#I just think he is very aware of what he is saying

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 44: Little Shit

Summary: John has left a mess in his wake. Can the pack pick up the pieces before it's too late?

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,659 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, a/b/o, angst, language, some fluff, kissing, Simon being an asshole, angst

A/N: I'm actually very excited for this one and I know you will be too

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It’s cold out. It feels fitting, a mirror of the emptiness in your soul. They’re not happy about you being out here, but you don’t care. You don’t care about much right now. You’re wrapped in a blanket regardless, tucked into the chair, curled in, making yourself as small as you possibly can. There’s a need deep within you to feel protected and safe. Part of you had wanted to curl up in bed and lay there for the rest of time, but another part of you desired to sit outside and stare at the sea in the distance. A deeper part of you wanted to go, but you know they’d shut that down as fast as the words could come out of your mouth.

They don’t seem eager to do much of anything for you right now.

It’s a fair assumption. They’re all dealing with John’s absence as much as you are. There’s a definitive hole in your pack, and no one will be able to fill it, no matter how hard they try.

“If you’re going to sit out here, at least drink something warm.” A cup of tea is set down on the table before a figure lowers themselves into the chair next to you with a grunt. “’S cold out.”

“Feels good.” You murmur, ignoring the steaming cup. Of course he’d bring tea. He wouldn’t be caught dead drinking coffee after the playful rivalry that’s been ongoing between coffee drinkers and tea drinkers in the cottage. At least that can continue even in the tumultuous state of the pack.

It falls silent between the two of you, an awkward silence. He’s the last person you expected to join you outside. He’s been avoiding you like the plague, but then again he’s been avoiding you as much as possible since you arrived at the cottage. You know he doesn’t hate you, but you’d almost prefer it. The distaste he held for you back when you first joined the pack would be preferable to this quiet avoidance he’s wedged between the two of you.

“You...doing okay?” He asks, and you almost laugh in response.

Of course you’re not. He knows you’re not. He’s perceptive and aware. He knows what you’re feeling even without you having to say it. He’s asking purely because of societal expectations, but he already knows. He’s not stupid.

At least in his head.

“No.” You answer honestly, tucking your blanket up tighter around you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks hesitantly.

“Do you want me to talk about it?” You retort. “Feelings aren’t really your thing.”

He shifts in the chair, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Because you trust Johnny and Kyle more?”

“It has nothing to do with trust.” You say, your brows furrowing. “You’re just not the most...open person to talk to. Didn’t think you’d be interested in talking about feelings.”

“I’m just trying to be supportive.” He says.

“Well you’re doing a shit job at it.” You snap back.

Things fall silent between the two of you again, the wedge pressing on the edges of your bond, the little bond you have left. He’s done a good job at laying that barrier between the two of you, driving the space further and further in his distance. He’s the last person you want right now, but he’s the only one you have.

You let out a long breath, the air steaming in front of you. “He just had to be the one to go after Shepherd.” You say bitterly, your thoughts coming out before you can stop them. “He really just up and left and for what?”

“To make sure the pack is safe.” Simon says simply. “Alphas leave all the time.”

“But he didn’t have to! Not right now,” You say, turning your head to look at him finally. “Not when things were finally starting to get better.”

“He thought he had to.” Simon says, glancing sideways at you. “You know how he is.”

“Yeah and it sucks.” You say. “I wanted him to be better, to try harder to not think about the big picture...to think about me.” You let out a shuddering breath as you try to hold the tears back. “Just...why? Why him?”

Simon is quiet for a moment. “You wish I had gone instead.”

You give him a look. “You know that's not what I meant.”

“Is it? Because it sounds like it.” He says. “Would have been better if I had gone anyway.”

“Why, because then you wouldn’t have to deal with me?” You say, hurt and anger starting to churn in your chest. You’re getting frustrated with him and his emotional constipation.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Well it sounds like it.” You throw his own words at him, turning fully to face him now. “You really don’t want to be stuck here with me, in charge of me. Be honest.”

He’s silent for a breath, obviously trying to figure out how to answer in a way that’s going to hurt you the least. You don’t care. You want him to be honest and open, even if it does hurt. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s not an answer.” You say, letting the blanket drop from around you. You’re worked up enough from the emotions coursing through you, you don’t need it anymore.

“It’s the only answer I have.” He says, his voice firm.

You let out a sharp breath through your nose, pushing yourself up to stand. Some deep, twisted part of you wants to throw the tea at his face in anger, but you don’t. You won’t. You’re not brave enough for that. Instead you shove at his shoulder, barely making him budge. “You’re so fucking frustrating!”

You turn on your heel, storming back into the house.

“Well you're certainly not winning any popularity contests.” Kyle says, leaning against the door frame. 

“Piss off.” Simon growls, his shoulders hunched and tense like a coil ready to spring. 

Kyle glances over his shoulder as something thuds in your room. He wonders what it is you’ve thrown this time. Maybe yourself. That’s Johnny’s problem for now. Instead he steps out the door, sliding it closed behind him before making his way over to the tense alpha.

“You really are shit at this.” He says, sinking down into the chair you were sitting in. It’s still warm from your body, and so is the blanket as he drapes it over his lap. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“I shouldn’t have to try at all.” Simon snaps.

“But you don’t have a choice right now.” Kyle says. “I know you’re scared.” He cuts off Simon before he can protest. “Shut up, I know you’re scared of having this much power, of doing something wrong, of hurting her, but you’re not doing anyone any favors being all moody. You’re throwing her off and you’re throwing the rest of us off.”

Simon stays silent, staring out into the distance as Kyle continues to speak.

“John did what he did and we can’t change that. There was no changing his mind. You know that more than the rest of us. Now you have to step up. He trusts you to do that. He trusts his omega with you. That speaks volumes of his trust in your ability to take care of his pack.” Kyle reaches over, putting a hand on Simon’s shoulder, rubbing it gently. “We’re right here with you. You don’t have to be scared.”

Simon slowly begins to relax, his shoulders lowering and jaw unclenching as Kyle continues to rub his shoulder, projecting his scent to try and diffuse the tension that had built in your exchange with the broody alpha.

“I hate it when you do that.” Simon grumbles, sinking further into the chair.

“It works, though.” Kyle says with a soft smile. “You’re the alpha in charge now, so start acting like it.”

“I don’t know where to start.” Simon says softly.

Kyle squeezes his shoulder. “Maybe with an apology.”

“He’s just so...emotionally constipated.” You say, throwing another pillow at the wall.

“He’s just...goin’ through a lot right now.”

“So are the rest of us!” You say, spinning on your heel to grab another pillow. “And we’re all doing just fine at trying to adjust!”

“Are we?”

You let out a huff as you stare at him, disheveled from the fit you’ve been throwing. Johnny grabs the pillow you’re bee-lining for, holding it out of your reach instead.

“That’s enough.” He says, letting the pillow drop to the floor before he reaches forward, wrapping an arm around you. He drags you up onto the bed, sitting you down between his legs.

“I just don’t get it.” You murmur as you sit there, drawing your knees up to your chest as Johnny starts to comb his fingers through your hair. “Why John had to leave, why Simon is being so difficult.”

“Ye want the truth?” He asks, tugging lightly at your hair. He’s starting to braid it, something to keep his hands busy.

“No.” You say, resting your chin on your knee. “I already know.”

“He’s just as scared as the rest of us.” Johnny says anyway. “He’s never been in this position before. None of us have. Sure, John’s left on solos before, but things are different now.”

“Because I’m here.” You murmur, leaning into his touch as his fingers brush your ear.

“A lot has changed.” Johnny says. “Not just because of ye.”

“A lot because of me, though.” You say. “If I hadn’t been here, if I hadn’t been added to this pack…”

“Things would have still gone to shit eventually.” Johnny says. “The truth would come out, Shepherd would run for the hills, John would chase after him. Difference now is there’s something tae come back to.”

Guilt churns in your stomach as you sit there, unsure what to say as Johnny finishes braiding your hair.

“You really think he’s coming back?” You say quietly after a moment, that guilt still chewing away inside your stomach.

“Course he is.” Johnny says, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you back against his chest. “He loves ye, he loves all of us. He has to ensure Shepherd is gone before he’ll feel safe again, before he’ll feel it’s safe fer you.”

He’s doing it for you.

It’s not the first time you’ve had that thought since your alpha left you.

You lean your head against Johnny’s arm, staring out the window at the grey world outside. It feels so dull and oppressive. For once you miss the sun and warmth of summer, the feeling of life instead of the chill that’s settled in your bones. It’s not cold in the house, yet you can feel a chill seeping down beneath your skin and into your very soul.

You curl up tighter in Johnny’s arms, pressing closer to his chest as if you might be able to sink deep into his very being. Maybe there you’ll finally be warm and that ache will ease just a little. His arms tighten around you, trying to offer you comfort, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, not so long as John is gone. Your omega yearns for her alpha in a way you’ve never felt. You know separation can be hard on an omega, yet you’ve never quite experienced something like this.

Despite your hurt and anger and frustration, your omega longs to be in her alpha’s arms again. You want John to scoop you up and hold you tight in his arms and keep you there forever, safe and warm and protected.

Johnny’s trying his best, trying to offer you comfort but even he has to know it’s not enough. You need an alpha, you need someone there to offer some semblance of balance in the pack and for your omega. She’s not angry like she had been, but she’s restless still, pacing in her cage, waiting for something.

You let out a quiet breath, letting your eyes flutter closed for a moment as you sit there in Johnny’s embrace.

The quiet moment is broken by your stomach growling.

Johnny’s chest moves as he huffs out a quiet laugh, squeezing you tightly. “Come on, kitten. Let’s get ye some food.”

He finally lets you go, letting you slide off the bed. You grab a sweater from the closet before heading out into the main living area. Simon has disappeared unsurprisingly. Probably upstairs brooding, where he spends most of his time when he’s in the cottage. He almost spends more time outside the cottage now. He has to be going stir crazy laying low for this long. They all have to be.

Johnny passes by, brushing his hand across your back as he heads for the kitchen likely to harass Kyle while he tries to make lunch. Dr. Keller is nowhere to be seen, likely taking as much time to herself as she can. She’s been helping as much as she can while your pack tries to adjust to this sudden change. Mostly she’s been helping you, but the others have been utilizing her knowledge and understanding as well. It makes you feel guilty, making her work so much, but of course she’d never admit to being tired or worn out by the constant state of crisis within your pack.

You stand there for a moment, lost in thought until something warm presses against your back. You tense, slowly turning around to look up at Simon. He’s looming over you, staring down at you with his face hidden behind that stupid mask. You wish you could see his face and read him, but you know deep down his poker face is impeccable and you wouldn’t be able to read him anyway.

“You’re doing it again.” He says, and you know what he’s talking about.

“Sorry.” You say quietly.

“Stop apologizing.” He says rather harshly, making you flinch. His shoulders slump just a little at your flinch, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing.”

You blink up at him. This is rather unexpected.

“We’re all going through a lot right now, a lot of changes...but that’s no excuse to be a dick towards you.” He lets out another breath. “I’m sorry.”

You continue to stare up at him in shock, not expecting him to go so far as to apologize for his actions. Especially not right now. “Are you...apologizing?” You ask him in disbelief.

“Yes.” He says simply.

You stare up at him for a long moment, staring into those chocolate brown eyes. He’s so big and imposing, yet he seems so vulnerable in this moment. Something stirs in the back of your mind, your omega starting to preen a bit at the idea of him finally bowing down before you and allowing you to be in charge. He’s lowered himself enough to apologize...what else can you get out of him?

A low rumble echoes in his chest as you stare up at him, a slow smile tugging at your lips. “You really mean it?”

“Stop it.” He growls, his eyes narrowing. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” You ask innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

He clenches his fist, his shoulders squaring. “I hate this new side of you.”

Your grin only widens as you step up closer to him. “Doesn’t smell like it.”

“Alright you two, come eat before you stink out the house.” Kyle says, breaking the tense moment between the two of you.

You give Simon a wink before turning on your heel, leaving the reeling alpha in your wake as you make your way to the table.

“How are things going?”

It’s an innocent question, but it almost has you in tears. How are things going? Your pack is on the fringes of a breakdown, the bonds have never been more tense, you have an alpha that doesn’t want to be an alpha. How are things going? Not great.

“They’re okay,” You lie, your fingers tightening around the edges of the book in your lap. “It’s an adjustment.”

“I bet.” Ashley says sympathetically. “I can’t imagine this would be an easy change.”

“They’re doing well all things considered.” Dr. Keller swoops in, saving you from having to come up with a response. “The separation of an alpha can be a hard thing to cope with.” Her eyes are on you when she says it, making the guilt in your stomach twist itself into knots.

“You’re a lot stronger than I would be in this situation.”

It’s directed at you, and you bring yourself to offer a small smile in response.

In truth you feel like falling apart. You doubt either women would care. They’re both betas, caretakers. You’ve cried in front of Dr. Keller so many times you’ve lost count, and you doubt Ashley would look down on you for showing such weakness. It might actually feel good, letting the emotions out in front of two people who understand.

“You need anything, you let me know.” Ashley continues. “Even if it’s getting the boys out of the house.”

They are out of the house currently, well, Johnny and Simon left. Well, it was more like Johnny dragged Simon out of the house. Going on a run, they said. A long run. Maybe to town and back. A run to clear the head. A run to get those emotions out.

How you wish you could go for a run right now.

Kyle is somewhere in the house. Kyle. You feel guilty for how much you’ve withdrawn from the beta. You can only imagine how he’s feeling. His alpha has deserted him too. You both share that closer bond because of John and yet here you are keeping Kyle at arm’s distance. You have something to bond over, something to bring the two of you closer together in your confusion and the adjustments you both have to make.

Yet here you are holding him at a distance.

It only adds to the twisting of the guilt in your stomach.

The room has fallen silent, Ashley and Dr. Keller both staring at you. You blink yourself back into reality, looking between them. You got lost in your mind again, a habit you still can’t break. It’s gotten worse in your isolation, often left with nothing but your thoughts for company.

Whose fault is that?

“Sorry.” You say quietly, adjusting yourself in your chair.

“Welcome back.” Dr. Keller says, giving you a soft smile.

“A fellow over-thinker.” Ashley says, giving you a wink. “I understand 100%. Why don’t we move on to less intense conversation.”

You glance down at the book in your lap. In truth you haven’t read much of it. You haven’t felt like reading much in the last few days. You haven’t felt like doing much of anything these last few days. Life has gotten impossibly hard with the desertion of your alpha. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this.

You hadn’t expected it to be so hard.

Everything has been thrown off, even your desire to function as a member of the pack. If you can even call what you have a pack. You’re more like four independent planets all stuck in the gravitational pull of the black hole that is the bond you share. You’re slowly inching closer and closer to the event horizon, the point of no return when the gravitational pull will be too much and you’ll be sucked in and spaghettified in the intensity of your bond.

You’ll all be sucked in eventually. There’s no escaping.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

There is an escape, a way to find the velocity to pull yourself free of the looming event horizon, but the pain of it will be far greater than the pain you feel now. There will be no recovery, no promise of a future for you. It will be the end of everything. You’ll fall into a different black hole and there won’t be anything waiting on the other side.

“So what do you think of the main character?” Ashley asks, drawing you from your thoughts once more.

“I think she could use a break from everything she’s been through.” Dr. Keller says.

You and me both.

As the days continue to pass since John’s desertion, things don’t improve much. Simon is still fighting his new role, driving Johnny to recede into himself again. Kyle is like a lost ghost, floating around the house like a specter. You...you’re going insane with it all.

You can’t take much more of this up and down, this lack of surety, the pain throbbing in the back of your head from the constant tugging of your bond. Their lack of motion has you spinning out of control. You need to take control, you need to help them and yourself. The pack won’t last like this, so you have to make things happen one way or another.

Looks like you have to do everything yourself again.

“Where’s Johnny.” You ask Simon as he passes by you in the living room.

“Upstairs I think.” He says, skirting past you.

“Will you go get him please?” You say, turning around to face him. “We need to have a pack meeting.”

Simon stares down at you for a long moment before nodding. “Fine.” He grunts.

You step out of his way as he heads for the stairs, his footsteps thudding up the steps. You let out a long breath, half expecting you’d have to fight him harder than that. You move to stand in front of the fireplace, a few seconds passing before you hear movement upstairs.

Three sets of footsteps make their way down the steps, the other members of your pack appearing one by one.

“Sit.” You say, pointing in front of you.

They move silently, sitting themselves down on the couches. Simon by himself on one, and Johnny and Kyle on the other. They’re sitting further away than they have been. It makes your chest constrict as you stare at them.

You clear your throat, the words you had planned vacating your mind as you stand before them. You have nothing to be nervous about. They’re just the members of your pack, men you’ve been around for almost a year now. You know them in and out, better than they know you. Yet you can’t hide the nervous twisting in your stomach as you stand there vulnerably.

You close your hands into fists to hide them from shaking as you look across their faces once more.

“I’ve gathered you here today to have a serious conversation.” You say, trying to keep your voice from wavering. “About us as a pack.”

Johnny shifts in his seat at your words, all of them staring at you intently.

“I know John leaving has been hard on all of us, but we can’t keep just floating around like a bunch of ghosts. It’s eating me alive and I can’t take it anymore.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “So, seeing as how no one else wants to do so, I’m taking charge of this pack.”

Simon shifts slightly at your words, just a flinch but you catch it out of the corner of your eye.

“My alpha is the one that left, so I should be the one to step up in his place.” You state firmly, not letting the thickening of Simon’s scent throw you off. “You can call me alpha now.”

Simon’s hands clench into fists, his scent nearly knocking you off your feet. “You think it’s that easy, do you?”

You steady yourself. You prepared for such an outburst from the broody alpha. “Yeah. I do.”

“You’re just going to step up and play alpha while yours is away?” Simon rises to his feet. “What gives you the right?”

“Well, you won’t do it.” You snap, steeling yourself as he steps closer. “So someone has to.”

His eyes narrow at your words. You’ve hit a nerve and he doesn’t like it. Good, you think. Serves him right.

“We can’t keep going on like this.” You continue, trying to reason with him. “Someone has to take charge and since you won’t, I will.”

“That’s not your place, omega.” His scent slams into you again and you feel the urge to drop as your status slips out of his mouth.

“Then do something!” You’re shaking now, fighting off his dominance. He’s using his own status against you. It’s not fair, but it’s what you want. “Man up and be an alpha.”

“Hey!” Kyle is between you before Simon can take another step forward, pushing the alpha back. “You’re not helping anything getting all puffed.” Johnny is on his feet too, halfway between you and the couch. “She’s right.” Kyle continues. “We can’t go on like this. John left and we can’t do anything about that. We need a leader.”

“You want that to be me?” Simon scoffs.

“Well, yeah.” Kyle says. “You are second alpha. It’s your job to take John’s place in his absence. We need you to take his place.” Kyle pushes him back another step. “You have to decide. You can’t fight our omega on wanting to step up because you don’t want to step up yourself.”

You feel like passing out as you stand there, still trembling from the onslaught of alpha you had just faced. You’re proud of yourself for facing it as long as you did. Months ago you wouldn’t have even approached the subject, much less stood up to him like that.

If you were stronger, you might have fought him back.

“It’s me or you.” You say, stepping out from behind Kyle. “It can’t be neither of us.”

Simon stares down at you, his eyes hard. His scent has dispersed a bit, the heavy ozone of it fading. The scent of beta is pushing it aside, but your nose still burns from his anger. He’s still frustrated, but you can see the tension in his body lessening. You imagine his jaw unclenching, his shoulders lowering just centimeters. You’ve got him right where you wanted him to be.

