an injury after saving Robin. Two-face flipped the coin and his bullet was aiming straight to Robin’s head but he was so small that when you ran in front of him it hit your abdomen. You woke up four hours later in the cave and Batman took his mask off and thanked you for saving his son. That night you found out all of their identities and that the elevator took you to Wayne Manor. Damian, Alfred, Bruce, Tim and Dick (who showed up to thank you as soon as he heard what you prevented from happening with his baby brother) all insisted that you spent the night in one of the guest rooms due to your recent injury.

It took a week of you trying to leave until you managed to. Everyone always found a way to convince you to stay. They were nice and It felt like a warm welcome into their group.

— Damian looks up to you. — Bruce calmly stated after stopping in front of you one day, a month after your recovery was complete and you were out and about at night again. After watching you sparing with Robin for an hour and a half, the opened case was officially forgotten on his ‘batcomputer’ behind him.

— Yeah, I can really feel him putting all his love on his tiny fists when he hits me and leave me bruised and sore for days. — You comment nonchalantly while taking a sip of water and glancing at the kid running towards the elevator. Your mentor snorted.

— He wants you to see him as someone on your level or above. To know that he is reliable and you can call for him when you need help. He did the same with everyone here. Chalenged them, I mean. — You open your mouth to respond but freeze and your arm instintively moves on its own to grip his wrist when he tries to touch your shoulder.

You both stare a each other frozen and in silence for a few seconds before you snap out of it and let go of his wrist.

— My bad.

His hand is still in the air and he slowly retreats It to his side while still analizing you.

— Are you scared of me? — You shake your head hurriedly.

— It was instinct. — You leave It at that.

You both spend a few moments just staring the other down until he clears his throat and step back.

— I’m on a case. You need to work on your detective skills more. Are you free now or are you going to your nest? — You felt deeply grateful for his change of subject and agreed.

You went to grab another seat but his long legs beat you to It, rolled the chair in the direction of the computer and gentlemanly gestured for you to seat down, pushing the chair forward to accommodate you when your tights touched the padding. You raised your eyebrows wearily after the whole interaction but didn't react more than that while he situated himself on his ‘batseat’ beside you.

After a few minutes you unconsciously relaxed your muscles and your conversation went on for hours. You were delightened by how easy It was to talk to him, the first time It didn't feel like an interaction between you that wasn't strictly mentor and apprentice, instead, It felt more like a friend giving you tips and you sucked up on all the knowledge and attention he provided you. He seemed in a good mood and even gave you his signature small smile and praised you a few times when you got something right.

At some point Alfred came down to provide you both with tea and snacks, he seemed to pause for a second while his eyes flew from you to Bruce, who was behind you since you turned around to acknouledge his entrance, covering most of his emotions towards the sight. He semeed kinda… Intrigued. Maybe surprised or awkward. You hacked your brain trying to understand but he turned around and left, Bruce was pushing your cup into your hands before you came to any conclusion.

— You like tea? — He questioned and the contrast between this question and the gory case you were discussing seconds before amused you.

— Uhh, I guess? — You brought the cup closer to your lips, copying his actions as he did the same while looking at you casually. — I like more coffee though, and Overkill was a coffee enthusiast so we drank a lot.— You scrunched your nose at the fleeting memory of your old mentor and the weird reminder that he had a human personality behind his usual strict behavior.

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly for a second before the expression vanished. He never held back when it came to showing contempt towards anyone from his team’s past who was associated with crime.

— Were you close to him? — Suddenly he seemed more serious. You wondered if you were misreading the mood this whole time or were just doing it right now.

— Hmm… Not really… It's complicated… - You took another sip.

— I’m listening. — He seemed sincere. Apparently you were having a break from work.

— He wasn't all bad, I mean, he saved me, but… He still kept me around for all business… — Part of you felt like grieving for some reason. — I guess I ended up seeing him as as father figure, or I wanted to, but… — Bruce held himself not to tense. For the first time since the work talk stopped he took his eyes off of your face and looked at his cup. — He just… He knew how to keep his distance while still keeping me by his side 24/7. — He looked at you again, with a more neutral semblance than before. — At leash until I turned 18. He changed when I turned 18. — Bruce furrowed his eyebrows with concern. It was still odd to know someone cared about you.

— How so?

You cleared your throat. It was the first time you thought about the past since becoming a lonely wolf, or rather, you thought you were a lonely wolf, that changed when you realized you now had friends. Thinking about the past was pointless when you barely had something to be nostalgic about. You only had memories you desperately wanted to forget.

— Well… You know how his only weak spot are kids. When I hit 18, I stopped being a kid for him. I was finally too old to commit mistakes. I think he saw me as a possible threat and wanted to prevent me from becoming one by proving how much power he had over me. He was a boss for me just as much as any goom beneath him.

Bruce nodded thoughtfully. You didn't say more, afraid of delving too much on something you avoided to think about until your darkest nights.

Suddenly you felt your whole body tense when you felt his warm and big hand rest just above your knee and squeeze. You fixed your gaze on his hand but didn't move more than that. It felt strange, you weren't used to gentle touches and maybe there was something more, you Just didn't now what yet. It got worse when he kept his palm there and went further, rolling his thumb in circles around your clothed knee. The thick sweatpants fabric kept the barrier of intimacy up albeit the heat radiating off of him somehow challenged it. How can someone be so warm? You envied people who where always warm like that. You hated feeling cold — one of the reasons why you liked your suit so much.

— I’m sorry about that… — His voice mande your eyes snap to his again, he had a sincere expression. It was off putting and seemed out of character since he was always stoic, at least around you.

You bite your lip in a display of nervousness that escaped your usually well conceived emotions. Your heart beat faster when for a fleeting second he looked at your mouth and just as fast he was fixed on your eyes again. You didn't think the action had any hidden meaning, nor was it intentional, still, you felt the the need to run and hide.

— … Sure… — You moved to cross your legs, silently prompting him to finally take his hand off after lingering for too long. You looked back to the computer, determined to ignore what just happened and reflect on what it meant later. You missed his displeasement.

Bruce never expected himself to feel attracted to you. As he got older, the age range of the people he felt attracted to accompanied his age. He kept to himself and willed it away at first, but you were so… You.

You tried acting cold, kinda like him. But you needed him and strays always caught his attention. Unlike his kids he had a hunch that you wouldn't flourish by being independent and left on your own. You needed a keeper.

At first he felt like a creep every time your body caught his attention or he found himself staring at you for longer than intended. He was hyperaware everytime you two were close, wich usually was when sparring.

Bruce thought that taking you in as his protegee would satiate his need to take care of you and have you close, but after months of paying your bills and mentoring you, he realized his feelings for you were not platonic.

And it seemed like he was not the only one.

He knew the rest of the family noticed his “fleeting” touches that would linger on your shoulder, arms, back and knee. He retracted himself every time you showed clear disfomfort though, but you never outright rejected him.

His theory of his family's knowledge of his interest in you was confirmed one night when Nightwing stopped by to borrow some equipment and witnessed Batman closer than necessary to Silverclaw, while taking too much to inspect — with his eyes and his hands — your gloves that you were wearing and apparently had recently been upgraded.

— Hey, guys! — Dick’s hesitacion towards the scene grew but kept hidden when you both looked up at him surprised. Somehow he caught you both off guard even if the elevator was not that silent. Dick noted that Silverclaw seemed slightly wide-eyed, the only feature in your suit that was left exposed, along with your eyebrows, while Bruce, who wasn't wearing the cow, maintained a neutral expression, like he didn't have anything to hide. You both greeted him when surprise subsided and you took a step back from Bruce, like you just realized your proximity.

— Hmm… I should get going… Gonna meet Red Robin on the docks in a few. — Both men acknowledged your presence again and Dick saw your awkwardness, his parent seemed fine though.

Bruce nodded to you and you suddenly felt like a sidekick who had just gotten permission from Overkill to do something you were supposed to be doing with or without his approval, but needed to make sure your superior thought it to be appropriate for the mission. A soldier reporting to their captain. Like you never actually took a step forward and everything was the same. It made you feel small and hollow. Gave a bad taste to your mouth. It didn't feel good. But you ignored it because it was all in your head.

Before you could move, the oldest hand shot to your waist and squeezed briefly the soft flesh there as best as he could with the armor in the way. You felt your blood freeze and shivered.

— Be careful. We don't know what Killer Croc is doing there. And take care of Red Robin, he only had 10 hours of sleep in the last three days. — You meekly and wordlessly nodded and robotically left on your bike while feeling a pair of eyes scrutinizing your every move.

Dick cleared his throat, finally catching the Dark Knight’s attention for good.

— Dick. Do you need something? — Bruce turned to his work table and started tinkering with what apparently he was doing before you interrupted him earlier.

— I mean, just came to take a spare mask, I think the camera lenses on mine broke. But since I’m already here… — The younger alonged the last word while hopping to his father’s side. — B, can I talk to you about something? Don't be mad. — That made Bruce worried. Dick cringed at his own wording and the older male turned to him and crossed his arms.

— What happened? — Bruce demanded in a Batman’s voice.

— Nothing! Nothing. Sorry, my bad. What I meant was… Are you sure that's what you want? — At his dad’s confused furrowed eyebrows the hero explained. — (Y/N). I mean… They’re quite young, you know?! It's a lot of responsibility... I don't think they've ever dated anyone, even if they're between Jason and Tim’s age and Tim’s a whore… Too much of a slut for his own age, actually- Not the point. It's just, everyone noticed and have been commenting about it, but I don't think they noticed already. — Nightwing leaves it at that, hoping that his father understands what he was trying to say, desperately trying not to have to explain more and feel like he is teaching his own father the ‘puberty will make your body change’ and the ‘birds and bees’ talk, or ‘bats and wolves’ talk, in this case.

Bruce blinked.

— Are you trying to give me the sex talk? — And there goes all his hard work. — And stop swearing. — Dick groans and runs his hand through his face.

— Nooo, why do you make everything so difficult? It’s just… First of all, we trust you okay? It just feels weird when you start flirting with them, especially for the ones that live here. I mean, me and Jason still have nightmares and get the creeps when we remember the time when you used to date Selina. And Damian almost pukes every time Talia tries to rizz you up again. — Dick is careful to dance around the subject of your more than two decades age gap. — And, like I said, I don't think (Y/N) has much experience either. Maybe they don’t know what you're doing. Just… Go slow, okay?!

Bruce holds a huff for the sake of being stoic.

He already envisioned the possibility of you having none or little experience before, and you haven't done anything that told him otherwise yet. Deep down he is kinda… Turned on knowing he could be your first everything. Teach you just how he likes. Be the only one to ever know what you like. He's also happy that, by the way his son said it, it looks like everyone thinks you are both closer than you really are. More intimate, romantic. He and you are the only ones who know that you never had a conversation about the change in your dynamic, limits, future and general status. He thinks you are conflicted, and this conversation only encouraged him to either lay down the cards for you or catch you off guard and put you against the wall. Metaphorically.

And maybe literally.

He's also not going to think too deep in the warm feeling he feels when thinking about corrupting an innocent puppy who isn't even aware of his intentions.

A sheep in wolf's clothing.

— I know all about that, Dick. Don't worry, I'm being mindful of their timing.

— You should move to the manor.

Bruce's blurted out sentence caught you so off guard you choked on your rich people's food. You knew he was simmering something in his mind the whole morning.