You step around Kyle, putting yourself back in his space. Kyle doesn’t move, inches away from your back. He and Johnny are still as statues, waiting and watching what’s going to happen next.

You reach for Simon, putting your hands on his arms. You gently guide him back before pushing him backwards onto the couch again. He goes easily, slumping back into the cushions. You stand over him and he lets you take the dominant pose this time. You move yourself so you’re between his knees and you bend down to take his hand in yours. It’s rough and calloused, even time away from handling weapons unable to soften the roughness of his skin. It’s the first time you’ve touched his skin since the day he rescued you. It’s the same hand he used to scruff you, the same hand that saved your life.

“I don’t want to have to do it.” You say softly, tracing the back of his hand. “I’d prefer it were you.” You lift your gaze from his hand to his eyes. “I trust you to do it. I know that probably doesn’t mean much, but it’s the truth. John trusted you to save my life once, and you did. He trusts you to take care of his pack, and I do too.”

He stares up at you for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. You’re projecting your scent just a bit, trying to ease it deep into his brain where his alpha lies, use your power against him to convince him to take on this role so you can stop going insane.

“I need you, alpha.” You whisper.

His eyes darken, his hand tightening around yours. You’ve got him right in his soft underbelly.

He pushes himself up to stand, forcing you back half a step. Your chests brush as he looms over you, his scent thickening in the air, but not in the way it had before. The leather and natural muskiness invades your senses, seeping deep into your brain. You stare up at him, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Fine.” He breathes, dropping your hand. “I’ll do it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. You got him hook, line, and sinker.

More days pass and slowly your pack begins to settle. Simon has shifted into his role easily, taking over as alpha. Johnny and Kyle no longer seem so weighed down, and the tumultuous energy has subsided a bit. You feel lighter, like some of the pressure has been lifted from your shoulders.

It has.

You’re no longer the only one holding the pack together, desperately clinging to the strings of your bonds. Simon is right there by your side, gluing them down so they no longer slip away.

You quite like him being alpha. He wears the title like a king and you find yourself feeling a stirring of excitement in your stomach every time you think of Pack Alpha Simon. It fits him, being in control of not just Johnny but everyone. Even Kyle seems a bit more at ease despite the missing link.

Your missing link too.

“Kyle?” You say softly, almost afraid to disrupt him where he sits on the couch reading.

“Hm?” He hums, glancing up from his book.

“I...was just wondering...how you were doing?” You wince at the awkwardness of your own words.

“Fine.” He shrugs, marking his place in the book.

“You’re sure?” You ask, slowly lowering yourself onto the opposite side of the couch. “I mean, our alpha is gone.”

Kyle nods slowly. “Yeah, he is.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I miss him.” You hate to admit it, but you do.

“I know.” Kyle says, reaching out for your hand. “I do too. He may be a shit alpha, but he’s our alpha.”

You can’t help but laugh a bit at his words. “That is true. You really think he’s coming back?”

Kyle nods. “I think so. I doubt he’d leave us high and dry. He loves both of us too much for that.”

You stare up at him. You forget just how much John cares for you and Kyle. It’s easy to forget with how he’s been acting lately. He left for you. He left for the good of the pack, to go eliminate the last threat hanging over your heads. Once Shepherd is gone, then you can finally move forward. You can finally decide what comes next.

What does come next?

Will they return to the military? Will they go back to the way life was before? You can’t expect them to give it up. You’ve come to that conclusion easily. They won’t leave that way of life without a fight, and you can’t ask that of them, not matter how badly you want to. You’ll go back to life on base, life the way it had been before. The constant worry and stress will always be a part of your life, no matter what. They’ll always put the good of the world above everything else. Even your pack.

They promised they’d start putting you first, but you can’t ask them to give up their livelihood for you. It’s been their whole lives. They’re all career soldiers, they all started early and haven’t known anything else. This is what they do and it will always be what they do until they die or are forced to retire. You’ll always be there, waiting for them back home, praying they come back breathing and not in a coffin.

You’ll always have nightmares of that phone call, of getting that news.

“You okay?” Kyle asks, squeezing your hand.

You look back up at him, staring into those deep brown eyes. “Yeah.” You nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Simon?”

Simon glances up from his phone, turning his head to the side. No word from John yet, but then again it could be too soon. He doesn’t know anything, and it’s driving him insane. He doesn’t like not knowing. He knows Shepherd had been found, though captured or spotted he’s none the wiser. John could have been going on a stakeout for all he knows. It could be weeks, months.

It’s been just over a week and he doesn’t know anything yet.

He hates it.

He turns his head to the side, staring at you. You’re standing there, looking small and timid next to the couch. So different from how you stood up to him days ago when you forced him to finally accept he’s in charge. He had to take on that role because John wanted him to. That’s why he knew first, that’s why John spent so much time preparing him. Simon have to take on this role eventually, whether he wanted it or not.

“Have you heard anything from John?” You ask, shifting on your feet.

It’s the first time you’ve asked about John. Sometimes he wonders what’s going through your head. You’re angry and frustrated with John, he knows that much. He can read that on your face. He knew from the teary goodbye, the look of despondency hidden behind the quiet confidence on John’s face when he walked out the door that something had transpired between the two of you when he told you. Maybe you already knew. Maybe you already understood this would happen eventually.

If John would have let him, he would have gone instead, if only to save you from having to face this.

It would have been easier for him to play the soldier and assassin. He’s done it many times before.

“Nothing.” He says honestly. Better to give you the truth than false hope.

John will return, even if you told him not to. He’s too stubborn for that. He won’t give up that easily. He’ll know you’d change your mind if you told him to stay away. You didn’t. He can tell that much, but he knows. He understands.

“Oh.” You say quietly, almost as if you’d had a false hope that there was word, some small message to let you know he’s alive, he’s well, he’s coming home.

He can’t come home soon enough.

You slowly inch around the side of the couch before sitting gingerly on the edge of the cushion. You’re moving like you’re approaching a wild animal, but in your mind you might just be. He’s not a wild animal. If anything he’s the opposite of right now. He’s tired, worn down from the sudden weight of responsibility. He wouldn’t even bare his teeth if he could.

You’re holding a book in your hand. You clutch it to your chest as you slowly lean back, scooting until you’re comfortable on the opposite end of the couch from him. Why you chose there and not across from him, he doesn’t know. You could have sat anywhere in the house and yet you decided to sit next to him.

Perhaps it’s some deep omegan need for comfort and security. You certainly need a lot of that right now. You’re going through a tumultuous time and you’ll need all the comfort you can stand. He’s the one that’s supposed to give that to you, yet he finds himself withdrawing from that desire, that need. You won’t want his comfort because he’s not your alpha. He’ll never be your alpha, he’ll never be good enough.

Simon sits there, still as a sniper as he watches you slowly inch your way into a comfortable seat. You haven’t spoken a word since your small, quiet acknowledgment of his answer to your question. Maybe you’re too afraid to speak more, ruin the moment, drive him away when you’ve so obviously sought him out for more than word on your absent alpha.

He stays there as you move, slowly shifting yourself on the couch until you’re curled up in the corner. It’s reminiscent of how you used to sit in the rec room all those weeks ago, curled up on the couch while he sat as far as he could from you, at least until those bonds began to grow, those steel-bound threads of alpha and omega began to wind themselves around you like nooses.

Bonds are like nooses. One fails they all do. That’s why he’s always hated them, why he’s always avoided them.

Why his mother never gave in.

His hand curls into a fist, nails digging into his palm as he forces the thoughts away, shoves his past down into the recesses of his mind where it belongs.

You seem ignorant to his inner struggle as you sit there, book open in your hands. You’re lost in a fictional world, ignorant of everything going on around you. How easily you slip into a realm of distraction, he’ll never know. There will always be a part of him that’s aware, hypervigilant to the world.

Maybe you can drift off so easily because you feel secure enough to do so. You feel safe enough with him there to sink deep into a stupor brought on by words on a page. It stirs something inside of him. Pride? Honor? Guilt?

You’ve sought him out for safety and security and here he is blocking you out more and more. You had to face him down to force him into this position when he should have stepped into it in the first place. He should have done more, been more. From the start he should have been a better alpha, even if he wasn’t yours, even if he’d never be yours. He’s an alpha in the pack, he should start acting like it.

The vulnerability that takes. The weakness he’ll have to show.

It’s okay. The soft voice of his mother floats through his mind. Better to be soft than hard like your father.

A shiver runs down his spine, making his whole body tense. It draws you out of your book, your head turning to look at him. Not quite so lost as he thought, then.

“Simon?” You ask quietly, concern lacing your voice. “What is it?”

Your omega must be sensing some sort of danger. He’s on edge, your omega is responding, looking for reassurance that there’s nothing wrong, there’s nothing there.

“Nothing.” He answers, forcing himself to relax. He has to put his hackles down, otherwise the moment will be ruined. “Just thinking too much.”

He’s not sure why he said it. Maybe it was because he knew it would draw that small smile on your face.

He likes it when you smile. You haven’t been doing much of it lately, but then again, you haven’t had much of a reason to. Why smile when the world is crumbling around you? Yet there are still moments when he sees that side of you, you let out on base. Those happy moments when life was good and easy and predictable. Back when he allowed himself to feel, to touch, to smell, to devour your very being.

He misses it.

No he doesn’t.

It’s too much of a risk, too much of a vulnerability to allow that again. He can’t open himself up to that when it will only lead to more hurt on your part. Everything ends in hurt. It’s all he can do, all he’ll ever do. He’s hurt Johnny, he’s still hurting Johnny. You’ll crumble in his hands too, slipping through his fingers like sand.

He sits there still as you begin to slowly shift yourself so you’re facing him, putting your back to the fire. He watches you from the corner of your eye as you begin to stretch out, joints cracking as they straighten. His eyes lower to your feet as they slowly slip across the couch, inching closer and closer to him. His hand twitches, his breath stilling in his lungs.

He can’t move. He’s stuck there, stuck watching as you slowly press upon the barrier between the two of you, breaking down that boundary he’s set in place with just a simple movement. He can see it crumbling as your bare toes inch closer and closer until they press against the soft fabric of his jeans. Just a brush, just a tickle against his leg.

“Do you have to do that?” He asks, still staring down at your toes.

“It’s a small couch.” You say simply, not even looking up from your book.

“There’s an empty one right there.” He nods towards the empty couch across from him.

“I like this one better.”

His hand closes into a fist as you push against his leg with your toes. That boundary is crashing down, crumbling brick by brick as your toes bend, feet arching as you push against his leg.

“What are you doing?” He still hasn’t moved. He can’t bring himself to.

“My toes are cold.” You say, turning a page in your book.

“There’s a fire right there.”

“I don’t want to get up.”

Little shit.

He swallows the growl crawling up his chest, swallows down the emotions threatening to choke him. He’s right back in the rec room with your toes on his arm as the two of you read in silence. You’d gone toe to toe with him then too, the snarky remarks flowing like water between you. How easily it came, how easily it flowed, how easily you faced him on and didn’t back down.

Fucking hell how he’s missed this.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t get up like he once might have. Instead he sits there, letting you rest your toes against his leg, even though he knows they aren’t cold.

Something draws you from the sweet edge of sleep and forces you back into the world of the living. You’re not sure what it is at first, unaware enough you can’t think rationally. You had been so close to the sweet bliss of sleep for your morning nap when something woke you. You try not to think about it, chasing that edge of tiredness that’s quickly fading from your mind.

A pain in your stomach pushes it even further away. It takes your breath away, pulling you right into the world of wakefulness. For a moment you think you might be dying. Appendix burst, GI bleed, some sort of horrible gas cramp. You did have a big breakfast after all.

No, it’s none of those things. That pain begins to shift, morphing into a gnawing feeling that grows until a low rumble sounds.

You’re hungry.

For a moment you wonder if you did sleep and you’ve slept through lunch. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s only eleven. Not quite time for lunch yet.

You try to ignore it, try to curl up and go back to sleep, but that gnawing pain continues, keeping you from finding that tiredness that drove you to seek out your bed in the first place.

Instead you sit up with a huff, shoving the blanket off of you. A snack it is then.

The gnawing pain continues as you rise from the bed, padding quietly over to your half closed door. You slip through the gap, the living area empty. Upstairs or outside then, you think.

You head for the kitchen, digging through cupboards as the pain in your stomach continues to intensify. If you don’t eat right this minute you might die. You want something fast, but all you’re finding is cans and packages of food you’ll have to cook. You don’t have time for that.

Desperately you search, your hands starting to shake as you comb through the cabinets for something that might calm the uncomfortable growling in your abdomen.

Finally you find an unopened package of cookies. Tea cookies, you think, but you don’t care. You nearly rip them open in desperation, shoving one in your mouth. They’re dry, but you don’t care. They may as well be manna from heaven in this moment.

You carry the package over to the sliding door, staring out at the yard as you continue to shove cookies into your mouth. It hasn’t rained in a few days, the deck starting to dry out finally. It’s still cloudy and grey though, the sea reflecting the sky in the distance.

You stand there, lost in space and time until you reach into the packet of cookies only to meet air and crumbs. You stare down at the package, your stomach still rumbling hungrily like an insatiable monster. 

Insatiable. Hunger. 

“Oh fuck.” You say, staring down at the package still. 

“What?” Kyle says, approaching you from behind. 

You turn on your heel, hand still in the package. “I’m hungry.” 

“It’s almost lunch time.” He says. “What would you like to eat?” 

“No, no.” You gulp. “I’m hungry.” 

He stares at you blankly for a moment before realization crosses his face. He stares at you wide-eyed, shifting on his feet nervously. “Oh shit.” 

“Sedation is an option but I’d have to get the supplies for it.” Dr. Keller says. “We’re not equipped here for something of that caliber. I can get the supplies, but we might not have enough time, even with Kate’s help.”

“It might be risky, drawing that much attention.” Kyle says. “People will have questions.”

“You’re not even nesting yet.” Dr. Keller says with a sigh, glancing at you. “This is bad timing.”

“It’s not like I can control it.” You say around a mouthful of chips.

You’ve already downed three sandwiches and you’re working on polishing off an entire bag of chips.

“I know.” Dr. Keller says softly.

“Is there any way to stop it from happening?” Johnny asks.

“Not without considerable risk.” Dr. Keller says. “Especially this close.”

“What do we do then?” Kyle asks, looking at you.

“It is possible for a beta to help, but it’ll be a long and painful heat without an alpha.” Dr. Keller says.

A hand lands on your shoulder as they continue to brainstorm. You look up from the bag of chips, a handful halfway to your mouth. Simon is standing over you, his hand on your shoulder. He tilts his head in the direction of your door before removing his hand. You blink at him as he walks towards it, pushing the door open before disappearing into your room. You shove the handful of chips in your mouth before putting the bag on the coffee table. You lick the crumbs off your fingers as you make your way towards the open door.

It’s bold of him, entering your room just like that, but your interest is piqued.

He’s standing next to the bed, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket tossed haphazardly across the mattress from your attempt at a nap.

“Simon?” You ask quietly.

“Close the door.” He says, turning around.

You pull it closed behind you, turning the nob so it doesn’t make any sound. Something tells you he wants to keep this as quiet as possible. Nerves start to rattle inside of you. What does he want? Why does he want to keep things quiet? They must notice you’ve disappeared, but Simon doesn’t seem to care either way.

“Come here.” He says, holding out his hand.

You approach slowly, a bit hesitant from the alpha being in your space. It is your space now, your room. Even if you haven’t nested yet, it’s still your safe, sacred space. He hasn’t been in your space yet. You haven’t even invited him in, and here he is just walking in and making himself at home.

Your fingers tremble as you slip your hand into his, letting him pull you closer. He toes off his boots before turning back towards the bed. You watch as he stares at the giant bear for a moment before he shoves it off onto the floor on the other side of the bed. It almost makes you laugh, it would have had you not been so nervous. What he’s doing is bold, and it’s leaving you unsettled.

He climbs onto the bed, sitting in your spot. He uses the hand in yours to pull you up onto the bed as well. He relaxes back against the headboard as you wind up in his lap, straddling his waist.

“What’s happening?” You say, staring at him wide eyed. You haven’t been this close to him in months, and here he is just sitting you right in his lap like it’s nothing.

You’re going to get whiplash if he continues this.

“I did you a disservice.” He starts, tilting his head back to stare up at you. “That time I made you use sedation for your heat. I was too afraid of hurting you to see what it really meant, to understand the risks and what it would be like for you.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” You say quietly, trying not to jump as his hands come to settle on your thighs.

“I do.” He says, his eyes soft as he stares up at you. “I wasn’t man enough to face down my fears. I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Simon-”

“Don’t.” He says quietly. “Don’t talk me out of this.”

You shake your head. “You don’t-”

“I want to.”

His words have your protests dying in your throat. You stare at him wide-eyed. This feels like it’s coming out of left field. Things have shifted since his ascension into pack alpha, including the distance that had wedged between the two of you. Though he’s still been spending the least amount of time with you, you can’t deny he doesn’t feel quite so distant anymore. It’s comforting, just knowing there is an alpha there that would catch you if you fell.

Still, to go to this extent, to move this fast feels uncharacteristic for him.

“Simon,” You say softly as his hands trail up your thighs, reaching for your own hands.

“I should have done more, I should have been more for you.” He continues, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “You were right. I should have stepped up as soon as John said he was leaving.” He lifts your hands until they’re resting on either side of his neck. “I want to do this for you.”

You swallow thickly as you stare down at him, your fingers trembling where they rest against his mask. It feels strange being this close to him after so long. He’s being so...vulnerable suddenly and it’s making your head spin.

“Take it off.” He says.

“What?” You blink at him in surprise. You didn’t expect this at all.

“The mask. Take it off.”

“You...you’re sure?” You ask.

“Do it.” He says firmly.

Your fingers are still trembling as they curl around the bottom of the fabric. You can hardly believe this is happening, this is real. You’re really going to see his face. You had resigned yourself to only ever seeing him in his mask for the rest of your life, that he’d never willingly become that vulnerable with you. Yet here he is, coming into your space and opening himself up to this vulnerability.

Slowly you tug the fabric upward, revealing his scruffy chin. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of him when he tugs his mask up to eat. You continue pushing the fabric upward over his lips, your thumb tracing the scar there for a moment as you try and gain the courage to continue. It’s really happening. You’re about to see his face for the first time.

You push the mask up over his nose, thumbs gliding over his cheeks as you continue, pushing it up higher and higher. You take a deep breath in before tugging it upwards, pulling it completely off. He blinks up at you, leaning his head back against the headboard. You stare down at him in shock and awe, taking in his full face for the first time.

“You’re so...British looking.”

It’s the only thing you can think of to say. His face falls slightly, his brows pinching.

“Not-not in a bad way, it’s just...I’d know you were British if I saw you walking down the street.”

You wince at your own awkwardness. You’re not making it any better.

“You’re a handsome British man.” You say, cupping his cheeks.

He stares at you blankly for a moment and you worry you’ve fucked this up before his lips twist up in a smile, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Like what you see?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Very much so.” You say quietly, cupping his cheeks.

You want to kiss him. You want to lean down and press your lips against his. You’re not sure where the desire has come from, when this sudden shift and change happened, but you can’t deny the desire you feel towards him. Maybe it’s your looming heat, maybe it’s because he’s the only alpha around, maybe it’s because he’s finally stepped up into what you knew he could be for you, what he could do for you.

He doesn’t stop you as you start to lean down, giving into the impulsive need. You wait for him to push you away, wait for him to change his mind and walk out the door, but he doesn’t. His arms tighten around your back, pulling you flush against his body as your lips touch his in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as you kiss him, his hand flattening against your back. Shivers run down your spine, a quiet whine leaving your lips. His hand slides up your back, sinking into your hair to stop you from pulling away.

“Missed this.” He murmurs against your lips.

“Why did you wait so long?” You say quietly, kissing him again.

“Couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you again.” He says, pulling away. “I did it enough times before.” He stares up at you like you hung the moon and the stars. “I wasn’t fair to you.”

“You seriously don’t have to apologize.” You say, putting a finger on his lips. “I know you were being Mr. Emotionally Constipated So I Have To Make Myself Suffer For No Reason. It works for you, though.” You shrug. “Pairs with the Mr. Dark and Mysterious well.” You smile down at him. “Who knew Mr. Dark and Mysterious would also turn out to be Mr. Very British. Should have known with all the tea talk.”

He tightens his grip around you before suddenly pushing himself up. He flips you over onto your back, his hand squeezing your side, making you giggle. You trust him not to hurt you, his movements done in jesting not anger.

“You little shit.” He chuckles, resting on his elbows above you.

You smile up at him, pulling him down for another kiss. “I missed this.”

“So did I.” He says before kissing you deeply.

The kiss has electricity shooting down to your toes. Your whole body feels alive as your lips move against his, your arms wrapping around his neck. One hand slides into his hair, the short soft strands slipping through your fingers. You rake your nails across his scalp, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He pushes his body down against yours, squishing you into the mattress but you don’t care. He’s so big and warm it makes you feel safe and secure and for the first time since John left, your omega has settled contently.

You pull away begrudgingly after a few moments, staring up at him. You still can’t believe you’re seeing all of him, that he’s honored you with this chance to see his face fully.

“You really mean it?” You breathe, the hand in his hair sliding to cup his cheek.

“Of course.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“We should go let them know so they can stop stressing.” You breathe.

“Good idea.” He kisses you one more time before he pulls away, letting you get up off the bed.

You grab his mask, handing it to him. “Here.”

He stares down at it for a long moment before pocketing it. “I don’t need it.”

You stare at him in surprise. “What?”

“I’ve been hiding long enough.” He says. “There’s no reason to now.”

You give him an incredulous look. “What happened to you?”

He shrugs. “Had an epiphany I guess.”

“One hell of an epiphany.” You say as he opens the door.

“It might be our only option.” Dr. Keller says as you step out of the door. “It’s going to be a rough heat though.”

“I’ll do it.” Simon says, standing next to you.

The three of them look up, Johnny doing a double take. Dr. Keller’s face slowly morphs into a smile as she stares at Simon. She’s seeing his face for the first time as well. It speaks volumes to his sudden new-found trust that he’s letting her see him as well. Or, maybe he’s solidifying her place among the allies of your pack. He knows how much she means to you, how much she means to the others.

It almost makes you want to cry.

The room is silent as Johnny and Kyle stare at Simon in shock. You stand next to him, a small smile on your face. Things are finally turning around, things are finally starting to shift and heal within your pack, even with John out of the picture for now. He’s going to be surprised when he comes back.

Simon shifts on his feet next to you, his hand squeezing yours gently. It grounds you, keeps you steady as he speaks the next words, the words you never thought you’d hear from him. They’re sincere, not born out of necessity or need. He really does mean them.

“I’ll help her through her heat.”

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[fairestwriting]

Reader sleeping on the couch after an argument w/Dorm leaders? How they would react w/happy endings?

this got super long so i decided to change up the post layout so longer stuff would look nicer. But im also posting from a new device so if this goes up and theres any formatting fumbles then uhm. you didnt see anything

𐙚 Riddle Rosehearts

Despite how hotheaded and stubborn he is, it’s actually really rare for you two to really argue. He values your opinions on everything, and he’d hate for you to feel like he doesn’t hear you or care about your feelings. The last thing he wants is to make you feel like doesn’t care.

That, however, is something he’s still learning. It’s not very easy to let go of the habits he developed growing up— Especially if he thinks what he’s doing is best for you. He doesn’t know how to convince people, so he ends up coming off forceful and inconsiderate. It might even happen without him noticing he messed up, if you’re not extra straightforward about it.

So he knew you weren’t happy with him, but really didn’t think it was that bad, seeing you asleep on the couch is the last thing he was expecting. Even more if it’s the first time it happens, it makes him freeze go into panic mode.

You’re woken up to a really shaken looking Riddle, asking you what you’re doing on the couch at this time in very genuine confusion. He might not even have considered it was because of the argument, too focused on trying to figure out what’s up with you. And it’s hard to stay upset at him when he so readily listens to whatever you have to say, apologizing profusely and making a promise to not do it again that he’ll always keep. His intention from the start was to do what’s best for you, after all— So if he turns out to be wrong, the first thing he wants to do is to correct it.

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Arguing with Leona is… definitely a situation. It might have you wondering if it even counts as an argument at all. Sometimes he just doesn’t seem to even react to what you have to say, sometimes he straight up states he can’t be bothered to argue. He’s not as stubborn towards people he really likes, but he’s still very proud.

He can actually tell that he messed up very quickly, pretty much in the middle of whatever interaction went wrong, but can’t bring himself to actually back down and admit it. He doesn’t even bother trying to convince himself that he’s right or anything, he’s just that allergic to saying the word “sorry”.

When he walks past you, his first thought is that he should just “let you sulk”. It’s probably not the first time it happens to him in a relationship— And the same routine plays out every time. He wants to walk away, but he can’t. He eventually does, then he comes back and stares for minutes. Regret starts to really sink in then.

You have a blanket draped over you the day after, and Leona just so happens to be around to ask, much more tentatively than usual, if you’re coming with him to get breakfast. It’s his version of an apology, kind of. He’ll actually say it out loud if the subject of the argument was more serious, but that’s rare. He’s not very good at this and the both of you are aware of that, but he still cares, and he’ll get there eventually. Maybe.

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, he might actually have the lowest argument rate out of all dorm leaders? He owes a lot of it to just being good with words, he pretty much always manages to bring up his disagreements in a really non-confrontational way, they’ll barely even register as disagreements at all. If he can’t find a way to seamlessly compromise, he often just keeps his thoughts to himself.

...Mostly because he gets too anxious at the possibility of you rejecting him. Even if it’s something small, it’ll stay inside his head and refuse to leave, getting dwelled on when life starts to get particularly stressful. If you two argue, the likelihood is that he actually started it, because some other minor issue came up and the pile he was mentally stacking ended up falling apart.

Things can get really messy in the moment. Everything sounds offensive to him when he’s freaking out, while at the same time he’s painfully aware that he’s being overly emotional and causing problems that didn’t exist before. He stops his rant suddenly when self control manages to return to him, but at that point things were already said, and you’re walking separate ways after he awkwardly suggests you two just take a moment to cool off.

He might not even see you on the couch, being too ashamed to leave his office, but Jade will let him know either way. Azul won’t disrupt your sleep, and he’ll even try to give you enough time in the morning to get through your usual routine, but as soon as it’s possible he’s looking for you to privately apologize. He takes care to clear up any misunderstandings before voicing any of his worries, even though it’s visible how nervous he is. It comforts him just to see you looking at him with fondness again, seriously relieved that he won’t be losing you over the situation.

𐙚 Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is another one who doesn’t really argue, but that’s not to say he doesn’t voice his disagreements, because he does, and he does it very often. It happens as soon as the thought pops up in his mind, spoken all lightheartedly. Regardless of what the subject being talked about is.

…Which can very easily become a problem. He does take all your boundaries very seriously, but you need to be very straightforward about them. So if it happens that you two get into a topic he doesn’t know is touchy for you, he might say something that comes off insensitive. And yes, he will ask you as soon as he sees the change in your expression, but the lack of tact doesn’t mix well with you already being upset, and you end up just walking away.

Only then he stops talking, freezing up completely. He can tell, that you probably want some space now, and he’ll honor that— but the whole thing doesn’t leave his mind for hours. He has no clue of when he should go look for you to try to talk and apologize, no clue of how he should even word it all when he doesn’t know what he did wrong. His heart shatters when he sees you sleeping on the couch.

He probably asked Jamil for advice, then heard that he should really give you your space, but he just can’t take it. You get shaken awake and he’s tearing up while he apologizes, saying he really didn’t mean to make you upset, that he’ll do his best to be more careful if you tell him just what went wrong, but also that you don’t need to talk right now if you don’t want— He’s a little clumsy, and very emotional, but you know he means well, and that he loves you very much, which he’ll be sure remind you of over and over again.

𐙚 Vil Schoenheit

It’s no secret that he can really nag people, but Vil really doesn’t like to actually argue— He’ll say it every time a disagreement or misunderstanding starts to get tense. Partially a self-reminder, he’s aware that he doesn’t have nearly as much patience as he would like to. It can take a decent amount of effort to keep himself in check.

You two do successfully compromise very often, but sometimes even his suggestions can come off very harsh. It’s no secret to anyone who knows him. His peacemaking attempts are still pretty blunt, and his opinions are never held back. It can easily get upsetting, going as far as feeling like he’s judging you even though he’s not.

Vil actually takes a moment to tell that he might have said the wrong thing. He’s not so proud he’ll refuse to admit his own mistakes, but he’s just… used to upsetting people. You can outright leave mid conversation and it still won’t be his gut reaction, he always believes whatever he’s saying and only wants the best for you. It can take a good few moments until he realizes you’re not just “sulking” the way his underclassmen at the dorm do when he scolds them. Finding you asleep on the couch can honestly shock him.

He won’t wake you up right away— It’s still important for you to get your rest, and he wants to really think about what happened before he says anything— but there’s no way he’ll let you spend the night there. His voice is really soft when he calls your name, waiting for you to gather yourself before he tells you he’s sorry. Gently reassuring you in whatever you need while he explains himself, he’ll make sure everything is okay before he touches you at all, wrapping you up into a hug when everything is finally settled.

𐙚 Idia Shroud

He’s freaking out, full stop. He didn’t even think he’d ever get far enough with someone to be in this position. Since when does he even have the audacity to argue with a partner he never even believed he’d get? Whatever he did, he wholeheartedly believes he screwed up big time.

...And even though it’s his anxiety talking first, he might actually be right. He’s usually really passive, doesn’t even voice disagreements beyond maybe just whining about not wanting to go somewhere with a lot of people. And even then, he might be willing to try, just for you — So what went wrong? Probably a messy misunderstanding, where he said a lot of things he doesn’t mean…

He’s honestly just expecting it to be over. Believing that you’re going to block all his socials and never speak to him again. The second you walk away, the only thing in his mind is the absolute worst, so when he sees you on the couch he’s… relieved? But just for a second. It means there’s still hope for him! You would have just disappared if you wanted nothing to do with him, right? But he also recognizes the trope, he knows he’s going to need to work to be forgiven—

Idia is just standing there when you wake up. Pacing around the living room and losing his mind. He gets startled when he sees you’re awake, like he’s terrified of what will come next. At least he’s had (more than) enough time to think about what happened… the apology you get is very much sincere, even if it gets rambly at certain parts, ending with the two of you comforting each other.

𐙚 Malleus Draconia

For obvious reasons, things can get tricky with Malleus. Whenever you feel like you’re really starting to understand him, something strange will happen again, it’s a real cycle. All the factors in his upbringing connect with each other to build a very specific kind of character. Even if it looks like you two are really similar, there’s going to be a minimum of a handful of details that just change everything.

He’s always careful with his words, with basically no exception, but sometimes he just doesn’t know what the “right” thing to say would be, or he doesn’t know what a certain cue could mean in the moment, or whatever he knows is something that doesn’t apply outside of specific context of the royal family he’s a part of— The possibilities are endless, but a lot of the time, it’s more likely that things will just chalk up to the fact you don’t understand each other’s perspectives.

He might notice something is off right away, he might think nothing wrong happened at all, it can be wildly different depending on the topic at hand. He’ll ask what’s wrong if he does notice, but even if you do try to explain to him why you’re hurt, it may not make sense inside his head right away. And even though he’s genuine and fast to apologize, it can feel cold when he clearly can’t tell what’s actually wrong.

When he walks by the couch you’re asleep on, it doesn’t even register as being related to the argument right away. He shakes you awake to tell you it’s not a good idea to sleep there because it gets really cold later in the night. Right now, he’s had enough time to process and understand the situation, quickly giving you a new, truly heartfelt apology. Even if in the whole thing, in retrospect, was a pretty minor issue — And if it isn’t, or you’re just not ready to forgive him yet for whatever reason, he doesn’t push it. The only thing he’ll insist on is having you sleep somewhere more comfortable, really.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[imalonerdottie-arebel]

Yeah... I think this applies to the hatred of luigi supporters. If you take away luigi the human being, you take away most of his support. I just don't think silencing any of his support is a good idea. I think most of his supporters are supporting him because of *who he is*, who luigi mangione the human fucking being is. Stop with the "divide and conquer" tactic. I feel like it actually is working because most of what I see on reddit regarding luigi is negativity and hate, if not for him then for his so-called fans. If people are going to dump on ANY of his support, even if it's about how hot he is and his personal life details (as long as it's not crossing a line), that makes supporters feel ashamed and they won't post about him anymore. His "fans" are humanizing him and that's super fucking important. The more the public sees him as the human being he is, the more they will feel empathetic and not view him as a "bad guy". If we don't have anything to humanize him, then how will the public see him? Luigi is one hell of a person with a lot of accomplishments. He has bragging rights for sure. He had everything in life one could only dream of having.

The only support luigi has right now outside of his family and friends is his internet support, and that largely includes his own social media, miscellaneous internet profiles, and friends' pictures and stories that were already made public. Everybody else has turned against him - tabloids labeling him a murderer with his face on the front page, useless documentaries about how he is a heartless killer, media talking heads calling him stupid and mentally unstable, politicians and many other public figures dragging him, etc. If we're not allowed to post his pictures, videos and share stories about him, what are we left with? A husk of a person being accused of a crime. Anybody would think an empty husk of a person who is accused of killing somebody is a dangerous criminal. There are no other details to know about them, so they must be a bad person with no friends and family and no life worth living.

I do agree that people should not be harassing his family and friends. Obviously that goes without saying - anybody who has doxxed the people pictured with him, contacted his loved ones trying to get information, just any harassment at all IS insane and those people SHOULD be shamed for it. There are a few people crossing the line when it comes to his personal life, and those people don't reflect any of his other supporters. Not all of us are obsessed and unhinged lunatics.

My point is that the less public support he has will not bode well for him, and most of what I see online right now is negating his public support. Considering what he did for a living, what his interests are and his college degrees, I think it's safe to say that he is fully aware of how much of his life is on the internet. He is a very intelligent person. If he did commit the crime and if he wrote that manifesto, then he even mentioned in that manifesto how the feds won't be able to find anything incriminating about him online due to his engineering skills. These Debbie downers complaining about his life being posted on social media are out of touch.

[vaspider]

Spider, can I ask you and your followers for some input in a situation? I want some unbiased opinions, especially from parents of adult kids (bonus if your adult kids are disabled). I've tried to be as unbiased as possible and include both sides. I am aware that you're under no obligation to actually answer, but I'm hoping that if you're not able to provide any input, then one of your followers might be able to.

TLDR at the end.

The context:

Basically, I am an adult in my late 20s. I haven't lived with my parents since they threw me out at 19 for being diagnosed with autism and they were told that I wasn't capable of living independently without years of occupational therapy. I was homeless for 13 months. Like literally two days later, they dropped me off at work, confiscated my house keys, and said to find somewhere else to sleep because I wasn't coming back home. (My parents insist that I wasn't actually homeless because I already had my current job and was able to afford to stay at a youth homeless shelter. I say "what the fuck do you think Homeless Shelter means??") After that, I was able to get a government grant for chronically homeless youth that allowed me to get a room in a student housing complex. It's not dorms, but it works like a dorm. I do have a private room.

My bedroom of my apartment is a mess. My bedroom has always been a mess. I have AuDHD and multiple disabilities, including extreme fatigue so that's not unexpected. During lockdown, it was especially bad. I had to move out of my last apartment in 2021 because one of my roommates was a bigot and my building wanted a new tenet so they could charge more rent, so between the two of them, they forced me out for being a "safety concern" due to the mess (the roommate did things like lie and say I didn't bathe, even though I was literally still wet from the shower). My parents ended up helping me pack up my stuff and move to a new place. I've been here for a few years and my roommates here have always been okay with the mess because it stays confined to my room.

(Also I wrote this at like 5AM and I'm half asleep but I wasn't going to be able to go back to bed until I ask someone unbiased. So please excuse any typos, and I hope everything makes sense and nothing came out as gibberish because sometimes by brain refuses to Word Good.)

The problem:

My mother decided when I moved in that my dad was going to be inspecting my bedroom in order to make sure it's clean. He's been putting her off but she's been on his ass about it for three years so he's finally caved and said that next time he's here to bring me something (I cannot drive due to disabilities), that he would be inspecting my room.

I do not want my room inspected. I've been very clear about that since day one. Yes, my room is a mess, but I'm also a grownass adult. My parents say that since they've given me some money for my rent over the past few years that they're entitled to inspect my room. I say that it's a violation of my autonomy. My room is my safe space. My mother is an obsessively clean person so growing up, my room wasn't really mine, and everything had to be to her standards whether I liked it or not (including things like what color I paint my furniture that I owned).

My parents do not care about my boundaries, and would say that since I've proven incapable in the past (re: because I'm disabled, not that they'd ever admit it), that they're trying to protect me by keeping me from being kicked out again.

I am skeptical about this and believe it's more about controlling me (see: throwing me out for having autism and just generally being extremely controlling my entire life). My parents have refused to stop giving me money for my rent every now and then (I have a job and pay at least the majority of my rent, but there are some months where business is slow and I don't get many hours, and no one wants to hire me because I act Autistic and use a cane) and I end up short. I have resolved to do everything I can to not need their help, including having my sister pick up my prescriptions, in order to avoid my parents coming over and inspecting my room.

Also, my building already does quarterly inspections and they've always been okay with my room, but I know my room won't be to my parents' standards. I don't have any local friends that I could ask for help cleaning up, but like, I'm a Spoonie. I clean my toilet and then have to go lay down because I'm getting dizzy. I am not making much progress myself.

The question:

Are my parents right? Have I shown that I cannot be trusted to keep my room clean, thus entitling them to come inspect it to make sure it's not a mess. They will definitely yell at me and have threatened to withdraw what support they do give me if my room is a mess or I refuse to let them inspect it? Or am I right to put my foot down and enforce my boundaries?

Side note, my parents have a history of being abusive and controlling. That's something I had to prove to the government to get my grant. They would insist that it's not abuse. Some of it was quite bad but I'm not going to get into it here.

TLDR:

I'm an adult with disabilities who has my own apartment. My parents think they're entitled to come inspect my room to make sure it's clean. I say that it's my apartment and I say no. They have threatened to withdraw what support they do give me if I refuse. Are my parents being unreasonable, or am I the one being unreasonable for refusing?

Your parents have no right to inspect your room. You are an adult. This is your apartment, not theirs. Your mother is wrong. Your parents are being invasive. I think they think they're being reasonable bc they care about your well being, but they aren't respecting your autonomy.

Sometimes, being a parent means you gotta let your kids not do things the way you would or even not do things the way that is best for them. It's hard, but it's necessary.