He recently got you to work as his assistant in Wayne Enterprises. You felt he either pitied you for having been forced to drop school when you were 11 you couldn't find many options that allowed you to live a comfortable life — in the standards of an old money billionaire at least —, and your lack of education wasn't a problem to be solved fast. You just didn't know he wanted a solid excuse to be your sole provider forever and wanted you close to him all the time.

He also liked how you looked in formal attire. Developed a fantasy of bending you over the table and taking you from behind. Making you suck him off under the table. Then get on his knees and reciprocate the favor. Became obsessed with the sight of the first buttons of your shirt open, exposing your neck and collarbone. Was hooked on how it made your chest look. Was bent on making you lean forward to give him a flash of what's under your shirt.

He was never this perverted for anyone his whole life. You must be special.

The Wayne was unbothered with your choking while people on the other tables glanced your way, he simply chose to pat you on the back — and not take his hand off when you felt better, you still didn't know how to feel about the touchy nature he adopted when with you. He never hurt you, but was it really… Appropriate?

He is your mentor. He is a lot older. Your inner child cried for him to take you in as one more of his children, heal your daddy issues.

Another part of you, on the other hand, thought of you to be too old for him to simply claim you as his child — he took in his children who were close to your age when they were kids —. That part also told you you were undeserving of love, that everyone just wanted to take advantage of you, and that authority figures should shove it up their asses.

Your intrusive thoughts remarked that if he really wanted you sexually — obviously romantically was not an option. All you are is an object. —, well, he is very attractive. And even If you decide that you don't want him that way… You should just take It. He is above you. It's just how hierarchy works. He protects you. He takes care of you. You should be grateful and stay on his good side.

You internally shake your head. No. That's not how it works.

You took a sip of water.

— What are you talking about? Why? — You look at him, trying to understands where this is coming from. Sure, living alone was kinda lonely, but freeing, you didn't feel like you needed to seek anyone's approval or permission when you were alone. Besides, you were barely on your nest now that he got you this job anyway. And Damian seemed to like running off and sleeping in your place when he and Bruce were having their disaccords.

— Well, for one, it would give me peace of mind, it's safer with us. It would also make It easier for you, you wouldn't have to drive home alone at 3 a.m after patrols. — You raised an eyebrow at his current list of reasons. The 1st might be right. But the 2nd was like saying you were a civilian walking home after your shift at your civilian job. Not a vigilant, ex-criminal with 10 years of experience in hand-to-hand combat, maneuvering of weapons, who rides a motorcycle to a toptech safehouse while carrying a bat-utility belt and stainless steel claws. You kept your mouth shut when he seemed to have more reasons. — Damian would love to have you closer, the others too, but you know you are his second favorite. — Your heart felt warm at that. After learning the reason for the puppy’s bites, you couldn't help but see a bit of yourself in him, since you had similar backgrounds. You tried to subtly give him a safe space so he wouldn't turn out to be like you. You didn't want that for anyone. Especially a kid. — And also… I want you closer.

You took a deep breath while nodding slowly and trying not to react. Looks like it's time to acknowledge the elephant in the room. Suddenly his hand on your back felt heavier and burning hot.

— Why? — Your tone and steely expression made it clear you demanded a clear and honest answer from him. One he didn't hesitate to give you.

Faking a confused expression, he tilted his head slightly to the side.

— What do you mean why? I want you (Y/N). — Your blood froze. — I think it's been very clear that I’m in love with you. — You felt like you received a punch to the gut. — I… Thought you felt the same… — No, he didn't.

You didn't know what to say.

Bruce slowly retracted his hand away from you, but you stopped him midair by grabbing it. He knew it was time to take the next step.

You didn't even know why you did that. Do you feel the same for him?

— I… I… — Your mouth was opening and closing like a fish. He nodded understandably.

— It’s okay. You need time to think. My offer still stands. Even if you don't feel the same… I Just care about you above anything, okay? — You reluctantly nodded, staring at him almost dumbfounded. He smiled lightly to show he was still in good spirits.

After a moment of pondering he bit his lower lip, took his hand closer to your face and caressed your cheek, eyes stuck on his face, mesmerized. You were surprised someone as generous and rightful as him could look at you like that. Admirating you like you weren't tainted.

He even gave you a choice! And told you he cared about you! No matter if you feel the same!

He would certainly be a good man to love.

— Say ‘thank you’ to (Y/N), Damian.

— TT. Thank you, (L/N). — The little green-eyed puppy was looking from you to his present repeatedly. Months prior, when Batman first took you in, before you even had the bat insignia on your shoulder, you caught Robin sitting on a roof reading Death Note on his phone. You didn't know what it was and he pretended to be annoyed with your interruption while explaining it. Now, he is completing 14 and you bought him the whole set of volumes. You wanted him to know that you paid attention and cared about him. You wished someone did that when you were his age. Overkill didn't want to hear about wolves or about the cool new things you were seeing for the first time on your trips together.

You smiled.

— You’re welcome, pups. — Damian let out a ‘TT’ again and turned around to run to his friend Jon. You could almost see their wagging tails while they excitedly talked about his present. Bruce's hand running in circles in the small of your back snapped you out of it and you straightened your posture from the bent position you took to talk to the little one.

It was two weeks prior that he asked you to live with them. You accepted and moved a week ago. It was slightly disappointing to know you wouldn't gain a father out of him, but a least his confession made it easier to understand your feelings. You haven’t outright told him that you wanted him like a man, you were testing things out. In the end, you were both adults and at some point you had to learn to trust someone. When looking at Damian you knew you didn't want your whole life to be defined by the abuses of two men. And when you agreed to his offer he seemed to see it as a consent to up his seduction.

His touch was still strange. You learned to like the feel of it, and you were getting used to it, soon It wouldn't be so foreign. You just started realizing how touchstarved you were and were just starting to crave it. Initiating it was still a distant concept, though, you had a — strongly equivocate — hunch that he wouldn't like it, that you would do something wrong in the simplest attempt of hugging him, holding his hand or touching his arm, that your touch wouldn't feel as delicate and tingly as his was, and you would make a fool of yourself. At least when you patted Ace, Titus, Alfred the cat and Batcow they seemed happy.

The others seemed to take well to seeing your interaction together — you didn't know they already knew where this was going way before yourself —. Sure, Jason called him a cradle robber but the ex-Robin always found an excuse to offend him. Everyone laughed at his comment, Dick and Alfred lightly reprimanded him (the former way more amused the latter). Bruce didn't react. You felt rotten. And when Jason later said something like “now Bruce, go play with your puppy and let us handle things” during a briefing, you knew it wasn't an offense — at least, not towards you. Plus, he called you a puppy before to tease you even if you were a year younger than him. — but it stuck in your head and you took the first opportunity to escape Batman’s hand on your tight and lock yourself in a bathroom to take a breath.

— I will transfer the money to your account. — Your head snapped towards Bruce and you exclaimed a genuine and loud ‘What?’, but everyone around you was also being way too loud for anyone to pay attention to you. Bruce hummed. — The set. It must’ve been expensive, I will give you the money back. — You shook your head.

— No, Bruce, It was a present. — Just the idea of it was absurd. What an odd man.

— Well, not to me, right?! So I can do It. — You scoffed at his logic. — Actually you could have told me before you were buying it and I would have given you my card. — He blinked. — That reminds me… — He took your hand and gently guided you out of the living room where the party was situated. No one batted an eye.

Damian had scoffed at the childish idea of a birthday party, but you could see right through him better than anyone.

You looked around confused as he guided you through the corridors and then up the stairs. The loud voices getting distant made the rest of the mansion feel eerily empty.

— Where are we going? — He glanced back at you and then ahead again, before briefly squeezing your hand.

— To my study. I have something for you there.

His response didn't satisfy all your curiosity but you knew he wouldn't give you more than that.

When you got there he opened the door for you and encouraged you to enter first with a hand on your lower back, then he shut the door closed and guided you to stand in front of his table. He walked around, opened a cabinet, took ou an envelope and came back to your side. The older male extended the envelope at you, who took it with suspicion after a moment of hesitation.

You forced yourself to not look up while you analyzed the envelope and opened it, ignoring both of his warm and gigantic hands that he positioned on your waist and squeezed — he liked squeezing you a lot, you noticed. — while he lightly reclined himself to sit on top of the table, in front of you, most of his weight being distributed to his long and meaty legs that were also on each side of you. He even pulled you closer and even if there was still space between your bodies, you were close enough to feel his heat.

You looked at the content inside the paper and froze. Such reaction could have come either from the sight of a black card with your name on it or because he chose that moment to sneak his hands under your shirt and caress your bare waist slowly with his calloused fingertips.

— No. — You slapped the card and paper against his chest. The bastard didn't react.

— Yes.

— No!

— Yes.

— I can't take it! — You kicked the ground stubbornly. He still didn't move, stubbornly.

— Why not? — You raised both eyebrows.

— Bruce, are you kidding me? That thing is limitless.

— Your point being? — You blinked several times.

— Wow… I knew you were one of those rich eccentric guys, but putting on a batsuit… — You refused to call it a costume and imply that you also wore a costume and were technically a furry. You learned that word from Tim. — … And beating up criminals is one thing. Going around distributing limitless cards to all your friends is simply insane! — One side of his mouth tilted up in what you quietly admitted was a sexy smark.

— Actually if I wanted to do that I could. But you are not a friend. You are part of the family. And my girlfriend. — And mine. His tongue craved to utter.

That easily silenced you. You didn't know how to react to that. You hacked your brain for any moment were you told him something in that connotation. You didn't find it. But well, couldn't blame the guy, he did told you he wanted you and you didn't stop his moves.

You cleared your throat, trying to hide your shock. He didn't seem surprised by your reaction.

It was another thing that being with them changed in you. You don't control your emotions 24/7 anymore, only when you are out and about as Silverclaw. In the past it was second nature, but feeling happiness was so new to you that you weren't used to trying to hide it yet. Nor wanted to. And you slowly gave yourself permission to be free and express most of what you felt. Not everything, you were still surrounded by a very odd-cryptic-strategizing-hyperanalyser-micro-expressions-reader-and-weird-with-emotions group of people. But you felt no one was really going to judge you if you chose to be free.

— I-I… Yeah… Yeah, okay. You are right. — You meekly accepted his statement. If he said it was true, then it was true. You would follow his lead. You are way too loyal and he knows that. You both wondered what was your limit. You were afraid of what would happen when that limit came. Would you just keep going just to make him happy? He hoped you did.

Actually, he might test some of those limits right now.

He carefully took the card and envelope from your hand and set it on the table behind him, you just rested your palms against his chest. Baby steps for you. Bruce wished that baby was a speedster.

You stuttered when he brought you closer, leaned forward and started tracing a random path of kisses on the skin of your neck. You allowed his sucking and laping of your skin for a few minutes and even tried running your fingers through the hair on the back of his head. His hands started roaming.

When his right squeezed the left cheek of your ass though, you gave a slight jump. It felt very sudden and activated your fight or flight instinct.

— W-We should go back downstairs. — You blurted out. Bruce just hummed in response, the vibration tickling your neck and ear. Aside from that he didn't stop his ministrations and that made you feel worse. Maybe you were the problem? Were you not clear enough? Shouldn't you endure more? For you? For him? He was used to people going a lot further with him, and here you were, trying to force him to stop just when he tried to spice things up with you. For fuck’s sake, you haven't even kissed him yet!

You bit your lip and willed your muscles to relax. Maybe all you need to do is endure a little bit more and you will get used to it. Until now that seemed to be the pattern.