If you still lived with your parents and your lack of cleanliness was affecting their lives, it might be different ... but this is just your parents being fucking weird.

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | slight smut chapter

it's been around a month now.

you come back home from a long day and open the game immediately, wanting to talk to your now self aware.....friend? what is he? whatever. to caleb.

"hey, y/n," he greets you blankly. something about him seemed off though, a little speck of anger looming over his face. "what's wrong? you look annoyed," you point out.

"the storyline just doesn't make sense! why did they make me so weird and creepy?" he whines, making you laugh. "i found you a little hot because of it but yeah, you were......well," you scratch your nape with an apologetic smile.

"you need some help if you find that hot," he states making you snort. "say, why'd you pick this game?" he asks you.

"just wanted to feel less lonely and now i gush over five hot guys," you respond with a little shame in your tone. "pick one," he demands scrutinizingly.

"hmm..." you pretend to think for a while just to tease him. your amusement increases when his frown deepens. "definitely not you," you answer, the playful tone giving it away. he flicks the screen to show you his disappointment. "such a big liar."

you talked to caleb all night, letting the conversation lead its way to random topics. it was easy and comfortable, not having to restrict or conform yourself to fit into a mold of norms.

"gee, your fingers are so long," you remark absentmindedly. "yeah, you would get a first-hand experience if you were here," he says with a smug smile while remembering that one time he heard you doing.....things, trying to elicit a reaction out of you. "huh?" you let out, dumbfounded. you gasp in realisation of what he meant and your cheeks warm up.

"if you were here, i would've smacked the living shit out of you," you say with a playful threatening tone. "oh, really?" he teases.

"are you seriously doubting my ability to demolish you?" you fake-gasp. "what do ya think, missy?"

"from this day onwards, peasants like you shall not possess the right to freedom of speech, you will only speak when spoken to and the rest of the time, you shall shut the fuck up," you say with an authoritative tone, making him laugh in amusement.

"alright, alright. check your messages," he urges you, snapping his fingers. "huh? in-game chats?" you question, confused at the sudden demand. "no, silly. your actual chats."

you quickly exit the game to check. "do it faster, slowpoke," you hear him say. "you look like an angry hamster right now," he teases you, making you relax your face.

'hey y/n'

'guess who'

you stare at the texts blankly. you blink after a while of silence. "what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu-" "don't start that again," he interrupts you.

"holy shit, you can text me?" you were so close to hitting yourself in the head. "mhm, just had to work a little harder," he sings.

he pops up onto your screen and you watch him as he shifts from his seat to adjust to a more comfortable position.

"i don't even wanna ask how," you close your eyes and sigh. a little happy, a little exhausted, and very much in need for sleep.

"caleb," you call out. "hm?"

"can you wake me up in an hour? i wish i could talk for longer but i'm so close to passing out and i have to complete some assignments," you request him.

"of course, lemme see your face while you sleep. i'll take pictures and obsess over it creepily for the next ten years so you'll never feel safe again," he says nonchalantly. "that sounds like a dream come true," you remark sarcastically. "that's what they made me to be," his face twists in slight disgust.

he rambles a little longer before finally shutting up when he noticed your drowsy state.

"sleep well, loser," he flicks at the screen. "mhm, g'night," you smile lazily before turning the lights off.

something about you felt liberating to him. after being controlled his entire life by a script, being forced to act clinically insane, a break from it all was what he needed.

he pondered over it after he became self aware. his feelings, that is. for so long, he believed that he loved that girl from his childhood, but the sudden realisation that it was all not in his control brought him more comfort instead of fear.

but the worst part of it all was the attraction he felt towards you. so familiar but so far away from what he would consider knowing someone. he was afraid of what was coming for both of you. if he couldn't control his feelings from spiralling against him, he's unsure if he could make you happy.

"you are really something, huh?" he whispers while staring longingly at your sleeping form in the dark room. he quickly covers his mouth when he hears you shuffling in your sleep. "y/n?" he calls out, wanting to make sure you were asleep. with no response from your side, he sighs in relief.

he doodles random things in his notebook while listening to your soft snores.

he hears the sound of a notification, making him straighten his back in alarm before realising it was on your phone. he notices it was a text from someone.

(an actual conversation between me and my best friend's boyfriend from when we were 15)

ne-andy-thal 👅

baebee

pls answer

our children miss you 🥲

caleb's brows furrow in annoyance. who was this guy and why was he texting you?

you

shes sleeping

ne-andy-thal 👅

gasp.

who is this

my baby done left me

for some dumbass dummy

you

its not what you think

ne-andy-thal 👅

who are you? whats ur name? why are u rextinh from my bbgs phone? fight me

you

im no one. none of your business. because we're studying together. no, i will not fight you dude, i have better things to do.

ne-andy-thal 👅

lame. rude. since when did she get another study buddy. yes, u will, dUdE.

you

im her boyfriend, we've been dating for a year now

caleb laughs to himself at the absurdity of the message. crafting up a lie to make you a little miserable.

ne-andy-thal 👅

GASP.

WHY DIDNT DHE TELL ME

SHE WONT ESCAPE ME AFTER THIS

you

your baby done left you

ne-andy-thal 👅

OH NO YOU DID NOT

you

oh yes i did

ne-andy-thal 👅

THATS IT, IM ON MY WAY

caleb panics at the text and quickly comes up with something else.

you

we are at my house

no point in going to hers

ne-andy-thal 👅

FINE. SHES GON GET IT TOMORROW

you

😵

he gets off the app, feeling bad for putting you in trouble.

"wake up, sleepyhead," he calls out after realising an hour had passed already. you groan and shift from your position. "five more minutes....please," you whine softly. 'adorable,' he thought to himself.

"your friend texted you, and i might have caused some trouble," he says, not even a single hint of regret in his tone. "what?!" you spring up. "i think his name is andy, fun guy," he remarks. you quickly check all the texts and groan.

"caleb! i'm so close to detonating, he's gonna kill me," you whine out. "first human i talked to other than you, worth it," he smirks.

"you have zero sense of boundaries for a game character so handsome, i hate you so much," you say with a frown. "ya think i'm handsome?" you wanted to wipe off that smug grin on his face with a slap.

"please don't do this again, i have no energy to deal with the buttload of questions i'm gonna face tomorrow. like boyfriend, really? is that the most creative thing you could come up with?" you nag him. honestly, it didn't bother you much. it's not like you had a great sense of boundaries either. you kinda may or may not like it when someone's so fully and absolutely involved in every part of your life, or maybe it's the loneliness talking.

"aw, thought you would find it funny. sorry, won't happen again," he says with actual regret laced in his voice. "is it really that serious?"

"no, not really. just- just make sure to speak to people whom i won't have to go through hell with right after," you tell him. "i'll introduce them all to you before you decide you wanna ruin my life."

he snorts before smiling at you. your dishelved hair and slightly puffy face looked adorable to him. he kept staring at you as you moved your phone a little further away to show yourself more to him.

he took in your features, his eyes trailing down from your forehead, to your eyes, to your nose, to your pretty lips that were slightly parted, to your collarbones, and finally stopping at your chest.

his cheeks turned red when he noticed your nipples poking out from your thin shirt. not wanting to oversexualize every part of you, he looked away. but he couldn't help but remember that night, your soft moans echoing through his mind.

it didn't help when you sucked on your lower lip to get rid of the dryness. the boner in his pants was ever so visible now, and you were doing nothing to make the situation better. he groans in discomfort, wanting to get rid of his jeans.

"is everything alright?" you ask him with concern. "oh- yeah, i just stubbed my toe," he quickly replies. you wince at the thought and go back to getting your books out.

"i'll finish my assignments, is it okay if i read my material out loud?" you question him. he looked at you before nodding, noticing how your eyes looked so pretty.

he sneakily removes his pants and boxers, unable to contain his neediness inside. he slowly rubs along his shaft while looking at you intently. oh god, the moment he hears your voice, he couldn't help but remember that night again. he bites his lip, trying not to groan.

his movements accelerate as he imagines your fucked out face, so pliant, just for him. the way he would kill to see you taking all of him inside you, tears staining your cheeks while he goes rouge on your pussy. the thought of you being completely unaware of the sinful thoughts he was having right now made the atmosphere all the more unbearable.

he could imagine your back arching, writhing in pleasure as he pounds into you, hickeys scattered all over your chest. he would take you over and over again until you see stars. he was getting closer and closer to his climax.

just as he was about to cum, you let out an 'ow' when you hit your hand to your desk when you were stretching which sounded awfully similar to a moan, and boy did he cum so hard. thick spurts of white liquid squirted onto his screen, and he felt so dirty. he continued fisting himself, drawing out his orgasm before stopping.

then it dawned upon him the realisation of what he had just done. and he didn't feel a single bit sorry for it. he cleaned everything up, making it seem like he didn't just masturbate looking at you.

[emsdevs]

saw you wanted luke hughes reqs, so ‼️

him coming back to your apartment after a game and just yapping to you because he needs to be close to feel better about how it went, but will never explicitly tell you that it helps him. you're just doing miscellaneous tasks, and he eventually starts whining about it, wanting to ay down and get head scratches/cuddles from you

(if this makes no sense, pretend i was never here 😭)

a/n: so so so sorry for the wait nonnie! i hope you still like it! i did in fact get carried away and wrote 1.6k words of mostly dialogue. is this a crack fic? possibly idk. anyway this was very much a lot of fun and my beautiful wonderful wife kirby helped inspire me

masterlist

Not-So-Silent Treatment

The Devils had an early game today, and although it was a Saturday, you had to this morning and couldn’t make it. That leads you to where you are now, finally home and in comfy clothes, cleaning as a way to pass the time until Luke gets home. Before you know it, you hear someone turn down the music you previously had blasting, whipping around to see who the intruder was after not hearing the door. When you turn, you’re met with your boyfriend, Luke, leaning against the doorway with a smirk on his face. He watched as you jumped, slapping your hand over your heart, hoping to somehow calm it down.

“You gotta turn the music down when you’re home alone, babe. What if I was a serial killer?” the smirk he’s still wearing tells you he’s not serious.

“Doesn’t mean you have to give me a heart attack,” you roll your eyes, walking over to give him a quick kiss. “How was the game, Lukey?”

“Oh my god. I have so much to tell you.”

“Yay! I’m gonna finish up the cleaning while you talk, okay?” you give him one last kiss before returning to your task of doing the dishes. In the background, you could hear Luke beginning his story of a crazy penalty that happened halfway through the first period. His favorite thing to do was talk. You weren’t sure why he likes to talk so much or how he always has so much to say, but it’s become sort of comforting to you. Instead of having some random song or podcast playing while you did something, you could have your boyfriend telling you everything about nothing. You suppose it’s so comforting because you enjoy hearing his voice, and it’s a nice reminder of the fact that he’s with you, even if you’re just talking on the phone while he’s on a roadie. Either way, no one will ever hear you complaining about your boyfriend’s talking habits.

Luke, on the other hand, knows exactly why he loves to talk so much. He enjoys talking in general, but when he talks to you, it’s just as comforting for him as it is for you. It’s a way for him to decompress after a long day, lay everything out, and get it off his chest. Then, he never has to think about it again. His favorite part of his day is talking to you, so he’s going to soak it up every chance he gets. Also, Luke is aware that he’s a clingy boyfriend. He’s not scared to admit that. Talking your ear off is just another way for him to feel close to you. It especially helps when he’s gone on roadies and can’t see you face-to-face. 

By the time you finish cleaning your apartment, Luke is on story number five. This one happened an hour or two before the game while the boys were messing around in the hallways, something about Luke almost getting taken out by a soccer ball while he was doing his pre-game run. You’re almost finished folding your last load of laundry when Luke starts whining behind you. 

“Baby, when are you gonna be done? You’ve been cleaning for hours,” he drags out half the words in the sentence.

“Luke, you’ve only been here one hour? Just let me finish this then I’ll come sit with you, okay?”

“Whatever,” there’s no real bite to his tone, and you know he’s just being dramatic. You finish up the last bit of your cleaning about twenty minutes later, not without some more whining on Luke’s end. Soon, you’re lying down on the couch, watching as Luke makes himself comfortable on top of you. He grunts a little bit when you don’t move, and you know that’s his way of asking you to run your fingers through his hair.

He lets out a big sigh before starting again, “So anyway…” You aren’t sure exactly how long you lay there with him, listening to him talk while you played with his hair. Soon, though, the sun has set, and you’re attempting to hold back yawns. “So Curtis decided to- oh? Are you sleepy, baby? We can go to bed.”

“Yeah, let's go to bed, hun,” the two of you make your way to your bedroom, immediately lying down and getting comfortable. Luke talked the whole way there. As you’re getting comfortable, you catch a glimpse of the time on your alarm clock. “Luke, baby, it’s after midnight… can you maybe finish your story in the morning?”

“Yeah… yeah, babe, don’t worry about it. Just don’t be mad when I forget important details,” he mumbles the last sentence before letting go of you and rolling over so that his back is facing you.

“Luke. Don’t pout. I’m just sleepy, okay?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not pouting,” you can feel him rolling his eyes even though you can’t see his face. “I’m just saying. You know I don’t remember stuff well after I’ve slept on it. All those important details will probably be gone from my mind. Oh well.” You sigh, deciding to let him pout in favor of getting some sleep. A few minutes later, he speaks up again, “Ya know, I thought you liked hearing me talk.” After getting no response, he tries again, “Dad always told me I’d never find a wife if I didn’t learn how to shut up sometimes. I guess he was right,” he let out a big sigh in between the two sentences. It goes on for you don’t even know how long after that.

“Jack and Quinn used to never let me talk. I’m starting to think you’re just like them.”

“I thought I was dating my best friend. Turns out you actually hate me.”

“There was a really funny part too. I guess you don’t want me to do my favorite thing. Make you laugh. I love your laugh, but you obviously don’t care.”

“I guess I just love you more than you love me. I would do anything for you, baby, even ruin my sleep schedule. Unlike some people.”

“I would never name names but some people like to tell me they love to hear me talk but they really only mean they like it when it’s convenient for them.”

That’s when the fake waterworks set in. Luke is a horrible fake cryer, but that doesn’t stop him. He’s slapping his hand over his mouth, shaking his shoulders, letting out the most unbelievable “boo hoo” you’ve ever heard. When he sees it’s not working, he changes his tactic again.

“Aren’t you gonna apologize? You made me cry!”

“It’s 2:00 AM, and you made me cry. Are you happy with yourself? This is the kind of relationship you want? The kind of relationship where I have to cry myself to sleep?”

“I bet if we got into an argument right now, you wouldn’t even let me plead my case. Because then I would be talking, and apparently, you don’t like that anymore.”

At this point, you know you’re not sleeping any time soon, so you let yourself answer, “Luke, you’ve been talking for the past six hours.”

He’s quick with his reply, “See! I just can’t do anything right.”

“Ya know, you always call me your baby, but is this what you would do to a baby? Let them cry themselves to sleep?”

“Yeah, Luke, it’s called self-soothing. It’s actually a really common soothing method these days.”

“Torture method, more like. Poor kids. Is this what you’re gonna do to our kids? Tell them to shut up because you aren’t in the mood for them to express their thoughts and feelings?”

“Luke, we’re both freshly twenty-one, and we aren’t having kids any time soon?”

“Oh so now you don’t see a future with me? I guess I should return the ring in my sock drawer then, huh?”

“You have a ring?” you nearly shout, shocked at his revelation.

“Nah, I just wanted you to feel bad.” You quiet down after that, relieved that you won’t have to turn him down because you’re not ready, not that he isn’t the one you want to marry. He very much is, just not right this second. The exhaustion is setting in, so you don’t say much for a while. Apparently, that makes Luke really nervous. “I’m so sorry, baby. You know I was just playing, right? I’ll buy you a ring one day. I’ll do all the research. I’ll even stalk your Pinterest if I have to. I’ll buy you the perfect ring. Then I’ll give you the perfect wedding. Then we can have the perfect kids… Do you hate me now?” You can hear how sad he is, knowing he’s probably tired, and it’s probably heightening his emotions and dramatics.

“I don’t hate you, Lukey. I could never. I’m just sleepy, baby. I need to sleep, and I think you do too. Besides, I don’t wanna get married right now anyway.”

“Oh, so you don’t wanna marry me?” it was his turn to almost shout, his dramatic side getting the better of him in his sleepy state.

Eventually, you manage to wrangle him into laying his head on your chest so you can softly drag your fingers through his curls just the way he likes. Soon, it gets him asleep, just like you knew it would. Finally, you’re able to get some much-needed sleep as well. The next morning you hear it from Luke. He won’t shut up about how he has to finish his story but can’t remember half of it because you made him sleep. He loves to get on your nerves, but you wouldn’t trade a single moment with your favorite drama queen.

taglist: @heartsforjh @alex-wotton @devilinpradaheels @juxmi @macklin-celebrini-71 @puckmedude @one-sweet-gubler

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[emptymanuscript]

XD!

So, laugh rule but also:

What’s kinda throwing me is that I think this is actually pretty close to the central thesis of the actual mystical/religious tradition/lineage I’m actually in.

Like, the belief is absolutely that the god we call God is real (as are many other gods and other things) but that the fundamental idea of Divinity vs Mortality is not real. That the fundamental purpose of most religious thought is so the Divine can keep us in our place, even though we’re perfectly capable of doing what they do and achieving apotheosis into being without a difference. The problem with God is that He thinks He’s it and the problem with people is that we think we aren’t.

And, yeah, the fundamental task of the novitiate (initiate? I’m always fuzzy on those. The person just starting out who knows enough to look but enough, yet, to do. Early level apprentice who is learning the ropes sort of person) is to Self Create.

Like that’s the most necessary part of the tradition. You’re supposed to study your little butt off (obviously why I am drawn to it XD, studying everything as a religious devotion? Sign me up! I am a B+ child and I want you to love me teacher XD). But the purpose of the study is to find the hidden resonances, what is actually true, that is not actually recorded in full anywhere because you are divine so only you can fully define you.

It’s self definition by using the other. I am that. I am not that. I am like that but not in this way, etc. Just using metaphysical principles rather than your social group.

Or, I suppose, in ADDITION to your social group.

My actual biggest criticism of my tradition lineage is how often we’re inconsiderate assholes. Not just that we’re not nice people but that we’re not nice people in and on principle. For whatever reason (some I know and some I don’t) the first thing we seem to say we’re not is good, kind, and caring. Like, the exact thing we would want in our own deities and berate the Demiurge (the god who thinks He is God because He was the deity that did all the original creating as far as He is concerned) for not being is what we’re not going to do, too.

Which I get as an act of anger and provocation and boundaries. But I really don’t understand as a mature decision for the path of one’s life. I hear it’s better to reign in hell than serve in heaven but nothing I see demands that that is the actual choice at hand.

There IS a lot of worship. And, yeah, I think part of the draw to my tradition/lineage is that it speaks to lonely weird people who are happier surrounded by books than crowds. But there’s nothing actually NECESSARY to the path about starting a cult, claiming that you’re evil, and then proving it by manipulation and lies. But somehow, those are all the famous people writing the influential texts.

Like, why not be the sort of person you wish that a deity would be. Be your own dream fulfillment. And instead of putting yourself up at the top of a pyramid of something icky, just be the sort of person that other people like hanging around.

Of course, that may just be me being a novice. Wizards aren’t exactly known for their EQ. We know the forbidden names of gods and a whole mess of trivia. My current joke is that if you want to find one of us, go looking for a party. Go to the weirdest one you find. Like, these are not the cool kids, you get me? Look at the people who are up against the wall, not partying. Find the most boring person out of them. That’s your most likely candidate to be a Wizard.

If they are, the questions to ask are ones that lead you to awareness of their humility and sure confidence in themselves.

The more confident they are that they know the secrets of the universe, as a whole, for everything and everybody, the farther back toward initiation they are. The more they need to fight for their own self definition and boundaries, the closer they are to being in the “middle” of their journey. It’s not really the middle it’s simply that you’re very self confident at the very start and very self confident at the end. But the majority of the journey is taking a hammer to the ego when we’re often the sort of people who don’t have a lot of ego defenses to spare.

Which means defensiveness and love/worship cravings are rampant. A great area to promote Narcissistic impulses.

That’s actually a big warning I’ve run into a few times now. That a lot of people simply break and become these megalomaniacal monsters who are just completely full of themselves and their arcane power. They become Demiurge like. They think they’re it. You’re just a prop to them and their power trip fantasy.

Mostly, I hear the solution to be this gray ascetic humility. That the world is illusory and transitory and that includes me and my feelings. So you become this immovable, unimpressable center point. Nothing bothers you. It’s why I talk about my own lineage as shit-eaters. Because that’s a literal example from them. That you should be able to have the same experience and same emotional impact whether you have the best meal of your life or eat literal feces. All that matters is your will and willpower and, yeah, power… so you can enact your will.

Can’t say I like the idea. I do not particularly want to eat feces. I like enjoying food. And this dichotomy strikes me as false. You either reject life or are conquered by it. Meh. I like dialectical thinking not dualistic thinking. And the entire point is to make something new. Something you. Not to simply repeat the old lies and oppression.

If you’re a god, great. Namaste. In all humility and seriousness. I see and acknowledge the divine in you. I welcome it. But as a living, breathing, experiencing person who participates in the world with other people, I would ask some questions:

What are the benefits of your worship to you?

What are the benefits of your worship to your worshippers?

How are you the same as your worshippers?

How are you different from your worshippers?

What are the drawbacks and costs to you that come from your being worshipped?

What are the drawbacks and costs to your worshippers from worshipping you?

If you put yourself in the place of one of your worshippers (pick a few at random) would you feel the benefits and costs weighed out in your favor?

If you put one of your worshippers in your place (pick a few at random) would you come to the conclusion from the outside, with a godlike view of the whole situation, that it weighted out to an activity that was ultimately favorable to them?

For the worshipper you have put in your place, would you be satisfied with how their worshipper’s lives would work out for them in the care of that other?

What would be the benefits to you of rejecting the idea of being worshipped all together?

What would be the costs to you of giving up that particular place at the center for just being one of that particular group you get along with?

DO you actually get along with your worshippers when they aren’t worshipping you? Or do you only like them for their worship? Are they the people you would surround yourself with if you weren’t in this group together?

What benefits might they get from being let go from worshipping you? From being let go from the group?

What would it cost them if they were to stop worshipping you? What would they necessarily lose if they left the group?

Looking at the balance of your answers to these questions and comparing it to likely possible alternatives (NOT the best, NOT the worst, NOT the strangest), is worshipping you the best thing for your worshippers?

Looking at the balance and considering the likely possible alternatives for yourself, is being worshipped in this way the best thing for you?

Looking at all the answers that you’ve written out, and being honest with yourself, with the full divine view of what is and what could be, is this situation what you actually want? Would that answer change if it was for someone else? WHY? WHY is this the best arrangement? Or WHY isn’t this good enough? WHY does it matter who the worshipped is versus an alternative versus the worshippers? WHY? WHY? WHY? There is a reason that children demand this endlessly. It is the most necessary question to understand their lives. That doesn’t really change when a child grows up and realizes their own divinity.

They say you gotta worship god because he created stuff, but I created myself, and my epic boobs, and I'm real, so aren't I better than god? Maybe I should be worshipped. Much to think about

[madridfangirl]

Couple Intimacy Quiz

(Jude Bellingham blurb. 2.3k words. Mature language)

Jude and Ananya were laying in bed, naked, after some erotic yet exhausting morning sex. Her head in the crook of his neck, one arm & leg over his body while his arm was draped around her shoulders. One thing led to another and they decided to take a couple intimacy quiz. Brahim had mentioned one to Jude some time back and Jude had been curious ever since. He googled the most popular one and handed over the phone to Ananya.

‘You read the questions.’

She had been intrigued (& slightly embarrassed) by the idea of such a quiz. He thought it would be fun to watch her process the questions and read them out loud. The pink in her cheeks a welcome gift. Jude shifted them so they were on their sides, facing each other. 

Ananya clicked on the link and started going through the questions, very aware of his firm gaze on her and his warm, large palm stroking her bare waist. 

‘First question. How often do you have sex?’

‘Does it mean number of days or should we include number of times also on those days? Or the number of orgasms every time or what?’

Ananya rolled her eyes.

‘It’s not meant to be so technical. Just the number of days is fine.’

He smiled.

‘A few times per week, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

Jude took her to bed pretty much every time their schedules allowed them to be together, unless there were some extenuating circumstances. And like he had insinuated, it was never just one time in those sessions, unless one of them was tired from work.

It had been almost 4 months of their relationship and the passion had only increased. 

‘Next question. Do you daydream about your partner?’

‘You go first.’

She played with the strands of her hair absentmindedly, something he always found cute. 

‘I mean, yeah.’

‘Tell me an instance.’

‘Like, when I am watching your match. Or some….training pics.’

‘But you can see me then. Do you think of me in a completely unrelated manner, out of nowhere?’

The hair playing became more vigorous, making him smile.

‘Umm when I’m in the shower sometimes, I can…’

‘Yes?’

‘….I can almost feel your gaze and your hands on me.’

His smile widened, and he leaned over to brush his lips against hers, lingering there.

‘Do you touch yourself then? Imagining it to be me?’

‘…..sometimes….’

‘Will you let me watch when we shower together next?’

She nodded slowly, lifting her eyes to watch his keenly hopeful ones. Earning herself another slow kiss. 

‘Once I was in a pool recovery session with the national team. And an Elvis song was playing in the back, which just reminded me of Valentine’s Day.’

He didn’t need to say more. She had made an Elvis playlist for him on Valentine’s Day. Wore his favourite lace lingerie. And it was the first time she had tended to him with her hands. Jude had held his breath when her tentative hands started to go lower, into his briefs, and he had discarded the garment quickly to give her better access, throwing his head back in pleasure.

‘It was that song again. And my mind just went to that night. Fucking hell I was with the lads, with fucking cameras on. Last thing I needed was for anyone to wonder why I was hard around half-naked lads.’

She giggled, visualising the scene.

‘Fine, laugh away. But it could have been a genuine PR meltdown.’

‘Sorry I torment you such!’

‘You should be.’

‘What did you do then?’

‘Waited for everyone to leave, then lunged for a towel.’

She giggled harder. But then he reminded her it was the same day he had called her from the hotel, while she was at work, and made her stay on the line while he took care of his need. She had to lock herself in a washroom and stay there for a while after.

The giggles paused, leading to an onset of blush, as she avoided his eyes. But he found hers & she quickly skipped to the next question.

‘Third one. Are you vocal during intimacy?’

‘Well, I am.’

Jude was a talker. During both foreplay and sex. His words would go from sickly sweet to downright filthy to everything in between. Assaulting all her senses.

‘I am too. Just….not with words.’

‘Love the noises you make for me.’

She shrugged lightly, and he caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

‘Would love to hear your words too, babe. You’d be so hot.’

‘I…it’s just…am not coherent when you….touch me like that…’

From the way his lips split into a grin against her jaw, she could tell he liked that response.

‘Next one. Do you feel comfortable when you’re naked in front of your partner?’

‘I do. Took you a while to get there.’

‘Yeah, no shit. You flash people in the middle of the stadium. And walk around naked in your dressing room. Of course you are comfortable with nudity.’

‘Nudity? Flashing? Just coz all my responses are an easy yes you don’t have to attack me.’

He stated matter of factly, but with a smirk, to soften the blow. It did the reverse.

‘This quiz is rigged. You’ve picked it on purpose.’

‘Yeah? You pick another one then.’

‘Am not playing.’

She tried to turn away from him but he grabbed her just in time, cooing into her ear, stroking her hair.

‘Heyy dove, what happened suddenly?’

When she didn’t respond, he rubbed his cheek against hers.

‘Remember how it was in the beginning? Took me forever to even have you the first time. Look how far we’ve come since then.’

It was true. Their intimacy touched new levels each passing day. But it bugged her that the physical part of intimacy didn’t come as easily or naturally to her as it did to him. Her forte was emotional intimacy, something he was growing into. Something she could kick his butt in. Why wasn’t there a quiz on that? She’d find one the next time.

‘I guess, yeah.’

‘Let’s continue?’

‘Uh-huh. Next one. Sexting and who initiates it?’

She rolled her eyes loudly, and he smirked again. What were these questions? The universe was seriously conspiring against her.

‘Love it. And I’m kinda the gold standard there.’

Kings of England would not have had cockiness like his.

‘Ofcourse.’

‘But you knocked it out of the park that one time. Easily my fav one.’

His hands slowly stroked down her bare back, as they both thought about that evening.

Roma’s boyfriend Chris was visiting & Ananya had not expected them to be this loud. And this obvious - the two had been locked inside their room for like a day & a half straight.

It did something to Ananya. Made her long for her boyfriend’s touch. And she was ovulating, which made her a desperate mess. She knew Jude was at a shoot, and his mother was with him for crying out loud. But a demon had taken over her senses. She had become a slave to the needs of the flesh.

Jude had been stunned when he checked her message.

‘Need you to come fuck me RIGHT NOW.’

He was surrounded by people on set & couldn’t even call immediately. 

‘Babe, what? You ok? Is this you? I’m on set.’

She took the shortest route to convince him. By sending him a nude. For the first time. Didn’t even feel any inhibition coz of how horny she was. 

His jaw dropped, and drool came out of it. But then he saw the message underneath.

‘Wanna have some? Or should I ask Chris to help a girl out - don’t think he’d mind, he likes me.’

The mad fit of arousal & rage made Jude’s head spin. The brattiness was new, infuriating, and Jude was going to nip it in the bud. He’d make her regret those words deeply, for putting that image in his mind.

‘Gonna ruin you. 25 mins. Stay there. DON’T DO ANYTHING STUPID.’

She was in no mood to back down. 

‘Let’s see who ruins whom.’

Jude had reached in 23 mins & found her on her bed. Naked. Legs spread open. Sucking on her fingers. Drunk on tequila. 

He tied her hands to the bedpost, flipped her over on her knees, smacking her ass hard. Revelling in her shocked gasps.

‘Jude please can we…’

A particularly harsh spank shut her up. The sting almost bringing tears to her eyes.

‘If I hear a word other than my name or our safe word, you’d regret the day you were born.’

His threatening growl delivered the message. And Ananya realised she had poked the tiger to a point of no return. 

‘You wanted to know how I fucked the other girls, yeah? Stuff I didn’t do with you? You’ll see now.’

She whimpered as he fisted his hands in her hair, pulling her up and thrusted inside from behind without preparing her much.

It was tough to take him with preparation. Now it was 5 times harder. Her lower body stung with the harsh intrusion, thighs shaking around him. But his hold was strong & relentless. Giving her 5 seconds to adjust, he thrusted again. With force. Making her cry out.

‘Your body is MINE. How dare you even mentioned another man? WHO GAVE YOU THE PERMISSION TO DO THAT?’

Jude made good on his promise that night. Ruining her mercilessly. Endlessly. Her screams filling the room. Hours later, she had to use the safe word, after some unbearable pounding.

Once he calmed down, he got back into his boyfriend mode, taking care of her, carrying her cramped body to the washroom. Boy, did she need tending to, and he did all of it, after making her profusely apologetic for her brattiness. 

It was one of Jude’s top 5 nights with her. The sounds she made were catalogued in his head forever.

Ananya jumped a little when Jude leaned over to kiss her temple, bringing her out of her memories. The flush on her cheeks spreading to her chest now.

He took the phone which was discarded on the bed somewhere to do the rest of the questions.

‘Fav body part of your partner - other than the two obvious ones. You first babe.’

It was impossible to answer. She loved so many parts of him. His height, his broad shoulders, his caked butt, large hands, meaty thighs, perky tits, chiseled torso, defined back, and his face. Everything on his face. How could she pick one? It was all of the above.

He smiled when she said it out loud. The authenticity in her voice making him preen.

‘Same for me.’

‘Liar.’

He smirked at being caught.

‘Your eyes.’

‘Right. Stop playing it safe, it's not a trick question. Boobs or ass?’

‘Why not your mouth? I love your mouth.’

‘Yeah..I mean…whichever. So which one is it?’

He reached under the blanket to cup her boobs in response.

‘These babies. Coz you’re more sensitive here. But your mouth is a close second.’

His hands played with her nubs, grazing & pinching softly, making her bite back a few moans. His eyes never left her face.

Grudgingly, he let go & went back to the phone. She opened her eyes in part-surprise.

‘A fetish of your partner that you like? Ooh this is interesting.’

Jude tapped his lips dramatically, thinking for a few seconds, then gave an enthusiastic nod.

‘Your special obsession with my thighs and ass.’

‘Well they are very juicy & meaty. So biteable.’

‘I can think of another thing juicier & meatier for your sweet mouth.’

‘You wish.’

‘Oh I wish it all the time.’

‘Win the Champions League & that would be your reward.’

‘You’re cruel you know that?’

‘Aww poor baby. Such first world problems.’

‘I promise you’d do it sooner. You’re gonna want to. You’re already curious, I know that.’

‘Next question, Jude.’

‘Don’t deprive yourself babe, lemme make you taste heaven.’

‘Next question, you idiot!’

‘FINE. Do you engage in role-play?’

They did. He had cajoled her into trying. The first role-play they did was the re-enactment of their first date, which ended in him taking her on the kitchen counter. Since then, they had tried many other scenarios. 

‘Tell me your fav one.’

She sunk into the pillow, coz her choice was embarrassing. Jude could tell the answer would be juicy. His hand slid to her lower back, stroking her slowly, the warm sensation seeping into her bones, making her sigh deeply.

‘C’mon baby. I wanna know.’

‘It’s…I….’

‘Please, love?’

She shut her eyes in defeat.

‘When you were the debt collector, and I was the defaulting college student.’

Ananya hid further into the pillow, face warm & red. A sight for his sore eyes. Flashes from the night swirled in both their minds.

‘Like the submission & manhandling, don’t you?’

She whimpered when he grabbed the back of her neck, kissing under her jawline, tracing the length of it with his tongue.

‘And the roughness, yeah?’

He bit her pulse point decisively, then pulled the blanket down, leaving her bare to his hungry eyes.

‘I’ve corrupted my dove, haven’t I?’

‘Y-yes. A little.’

‘Maybe you were always like this. And I just brought it out, yeah?’

‘I..I don’t know.’

His mouth on her upper body and his hands on her lower body were making her lose her senses again. She was sore from this morning, and from last night, but stopping him never crossed her mind. Resting him was not her forte, something he knew & exploited. 

Jude rolled on top of her, pinning her hands over her head.

‘What about the rest of the quiz?’

He dove into her cleavage, using his mouth with practiced ease & precision while she squirmed under him.

‘Loved the quiz. But this is more fun right now.’

.....................................................................

Needed some fictional Jude to restore order to my world. So whipped this one up.

Hope you like it, and hope it helps you recover :)

[ohburgee]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞

yandere!general x civilian!reader

tw: yandere themes, obsession, stalking, violence, death, murder, mentioned police brutality an: before reading the story, the place takes in a dystopian future and has this aesthetic of dieselpunk, this plot is almost a part of my upcoming fanfic story but I changed my mind. Also, I'll be a bit late to post a new story because I'm back at my school :')

"You should take a rest" you heard your boss the owner of the library "No it's fine I don't have anything to do," you said smiling at him and he sighed and smiled back.

As you finish arranging the books on the shelf cleaning the dust around and serving some customers after the long work it is finally night and you bid goodbye to your boss as you get out of the library building.

And walked through the street and a vehicle passed by as you walked and a few people also walking, while walking you noticed something on your back and you quickly turned around and saw nothing.

You shrugged yourself and thought you were just paranoid about what happened yesterday.

A guy try to kidnap you and probably going to rape you thankfully the armored guards are there and notice the taller one their leader came and bends to your height.

"Are alright my lady?" He asks his deep husky voice ringing in your ears maybe due to his armored helmet it sounds robotic.

You slowly nodded your head and he didn't back away from you, "I need words" he said his helmet staring at your face.

"Yes I'm fine just-" Before you could speak he yelled at his people to take the guy who assaulted you and he turned around to look at you.

And he noticed your wound on your right arm and he grabbed your arm and inspected the wound, "It's fine it's just not worse" you said as you took off your arm from his hand.

He insists on taking you to the medic and you give in and accept it since you don't want to take trouble from this taller armored man in front of you. He can tear you apart if you say no.

He takes you to the medic, after checking and treating your wound you're finally got out and the armored man follows behind you.

A vehicle stopped in front of you "Take this lady to her home" he said as he walked in front of you "You don't need to" "No it's for your safety please" he said and you nodded and got in the and he looked at you with admiring.

Well, that happens and now you are very aware of your surroundings and not going to let that situation happen again.

After a few minutes of walking, you reach your apartment you pass by the small shop behind you and greet the old man who is sitting on the counter and give him a piece of snack well it's a gratitude for him after he saves you from the debts.

After that you walk upstairs to your apartment unlock the door close behind then lock it, you sigh and are very tired from your work.

You lay on the sofa and take some rest not bother going to your bed you're just very tired.

...

Seeing you like it's peaceful, he didn't know how he got his attention to you, you're just a librarian who works in the library at the center of the city.

After going to the library to investigate he sees you walking around the hall with the pile books wrapped around your arms as you try to balance with your body.

He admires your beautiful delicate self walking and after talking with the owner before he gets out of the library he takes one glance at you, as you are on top of the ladder arranging the books on the shelf. and got out.

But after an hour of guarding the city with his men, he saw you struggling with the man and he quickly ran towards you and grabbed the guy he noticed your wound that made his anger rage and he wanted to rip the man's face.

He shrugged the thoughts and focused on you he would do that later, after that he took you to the medic building, and after being treated he called someone to take you home, he didn't want you to be hurt and assaulted.

After a few days, he was mindless thinking that you might get hurt again so he decided to stalk you everywhere you go and even take his men to watch over you when he was busy on his import duty.

And now he followed you as you walked through the street and you caught your attention and turned around, and he immediately lowered his head.

You turn and continue walking and he looks at you peacefully as he notices a man following you, "You are really making me worried my dove" as he gets out of the vehicle and follows the guy.

He grabbed the guy's shoulder and slammed his body to the wall as he grabbed his head with his bare hand and squeezed his eyes, he doesn't care about people who do bad things also to you, he doesn't care about slaughtering people that's his job after all.

After that he followed you through your apartment and saw you are very kind and saw you giving something to the old man in the shop, you are very perfect and that is the reason he is obsessed with your kindness.

He takes the risk and walks upstairs and now in front of your apartment room gladly he is not on his armored and on his regular uniform.

He easily opened your apartment door and slowly opened it and he got in without sound and he slowly carefully walked inside his eyes wide and mouth gasping but quickly turned into a smirk seeing you peacefully sleeping on your sofa.