Ignoring your pounding heart, you closed your eyes and just tried to enjoy it. You thought it was working until suddenly he stopped, and before you could open your eyes, stole a kiss from you.

It didn't grow to more than a half-second peck because your instincts to run took over your body and you jumped away from him, your hands extended in front of your body like you were dealing with a wild animal.

You just stared at each other with almost wide eyes for a few seconds, before the older male sighed, looked down and pressed the bridge of his nose with his pointer and thumb. Oh no. He wasn't happy. You shouldn't have done that. You fucked up.

— I’m sorry. — Bruce looked stressed when he rubbed his hand around his face, then brought it up to push his perfectly styled hair back. You shook your head like a scared kid. He finally looked up at you. — I’m sorry. I shouldn't have done that.

— No, no, it’s okay, I… Liked it. — You almost whispered in a meek voice. — Was just surprised. — Bruce nodded. He was unhappy with himself that he got carried away and almost fucked things up with you. But his infatuation made him lose train of thought sometimes. Yes. He wants to do bad things to you, corrupt you, desperately. But he doesn't want you trying to run away from him just yet, if ever.

You slowly made your way towards him again, your arms around your body, trying to bring yourself comfort. You wanted him to hug you and comfort you the same way, but you didn't know if he would do that, and if he did touch you again, would it really make you feel better?

It felt wrong. You just now had asked for him to stop completely, or at least give you a break, and he blatantly ignored it. Made you feel invisible, insignifcant, desperate enough to run. And here you were, seeking for a signal that he wouldn't give up on you just yet.

— Did… Did you know I never had a birthday party? — You forced yourself not to vacillate and put your hands on his shoulders.

— Hmm? — He gazed at you curiously but didn't touch you yet. It made you feel anxious and you forced yourself to take another step closer. Now you were just as close as you were before.

— I never had a birthday party. And last time I was invited to one I was 10. I didn't get to go though, it was my best friend's party, but my father was in a bad mood, so my mom said it was better not to do anything that could set him off. So I stayed home. — You felt his fingertips caressing tracing both of your tights carefully, it could almost be an unconscious move by how intensely concentrated he seemed with your story. — Next day, at school, everyone was talking about how fun, cool and amazing it was. I felt jealous and said I would have the best birthday party ever when I hit 11. I didn't. And no one remembered my promise. — He nodded slowly, his eyebrows furrowed with what was probably sympathy at you and anger at you father. At least that's how you felt. Sad for the younger you and hatred towards your father. — If you could… — You elongated your sentence, trying to hint your request for him, and he cut you off just like you wanted, expressing what was on his mind.

— What's your favorite cake flavor?

The gala ended just about an hour ago but you were both already in bed. Domesticity came easy when living together and even when you had your own room — much to his dismay. — Bruce quickly worked on getting you used to him enough to lay down beside him. And right now he was very grateful that you didn't have socials or else his plans for the night would’ve been interrupted by your discomfort about being called ‘Bruce Wayne’s controversially young new sweetheart’ and comments about his playboy mask.

He was getting impatient but Bruce knew that all good things come slowly, he took the night off to focus only on his goal.

You were laid down on your bed, in your own room and he was beside you, facing you, while you both talked, held hands and occasionally exchanged chaste kisses. It was cute, and innocent, but his balls had been blue since the party three weeks ago.

It was fine when his right hand let go of your left, his arm being thrown around your waist to accommodate the position, and placed on your middle. He kept running his hand around your upper body slowly and you swayed closer to him. At this point the only sounds in the room came from kisses and the friction of skin against fabric.

When Bruce angled himself and pushed in your direction until he was on top of you, It was still okay. What made you startled and nervous was when he pressed his hips down and you felt his hard cock against your thigh — the back of your mind screamed about how big he was and how it wouldn't fit when the time comes.

— Hmm… Bruce? — You felt a little antsy, but you thought he would understand what you were trying to say. Didn't seem like the case, since he kept kissing you to silence you. You felt suffocated and that prompted you to push his chest weekly. Maybe you needed to give a clearer signal.

Bruce stared at you from above for a second before closing his eyes and sighing.

His reaction shocked you and you didn't move when he got off and plopped down beside you again, this time putting more distance between your bodies and facing the ceiling. He draped his arm over his face and took a deep breath.

You sheepishly tilted to your side and went closer to him, his possible annoyance towards you made you more reluctant to touch him, but you did it anyway, trying to appease him.

— Bruce…

— What is it? — He finally looked at you. He was not happy. — You don't trust me yet? — His furrowed brows, grave voice and held back tone intimidated you slightly, it just caused more worry.

— N-No, it's not that… — Bruce thought it was better to turn down a notch on his acting if he wanted to have his way with you tonight.

He nodded, relaxed his muscles and turned his body in your direction again. He draped his arm around your waist and started trailing slow kisses down your neck to calm you down.

— I know. I know, puppy. — He uttered carefully and nodded reassuringly. — It's not your fault. I'm just a little… Frustrated, is all. — Your brows cinched.

— Frustrated with… Me? — Your heart ached at the thought. It was hard hearing him, and just as hard saying it out loud. Bruce shook his head.

— I just don't understand. I’ve been taking care of you for so long, been waiting for you, doing so much for you. But it's like you are still guarding yourself from me… I love you, pup, you are everything to me and I desire you. Wanna make you feel good. But, sometimes, you make me feel like… Like you don't feel the same… — You heart fell and you felt an urge to fix your mistakes.

— But I-I do! I just… — A sigh and then a deep breath. — … How can I do better? — You said meekly.

Bruce held back a smirk, you were smart even if insecure, and preening would give off his lewd plotting.

The dark knight pretended to contemplate for a brief moment as if he didn't plan every step beforehand.

— … We don't have to go all the way now, you could just… You could let me finger you? — Half of you felt relieved, the other, the one that just wanted to keep him happy, felt nervous but determined.

Your inexperienced and people pleaser mind couldn't comprehend how him doing things to you could also be considered him taking advantage of you. That was one of your biggest nightmares and paranoia. Growing up you were always afraid that your ex-mentor would assault you, or allow one of his employers and colleagues to hurt you just because they asked or paid for some fun with the young pretty thing. Especially after you weren't underage anymore, since he only seemed to have a soft spot for them. It somehow, thankfully, never happened, only impure comments were made and he cut them off every time until you were 18, after that you were left on your own and if you didn't do anything he saw it as you wanting it to happen since he trained you more than enough to protect yourself and show authority with others that were not him.

If Bruce wanted to pleasure you and not himself… Then he was really selfless and only wanted to help you with your little problem. He's been taking such good care of you for so long, there’s no reason to believe he won't do the same now.

So you nodded, shaken.

You let him maneuver you how he wanted and ended up the same way your making out session started, you on your back and the older man facing your direction. You watched closely and willing your heart to stop pounding as he undressed your legs and hips from your pants and underwear. It was awkward feeling so exposed, especially when he sneaked his arm between your legs and started fondling your dry center.

— Relax… Deep breaths… Just close your eyes and enjoy it… — His grave and husky voice whispers in your ear before teeth start nibbling on it, your whole body shivered and you did as he instructed, not sure if it was working until his friction felt less burning and waves of pleasure started rolling through you. You were right, he always wanted what's good for you, you reassured yourself and felt a little comforted, even if your heart was still pounding.

You let out a surprised gasp and your eyes shot open when you heard a loud wet squelch, the first thing you saw thing you saw were the movements of his wrist, the second, his face, eyes dead set on observing you, and he chuckled at your reaction.

— See? No reason to worry… — And worry you did not. You knew this short period of nervousness and those guilty feelings you were experiencing would be worth it in the future. And Bruce knew the risks he took and manipulation were proving their value right now.

He changes his up and down movements to circles and you let out a sound that you never heard coming out of your own mouth. Your eyes fluttered close automatically and your hand shot to grip his shirt with an unconscious amount of force.

— I-I like this better… — Bruce hummed and resumed working his mouth from your ear, to neck and collarbone.

His hand moves were slow and deliberate, but stable. The older man angles his body in an upper position so he could easily use his left hand to pull your shirt up slowly until your chest and pouting nipples were exposed. Lost in arousal and pleasure and thrusting he knew what he was doing you didn't bat an eye towards his actions.

You moaned louder when you felt his soft chapped lips close around your nipple and wet warm tongue playing with the sensitive bud. Bruce felt your lower lips getting wetter and used that to his advantage to intrude the squelching hole between your legs with his fingers curved upwards, his thumb expertly still running circles around your clit.

You gasped and both your hands shot to grab the bed comforter under you. It was the first time someone touched you like that and it was a while since you played with your bud yourself, so before you knew it, your pussy was squeezing and milking his fingers in the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had and this time the man couldn’t stop his grin from taking over his face.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Imagine modeling some lingerie you just bought and this is Bucky’s reaction to it🤭❤️‍🔥

Beautiful As Always

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Girlfriend!Plus-Size!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, fingering, slight exhibitionism, insecurities (reader is sad about having thick thighs and a pudge), Praise. (If I have missed anything, please feel free to let me know 😊)

WORD COUNT: 1,081

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

"I'm don’t know, Bucky," you murmur, gently twisting and turning within the confines of the dressing room, where only a thin curtain separates you from your beloved.

"Don’t know ‘bout what, doll?” Bucky's voice drifts from the other side, a comforting presence in the midst of your uncertainty. Your fingers graze over the delicate lace of the high-waisted undergarment, and pinch at the soft pudge of your belly.

"It's just... I don’t know," you confess softly, a weight settling in the pit of your stomach. As though summoned by your doubt, a cascade of insecurities begins to flood your mind, each one more relentless than the last.

Do you really look like that? God, are you really that chubby? Has Bucky seen all of this? How can he really love you when you look like this?

A stifled sob escapes you as tears blur your vision, and you clumsily brush them away. At the sound of your distress, Bucky draws back the curtain and steps inside.

"Doll?" His voice is tender as he closes the curtain behind him, his hands finding solace on your trembling shoulders as he gently turns you to face him.

The colour on Bucky’s cheek grows red at the sight of the supple weight of your breasts sitting against the lace of the bra. The allure of your exposed thighs proves to be a distraction, making it difficult for him to focus on the matter at hand.

You observe the way his gaze traverses your body, a glimmer of admiration shining in his eyes.

Yet, your mind interprets it as disdain.

"I look awful, don’t I?” you whisper, casting your eyes downward and biting your lip in apprehension. The monsters within your mind seize control, enveloping you in a suffocating embrace.

Bucky is taken aback, crouching down to meet your gaze. "What did you say?" he murmurs, tenderly cupping your face in his hands.

You push his hands away and turn back to face yourself in the mirror. “I look bad, Bucky,” you shake your head and fold your arms around yourself trying to make a shield, covering your form from your man’s gaze.

Bucky shakes his head and steps in front of you, “Why would you say that, doll?” Surprise and concern seep into his tone. You just shake your head and shrug, “I don’t know.”

-----

“Repeat it. C’mon, doll, tell me. Tell me who’s pretty.”

Bucky’s unwavering thrusts make you spiral further into your realm of pleasure. His fingers rub furiously at that spot inside of you, making you grip onto his forearm as he keeps you locked in a headlock.

“Didn’t hear you say anything, doll. Want me to stop, huh?” His fingers halt, and you whine at the general loss of your euphoria. “Bucky, baby, please,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes awaiting him to continue.

Bucky clicks his tongue, “I didn’t hear what I wanted to hear, doll.”

You try to use the last remaining of your energy to comb through your mind as you try to find what Bucky wanted you to say, and you finally retrieve it.

But you don’t want to say it.

Because you can state a fact if it isn’t true.

“Bucky, I can’t,” you slouch against him, your back fully pressed against his. He makes eyes meet yours through the mirror and you shy away from his gaze.

“Doll, how many times do I have to say that you are one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen? You have made me feel ways I never thought I was capable of feeling. You made me feel loved,” he says softly, like the whole world has to stop in order for him to say those words.

“Who tells me that my scars look like stars when I start hating them?” he asks.

“I do,” you whisper back, and he kisses your temple.

“You do, sweetheart,” he says against your forehead.

"Doll, I don't give a damn about a little extra cushion. You're soft and smooth, and that's what I love about you. Your cuddles feel like home, and it blows my mind that you'd ever doubt how amazing you are. To me, you're everything. Your curves? They're just more of you to adore."

Speechless, you really don’t know what to say.

You knew that Bucky loved you, but at times when the demons had the upper hand, you doubted that love he had for you.

Now with him, in this dressing room, you slowly feel yourself get the upper hand from those demons. You slowly start to feel like you actually do deserve the love this man absolutely showers you in.

“I’m beautiful,” you whisper, but slightly cringe. Bucky sees this and nods slowly, understanding your hesitation. “It’s okay, doll. Say it, say it. You are beautiful,” he slowly starts to move his fingers again, and you inhale deeply at the sensation.

“I’m beautiful,” you say breathlessly, holding onto his forearm for dear life as he starts rubbing your button harder. “Fuck, Bucky. Yes!” You dig your teeth into his forearm, preventing your screams from being heard by the world outside of the dressing room.

“Say you're worth it, doll. Tell me that you deserve this,” Bucky harshly whispers into your ear. You see him through the reflection of the mirror and whimper when his other hand brushes against your clothed nipple and pinches it hard.

He smirks and whispers again, “be a good girl and tell me, doll.”

You moan, “I’m worth it, Buck. I’m worth it.” Bucky smirks and nods, “Good girl, so proud of you.”

You grind against his hand and babble nonsense against his arm. You feel the wave of pleasure reach the edge, and your legs start to quake.

Bucky chuckles as you finish with a squeal that’s barely muffled by his arm.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he says and turns you to face him.

You try to cower away, but Bucky already has his fingers on your chin and is gently forcing you to look up at him. You moan as he lewdly sucks on the remaining juices on his fingers.

He looks down at your body and the set you're wearing, “who’s beautiful?”

Your lips turn up a bit, “me.”

Bucky nods, “that’s right.” He kisses the tip of your nose, “My pretty girl.”

You place your hands on his chest, “yeah?” You slightly smile, your demons slowly evaporating and leaving the caves of your mind.

Bucky nods.

“Beautiful as always.”

💌💌💌

PHEW! Here you go, my lovely @sergeantbarnessdoll

Finally got this done, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while (with my other WIP's).

Hope you lovelies like this!

Feel free to let me know how much you enjoyed it!!!!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[biapascal]

I have a request pretty pls 🙏 could you maybe write a lil sumn about the reader/oc being married to acacius in a diplomatic marriage to prevent war and show that her country surrenders and they sent her as like a prisoner of war/hostage princess situation. the reader/oc loves Marcus but doesn't think he'd choose to love her over roman beauties and Marcus doesn't want to force her into anything bc of the politics. With like whole lots of yearning, jealousy, angst and oh, more yearning, and the delicious most happiest of endings pls pls pls

Hi honey! 🫶🏻✨ I hope this is enough 🪶

Duties

Tw: forced marriage, loss of virginity mentioned.

First, they killed your soldiers while destroying your city. You saw the streets you walked in your childhood reduced to ruins. The houses were graveyards. They have taken everything and everyone away from you, even from your family. When they brought you to Rome, you were apparently too pretty to be killed. You could have been a slave, but the emperors had other plans for you. You became the general's wife. As your husband, your life was his property as well as your body. In Rome, before the wedding, the girl is supposed to leave everything from her childhood home behind. You couldn't do that because you had nothing left. They took care of you on your wedding day. You had to be a pretty thing for your future husband, nothing more than a doll, like one of those you used to play with as a child. During the ceremony, Acacius was stoic. You were forced to smile and had the impression that he knew this, but couldn't tell what he thought about it. It was almost as if marriage to a beautiful woman was a duty and not a gift from the gods. You were then taken to the house of Marcus for the last rites that would lead to the loss of your dignity. Paradoxically, your husband should have cleansed you with spring water. Meanwhile, the thalamus was prepared. Crocus flowers, considered by the Romans to be a powerful aphrodisiac, were scattered on it. After these rites, you were undressed by an older maid, who also removed ornaments and jewelry that could be dangerous to your husband. you were naked, shivering, your eyes colder than your body. Your sight was blurry and you tried not to look at him. "Can we blow out the candles?" you asked the maid. She shook her head. "You have to see him, now I'll leave you two alone." You finally looked at Marcus and you didn't care that he was a trained general, you would never let that man deflower you. You would rather be killed than to have to carry his child. "Just kill me already, because you are not taking me tonight" you spat. He didn't react. You reached for something to cover your shaking body and jumped when you felt his hand on your arm. "I'm not going to take your virginity tonight." Your expression hardened. "Be a good wife, do as I say, go where I suggest, but know that I won't rape you.” He seemed so serious, you almost couldn't believe it. Then he also covered himself. "Now lie down” he ordered. You slowly did as he said. "Tomorrow they will ask you what happened tonight. Lie, tell them it was painful" you nodded, holding your breath. You fell asleep crying, but you were glad he didn't touch you. The next day, as expected, everyone asked about the first night of marriage. Lying wasn't hard, the other women believed you right away. Life in Rome was depressing. You missed your hometown, the way your people used to act, the typical food. You missed your family, the laughter of the children, your own laughter. Every night Marcus was aware of it and heard you sobbing. He knew it was his fault. The emperors wanted a Roman world, without borders. He was forced to kill and take things from people, but he was not used to it. With you he was gentle, you found yourself searching for him more than once, and you hated yourself for it. "Can I talk to you?" You were in the garden, praying to your ancestors. You nodded and he sat down. "The Romans are greedy. We don't want freedom, we want power."

"We?" you caught him off guard. "No, actually I don't care about power, but I don't expect you to believe me" you gave him a lame smile. "I have to do what the emperors want, and what they wanted back then was your city.” He apologized and you couldn't forgive him. But you felt he was being honest.

February came, the month of rebirth, the Romans had to pay homage to the god Lupercus, and you were still a virgin. the passage to adulthood and the fertility of women was celebrated. Rome was chaotic and several women and men approached you. It was clear that you wanted Marcus to be with you. You couldn't find him and were pulled into the middle of the crowd. He had always given you the impression of being a man true to his own integrity. But you did not know if he was in a brothel on this occasion. "The General's wife!" Two men grabbed your hand and you tried to free yourself. "Come on" they dragged you away from the crowd, and you begged them to let you go. "You should be used to this" one of them said. They were beginning to get irritated with your stubbornness. They were in a hurry to have a look at you and consume you. “Let me enjoy my wife” Marcus arrived. “Won’t you share her with us?” He kissed your cheek and shook his head. "No, I won't share my treasure." You felt strange, you really enjoyed that touch. After that night, you began to soften and you began to know your husband more and more. He was tired, he didn't care about expanding the empire, he just wanted to rest. He was kind to almost everyone, except the emperors. He was wise. He taught you about his ancestors, and you gained the courage to tell him about yours. The nights became your favorite time, you spent hours talking and learning from each other. This was your yearning for intimacy. One night you felt like there were other things you wanted to know, other ways to know him. "I have to be honest with you, Marcus" he nodded. "I'm glad you're my husband. You told me to follow your instructions, but what you have done these months is let me grieve, you have even protected me. Am I still a gift of war or something else?" He approached, his face dangerously close to yours. You felt your cheeks burn crimson. "No” he looked at your lips. "If I may, I'd like to kiss you." You nodded and then felt it. The fear was gone, the mourning was done.

[slaybestieslay946]

HIIIII OMG IM THE ONE WHO REQUESTED THE READER JOINS LUKE AND I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT WAS SO GOOD I LOVE IT SOSO MUCH THANK YOUUU

if it's not much can i request something else? like a 5+1 thing where it's like 5 times luke and reader didn't realize they were acting like a couple, and one time reaized it and made it official!

THIS IS SUCH A CUTE REQ SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG IVE BEEN SOOO BUSY AND I RLLY WANTED TO GET THIS ONE PERFECT.

I sorta changed it a bit so Luke is down bad and reader is the one who doesn't realise they were acting like a couple.

You Didn't Realise?!

MASTERLIST

summary: 5 ways Luke acts like your boyfriend, and the one reason you realised and made it official

word count: 2800

pairing: luke castellan x apollo!reader

warnings: minor swearing

I : He always looks for you first

When Luke returned from his quest, bloodied and battered, stumbling down half blood hill with a scar down his face, you were the first one he looked for. 

He quickly spotted you, your hair shining in the sun. The sun always found you, like a magnetic tether, a trait inherited from your father. 

In some ways, Luke could relate. He too also felt constantly drawn to you, and as soon as he caught sight of your face, all the humiliation from failing his quest melted away. 

You were laughing with one of your half-siblings, playfully joking like you always did. And then your sibling nudged you, pointing up at Luke, and the smile dropped. Even in his dazed state, he noticed the way your face contorted in worry as you began to sprint up the hill towards him. 

He wanted to wipe the sad expression away and replace it with the bright smile you usually sported. 

You continued towards him, only slowing from your sprint when you were just metres away, coming to a stop directly in front of him. 

Immediately, you took his face in your hands, inspecting the slight cuts and bruises that covered it. 

“Not even gonna say hello?” He panted, suddenly out of breath, partly from his general exhaustion, and partly from the way you were holding his face. 

“Hello Luke. Now tell me where it hurts.” You asked, moving your hands away from his face and running them down his sides, carefully watching his reaction to the pressure. 

“Nothing hurts. I’m all good, Doc.” He chuckled to mask his wince as you skimmed over the patchwork of bruises. 

“Like hell you are. We’re getting you to the infirmary. Where are Beckendorf and Rodriguez?” You asked, wrapping a hand around his shoulder to help him down the hill. 

“Just comin’.” Luke said, jerking his head back in the direction he had just come from, and when you looked back for yourself, you could see the other two boys at the top of the hill, looking in significantly better shape than he did. 

“Alright. C’mon then, we gotta get you patched up.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He answered, the same dazed smile 

“You’ll be the death of me one day, y’know that?” 

“Mhm.” 

And as the rest of the camp looked on at the pair of you, they couldn’t help but wonder, when would you finally get together?

II : He always saves you dessert

Luke watched as you walked into the dining pavilion late, and as usual there was a patched up camper trailing behind you. 

You turned to give the boy a stern talking to, more than likely chastising him for being injured in the first place, before striding up to collect your food. 

Of course, when you turned up 20 minutes late to dinner, the dessert options became severely limited, and by the time you arrived there was no cake left, only a few pots of yoghurt made from the strawberries in the field. 

Luke watched as you screwed your nose up in disgust. You hated yoghurt, he knew that (obviously). 

You sighed, cutting your losses and retreating to the apollo table, a few end slices of bread and salad items being the only things on your plate. 

“Hey man, how’d you get an extra portion?” Chris asked from beside Luke, and he snapped his gaze away from you and back to his brother. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s for Y/N.” 