He tried to make a small sound that doesn't make you wake up and he thinks you are tired from your work or maybe a sleep heavier.

He slowly approaches you sleeping on the sofa as he kneels down to see your face clearly he watches you slowly breathe and slowly humping off your chest.

You look beautiful and adorable, he wanted to see you sleeping peacefully in his bed, when after his duty and gets home, he will get this beautiful face and always admire it.

God, you look so very beautiful he can't stop thinking about that.

Imagine if you were his lover he would carry you to bed and lay you down there, the sofa is too small for you and you should be sleeping in your bed, imagine lecturing you to be organized and careful with yourself as if he was your husband telling his wife.

But that those just imagination you are not his and you are in your own freedom.

He slowly touched your hair caressing it as if he was overly obsessed with your appearance, he wanted you and he wanted you now.

He had an idea, a plan he didn't want to get you by force didn't want you to be hated by you and get crept out so he had a brilliant idea.

...

You slowly open your eyes as you slowly get up and you realize you are on your sofa, you slept here even though you have your own bed you yawn and before you can walk through your kitchen you hear a loud knock on your door. Are those officers i know they knock loudly when they come to houses.

You walk towards your door and slowly open it to see two officers in front of you, you gulp and start to feel nervous, "Is there anything you want?" you ask wanting to know why they are here.

"We have a warrant of arrest for you, Ms," one of the officers said and you began to panic as you tried to remember, that you didn't do anything wrong you avoided any legal, and issued things.

"Warrant for what? I didn't do anything" You tried to excuse yourself or try to make yourself innocent.

"For the murder of the daughter of the high lord," they said as they mentioned the name, it's your friend before but you and her never get to talk after a conflict and your eyes widened "Why me, I didn't do anything to her, I'm her friend, not an enemy" you now encourage them to believe you, before you could add more words there's a footstep coming and you saw your boss looking worried to you.

He came closer to you and took both hands to his, "I'm sorry they suspect you for her murder, since there's a footage of you" he said and that made you shocked you didn't even do it.

You were her friend before but after knowing she was one of the daughters of high lords you cut off ties with her because of her role and not wanting to be involved in politics.

You didn't argue as you and your boss went to the station to confirm everything when they showed the footage to you, you saw someone who really looked like you as the person, the impostor stab your friend your eyes widened.

"As much as this footage can take as evidence," one of the soldiers said as you looked at them with merciful eyes, "Please that's not me, that's an imposter or just have the same appearance as me, please" you try to plead but they ignore and proceed to prepare your file.

This is why you don't want to get involved in something if those merciless officers catch you, you'll never come back to your normal life as their hands around you.

One of the officers came to you and led you to the cell as you looked at your boss trying to plead but he started to tears and kept saying he couldn't do anything, he was right there's nothing can do.

As the officer pushes you inside the cell and locks it you look at them with furious and worry, you kneel down on the ground and start to cry, you can't do anything if you try again to plead they won't listen to you, you pull your knees to your chest as you hugged them.

After a while of sleeping, you fell asleep due to your tiredness and pressure also with your small cries, you didn't get to eat breakfast as they took you.

Suddenly you heard footsteps coming closer you didn't bother to look at you didn't want to waste your time and cries of plead then a voice spoke.

"Trouble my dove" You slowly looked up and saw the armored guard leader as you saw the familiar face, you quickly got up and tried to plead at him.

"Please help me, I swear that was not me, I'm innocent and no crime is involved," you said as you started to cry hoping he could listen to you, "I know you didn't do it," he said as he looked at you.

"But your friend's death won't be easy" he added as he crossed his arms to his chest "The footage is not real someone trying to frame you," he said and your eyes widened yes that's true you are very innocent, you won't do that to your friend. As you heard someone framed you as a suspect.

"Please can you convince them that I'm innocent, please I'll do anything just let me have my freedom," you said trying to plead with him to convince the officers after he heard those words his serious face turned into a smirk, and walk closer to you.

"Anything?" he asked again and you nodded you know it's stupid but your life indicates here and your freedom.

"Be my consort" he replies and you look shocked at what he said, consort as mean like a wife or lover, "I know but it's the right thing to do, you are against high roles you know how powerful they are compared to your role" he said and he was right you were just low rank.

"Becoming my companion you'll have my name and half of my power as my wife," he said as he looked at you like the only pieces of hope, you look down you don't want to be married or as much as you don't want to be in this brutal politics but your life is in danger and you need your freedom.

"And I'll help you erase you in this case I just need your acceptance" he added as he waited for your answers, you sighed in defeat your life is more important you nodded and he smiled and told you he would tell the officers.

After a minute one officer came to you and unlocked the cell you got out and saw the leader you slowly approached him, "As my consort you'll be living with me and you have to abandon your low life" he said as he put his hands to your back as he leads you out the station.

When you both out and walked towards his vehicle he stopped and looked at you as he towered to you, "Also with my protection, if anyone tries to hurt you they will face consequences," he said and you slowly nodded your head and suddenly hugged you, you don't get any action about since you are very tired and not enough energy to think.

"You're safe with me", he said as he finally held you and his face smiled in victory, his plans turned successful. He let one of the guards imposter you and kill your friend, it was actually part of the authority to kill the daughter since the father was a threat to this world, and he added you to capture it successfully.

He can now always see you and touch you, and you will be forever with him even when the truth comes out he will take you back in force, when you have his name there's no turning back, you are his and forever will be.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Gray Woman 4

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You meet a man who tests your patience. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: To those who didn’t help me resist this beast, I blame you.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You hand over the statement and send off the client with ‘have good day’. The recitation is lifeless, meaningless as it leaves your lips on habit alone. It’s all by rote. Greet them, figure out what they want, and get them out. 

Your next customer steps up as you take a chug of cold coffee. A glimmer of recognition flickers in your head and you squint at his reddened eyes. Oh, you know this man. Well, you’re aware of his existence. 

“Hello, sir, how can I help--” 

“Shut up,” he scowls. “You serious with the hello bullshit? Look at my eyes?” 

You blink and put your cup down, “did you try milk?” 

“Milk?! Milk? You fucking burnt my retinas out.” 

“Are you having issues with your sight--” 

“That’s not the fucking point. You—You remember me now, don’t you?” 

“You grabbed me. I reacted,” you shrug. “If you’re only here to yell at me, I’ll need to call security--” 

“Fuck security,” he steps up and his nose almost touches the glass. He snarls, “do you understand who I am? How many ways I can fuck you? Figuratively and literally?” 

You stare back at him dully. You deal with people yelling about their money every day. You’re desensitized to their threats. To their chagrin. Do they really think you care? That you have any sort of emotion tied to this job? It pays the bills. 

“Would you like to make a transaction today or--” You move your hand under the desk. 

“Don’t you fucking hit that button, sweet cheeks. I’m not going to do anything. Not here. You think I’m fucking stupid?” He growls as he jabs the glass between you. “No, I want you to see what the fuck you did and why I’m going to do worse to you.” He makes a fist and hits the barrier. “And you’re going to fucking remember me.” 

You keep your hand on the edge of the counter. You sit up and look around him, “I have other customers to help. Please step aside.” 

He scoffs and thumps on the glass again. “You’re a real fucking piece of work. You let this bullshit job go to your head? Why? Cause you can hit a few keys on a computer? Money’s still in my accounts, honey. You’re nothing. I could buy you a hundred times over and still have as much left.” 

You exhale and look at him as you wave up the next person in line, “unfortunately, it doesn’t appear that money can buy class.” 

He stomps as the waiting client hesitate, “you can come up. We’re done.” You beckon them again with your fingers then reach for your cup again. 

He looms as the woman comes up to your woman. He’s close enough that you feel your discomfort. You give him a look as take her card. 

“Sir, you need to go.” You warn him. 

He puffs and shakes his head. He tuts and paces back then toward you again. He stops as if he only then notices the woman watching him in horror. He throws up his hands then marches away. 

“Sorry, about that,” you say to the woman. You take her card and swipe it. 

“No, I’m sorry. Must be horrible to deal with that at work,” she replies as she touches her cheek and glances over her shoulder. 

“Money is very personal,” you utter. “How can I help you today?” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be quick,” she assures. “I’m just adding a new payee to my account. I switched phone providers but their online portal isn’t working for me...” 

You nod and help her through the process. As promised, she’s quick. The rest of your day is not. You can’t help but check the clock repeatedly. It’s almost the weekend. So close yet so far away. 

As you get down from your chair at the end of your shift and grab your bag, Veronique approaches. You face her as you hitch up your purse. It’s unusual for her to come to you. Ever. She hides at her desk, more interested in her phone than her management role. 

“Before you go, I’d like a word.” 

You frown. This can’t be good. You rely on predictability. You could drown in it but it’s easier than change. Easier than the unexpected. 

“Sure,” you agree and follow her as she spins on her heel. 

You trail her strut into a back office. One of the executives is there. Gerald, you think? He doesn’t bother with you either. 

“Please, shut the door,” he greets you. You do as he says and Veronique perches herself behind his shoulder like a parrot. “Have a seat.” 

Wary, you cross the office and sit in the stiff seat. It squeaks as you stay on the edge. You cradle your bag in your lap. Veronique grins then wipes it away as she clears her throat. 

“You’ve worked here for more than ten years.” Gerald states. You confirm. “A long time. Must get dull.” 

“It’s work, sir,” you say. 

“You haven’t moved up much. Typically yearly raise but nothing extravagant,” he looks at his lit monitor. “You work for base pay. Not very much, yet you handle a lot of money, don’t you?” 

Your heart picks up. You can’t remember the last time you felt anything like this. That you were uncertain. Everything was always the same. Go to work, go home, sleep, wash, rinse, repeat. 

“Sir, I do my job and I do it by the book.” 

“Do you?” He tuts as he leans back and clicks around. “Because we’ve had some discrepancies brought to our attention. On a particular account. A client you’ve dealt with several times, and according to Veronique, you’ve had as many issues with.” 

You shake your head in confusion. 

“No, I don’t... no.” 

“He was here today. Mr. Hansen? We were just reviewing some footage from his last visits and his statements. There’s some really strange back and forths here.” 

You sit up even higher, “sir, no. It can’t-- I did exactly as he requested. All I did was ask for his ID.” 

“Veronique,” he looks up as his tone turns to disinterest. 

“We have the evidence. We’re submitting a report for investigation. You will be suspended. Beginning immediately.” 

Her lips curve again. Your chest turns to a pit and you puff out in disbelief. This can’t be. How could they have proof when you did nothing? 

“Security is waiting outside to escort you from the premises,” she continues with a catlike smirk. 

You look between her and Gerald. He’s already distracted by his phone. “How about the steak house, V?” He swivels to her. You’re dismissed by the back of his balding head. 

You get up and clutch your bag to your stomach. You turn and march to the door. As you exit, two uniformed men await you. They walk on either side of you, past other tellers and several managers. You’re mortified. 

How could this happen to you? You have a feeling Veronique is behind it but why? She ignores you, like everyone else. What could she possibly get out of this? 

[bizbat]

Pretty Girl

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

~ Explicit smut

~ Fem terms used for Reader, Reader is shorter than Jason, Reader has body hair but color and texture are not described.

~ Wc: 1.93k

~ You can find more of my works here.

~ Slight squeal to Not A Problem.

C/W: Smut, PiV Penetration, Oral (female receiving), Use of the terms "pussy", cunt", "tits", "ass", "cock", Pubic hair, Nipple sucking, very brief mention of foot play (get into it, leave me alone), Fingering, Doggy style, Mirror play (you'll see), Pet names (Angel, Pretty girl, Baby, Hun, Ma, Bunny), Dacryphilia, Slapping, Jason talks too much, Creampie

Deleted the original ask but it was asking for Jason Todd with a Fem!Reader with body hair, so if you're the person who requested this, I hope you enjoy! Also if you saw this before it was finished, no you didn't.

It's not called a happy trail for nothing yk

To be entirely honest with you, Jason probably couldn't bring himself to care less.

Do you honestly think that he even notices that you haven't shaved your armpits in a while when he's frantically tugging your shirt over your head so he can suck on your tits?

Do you really think that he cares that there's a bit of hair around your ankles when he's got your feet pressed against his bulge through his boxers? I mean be serious.

This is a man who used to date an Amazon. I want you to take one look at Artemis and tell me to my face you think she shaves down there. :|

If anything, Jason is a hair enthusiast.

Hashtag bring back the bush.

When he's got your laid on your back, your legs thrown over his shoulders while he devours your cunt, he doesn't think he's done a good job unless he's got at least two strands on his tongue.

What's the point if you don't get a trophy? That's his mentality.

He, himself, is the proud owner of an absolutely gorgeous trail of thick, dark hair starting just below his belly button and disappearing down the front of his pants. Not to mention the dark tufts of hair spreading across his burly chest.

Who is he to judge?

~ Fic Starts Here. ~

"I keep telling you, Ma," Jason begins, though his words can hardly be deciphered when he's got his lips wrapped around one of your nipples and his fingers loudly slipping in and out of your squelching pussy.

He moans as he lightly nips at your perky bud, briefly tugging away to free his mouth to coo in your ear. "I don't care about all that shit you worry about." He kisses you just below the shell of your ear, his lips pressing against the sensitive skin, matched with his fingers working frantically to bring you to ecstasy make you shiver in his hold.

"Any. Of. It," He says, punctuating each word with a particularly firm thrust of his fingers. He lightly flicks at the outer shell of your ear with his tongue, before tugging the tender flesh of your earlobe between his teeth. His calloused palm brushes against your clit with each pulse of his fingers, drawing sickeningly sweet moans from your mouth.

"Jay!" You cry, the air in your living room sweltering and heavy with the warm scent of lust. "Jay, please! M-more!" Your moans make him chuckle, your earlobe still loosely clenched between his teeth. The sound of his laugh, husky and deep, coated in a thick layer of desire, sends a shiver down your spine, a heated tingling sensation coursing through your veins.

"More what, pretty girl? Use your words." His mouth falls to your neck, where he's already begun sucking his mark into your flesh. Even if it wouldn't be visible to others, he'd be more than aware of it, a constant reminder of who you end up underneath each night, of whose name you call whenever you feel good.

He gently coaxes the words out of you by withdrawing his fingers from your dripping core, and the threat is more than enough to make you beg. "T-touch me more, Jason! Please!" You grip onto his arm with a fierce intensity, desperate to have more contact with him. "Faster!"

The demand makes him laugh again, but he obliges nonetheless. "There ya go, hun. Tell me what you want." His thick fingers swipe against your g-spot with a trained precision. "Want me to make you feel good, baby? Want me to make you cum? Send all those, ngh," He grunts, moving his position so his fingers can penetrate you even deeper. "All those nasty thought outta your head?"

He doesn't have to instruct you to reply. As soon as the words leave his mouth you let out a loud and immediate "yes!", and within an instant, he's tugging out his fingers to deliver a few loud slaps to your firm clit, before shoving them right back inside, his thumb positioned delicately over the perky bud.

"Yeah?" He huffs in your ear, seemingly just as excited as you are, though his cock is straining painfully in his boxers. "You gonna cum on my fingers, pretty girl? Gonna get my hand nice and wet?" It's almost mean the way he taunts you, cruel for him to expect a response when his thumb is bullying your clit with mind-numbingly slow strokes.

"J-Jay!" You grip his wrist so tightly he worries about his circulation, but only for a moment, because soon he feels your walls tightening around his fingers with a vice grip, and he knows that you'll be unraveling with just a few more swipes of his thumb.

"You close already, bunny? Gonna cum just like that?" He doesn't even have to ask, but he does. He hovers over you, caging you in with his arms as his fingers pick up the pace, making a sweet juice spray out of your pretty cunt, soaking his hand and the carpeting beneath you as you cum with a final call of his name.

"There ya go, hun," He coos, using his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm. "There ya go." He allows you to catch your breath, his fingers stilling before completely withdrawing from your cunt. He asks you, finally slipping his boxers down enough to free his aching cock from it's confines, "See what happens when you use your words, angel?"

He slides the tip of his cock between your folds, the head a furious shade of deep red. He coos again, gently calming your whines and insistence that you're too sensitive. "Ah, ah, ah, pretty girl. I just wanna make sure you feel real good,". He's hard to deny when he's got that crazed, determined look in his eyes.

You're reminded that the stretch of his fingers is nothing compared to the feeling of his thick cock sinking inch by inch within your tight heat. The familiar sensation makes you gasp, your eyes drifting down to the space between your legs where the two of you meet, and the sight stirs a tiny moan from the back of your throat.

"Jason! Fuck, so good!" You whine, your back comforted by the plush, freshly cleaned carpet. Jason hitches your legs up over his thick, muscled thighs, his fingers pressing against your soft skin. "So . . . nice, f-feels-ah, feels so nice!" You can feel your toes and calves clenching at the pressure, your gaze still heavily trained on his cock.

"Breathe, Ma." He reminds, his own chest hot and tight at the feeling of your clenching down around his length. "Gotta relax, baby, remember?" He moans once he's finally all the way inside you. "Shit, you feel good, bunny. So, so good." He mumbles into your ear, his hands holding up his weight on either side of your head.

He lets you get used to his size before he starts moving his hips, a lesson he learned after the first time you had sex. But once you're ready, he begins slowly canting his hips into your own, his thick cock rubbing against every spot inside you, every spot that makes you squirm and curl in on yourself.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, your nails digging into his taut muscle at the maddening pace of his thrusts. "Please go faster, Jay," You whine, your walls rhythmically clenching around his flesh. "N-need it, need it, please!"

"Oh, bunny, you tryna make me feel good too?" He asks, his own eyes drifting down to where the two of you meet, his mouth watering and his gaze darkening when he sees the slight bulge of his cock in your abdomen.

He pulls back, resting on his hunches with his cock barely nestled inside your warmth, before grabbing your wrists and pressing them to the floor above your head, holding them together with one hand, and driving his cock back inside you, his pace nearly doubled.

"This good, hun?" He grunts in your ear. He places his free hand on your hip, using it as leverage to drive his cock even deeper, your wrists still pinned to the floor with his other. "Gotta-fuck-gotta let me kn-know, baby. How'm I spouse ta make-make you fe-feel good if you don't t-tell me?"

He grunts loudly. At this point, the neighbors stop filling noise complaints, the landlord does his job most of the time, and the rent is just too cheap to really be bothered by it. "Feels-feels so good, Jason! Making me feel so good!" Fuck, are those tears in your eyes? Your moans coupled with the sight of your bleary eyes make his dick stir, make his cock grow impossibly harder inside of you.

"Fuckkk, bunny, yeah? Feels good?" Jason's lip finds its way between his teeth, his hips slowing just slightly as he desperately tries not to cum too fast. "Ya want it faster? Ngh-harder?" It seems like another one of his taunts, but it's a genuine question. He can't cum unless his girl does first, so his pleasure is almost entirely reliant on yours.

"S-softer?" He pulls up just a bit, giving you space to think, or at least, hypothetically think. Something about Jason's cock just makes you go so stupid. He gently taps your cheek with the hand on your hip. Jason is well aware of his strength, and thus, the slap stings just enough to bring you back down to Earth.

"Need an answer, pretty. S'this good for ya?" He slows down even more, his hips moving at a draggin pace. This earns a loud, pouty moan from you, a whine at the lack of sensation. You try to move your hips to receive some type of stimulation, but the heavy hand he's got resting on your hip and your wrists prevents you from gaining much traction.

"Y-yes, Jay, feels so good." He smiles at your reluctant admittance. "Please m-move faster, Jay." He coos in your ear, awwing at your pleas, but picking up his pace nonetheless. "S'All ya had to say, pretty. Told ya, gotta use your words." The thought is lost on you though, because as soon as he's back to fucking you like he actually means it, your brain is right back to mush.

Jason takes the opportunity to slip his hand down from your hip to your clit. He can tell by the way your squeezing down around his length that you're getting close to cumming again. "You know what bunny?" He asks, huffing as his thumb frantically strokes your tired clit. "I'm pretty sure-ngh- you're the prettiest fuckin girl in the world."

He can feel all of his resolve dissipating more and more with each stroke, with every brush of his cock against that special, spongy spot on your walls. "I think-f-fuck me- I think," He interrupts himself by pressing a sweltering kiss to your hot flesh. "That your hair," another kiss. "And your tummy," he finishes by delivering another kiss in the center of your chest, his cock swelling with the need to cum.

"Are all Too. Fucking. Cute." He, again, punctuates each slurred word with powerful thrusts, his head hanging in your collar bone, his warm breath ghosting across your sweat-glistened skin. He delivers a few harsh smacks to your pussy, before pressing his thumb back to your clit.

He can feel himself about to hurdle over the edge, and he'll be damned if he finishes before you. He rubs and rubs and rubs at your clit, his thumb slipping from the surplus amount of wetness deliciously oozing out of your cunt. "Fuck, baby! C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he urges you.

He finally releases his grip on your wrists, letting your arms drop back down to grip at his skin just before they can go numb. "Jason! Jason! Jason!" You call out, chanting his name as the building feeling of an impending orgasm grows within your gut. Your own hips bounce against his, your clammy palms gripping at his scarred skin as your cum for the second time, your mouth agape in a silent moan, your teary eyes rolled back into your head.

Jason can't help himself any longer before his hips come to a stuttering pace, thick ropes of cum flooding your insides as he cums with you with a loud groan. "Aw fuck, that's it pretty girl, that's it," he coos in your ear once the two of you come down from your shared high. He presses kisses to your neck, chin and then your still gasping mouth.

"My pretty girl . . ." His crystal blue eyes hold a tinted darkness within them, his intense gaze focused on the way his cum lazily dribbles out of your pussy. Maybe you need another lesson in self love, he thinks, his exhausted cock slowly coming back to life. "My pretty, pretty fucking girl . . ."

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I know You? Part 10

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: Jason takes care of you.

Notes: I have seriously hyped up this chapter because I’m in love with it actually. It’s a very comforting moment after what our girl has just been through. She has one panic attack but it’s okay because Jason’s there. There is some semi-nudity but nothing sexual. This is very, very intimate(again not sexually though). Enjoy!!

Warnings: one Panic attack, semi-nudity

Masterlist

You pick at your hands, trying to scrap the blood from under your nails when your eyes catch movement, glancing up and dropping your gaze when you notice it’s a body bag. In a matter of minutes, you hear a familiar voice questioning several officers.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” You look up and spot Jason quickly following the commissioner towards you. For the first time in what feels like hours you stand up and take only a few steps forward before Jason is hugging you. He cradles the back of your neck avoiding your head. His other hand takes to gently sweeping up and down your back. A well of emotions exploded from your chest and your sobbing again, Jason’s shirt becoming wet with it. Despite the jacket and blanket on your shoulders, you’re suddenly aware of how cold you still feel as you press your face to the warm skin on Jason’s neck. If he thinks you feel like an ice cube, he doesn’t complain

He quietly coos at you, whispering soft calming words. You zone back out again, only focusing on Jason holding you as he slowly leads you to a car. The commissioner stops and talks to him for a moment and if you were more conscious you may have questioned it more.

“Be Careful. Red Hood was here, and she lived to talk about Penguin. News travels fast in Gotham. We don’t want bodies piling up again.” He gives Jason a meaningful nod before returning to police duties. Jason shakes his and continues to guide you to a car (a quick borrow from Bruce out of hidden garage in the area). Even when Jason was Robin, he always had the feeling that the commissioner knew everything about the family’s nightly activities and that for the sake of his own job never vocalized anything about it. Comments like these felt like they proved that point.

Jason takes his time leading you, mindful of icey patches. Your absent stare from earlier was still present and it worried him. He had attempted to wipe as much blood off of you with the sparse medical supplies he had in his belt. Gauze were used to soak up the blood and wipe you clean, but he didn’t want to hurt you by wiping too hard. Streaks of now dried blood remained on your arms, but your face seemed clearer and your nose was no longer bleeding. He was sure you were very uncomfortable.

 He opened the passenger door and helped you slide into the seat. You tense as you sit back, and he can only assume you’re a little more hurt than the mild concussion he was told about. You sit passively in the seat, making no move to do your seatbelt. He squats down and slowly reaches for the seatbelt, pulling it over your lap. However, your hands stop him. You look up to meet his eyes. There’s a pleading look there but he’s unsure what about. He glances back down at your hands and follows the line to your wrist. He can see it now. You had been tied up.  Your wrist, redder than the other exposed parts of your skin. He had thought it was more blood. Now a slow bruising started to show on your skin, darkening slowly. He understands the pleading look and doesn’t fight you over the seatbelt, letting it slide back into place.

“You going to get me in trouble, sweetheart. The cops are right there.” He says softly and he feels like his chest is going to crack open when you give him a weak smile. He stands and your hand latches onto his. He remembers the panicked look you had given Red Hood when he said he had to leave. He has never wanted to carve his heart out and give it someone more than he did in that moment. He knew you had abandonment issues. Way back when this thing you two have had started, you thought he wasn’t going to come back, and he’s seen you have same thought process a few different times. It hurt that he had to be part of the problem. Red Hood had to be part of the problem. Jason, however, was not going to let you feel like that.

“I’m just going to walk around to the driver’s side. You can watch me through the windows.” He offers and your hand slowly loosens up and settles in your lap. He closes your door and moves quickly around the car and into the driver’s seat. He starts the car and blasts the heat. He hadn’t missed how cold your face was pressed against his neck and your hands were the same when you grabbed him. It worried him, like everything in the past four hours had. He gently slides his hand around your nearest hand, squeezing at your frozen fingers and trying to get you to look at him. Your head moves sluggishly but you finally meet his eyes. Your own are bloodshot but you look nearly cried out and on the brink of a well-deserved nap.

“I need to know where you live so I can take you home.” He says, gently massaging your hand. You stare at him but still have consciousness for the barest of warmth to flutter across your cheeks. You had hoped that maybe you would move before you brought Jason to your home. Then you wouldn’t have to admit that he had been parking in front of your building, and you had lied about living further down. You don’t have the energy to be embarrassed now.

“It’s where you park.” You murmur looking away from him. You focus on his hand holding yours. Warm, sturdy, present. He was here. He was real. He was taking care of you. He doesn’t question what you mean, briefly letting go of your hand to put the car in drive before holding your hand again. You easily lay your head against his upper arm, mindful of your twinging back. The car is quiet as he drives, and your eyes flutter closed for what feels like a second before he’s gently nudging you. He’s parked in the same spot he always does, and a moment of awareness crosses your mind that you’re in a car not on a bike. He’s out the door and you’re cold again. But he’s back at your side in seconds, helping you out of the car and up the steps into the apartment building. He guides you to the elevator and you finally sense hesitancy in his movements. You press the 6 for him and settle your weight against his side, sleepiness calling to you again. The elevator dings and it takes him pressing a hand to your lower back for you to start moving again.

 You walk dazed and come to stand at your door, staring at the knob. You didn’t have your keys. They were in your bag, and you had lost that. Jason’s hand comes into your line of vision along with your keys. He tries a couple on the chain before the one for your door meets the lock. You only stare in confusion. He opens the door and must sense your hesitancy.

“They found your bag and keys at the warehouse.” He states before his hand is on your elbow, gently pulling you forward. He closes the door and moves around you pulling the shock blanket and leather jacket from your shoulders and helping you take off your shoes. You shiver and he’s quick to rub at your arms.

“We should get you clean.” Your face scrunches because all you want to do is sleep. His thumb gently rubs at your cheek. “Trust me. It’ll help you feel better in the morning.” He tugs you again, more into your apartment and down the hallway towards your bedroom and bathroom. He turns on the light for the first door and leads you to sit on the toilet in the bathroom. He kneels in front of you with a hand on your knee.

“You want a bath or a shower?” He asks. You stare at him blankly, the terrors of the night starting to creep in your mind. You choose to focus on him, his features, his touch. Your hand comes up and you press the tips of your fingers against the scar on his cheek, following the line of it. He breathes in a strange way that you’ve never heard from him.

“How ‘bout a bath? I don’t think you could stand long enough for a shower.” You nod at his thought process, still focused on his skin. His hand comes up to hold at your wrist, pulling your hand away to rest in your lap again. He stands to turn on the faucet of the bathtub. Soon the room begins to feel warm and humid.

“I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything.” Your hand shoots out to grasp at his tightly despite your weakened state. He doesn’t flinch, just kneels back down in front of you.

“What is it?” He speaks softly, with all the concern in the world and it eats at your chest. You don’t want to be alone; you need someone present.

“Please,” your voice wobbles and you hate it, “don’t leave.”

“I’m going to be just outside the door. I want to give you some privacy.” He says, pushing at your hair. You don’t listen because all you can think about is how Red Hood left you out on the street and you don’t think you could deal with that heartache right now. You stare at him with all the energy you have, hoping he’ll understand. He concedes with a sigh.

“I’ll close my eyes.” He says and your blank stare returns because you’re not cognitive enough to understand what he’s saying. “To undress.” he adds, glancing at the water filled tub. You follow his line of sight, remembering you were in this room for a purpose. You lift your arms slightly and wince. The ache in your back and head doubling at the movement. You hadn’t reached for your shirt, so Jason hadn’t closed his eyes.

“Do you want help?” he asked carefully. Your eyes meet his and you search, worried you’d find that same lustful gaze that the other man had. Jason’s eyes held no such malice. There was no spark of an opportunity to get an eyeful. He just looked concerned. The same kind Jason you’ve been slowly falling for. You nod slowly, with a little shame that you can’t undress yourself.

Jasons hands move slow. They hover over your thighs before settling on your hips. His warm hands skim under the hem of your top and settle against the skin above the waistband of your pants. You watch him and he watches you. You keep waiting for the ball to drop, waiting for a glimmer of want in his eyes. It never comes.

“Is this okay?” he asks and your heart aches from the gentle way he speaks and holds you. You nod, swallowing harshly around the knot in your throat. He guides one side of the shirt up, mindfully keeping his hand off of your skin. He helps you pull your arm out of the shirt, apologizing when you wince. He repeats the process on the other side and finally slides the shirt over your head. You’re wearing a ratty, old bra and feel a little embarrassed for a moment but Jason’s eyes never drift from your face. His hand still holds one of yours. He stands and tugs you with him.

“Think you can do your pants?” he asks.

Your voice shakes as you respond, “yea.” You drop your eyes to the buttons on your jeans. You tug them down your hips, keeping your underwear in place. You feel the heat of his hovering hand next to your arm. As you push the pants to your knees you start to lose your balance, blood rushing to your head from being momentarily upside down. Jason’s quick to steady you, like always. You stand back up. He doesn’t say anything as you blink away the dizziness. You think you should feel ashamed that you can’t take care of yourself at the moment but Jason’s face holds no judgement. You want to cry again from the tender care in his eyes.

“Will you?” you ask quietly. He nods and kneels back down. Despite where his face would meet if he looked forward, he keeps his head ducked respectfully. Eyes on your pants he tugs them past your knees and to your ankles. He taps one of your knees and you press your hands to his shoulders, not wanting to lose balance, as you lift your leg. He repeats the process on the other leg and your jeans join your shirt on the corner of the bathroom. He gives your calf a tender squeeze before he’s standing again, eyes on your face.

“Okay?” he asks

“Yea” your answer is weak, and it has nothing to do with the events prior to the apartment. His ever-gentle hands help you into the tub. You hiss slightly from the heat of the water, body still fairly cold. You sit down and pull your knees to your chest. You rest your cheek against your knee as you watch him ruffle through your cabinets. You feel weepy again, out of gratitude instead of fear, as he comes back with a wash clothe and the cup you use to rinse after you brush your teeth. He settles them on the edge of the tub.

“You should lay back. The heat might help with your back a little bit.” He says as he sits criss cross next to the tub. You nod and slowly tip back, the heat slowly creeping up your back does feel nice. His hand is suddenly at the base of your skull, and you don’t understand why until you rest against his hand and the tub itself. A tickling of pain shoots through your head no doubt dampened by the cushion of his hand. You had a concussion. At least someone remembered. Your eyes slide shut, and you will your body to relax in the heat for a minute.

After a few minutes Jason begins to worry that you had fallen asleep, in the tub of all places. If this had been literally any other situation, he would be losing his mind. You were practically naked in a tub of water. Any other guy would be taking advantage of eyeing you up and he would be too, in a very, very different instance. But he would never do that to you, especially after the night you had. He watches your face and even though the rest of your body seems to have relaxed in the water, your features twitch. Laying in the tub against his hand probably was not the most comfortable position for your injuries. He rubs at your hair where his fingers rest.

“Feeling any better?” He asks you to which you respond in kind with a nod. He is a little worried that he can only get nods and short answers from you but he’s sure you’re exhausted.

“We should get you clean and into your much more comfortable bed.” Your eyes flutter open as he presses you up. Your hand wraps around his other arm that was resting on the edge of the tub as you lift yourself. You curl back in yourself, knees dragged up again. He eyes all the bottles in your shower. He’d rather get what remained of the blood off of you and call it a night, but you had blood in your hair too and a simple rinse wasn’t going to do the job. He finally finds a shampoo bottle. He picks up the cup he found on the counter and scoops up a cup full of water and dumps it on the back of your head. Your neck straightens as you turn to look at him. He can’t read your expression, and it drives him crazy. The entire night you’ve had a blank face, like you don’t have the energy to emote.

“I’m gonna wash your hair, okay?” You stare at him a little longer before turning your head forward and tipping it back. He takes it as your agreement, scoops up some more water and dumps it around the hair faming your face. He squirts a very generous amount of shampoo in his palm. Your lip quirks as you watch him from the corner of your eye. He’ll take it as a win even though he doesn’t know what’s amused you. You turn your head so you’re facing the wall, and he has clear access to the back of your head. He rubs the shampoo in a lather and starts to gently run it through your scalp. He takes his time at the top, working down. Your shoulders tense as his fingers circle near the bump on the back of your head. He works around it and then rubs the shampoo into the lengths of your hair. He hears you sniffle quietly but doesn’t question it. He takes his cup and gently rinses the soap, gently turning your head this way and that way, careful not to get soap on your face. He spots a body wash and soaks the washcloth he had found before rubbing that.

 You watch him with sleepy eyes as he turns your face towards him and rubs gently with the corner of the rag.  For a moment your mind flashes to Red Hood with whatever material he was using to get rid of the blood that had been harsh against your skin. You push the thought aside once again focusing on Jason. His face concentrated. He was handsome, rugged and regal looking all at once. The rag is settled on your knee once he seems pleased with the soap on your face. His hand dunks in the water and then he’s gently caressing your face. Your eyes shut as he wipes at your forehead and down your face, carful touches at your eyes and brushes at your neck.

He pulls your arm from where you hold your leg, and the rag is off your knee. He moves it up and down your arm, starting at your shoulder. You watch as the previously dried blood wipes off easily. He soaked you like a dirty pan. The thought makes a quiet giggle start in you. Jason gives you a strange look and then you can’t stop. You erupt in heavily laughter and tears spring up in yours. It only takes a few seconds but laugh changes to gasped breaths, a harsh weight on your chest. Tears stream down your cheeks again but you’re barely conscious of it because you can’t breathe.

You barely register a harsh squeeze on your knee before there are hands on your face. Thumbs rub at the skin on your cheek, and you can barely make out the blob that is Jason through your blurry vision. You try to focus on him. Your hand wraps around one of his wrists and your nails dig into his pulse point as you try to ground yourself. His voice filters into your ears.

“Breathe, Sweetheart, you’ve gotta breathe. Come on.” His free hand grabs your own and presses your flat palm to his chest. You can feel his heart beating and his chest moves as he breathes. You try to copy him with a stuttering gasp. You slowly become conscious of your surroundings again. His thumb on your cheek. The water you sit in slowly turning warm instead of hot. The hum of the bathroom fan. Your breathing slows but your grip on his wrist remains firm.

“There you go, atta girl. Just keep breathing” You lean against Jason’s hand and close your eyes focusing on his breath and your own. If you thought, you were exhausted before you were wrong.

You desperately need sleep Jason decides. He thinks that’s why you had the panic attack in the first place, exhaustion and stress over taking your sense. He coaxes you to release the grip you have on his wrist so he can clean that arm. You keep a grasp on his shirt though. He rinses you off as quick as he can. He does a once over to make sure you’re as clean as he could get you at the moment. Your wrists have bruised up and there were scraps on your knuckles. Some minor first aid would be smart, but it would have to wait til morning. He pries your hand from his shirt and holds it in his as he reaches back and tugs a towel from its rod. He pulls the plug from the drain and pulls you stand. You’re weak and leaning on him as he helps you step out of the tub. The front of his shirt soaked from where you lay. You shiver and he wraps the towel around you. He gives you a harsher than necessary rub but he’s trying to keep you awake long enough to change into dry underwear and warm pajamas.

He guides you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom and sits you down on your bed. It’s different than the last time he had been in there as Red Hood. No messy piles of clothes, only the cleanliness he was use too. He picks though your drawers and pulls out some fuzzy matching pajamas and he tries not stare at your underwear draw too long. He sets the clothes next to you. He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep sitting up, your eyes closed. He taps at your shoulder and your eyes open, half-lidded.

“Clothes” he offers. You nod but make no move. He remembers your struggle with your shirt. He slips the pajama top over your head as you stare at him. He pulls your hair from where it’s tucked. He pauses before he tries for your arms. You still had a wet bra on. He couldn’t let you sleep in that.

“You need take your bra off.” He tries to be delicate but there’s no way around it. You blink at him. He stares back. Theres a pause before your arm bends back awkwardly and you wince. Jason face scrunched in confusion. You stop your movement and stare at him.

“I can’t” He understands now. What idiot put the bra clasp in the back he didn’t know. He climbs on the bed behind you. He lifts the back of your shirt slightly and stares at the clasp. Jason would hate to admit it out loud, especially to you considering whatever your relationship was, but he had never taken bra off of a girl. This was the first time he was up close and personal to one and he wishes it was under different circumstances. He leans to look closer at it and pulls it off your skin. He folds it slightly and sees the hooks. After a minute he finally gets it undone and you easily slip it off of your shoulders. He pulls the shirt down and pulls your arms through the sleeves, careful not to touch any unnecessary skin.

He stands in front of you again. You still have that dazed, sleepy look in your eye but you still have the towel settled around your hips. He sighs

“Sweetheart, I can’t help you with this one.” You squint at him. He glances at the towel, and you follow his line of site. You nod in understanding. You pat at the bed until you find the pair of clean underwear. You pause before moving the towel and look at him, waiting. He gets the message, turning around, closing his eye and covering them with his hand for good measure. He hears you shuffle around the bed, no doubt sitting to change your bottoms instead of standing.

“Okay” you say, sounding out of breath and exhausted. When he turns around, you’re laid back on your bed, legs dangling over the edge and eyes closed. Your undergarments are nowhere in sight so he can only assume you threw them somewhere.