Chris rolled his eyes, “Of course it is. You gonna give it to her, or are you just gonna sit here staring?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Y’know I’m right.” 

“You’ll be right when you admit you love staring at Clarisse in capture the flag.” Luke replied quickly, standing up to walk over to you. 

Chris mumbled something slightly incoherent, but Luke didn’t pay him any mind as he strode towards the Apollo table, plate in hand. 

“Hey. Long day?” He asked, smirking at you while holding the plate behind his back so you couldn’t see it. 

“Ugh, you have no idea Castellan. And I missed dessert again! Can you believe that?” You complained loudly, waving your crust of bread around like you were conducting an orchestra.

“Hmm, sounds rough. Lucky for you, someone saved you an extra portion.” He dramatically produced the plate from behind his back, revealing the extra large slice of cake he’d stolen from one of the nymphs. 

You gasped in delight as he placed it before you, “Thank you!” 

Luke couldn’t help but grin as well as you tore into it with glee, “Well, I know vanilla's your favourite, couldn’t have you missing out, could we?”

You sighed, “You’re the best.” 

“I know,” He preened before softening his voice slightly, “Just don’t overwork yourself, ‘kay?” 

“Alright. That goes for you too, hero.” You bargained, gazing at him intensely.

“Whatever you say, Doc.” He smirked, before turning around and leaving you to it. 

You continued eating your slice of cake, unable to fight away the bright grin that invaded your face. 

“You two are disgusting.” Will Solace remarked, the similar smile on his face not matching the tone of his words. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You- He- Ugh! You’re so hopeless!” 

III : He always calls you up for demonstrations

“Hmm, I need someone to demonstrate…” He pondered out loud, surveying the archery range for someone suitable. And, as usual, Luke’s eyes were magnetically drawn to you as you walked past his group of students. 

“And who better than my favourite daughter of Apollo! Hey, Y/N, c'mere a sec!” 

You spun around to work out who was calling you over, rolling your eyes fondly as you realised it was the son of Hermes, as usual. 

“What do you need now, Castellan?” You asked, striding over to the group. 

“Just a quick demonstration from the best archer in camp.” 

You sighed yet again, but gave in, just like you always did when he was involved. 

“Fine.” 

“Great! Now, kids, let's see how a professional does it.” 

Luke then led the group around so they were parallel to you, and they could inspect your form as you fired. 

You held up your bow, removing an arrow from the quiver slung around your shoulder and notching it into position all in one fluid movement.

“See, look how good her form is. Perfect posture. One foot forward, torso turned to the side,” Luke whispered, as if narrating a nature documentary for national geographic, “She pulls the string back to her cheek, breathes in, and releases!” He cried, and you did just that, sending the arrow flying into the centre of the target. 

“A perfect shot.” Luke declared, smiling at you in pride. 

You shrugged, “I never miss.” 

“Alright kids, have a go yourselves, see if you can replicate Y/N’s form!” He said, sending them all rushing forwards to collect bows and have a go for themselves on the archery range. 

“You need any more help? Or am I free to go?” You asked teasingly, placing the bow and quiver back in the right spot.

“Hm, I suppose you're done. Although, your posture could use a little work.”

“Oh, I thought it was perfect?” 

“Did I say that?” He mused, although he was unable to hide the amusement in his eyes. 

“Bye Castellan.” You sang, flicking his shoulder as you walked past him. 

He turned around to watch you walk away, a tinge of blush coating his cheeks. 

“Is she your girlfriend?” A small voice piped up from beside him, and he turned to see that one of the kids he was teaching hadn’t yet begun archery. 

“No!” He said, all too quickly, before ushering the girl towards the bows. 

VI : He’s always watching you work

“Ok, so, you’re going to need to keep an eye on that cut alright? And try not to get any mud in it this time, we don’t want it getting infected again, do we?”

The kid you were currently treating nodded vigorously, probably thinking that the more engaged he seemed the faster he would escape the infirmary. 

“Alright, you can go back to training now.” You sighed, silently praying that the young Ares boy would at least try and be gentle on the lines of stitching in his arm, although you didn’t have much hope. 

He thanked you quickly, before running off out of the room, grabbing his sword and nearly slashing through a bright-eyed Luke Castellan on his way. 

“Oh, god. What have you done now?” You asked, hands on your hips. 

He held his hands up in surrender, “Nothing, nothing. I’m all good. Just had some free time and thought I’d come see my favourite Apollo kid.”

“You know you’re allowed in here unless you're injured or visiting someone, right?” You reminded gently, hiding your bright smile behind an exasperated expression. 

“Actually, I’m both of those things.” 

“Really?”

“Yep. I’m visiting you, and my heart is awfully wounded by how cruelly you treat me.” He smirked, and you rolled your eyes, walking back to the drawer you had been organising before the arrival of your most boisterous patient. 

“Does that mean I can stay?” He asked, following you with swift strides. 

“I can’t exactly stop you, can I?”

He chuckled quietly, giving you shoulder a quick squeeze before looking down at the drawer full of bandages you were sorting through. 

“D’you want some help?”

You shrugged noncommittally and he immediately knelt down beside you and began rolling several bandages up and sorting them into their proper sections, humming happily under his breath the whole time. 

And that’s how the pair of you continued for the rest of the afternoon. If you needed something of a high shelf, Luke was reaching up to grab it for you. If you wanted a specific item or tool, he was already beside you, holding it out as if he had read your mind. 

And the only reward he wanted for his hard work was to see your face melt into a smile when the pair of you locked eyes. And of course the lollipop you offered him at the end of the day for being so helpful. 

V: He always saves you a seat a campfire

Luke was well aware that, as an Apollo kid, you loved the campfire. Despite the fact that you weren’t as musically talented as your siblings, it always brought a smile to your face to see them perform. He loved watching as you clapped along in earnest, cheering loudly when the song finished and loudly demanding another. 

So, he always saved you a seat (right beside him, of course). 

But, on this particular night, he’d caught wind of the fact some Demeter boy had been sniffing around, saying that he was going to ask you to sit next to him, instead of Luke. 

“Aw, is Lukey boy getting jealous?” Chris jeered, following Luke’s gaze as it landed on you, conversing with the boy from Demeter. 

“No. Not like she’ll sit with him anyway.” He proclaimed, his voice filled with a certainty he did not feel. 

“You sure?” Chris asked, watching as you laughed brightly at whatever joke the boy was making. 

“Oh, I’m so sure. Certain, even. So certain.” Luke said, drumming his fingers on the wood of the table, while trying to reassure himself. 

This evening, you got to the campfire before him, and as he began to walk towards where you were sitting, he caught a glimpse of that boy making a beeline to you from the other direction. 

He quickened his pace, only slowing slightly to revel in the way your face broke into sunshine when you caught sight of him. 

Unfortunately, that momentary lapse in concentration was nearly his undoing, as only mere moments later, your attention was arrested by the boy from Demeter who appeared to have magically materialised right in front of you. 

He sped up until it felt like he was running, sliding into the seat next to you right as the Demeter boy made his move. 

“...do you mind if I sit-”

“Sorry man. Seat’s taken.” Luke smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“Oh, uh, sorry. Didn’t realise it was like that.” The boy looked between the two of you, the expression on his face torn between bitter and disappointed. He then made a quick exit, leaving you to try and digest the situation. 

“Sorry I’m late.” He smiled, not moving the hand from where it sat on your upper arm. 

“No problem,” You said, a look of bemusement on your face, “Gonna tell me what that was all about?”

“Um-”

“And why are you so out of breath? And-”

He was saved from further questioning by your siblings starting the first song of the night. 

I: He always worried about you

“How much longer are we gonna have to walk?” Luke whined, although it was pretty obvious he wasn’t really annoyed by the bright smile on his face. 

“Not that much farther!” You called back, practically skipping ahead as you neared the edge of the strawberry fields. 

“Good. I feel like my feet are gonna fall off. Y’know how to fix fallen-off-feet, Doc?”

“Are you doubting my skills, Castellan?” You gasped, spinning around to face him, your hands planted firmly on your hips. 

“Hmm, maybe?” He mused, smiling wider as you skipped back to him. 

“Well, don’t. Or I’ll hit you over the head with the picnic basket.” You responded, before linking your arm with his, and leading him to a small spot that was free of the strawberry plants. 

“Happy now?”

He sighed, placing the basket down gently before slumping to the floor, “Overjoyed.” 

He stayed like that for a minute, watching out of the corner of his eye as you spread the blanket across the dirt floor, smoothing it down gently and unpacking the various food items you had prepared. 

Luke cracked a small grin as he watched, marvelling in the way you glowed in the sun. Everyday he thought you couldn't get more beautiful, and everyday he was proven wrong. 

He sat up to tuck in to the picnic, admiring the way you rolled your eyes at him with fondness as you also moved to sit down. 

“Finally decided to- OW!” You exclaimed, cutting off your own statement as you cried out in pain. 

Luke was immediately by your side, asking what was wrong as you tentatively picked your hand up off the floor, shaking it side to side. 

“Holy shit that hurts.” You murmured, looking down at the thorn that had lodged itself into your hand. 

“You're gonna be ok, don’t worry, I’ll get it out for you.” He reassured, although he seemed much more worried than you. 

“Luke,” You laughed, “I’m all good. Camp’s best doctor, remember?” You reminded, before reaching into your palm and pulling the thorn out in one fell swoop. 

As soon as it was out, he was grabbing your palm, cradling it in his hand and inspecting the tiny wound carefully. 

“You're sure you’re ok? We can-” 

“I’m perfectly fine. Why are you so stressed about this?” You asked, confused. He had always been protective, but not usually to such an extreme. 

“Oh, uh, I dunno, just don’t want you to get hurt.” He muttered, still running his fingers along the palm of your hand. 

“So I can’t have a thorn in my hand, but you're allowed to wander into the infirmary with massive gashes up your side?”

He chuckled, his voice low, “Yeah. I guess that’s right.” 

“You’re impossible, Castellan.” You whispered, and when your eyes met once again, you felt a shift in the air. 

Suddenly all the events throughout your friendship made perfect sense, and it was like you had finally found the missing piece to a seemingly impossible puzzle. 

Luke had clearly seen the realisation in your eyes, as he raised his free hand to cup your cheek, your face warming slightly under his touch. 

"Please tell me I'm not reading too much into all of this." You sighed.

"You're not. I don't know how you didn't realise." Luke chuckled, "May I?" He asked, and you nodded, both of you moving forward to meet the other’s lips. 

And you couldn’t help but wonder, how you hadn’t realised sooner. 

[epiicaricacy-arts]

hello manosouta/saintknight enjoyers. i bring you this: married in red AU

for those unfamiliar with married in red, it’s a short thriller RPG by studio investigrave (other games by them are elevator hitch and dead plate). the game is free as are all their other games and i highly recommend it!!

SPOILERS FOR MARRIED IN RED AND AAI2 UNDER THE CUT

unlike my sunjiao dead plate au i don’t have that solid of a story for this, mostly because i haven’t had the chance to replay the 2nd and 5th cases after finishing the game to fully grasp and contextualize their dynamic, so i will probably be able to elaborate on this more after doing that AND possibly replaying married in red.

i had a few routes for this to go down which i’ll talk about below.

the basic premise is that simeon is attending bronco’s wedding (to some unknown figure cause i couldn’t figure out anyone that could generally fit the role i needed so you can imagine whatever you want).

in this story, simeon and bronco were still childhood best friends, but after nearly freezing to death in the locked car, simeon ended up hospitalized and rather weak for most of his life with high susceptibility to illness. bronco promised he would always visit simeon whenever he was sick or in the hospital, but simeon never felt that bronco truly made up for his actions that day.

the whole thing with the president and the double doesn’t really happen i guess? the focus is what happened during their childhood but artie’s still gotta die unfortunately 🤷‍♀️

under the impression that carmelo was bronco’s father and killed frost, simeon made sure that bronco would also have to face the loss of a loved one and sabotaged his wedding. bronco would’ve wanted simeon to be his best man, but ultimately decided not to put him in that position due to his health. unlike in MIR i think simeon had to have been invited but just as a guest.

here’s where i came up with multiple versions of the story. you can choose whatever seems to make most sense or whatever you like more 🤷‍♀️

the first is just following the events of MIR. simeon kills the person bronco intended to marry, frames bronco for the murder, and gets him arrested for revenge, promising that he’ll visit bronco every day in prison!!!

the second involved a bit more manipulation on simeon’s part. although i’m not sure how much he could really pull this off but who knows that guy did some whacky shit. in this version, simeon informs bronco that something dangerous is going to occur at the event: someone there is a threat, and bronco, as the bodyguard he is, needs to neutralize it. simeon then tries to frame it so that bronco’s fiance was the threat and his pride in his profession took priority over his fiance and killed them.

i think the second one is more interesting but i’m not as confident in its plausibility for these characters but 🤷‍♀️ i would love to hear people’s thoughts if they have any :]

anyways, making these AUs with SIG games is such a blast, especially editing the screenshots and writing text. maybe i’ll make more for either the dead plate or MIR AU’s at some point but that’s a later me thought

simeon having a similar hairstyle to frost was on purpose btw. also god i hated drawing bronco’s hair wtf is going on with that guy 😔

thank you for reading !!!!

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Losing Control

Summary: Anakin needs to let off some steam, he has found a willing partner.

Warnings: Yeah this is pretty shameless smut. R18.

Word count: 1,350

Missions did not always go well, and Anakin Skywalker hated it. 

He didn’t like to lose, never had. He didn’t like the disappointment - the losses, the debates, the paperwork, there were all worth it if the battle was won. But when they lost? He could barely contain himself. That’s where you came in.

A younger Jedi, assigned to his corps a few months ago, your relationship began after only your second mission together. 

On that fateful mission, the odds were stacked against the Republic forces from the beginning. Anakin's frustration was palpable as the mission unraveled, the enemy proving more cunning and ruthless than anticipated. The aftermath was a grim scene of wounded soldiers, damaged equipment, and a bitter taste of defeat.

As the surviving members of the mission trudged back to base, the weight of failure hung heavy in the air. Anakin, visibly seething, marched ahead with clenched fists. It was then that you approached him, respectful but determined.

"Master Skywalker," you began, choosing your words carefully, "we did everything we could. The enemy caught us off guard. We'll learn from this and be better prepared next time.”

Anakin shot you a stern look, his blue eyes flashing with frustration. "We can't afford mistakes like this, especially when lives are on the line. We need to be better, faster, stronger.” His agitation had become visible, he was practically vibrating with anger. This un-jedi-like behaviour would surely earn him a reprimand. Concerned, you dragged him with you down a hallway, trying to find him a space to calm himself, to straighten out his attitude. But he had only took the opportunity to kiss you, to push you against the wall, to drag you into a cupboard and pound into you until all this annoyance had been spent.

Since then it was like a ritual after every failures. He sought you out, you helped control him stabilise his moods. You were where he could focus his frustrations on, and you enjoyed it so much. 

Anakin was not a man to be messed with. He was a general, he was smart and strong and brave, and terrifying. Attributes which made him both the perfect soldier and the perfect lover. 

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, your relationship with Anakin Skywalker evolved into a dangerous dance of desire and secrecy. The allure of forbidden love was intoxicating, fuelling the flames of passion that burned between you. Behind closed doors, away from prying eyes, you revelled in each other's touch, your bodies entwined in a tangled web of carnal need.

But with every stolen moment, a seed of doubt began to take root within you. The weight of secrecy hung heavy on your shoulders, burdening your conscience. You knew the consequences of such an illicit affair, the potential for scandal and disgrace that could bring ruin upon you both.

Yet, in those stolen moments, it was easy to forget about the world outside. Anakin's touch ignited a fire within you that could not be extinguished. His commanding presence combined with tender vulnerability made him irresistible. It felt as if the universe conspired for your bodies to collide, to find solace in each other.

So here you were yet again. Anakin dusty and sleep deprived, returning from battle unharmed physically, but the toll on his soul was heavy. You could see it in his eyes. And in the numbers which emerged from the ships, so many fewer than those who had left on them. 

His eyes met yours from across the hangar and you knew he needed you. Back in your chambers he had you shoved against the door, hot mouth biting harshly down your neck, onto your chest. 

“Force, I needed you. I need this.” 

Your breath caught in your throat as Anakin's lips trailed down your body. The familiar rush of desire flooded through you, eclipsing any sense of guilt or rational thought. In this moment, there was only the two of you, bound by an undeniable magnetic pull.

His hands roamed hungrily over your curves, igniting every nerve ending in their wake. Your skin burned under his touch, a testament to the intensity of the fire between you. As he claimed you with every fevered kiss and possessive stroke, the world outside ceased to exist.

“I want you right here, now.” He was on his knees then, mouth level with your burning core as he shoved your robes up to your hips. He was harsh and fast with his movements, desperate. 

The air in the chamber was thick with the scent of passion and the sound of your ragged breaths filled the room. Anakin's eyes, dark with desire, locked with yours as he continued to worship your body. The raw hunger in his gaze set your nerves ablaze, electrifying every inch of your being.

You clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh, as waves of pleasure coursed through you. The world around you blurred into a hazy euphoria, leaving only Anakin and the overwhelming sensations that consumed you.

“Oh Force, Anakin…”

“I could do this all day.” He said, stopping briefly and kissing up to your lower stomach before going back down again. Revelling in the feeling of your hands tangling in his hair.

Minutes passed in second and soon you were spilling into his face as he lapped you up. Hands moving up and down your legs to keep you steady, then just as you caught your breathe, he moved under your thighs and picked you up. 

Once his face was levelled with your once again he took your mouth in a hungry, desperate movement. Your slickness had left a tart flavour on his tongue as he consumed you, distracting you so much that you didn’t notice that he had lain you down on the bed. 

By time you realised, coming in and out of consciousness, he was already above you once again, and had already disposed of both of your robes. His heavy form pressed you down into the bed, strong arms reaching up and down your body, finally resting at the point where your two cores met. 

He nudged into you slowly, always giving you time to adjust to his size. He watched your face, his chin resting near your collar bone as he gazed at your open, gasping mouth, neck lent back into the pillows. He grinned an Anakin Skywalker grin, full of pride, and power, and anticipation, he revelled in your moans as he bottomed out inside of you. 

You were practically shaking, he cooed into your neck, kissing softly and moving slowly. The touch of his lips sent shivers down your spine, every sensation heightened as he moved.

Thrusts came in faster, an enthusiastic and increasingly wild rhythm that drove you wild, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him on. He plunged into you deeper, harder, your cries echoing in the chamber as his name tumbled from your lips."Anakin," you gasped, your back arching off the bed as you clung to him, his name a plea, a prayer, a desperate call to the force.

Soon he was groaning softly, his eyes fluttering shut as he reached his own peak. You could feel his body trembling as he poured himself into you. His climax was hot and intense, filling you completely, it was almost too much.

He collapsed onto you, his breath ragged and heavy, your skin sticking to his as your bodies mingled together. Your heart raced, your mind spinning, your body still impaled by his hard length. You could feel him still leaking out of you, so much of him must be staining your sheets but you couldn’t care. Not when it was him.

You looked down at him, the crease of frustration and fatigue which had dominated his forehead for weeks now, was faded. His breathing slow. You shut your eyes and smiled, you were the only one who could do this to him. The older General relied on you, on this time with you. And you were more than willing to oblige.

[dark-konohagakure2]

Brother hidan getting jealous that his little sister has been flirting with kakuzu.

(R@pe,jealousy and he bitches the entire time)

tw: noncon, incest, sibling incest, misogyny, jealousy, possessiveness, degradation, virginity loss, age difference

All characters depicted are 18+

Hidan knows his partner Kakuzu better than anyone. He knows that Kakuzu wouldn't ever go for an immature woman like Hidan's little sister, but Hidan doesn't care, she had the audacity to flirt with the old man, and Hidan is beyond pissed.

He won't bother hiding how jealous he is, especially when the old miser doesn't bother to reject her flirting, Hidan has to restrain himself from ripping out one of the man's hearts on the spot, but instead he decides to punish the real culprit.

The white haired man will forcibly drag his sister away (much to Kakuzu's apathy) and into his room, practically snarling and spitting in her face as he berates her slutty behavior, yelling at her for putting out for Kakuzu just because he's a bigger and more wealthy man, he'll even accuse her of being a gold digger and a hooker during his tirade.

Hidan's bitching and complaining only increases as he shoves his hand down his sister's panties and feels how wet her pussy is, he'll be enraged that his own baby sister is getting wet for someone other than her kind and gentle big brother, and he'll make sure to reprimand her sternly.

"Cunt! Why aren't you paying attention to me, huh?! I'm your big bro but you aren't even getting wet in your panties for me?! I hate cheating sluts like you!"

Hidan reaches the conclusion that the only way to keep his disobedient sister all to himself is to take her virginity by force, it always works in the hardcore pornography he watches all the time, so in his mind there's no reason for it not to work on a real woman too.

Hidan isn't the slightest bit gentle, not only because he's pissed off at her, but because he can barely contain his excitement at the fact that he's finally balls deep inside of his sister and claiming her as his property, both his excitement and anger keep Hidan from caring about her comfort or consent.

He never shuts up during the entire act, complaining about every little thing, about every instance she even looked at a guy that wasn't him, and he'll be especially verbal about how angry she is that she apparently loves his partner more than him.

In his mind, if he cums inside of her, that means he automatically owns her, fair and square. Even if she protests he'll just shut her up, telling her that she's his property now that he filled her up with his seed.

"There! Now you're all mine! Mine! Not Kakuzu's! Understand, you stupid little idiot?! No one get to love you except me!"

From that day on, Hidan takes special care to ensure that his sister stays far away from not only Kakuzu, but from any men in general, she doesn't need them now that she's in a very committed 'relationship' with her big brother.

[001x456]

I have to ask do people really have a problem with Inho being a bottom? TBH it's not really my thing, but I could definitely see it happening. For many reasons. I worked as a dominatrix for a few years and it's not uncommon for very powerful business men or men with a high powered stressful job to want to be the ones to lose control behind the scenes. Do people really not understand how this could be entirely the case with Inho because of his job as Front Man or what?

exactly this, anon!

I personally haven't experienced people bitching about this or saying "no, In-ho cannot be a bottom, he's so scary and powerful" to my face, fortunately, but I have seen some other people get shit for just saying they prefer In-ho to be a bottom and Gi-hun a top, and I just... don't understand why some people feel the needs to police anybody's thoughts or how they have fun when it comes to fictional characters. like... they're fictional, they're not real, people are allowed to headcanon them however they want.

(and also what you say about powerful people wanting to be the one who lose control behind the scenes is absolutely true.)

if you (general you) like top In-ho and bottom Gi-hun, that is absolutely cool and valid.

but if other people like top Gi-hun and bottom In-ho, that is just as cool and valid.

if you (again, general you) disagree, you can ignore and keep on scrolling instead of telling people how they can or can't enjoy fictional characters. like... just mind your own business and let people do what they want when it doesn't affect you in any way.

anyway, I personally prefer bottom In-ho and top Gi-hun because, for me, I love the idea of In-ho — who is usually intimidating, powerful and invincible — losing his strength and authority and just surrendering as he finds himself at Gi-hun's mercy, and Gi-hun eventually taking pity on him and deciding he will spare his life (Gi-hun may hurt In-ho back when In-ho is vulnerable, but when it comes to actually killing In-ho, Gi-hun cannot do it for some frustrating reason, as much as Gi-hun hates In-ho for all the things In-ho did to him and what In-ho took from him, he just cannot kill him) and therefore Gi-hun now has to take care of In-ho (since In-ho is wounded and helpless), and In-ho just has no choice but to surrender and let Gi-hun do whatever he wants to him. sure, it can be sexual, but for me, personally, it doesn't have to always be sexual. either is fine.

it's the loss of control and power (the raw vulnerability of someone who was once powerful) that I like, whether or not it's sexual :)

[shmisky]

Better world ford meet Reverse portal dtanley

Oh, boy, that would be something!

For anyone reading this, you might want to check out this first, or you won’t understand!

Ok, so. Moving on. I think that Better World Ford can be interpreted in two ways: 1) the one in which he’s devastated by the loss of his brother, but still functional and clinging to the morals he does have, and 2) the more dramatic and darker one in which he’s a bit... cray cray, as Mabel would say, driven mad by grief and potentially overprotective and possessive over any Stan he’d happen to find. From my profound fanfic knowledge, I think most people (not just shippers but the fandom in general) would prefer the second option, hahah. I will try to answer what would happen in both of these scenarios!

Let’s think of reverse portal!Stan first. I assume you can only mean a Stan who went through the portal instead of Ford. I’ve talked about this possibility before, here, and to shorten things: I don’t think Ford would ever genuinely value the “greater good” over Stan. He didn’t in Weirdmaggedon, when he was ready to offer the entire universe in exchange for the lives of three people (Stan, Mabel, and Dipper), and he wouldn’t back then, either, when he had much less discipline and control than old man!Ford. But Ford is a complicated little guy, isn’t he. So there are a number of reasons why he could, hypothetically, decide to not rescue Stan. 1) He assumes Stan is dead, 2) he somehow manages to gaslight himself for a while into believing he values the greater good over Stan (only to regret it bitterly, because that isn’t who he is at his core), or 3) someone (Bill or Fiddleford the Cult Leader) purposefully or accidentally messes things up for him.

Personally, I think the first option is the most likely one. Despite his admirable determination, Ford can be a pretty fatalistic, pessimistic man. When Stan lost his memories, he did indeed believe Stan was lost to him completely, and would have continued to think so, if Mabel hadn’t attempted to resurrect the old Stan through her scrapbook. “I’m sorry. Stan is gone,” he told his desperate grandniece.

Not just that, but there’s a very juicy reason (to me) why Ford would believe so: Bill. Bill, who knows exactly how much Stan matters to Ford. Bill, who already tried to hurt Stan to get to Ford once, in TBoB. (And who turned everyone into tapestry in Weirdmaggedon but spared Stan and the kids to use them against Ford! We have a pattern here!) Ford would sink into despair thinking of all the things Bill could have done to his brother before killing him. I think Bill could go and put more wood to the fire by appearing to Ford and making something up on the spot to brag about, about how Stan screamed and begged for mercy and died thinking Ford hated him. Ford would then assume Stan was really and truly dead, because if he were alive, then surely Bill would make an attempt to blackmail him, to convince Ford to fix the portal to get his twin back. The fact Bill isn’t doing that is proof enough. The possibility that Stan just managed to escape Bill and is still evading capture wouldn’t even cross his mind.

But while this Ford would be utterly devastated with the burden of having killed his brother, Portal!Stan would not know this. No, he would assume Ford decided it wasn’t worth it, to fix the portal and get him back. That he wasn’t worth it to Ford. He could easily be led to think that his relationship with Ford was now wrecked beyond repair. He’d feel like something he never noticed he still had (hope that Ford loved him deep down) was being taken away from him.

Most people, when they think of Portal!Stan think of... well, our canon Portal!Ford, but make it Stan instead. Same thing! But—I’m realizing only as I’m writing this—I don’t think Portal!Stan would be exactly the same thing as Portal!Ford. Ford is, surprisingly, more hardcore in his violence than Stan! There are many moments in the show that highlight this, but I’ll try to be somewhat brief.

Think about it: both of the Stans had their years running from the law. Stan was banned from US states, while Ford managed to make himself an outlaw in many dimensions. A state is inside a country that is inside a continent that is inside a planet that is inside a solar system that is inside a galaxy that is inside an universe that is inside a dimension, and somehow Ford want us to believe he was “just as wanted” as Stanley! Uh huh! Ford managed, somehow, to be known across the multiverse as “armed and dangerous,” even in his younger days, while he still had brown hair (which is what his Wanted poster in J3 says in code, btw!) The aliens were afraid of our guy! Mullet!Stan meanwhile, homeless and presumably struggling to survive just as Ford was, didn’t seem to have a similar (in)fame. We can see his own Wanted poster in his box of memorabilia in Not What He Seems, but they merely list his conman-typical crimes. Don’t get me wrong, he would end up very different from our canon Stan nonetheless. I think he would be just as hard to catch as Ford (Bill would be after him as well, for sure), and perhaps even develop a sense of revenge against Bill for hurting his brother if he put two and two together and Bill appeared in his dreams to brag. He just wouldn’t have the same vibes, imo, and would perhaps rely on different skills, such as his silver tongue and ability for lying and understanding people, instead of making himself known interdimensionally as a dangerous threat like Ford. Bill would repeatedly warn bounty hunters about not underestimating him, but somehow they always would, and Stan would always escape.

Now, now. Finally, let’s talk about Better World!Ford! I said there are two versions of him you could imagine, the more reasonable one and the cray cray one, but no matter the version, he’d be mourning his Stan deeply, like half of himself had died.

Let’s assign some names for them so we don’t get lost, first 😭

BW!Ford = Better World!Ford

BW!Stan = Better World!Stan

RP!Stan = Reverse Portal!Stan

RP!Ford = Reverse Portal!Ford

Moving on again.

I picture RP!Stan visiting the Better World dimension for some reason and BW!Ford immediately wanting him to fill the emptiness caused by BW!Stan’s death. I can’t see BW!Ford not being overprotective of RP!Stan, considering he’d be 1) traumatized about losing BW!Stan and 2) terrified of what Bill could do to RP!Stan. Because again, Bill knows how much any Ford, of any dimension, loves his Stan. Bill could try and use Stan to hurt him! (Which would be, in fact, exactly what Bill was trying and failing to do for so many years, hahah.)

RP!Stan would be shocked by BW!Ford’s transparent and overwhelming love for him. Didn’t every Ford Pines despise Stan Pines? Perhaps BW!Ford was faking his love! Perhaps BW!Ford was just completely different from RP!Ford!

But if so, where’s BW!Ford’s own Stan? What happened differently? Something terrible, perhaps? Did BW!Stan have to die or something for BW!Ford to start caring? But then again, RP!Ford (apparently) had left RP!Stan to die after pushing him through the portal, so perhaps an average Ford wouldn’t even care about an average Stan’s death... (I’m sorry if this is getting too confusing! 😭)

(RP!Stan also considers the possibility that BW!Stan was just a much better brother than him, but that hurts too much. BW!Ford wisely doesn’t tell him about the fact BW!Stan had obeyed his order to take away the journal.)

Let’s suppose that RP!Stan then makes the mistake of telling BW!Ford about RP!Ford, who (apparently) hadn’t bothered to fix the portal to get RP!Stan back. I think BW!Ford would realize what actually had happened, and then he would have a decision to make: to tell RP!Stan the truth or not. If he did, perhaps RP!Stan would then embark in a journey back to the arms of his RP!Ford. If he didn’t...

Here I think it depends on how you interpret Ford (and his morals) to be. I think his morals are pretty loose, but nonetheless he can be pretty noble and self-sacrificing and prone to profound, if sometimes repressed, guilt. He could still feel empathy towards his other self, knowing intimately the utter pain of living while blaming himself for Stan’s death. If he decides to be the good, selfless guy, then happy ending for RP!Ford, unhappy ending for him.

Could he believably decide to lie to RP!Stan and say that yeah, his own Ford didn’t care for him? Yes, imo, with the right rationalizion. As Alex mentioned before, Rob Renzetti (coauthor of Journal 3 and his Ford expert) made him understand a fundamental truth about Stanford Pines: that he can do anything as long as he manages to justify it to himself, because one of his greatest powers is rationalizing. I think even a Ford with canon Ford’s morals could justify lying to RP!Stan if he managed to successfully convince himself that what he was doing wasn’t against Stan, but against the other Ford. Ford on Ford violence, if you will. He can be very self-loathing and very hypocritical at the same time, so if he somehow twisted the narrative inside his head so as to paint RP!Ford as the villain who deserved to lose his Stan and himself as the one who will take better care of RP!Stan... Especially considering Bill, and the fact he could consider it unsafe for RP!Stan to leave the BW dimension at all...

And if you want to go a touch darker—now I believe we’re approaching a darker!Ford territory; that is, I don’t believe canon Ford would be capable of bringing himself to do this, but his BW version has been twisted by grief—he could ensure RP!Stan never leaves him quite easily, through many different means, including Fiddleford’s memory gun. That would mean a definitive unhappy ending for poor RP!Ford, forever without his Stan 😔

[mononijikayu]

"i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you." — gojo satoru.

And now, you realize how human Gojo Satoru was. How normal he was. How tender he was for a world that was not the same towards him. You sighed, parting from him slightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He took a look towards you, as though searching for the universe behind your lilac eyes.

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: in another life by son lux

NOTE: waiting for my meds to kick in and i saw the clip from everything everywhere all at once where waymond says, 'in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you' and i just thought of them....thought of genmei (you) and satoru, just enjoying this sort of life. very short but this is one to warm your heart. let's remember satoru as the man he was. as the loving human being who was fun and generous and tender. i'll be doing this for a while. until i get my head straight. in a way, this is how i'll mourn him. by remembering him lovingly <333

masterlist

u s and t h e m

YOU ALWAYS LIKED HAVING SATORU AROUND THE HOUSE. Your husband was if anything — always not at home. Even if he’d like to be, it’s not up to him. And you as much as he does, hated it. You’d always understood that. You could never feel hate for Satoru about things he genuinely could not control. 

In these past few years of marriage, you were lucky if he could get the Sundays off. He’d always made the point to the higher–ups that he would never answer calls on that day. He’d like to focus on being around you, being around Tsumiki and Megumi — to be as present as possible.

But in the past few years, the number of curses had dramatically increased and the number of professional sorcerers had dwindled. Of course, you yourself felt some guilt in that. You yourself have taken a leave for almost two years now, having followed in Nanami’s footsteps. Even now,  principal Gakuganji has been pressuring you for your return each and every day. But you flat out refused each and every turn, every call, every message. Satoru did not fault you for it, he understood.

Considering that you had wanted to be more attentive in giving Tsumiki and Megumi an active presence in their lives. You wanted that for Satoru too. You wanted him to know that there was always someone waiting for him to come home. That there was going to be someone that was willing to stay awake, yearning for him to return every day and every night. He had always been so gleeful about that — smug even. 

Because he had something to live for. He had something to look forward to when the days get rough with the amount of curses he’d have to go through left and right. He didn’t mind that your duties in the jujutsu world became his own. What mattered was that he had Megumi and Tsumiki and you, his precious wife.. He couldn’t ask for anything more.  He’d brag to Shoko and his sister about how he had someone waiting for him to come home. 

"You know," Satoru began, a playful glint in his eye, "I brag to Shoko and my sister about how I have someone waiting for me to come home."

You looked up from the cutting board, a smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, really? And what exactly do you tell them?"

He grinned, leaning casually against the counter. "I tell them about how you're always here, making the place feel like home. How you cook amazing dinners and make sure everything runs smoothly."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "You're exaggerating, Satoru. I'm just doing what anyone would."

He shook his head, his expression turning more serious. "No, you're not. You make all the difference. Coming home to you... it's everything. It makes all the craziness worth it."

Your heart warmed at his words, and you set down the knife, wiping your hands on a nearby towel. "Well, for the record, I brag about you too."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh? To whom? And what do you say?"

“To the mothers at Tsumiki and Megumi’s school,” You grinned at him. "I tell them about how my precious husband always manages to juggle being the busiest person I know and still you always make time for me, even when you're exhausted. And how you make me feel safe and loved, no matter what. How you make Tsumiki and Megumi feel happy and safe—seen and cared for.”

Satoru's cerulean eyes softened, and he reached out to take your hand in his. "I'm glad you feel that way. Because that's all I want—for you to feel safe and loved."

You squeezed his hand, the connection between you palpable in the quiet kitchen. "I do, Satoru. Every day."

He smiled, the kind that lit up his entire face. "Good. Because I plan on bragging about you for a long time."

And so, now that he also gets calls on Sundays, Gojo Satoru makes the most of anything and everything — every moment was important for him to measure up to. Today was one of those rare, precious days off for your husband, and you both intended to savor every moment of it. 

The usually bustling Gojo residence was quiet and peaceful, with Tsumiki and Megumi still out for the day. They were still in school, doing some more club activities. Megumi took up baseball, while Tsumiki took on band music. So you and Satoru wouldn’t have to go to school until 5:30 pm. It was only 4:00pm. And so you were adamant to start prepping for dinner — so that when you all got home, the hotpot would just need some cooking. You were there again in your turf, the kitchen, as you hummed a song that’s been stuck in your head for a while. 

As you sliced the vegetables with practiced ease, you could hear your husband Satoru enter the room. He had taken off his usual blindfold, and opted for his round dark glasses. Your husband had a habit of taking even the round glasses when he’s around you. But you know it hurts his head to even do so. 

He’d pout and he’d stomp all about, saying how he just wanted to see how pretty you were. But you always stood your ground. Still, you could still feel how revealing those striking blue eyes glaring at you even when they’re covered up. They always seemed to see right through you. 

Satoru sighed contentedly, his thumb still gently brushing over your knuckles as he watched you chop. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board was soothing, a small anchor in the storm of your lives. His presence beside you felt like a protective shield, his love and strength enveloping you like a warm embrace. He leaned against the counter, watching you with a contented smile. The quiet hum of domesticity felt foreign yet comforting.

"You know," he said softly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence, "Sometimes I envy the ordinary people. They have no idea about the world we live in, the dangers we face. Their biggest concerns are mundane things like bills and grocery lists."

You looked at him, a somber smile on your lips. "It's the simplicity we crave, isn't it? The idea of living a life where our biggest worry is what's for dinner, not the next life-or-death battle."

Satoru's cerulean eyes sparkled for a moment. "Exactly, y’know? Rare for us to get moments where we can pretend, just for a little while, that we're just like everyone else."

You smiled, feeling a surge of gratitude for the man standing beside you. "And those rare moments mean everything. They remind us why we fight, why we keep going."

He pulls at your other hand, taking it to his own as you gasped. He presses a kiss on your palm. "You always know how to put things into perspective."

“You know, you don’t bring up these things unless you’re thinking a lot.”

He grins. “Oh, but who says I’m thinking a lot?"

“My love, I’ve known you long enough to know you only talk when you feel like you can’t keep it inside anymore.” You say, putting your knife aside and squeezing the hand he occupies with his own. ”Tell me, what's on your mind?"

He hesitated as he stayed silent. He didn’t know how to say it, having to close and then open his mouth. Satoru was just like that too, when you met him. He took a moment before he just sighed deeply, his expression softening. 

"I don't want to be doing this anymore," he said quietly, almost to himself.

You stopped mid–chop and turned to look at him, your heart skipping a beat. "Doing what?" you asked, needing clarification.

"This!" he repeated, gesturing vaguely around him in the empty space like a mad man."Well, not our life. That’s the best part. But I’m…… I’m always away and I miss this, y’know? I miss having to just be here. Enjoying this. I miss it a lot, darling.”

“Satoru, my love,  you can’t help it if you’re busy.” You say to him tenderly, sending him a soft smile. “That’s your job.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” He says as he lowers his gaze, his lips tight in a prominent pout. He sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “I know that it’s wishful thinking but I just…y’know? What if I don’t have to? What if I just left? What if we just got to Hida and hid forever? All the fighting, the constant danger……the weight of being the strongest. It’s taxing, darling.”

You looked at him, your eyes echoing pain at his words. You walked over to him, his bright blue eyes not leaving your own lilac ones. You opened your arms and knowing Infinity is down when he’s with you, wrapped your arms around him. He settles in your touch rather quickly, resting his chin against your shoulder as he wrapped his own strong arms against your own.

“Is that what you want?” You ask him in a small whisper, looking at him as though trying to make sure he’s sure. “Would you not regret leaving it all behind?”

“I want this, I'm sure I am." he continued, his voice taking on a more wistful tone. “I’m sure I am.”

“But what about your work—”

“I just…” He leans against you even more. "This little suburban, quaint type of the normal sort of peace. All I want in life.  I don’t wanna hear the depths of some curse’s stimulation, darling. Just…. Just wanna hear your breath or the rhythm you have when you chop the veggies for the hotpot. ‘miki’s violin strings when she practices before breakfast, ‘gumi’s little chants in secret when he watches the baseball league by himself. Just…..just want this.”

If you hadn’t fallen for him years ago, you think you would have fallen for him now. His words hung in the air, heavy with longing and sincerity. Your heart was enraptured by him, completely. 

It was always hard for Satoru to be honest with his feelings. You’ve known that the first time you met him, when Yaga forced you to check on your new special grade sorcerers. When he first spoke to you, all of his words sounded ever so pretentious. Annoyingly so. But over time, you realized much about him. You learned much about him. You started to embrace him. 

And now, you realize how human Gojo Satoru was. How normal he was. How tender he was for a world that was not the same towards him. You sighed, parting from him slightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He took a look towards you, as though searching for the universe behind your lilac eyes. 

"Gojo Satoru," you said softly, your eyes searching for him beneath all that cerulean hue. "I swear to you, my love,  this life or the next — in another life, I would've really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you."

He chuckled, a soft, genuine sound that made your heart swell. His cheeks were red scarlet as he looked at you bashfully. His cerulean eyes seemed to grow even brighter, reflecting the depth of his love for you.  He presses his cheek against your shoulder, resting there for a moment as though to just let his warmth be felt by your own skin. To let you know, even his warmth was for you.

"Me too." he admitted, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "I imagine a life where the biggest worry we have is what to make for dinner or whether we should wash the whites separately."

You smiled, the simplicity of the idea bringing a sense of warmth and peace. "That sounds perfect."

Satoru's gaze softened as he leaned in closer. "You know, I think about that sometimes. A life without all the chaos, just us. It’s nice to dream, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," you whispered, feeling the weight of his words and the sincerity behind them. "But even in this life, come what may, I'm grateful to have you for all of it. I couldn’t have asked for anything more."

His fingers tightened around yours, a silent promise of his unwavering support. "And I'm grateful to have you, darling. You really are my dream, you know?”

You both laughed, the sound mingling with the quiet of the room. The idea of such a mundane life felt strangely appealing, a stark contrast to the chaos and danger that defined your existence now. But at that moment, it was a dream worth holding onto.

"Maybe one day, we’ll have it." you said, squeezing his hand. "It’s not impossible, hm?”

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and determination. "Yeah, it’s not.”

For now, though, you both knew your responsibilities were far from over. The weight of the jujutsu world and its relentless demands pressed heavily on your shoulders, but this stolen moment of peace, this shared dream of a simpler life, was enough to sustain you through the battles yet to come.

“I love you, Satoru. Whatever happens.”

He grins at you, kissing your cheek tenderly.

“I love you too, darling. Always and forever.”

You were living the best of life, loving him.

epilogue

The aroma of the hotpot filled the kitchen, promising a delicious meal. You and Satoru were still wrapped in your own little world, working together seamlessly as you finished up the preparations. Meanwhile, in the dining room, Tsumiki and Megumi were setting the table, so that you can eat soon after the hotpot is cooked and done.

Tsumiki hummed happily as she placed the plates and utensils, a bright smile on her face. "It's so nice to see them like this," she said, glancing back towards the kitchen where Satoru was playfully teasing you as you stirred the pot. “its so lovely again!"

Megumi, however, was less than thrilled. He sighed dramatically, his shoulders slumping as he set down the last of the chopsticks. "I swear, Gojo-san is like a clingy puppy. It's like he can't do anything without being attached to her."

Tsumiki giggled, nudging her brother. "Oh, come on, Megumi. It's sweet. They're happy, and that's all that matters."

Megumi rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah, yeah, I guess. But do they have to be so... mushy about it?"

Just then, Satoru's laughter echoed from the kitchen. "Hey, be careful! You almost burned my hand!" he teased, making you laugh in response. “Darling!~”

“Satoru, be careful or the pot will fall!”

“Ah, but I wanna hug you some more!”

“The kids won’t have dinner if I crash on this pot! Satoru—"

"Blegh! Just one more squeeze! Stop pushing me back!"

"Gojo Satoru, if we starve tonight, it would be your fault!"

Tsumiki placed the last napkin on the table and turned to Megumi, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "See? Everything is right in the world when they're like this. Besides, it's good to see Satoru–san relaxed for once."

Megumi sighed in feign annoyance. But Tsumiki was sure that there was a hint of affection in his eyes as he watched Satoru lean over to kiss your cheek. 

"Yeah, I guess you're right……As long as they're happy, I guess…..we’ll be able to deal with it."

As you and Satoru brought the steaming hotpot to the table, Tsumiki clapped her hands together. "Dinner is ready! Everything looks delicious. Thank you so much for your hard work!”

Satoru beamed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "All thanks to my amazing partner here," he said, giving you a squeeze. “We can eat well tonight!”

You smiled in tandem with your blush, playfully swatting his arm. "And the help of our wonderful family."

Megumi shook his head. "Alright, enough with the love fest. Let's eat."

Tsumiki giggled, taking her seat. "Don't worry, Megumi. One day, you'll find someone who makes you as happy as they make each other."

Satoru smirked, ruffling Megumi's hair. "Yeah, and then we'll tease you mercilessly about it.”

Megumi groaned, swatting Satoru's hand away. "Shut up!”

“Darling, our son’s being mean to me again~”

You smiled at both of them. “I’m not getting involved!”

“But darling!”