“Don’t fall asleep yet. Let’s get you under the covers.” He says. Your face scrunches like you’re going to whine about it, but you let him gently man handles you up and under the covers of your bed. By the time he has you tucked in your fluttering between awake and asleep, eyelids staying closed longer than open. His hand presses at your face tenderly and then the warmth of it is gone. Your eyes open to see him drifting to the door.

“Wait,” you call out weakly. He pauses, turning back towards you, you can see a fond look cross his face while he waits for you to speak. “Stay, please” you scoot over in your queen-sized bed. It was large enough you could span out eagle style, but you get the feeling it may be too small for Jason. You just didn’t want to be alone. He concedes without complaint, laying on top of the covers beside you. You turn on your side, curling in on yourself and against him. Your hand pops out from under the covers and curls around his forearm, his own mimics you. You close your eyes and carefully press your face against his arm.

“Thank you” you murmur, already drifting in unconsciousness. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel him squeeze your arm before you’re completely out.

Additional note: Yea so I love him. I hope the comfort lives up to what guys wanted after the last chapter. Also, I would like to apologize, I told a bunch of people it would be out Saturday, and I am posting it Sunday morning. I had COVID all of this last week, stuck in my apartment by myself. So obviously the days don’t exist. Anyways sorry about that. Also the amount of times I had to walk away because I felt like I was witnessing someone else's private moment was insane. Thank you for reading and for loving on this series.

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @tetsuroubaby 

[siri-ike]

(I put the painting at the bottom so you have to read if you want to see it)

Some encouraging comments, reblogs, and the occasional fanart. Danny's notifications were predictable and comforting. People really appreciated his work, and he loved to see it. The fanart was usually posted publicly, though, and so he rebloged them ofcorse.

But, what's the right reaction when someone d.m.s you a picture of an intricate and very personal looking portrait of a boy who looks a lot like you, in black and white on one side and red and ghostly green shrouded in darkness on the other?

The two separate mediums were incredibly impressive, but was this a threat? Did someone find out who he was? And find out about Phantom?? Well, Danny is no coward, so he replied.

What kind of Addams Family shinaniganary is this?

TheBloodSon was apparently 15 years old, same as Danny, so why is he responding to him in poetic cuplets? Poems, mind you, that also kind of sound like threats. Yet endearing at the same time. They had the general vibe of "if I can't have you, no one can."

And Danny's not falling for that a third time.

● ● ●

Anyway.

Danny fell for that a third time.

TheBloodSon 's real name was Damian. He didn't wanna reveal a last name, and surprisingly, he didn't wanna know Danny's either. Something about not wanting an oricle to find him. Not that it would matter since Danny didn't have a legal identity anyway.

It went on that way for months, until one day.

Sent 18:47

TheBloodSon: I am skilled in bloodshed, but know less of emotion. With great caution, i tread, to confess my devotion.

In one week's time, a ball is planned. Will you attend? Holding my hand?

Read 18:53

Danny didn't know how to react. This was such a big leap. Sure, they knew eachothers interests, hobbies, talents, and how anoying echothers families were. But meeting in person? At an event of some sort? From what he'd heard/read, Damiens family regularly went to big rich people parties. With fancy clothes, and got ambushed by reporters and/or costumed villains. Usually both. Should he bring a thermos? Does he know about Phantom?

Sent 16:14

AstroBoi13: Which ball? My uncle might be going.

TheBloodSon: The Wayne charity gala. Anyone who makes a donation can go, but you don't have to if you are my guest.

AstroBoi13: it's not that I don't trust you or anything, but I think I'd rather have someone I already know and a way to get back home.

TheBloodSon: Understood, I look forward to seeing you.

18:18

AstroBoi13: I talked to him, we'll be there.

TheBloodSon: Exelent, your presence will be dually noted.

Read 18:20

Damian would be shaking with excitement, were he not highly trained to control such urges. But there was something more to it this time. More than an urge to flap his arms about, more than wanting to run a few laps. He wanted to... tell someone? That can't be right.

Damian could resist the first day. Five more, and he'd be golden. On the second day, however, the urge got stronger. Usually, he could just smother it, and it went away. But it wasn't going away.

He didn't even want to brag or rub it in someone's face. It was a different need. He wanted someone to be exited with him. The thought of Grayson congratulating him on making a normal friend, followed, of course, by far too much touching. He pictured Stephanie "hyping him up," as she says, and it tied his stomach in the best way. He imagined how all his "family members" would react. Multiple outcomes for each of course. And by far, the most consistent was Cassandra. So that's who he could tell if it came to that.

On the third day, he started to falter. And in a house full of detectives, the slightest hint is enough. He was aware of this and had acted accordingly. Unfortunately, he had once again underestimated the butler.

On the fifth day, Pennyworth caught him pacing in the library and moving his hands in a fanning motion. He had thought, maybe allowing himself this would help him stay quiet. But he still wanted so badly to divulge.

"Master Damian, are you alright?"

Damian stopped abruptly. He pretends as though he hadn't just been displaying the most obvious signs of secrecy. The league taught him better than this.

"I, am, great." Oh, good job, that was very convincing.

Pennyworth, of course, did not fall for this.

"If something is on your mind, I will gladly lend an ear. And if not, might I suggest pacing in front of the bookshelves instead, so the wind might clear the dust." He retorted with his usual, frivolous jokes.

"My affairs are none of your concern."

"Then perhaps you may speak aloud to the library while I clean."

Pennyworth's notions on "telling people how you feel" were as pointless as all his opinions. Had it rubbed off on him? Is he the reason Damian feels this need to talk about Danny. So much that the idea of telling someone made his heart flutter and his breath quicken.

Damian turned his head toward the butler. Paying close attention to his body language while keeping his own face out of view. "You must promise not to tell anyone."

Alfred just kept dusting the bookshelves, never even looking at Damian. "I give you my word. Anything you say stays between us." He placed his hand on his chest, but he still didn't look Damians way.

Pennyworth has no history of being deceitful. At least not towards them.

"I, I invited someone to the galla on Thursday... We have not met before." Confessing felt good, like he'd been holding up a large weight, and now he was finally relaxing his arms. He could feel a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And I find myself concerned whether he will like me in person. Or if he will even show up." Where did that come from? Of course, he'll show up. Why wouldn't he?

Damian sat down on one of the couches. "He didn't want to go as my guest. He said he would ask his uncle to take him, but what if he was lying. What if he just doesn't want to see me. What if I already scared him off?" That was it, not just a weight. A giant lead ball just got removed from his stomach.

Alfred stopped cleaning. "This boy, is he your age?"

"Yes, he's fourteen." Damian leaned his arms on his knees.

"How do you know each other?" He turned his head towards Damian.

Damian avoided eyecontact. "We send messages over the internet."

"For how long?" He put down his duster and stepped closer.

"Seven months." He's going to be in trouble for sure. Inviting a stranger to the manor? What was he thinking?

Alfred was only a few feet away. "In these seven months, has he shown to be the kind of person who would stand you up?"

Damian thought for a moment. "No." Guilt, remorse, how could he think so little of his friend? Damian felt Alfred's hand on his back and, for once, didn't fight it.

"If he shows up, you'll get to meet each other in person. If he doesn't, then it'll be just another gala. You've survived those before." He assured with his typical dramatics.

On the sixth day, four hours before the early guests would start to arrive, Damian was at the tailor getting his suit (he got it adjusted every other week due to his current growth rate). Jebadiah "Bread" Carlson was nice to spend time with. He was always calm and rather monotone. Damian found comfort in his demeanor. Sometimes, he would stay there longer than he needed, and he'd even learned how to properly mend a stabwound on multiple materials. Mother would surely not approve. This was one of those days. He came up with excuses to stay longer like he always did, and Bread talked about his granddaughters' first steps, stitching techniques, and the camps. He was soothing to listen to. Before Damian knew it, three and a half hours had passed, and Jayson was there to pick him up.

18:18

AstroBoi13: I talked to him, we'll be there

TheBloodSon: Exelent, your presence will be dually noted.

Read 18:20

This is fine.

This is fine.

The fruit loop didn't even ask for much. Which was super out of character. He's definitely planning something. But it'll be fine.

Day one went... by, for Danny. His hands clamed up so much that he lost count of how often he washed them. His stomach felt queezy. Not in a sick kind of way, more like, ate too many boiled eggs kind of way, but slightly to the left of that, ya'know?

Unfortunately, he, Dani, and Dan (long story) got stuck in the triassic period along with Ember, Young Blood, and Box Ghost (longer story) for nine full months. The eyeballs wanted to send him home nine months later than he'd disappeared but there was absolutely no way he was skipping all the way to the start of a semester right after not only finishing one but also forgetting everything he'd learned in school. The thing is, Danny's human form had aged by nine months. His ghost form, on the other hand, was exactly the same as it had always been. So Clockwork was able to convince the council, through witchcraft or something, to let him go back to the right time period as long as he stays in his ghost form until his peers are the same age as he is.

OK, great. He can do that. As long as his parents don't go ghost hunting or turn on the ghost shields or he gets knocked out or sleep freezes something or a dozen other things that could happen. He'll deal with it when something inevitably goes wrong.

Somehow, his parents bought the "bleached hair" excuse and didn't even notice his eyes. Jazz helped, of course, but the real challenge came knocking at their door 4 days later in the form of Vlad calling about his suit preferences. That was when panic set in. They were leaving now. Staying the night at a hotel in Gotham because the gala is at 15:00 and according to Vlad, etiquette states they have to come an hour or two early since he was invited by one of the hosts. What do you mean one of the hosts? Damian invited him.

Well, apparently, Damian wasn't just a rich kid. He was the rich kid. Damian Wayne Al-Ghul, all the articles Danny had frantically looked up during the private jet trip seemed to agree that he was either a spoiled short fused brat with a soft spot for animals, or a dead faced con artist who was only taking advantage of Bruce Wayne's tendency to keep every child that crossed his path. The second category also seemed to sing the same song about Cassandra Wayne and Duke Thomas Wayne. Danny just assumed those were the racist tabloids and wrote them off. Especially after seeing a clip of Bruce Wayne puncing one of their "reporters".

Danny then reread all their messages. How he had presented himself mattered, a lot, more than how magazines saw him. After all, Danny knows what it's like to be misrepresented by the media.

Their hotel room was as fancy as he expected. Infact "room" was an understatement. It was a spacious living room with two bedrooms connected to it. Danny's temporary hotel bedroom was bigger than his permanent bedroom at home. Not as big as his, Dani's, or Dan's (he's like 11 now, seriously long story) rooms at Vlads mansion. And deffinetly not like their rooms at the Cheese Castle. But still ridiculously hoighty. All for the low price of pretending to be Vlads son in front of some rich people.

It was kind of nice sharing a room with the other two. Even back home, he never really had to share his bedroom for non emergency reasons. And in these forms (Dani also had to stay ghost and Dan didn't have a human form), they looked more like Vlads kids than His parents'.

10:02

TheBloodSon: At what time will you be here?

AstroBoi13: my uncle wants to bring us by at 2 30 or 2

TheBloodSon: You and who else?

AstroBoi13: Dani and Dan they are 13 and 11 but they can do theyr own thing

TheBloodSon: Are they your siblings or your cousins?

AstroBoi13: kind of

TheBloodSon: perhaps that will be better discussed in person.

Read 10:12

Damian hated greeting the guests, but this time, he didn't complain. It no longer mattered if Father became suspicious because soon he would ask to leave his side. One by one, people arrived. He stared down every limousine that entered their courtyard, and each one disappointed. At 14:36, he wondered if he might have missed their arrival. He was pretty sure Danny was actually Daniel Fenton from Amity Park, son of the Doctors Jack and Madeleine Fenton, and that the "uncle" He had mentioned was Vladius Masters. He couldn't find anything on Dani and Dan, but he had chalked that up to lack of time. Just then, Damian recognized the limo driving in. Anthony and his parents are here.

"Father, may I be excused, I have matters to attend."

"What kind of matters?" Father looked over to the limo approaching and cought on. "Right, I see."

Damian went back in, but rather than staying in the ballroom, where he would eventually be ambushed by Anthony and forced to waste hours hearing about the latest prank videos and "seacret gaming rooms," he went all the way to Father's office before he pulled out his phone.

14:41

TheBloodSon: Where are you?

AstroBoi13: were almost ther Dan threw a tantrum and it slowed us down a bit two minuts promise

TheBloodSon: When you get here, don't go into the ballroom. I'll sneak you away.

AstroBoi13: ??

TheBloodSon: There's an anoying classmate there. I would prefer to avoid him.

Read 14:48

14:59

AstroBoi13: at the gates now

TheBloodSon: Copy

Read 14:59

At 15:03, Damian made it to the front door, just in time to see a very tall, very pale man walk in, followed by a small boy with blueish white hair and sickly white skin, after him was a slightly taller girl, who also had white hair, still pale but not as much as the boy, and behind her was Danny Phantom, guardian of Amity Park, the second biggest city in Illinois. There was no mistaking it. That was the ghost boy Damian had read about in father's files.

Damian cought Bruce's expression from outside. Signaling him to talk to these people, or at least keep an eye on them.

"Ahem." Damian cought their attention. "I am Damian Wayne Al-Ghul, I don't believe we've met."

"Ooh, I'm Danny." Danny said. "Vl, father, may I go with Damian for a while. I'll be back in half an hour to greet your friends." He addressed the tall man. From this close, he looked like he could be two meters tall. Almost as tall as Bane.

"Don't bother, Eleanor won't be here until 4:20," Damian had heard that number be referred to as humorous, but endless research could not explain why. "Just come back some time after that."

"Looks like we got an hour and a half." Danny started in the direction Damian had come from. "Do I get to see your other paintings?"

Little Artist

So I saw this

and had an idea for Danny X Damian. Where Danny likes making various stories he publishes online. Everyone said he needed a hobby and he can’t be an astronount (or join a sport since it would be more suspicious if he left in the middle of a game or practice for a ghost attack) and Ghost Writer got him to try writing, saying it’s relaxing. And honestly? It was. Danny enjoyed making stories. Sometimes he would just type what crazy thing happened to him that day while tweaking names and a few details to not give away his identity. Sometimes he made fanfiction of some stories he liked. And sometimes he tested out making original stories, taking and first hand knowledge from various ghosts and cultures to make his writing more authentic. And after much encouragement from Jazz, he posted some of his work online.

Cue Damian coming across one of his brother’s laptops. He didn’t mean to look for long but he thought the file was for a case and wanted to know more about it. ….then he got invested.

There was an author on this sight who wrote amazing stories. The emotions captured were so vivid, and he even fact checked a few historical facts and languages used. Everything from the dialogue, to the accent, and culture. Each new story completely enraptured him.

It made his fingers twitch for a piece of paper. Some paint, perhaps charcoal?

Damian started putting heavy encryption on his computer and search history. And locked his art room up. Then came a story that truly resonated with him. An original work about a boy from a different place, trying to fit into his new reality and the new rules and expectations placed on him…worried if his family would accept him. It sounded so much like when Damian first came to Wayne Manor. And it sparked his inspiration. He spent days working on his newest piece. Trying different angles and lighting, mixing colors. It looked like a collage between charcoal and watercolor, showing someone leaving a world of darkness into the light, yet this new world was unstable and strange compared to the rigid structure of his old one. When it was finally done, Damian felt like he was both looking at himself and a stranger. The character from the story brought to life.

It felt both freeing and settling, like he finally had a name for what he had been feeling. AstroBoi13’s fics always had that affect on him.

And for the first time, Damian did something he thought he’d never do. He snapped a picture of his masterpiece and sent it to the author. Quickly so he didn’t lose his nerve.

It was fine. It’s just one picture. It’s not like this would be a repeat occurrence.

[lightavii]

something im so fascinated by after reading some posts about severance online is ppl saying they like mark’s innie more than his outie. which like, do NOT get me wrong, me too. but i cant help but think abt how odd the implications of that are sometimes, when u think about why innie mark is the way he is.

like, outie mark is an asshole. for understandable reasons, of course. but he’s super abrasive and has major issues with alcohol and honestly it’s so painful to watch him lash out Over and Over at the people in his life who are literally just trying to help him. and it makes me want to rip my hair out, because with the way he acts sometimes it’s a wonder people even try to help at all.

innie mark is literally the complete opposite of that. he’s meek and polite and his actions aren’t tainted by grief (that he’s aware of) every waking second of the day. but he’s only that way because any and all of the fight has essentially been abused out of him. He mentions how he threatened to kill the disembodied voice when he first woke up but now he’s quick to admit to any wrongdoing before he’s been caught because he’s painfully aware of the what the alternative could be. when he and helly are about to go up the elevator that final time in S1, she asks if he’s scared and he says he’s scared /of being caught/. He’s mustered up all of this courage to rebel and he’s still scared shitless of the consequences.

Not to mention (if I’m remembering this scene correctly) that one of the earlier times he kind of “talked back” to Cobel, she proceeded to fling a mug at his head, and his immediate reaction was to people-please by asking if she wanted the office door closed or not. Jesus christ man. Slides my hands down my face

Innie mark is objectively more likeable for some of us but it’s because he’s been treated like absolute garbage. For a good chunk of S1 he’s just in this constant state of anxiety because who wouldn’t be?? And even in S2, (SPOILERS FOR ANYONE WHO HASNT YET WATCHED S2E1!!!!) when he barges into Milchick’s office and grabs the speaker his hands are fucking shaking, both from the adrenaline of his plan working but I’d also imagine that barging into his ex-bosses office and attempting to communicate with the Board directly goes against literally all of his conditioning and that’s gotta be terrifying.

It’s been great seeing innie mark become way more defiant than he used to be. I think it’ll be interesting continuing to root for him as the story goes on, because I know full well that as outie mark’s personality starts to shine through he could very well become more unlikeable, even though that change would be an objectively good thing. Arghhhh severance mark you make me sooooo mentally ill

I had to ramble these thoughts out somewhere because my friends dont like mark at all so they wouldnt gaf about any of this LMFAO

[ink-stainedkiss]

On Campus: The Prize of Affection

pairing: Geto x Reader x Gojo

← 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 / 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟏 / 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 →

Contents: college au, SLOW BURN, fluff + angst + smut, alcohol, frat parties, attempts of spiking, harassment, some violence, jealousy, pining, flirting, MULTI ENDS, happy ending.

Well, after two years of the same thing—rambling professors and poorly written notes—you were finally starting your third year of college. It felt dreadfully monotonous. Mostly because you knew the first day of your freshman year you were going to keep your identity on the down low and your grades higher than ever. It was great because this plan worked better than ever. You had a steady job, the local coffee shop, working with two of your closest friends, and most of all, your transcript practically screamed a high paying job in your future.

So yeah, it kinda made you jealous seeing the frat parties houses being raided by energetic students alike. Would you love to dress up and act like you didn’t have a test the next day? Of course. Almost everyone in college pictured their nights to look like that. They also thought college would be a breeze, but even you were caught off guard your first year.

“Thinking hard over there?” A deep voice chuckled, nudging your arm. Pulled out of your trance, you blinked, and faced the sound. Choso, your coworker here at the cafe, had seen your focused expression and was not doing a very good job at hiding his smirk. Scoffing, you pushed off the counter you had been leaning against, and sent him a glare,”Yeah, imaging different jobs to apply for, so I can get away from you.”

Choso raised a brow and it wasn’t long before your faux look dropped and you giggled. He smiled,”It’s about class, isn’t it?” You shrugged with an expression mixed with unsureness and agreement,”I mean I guess, but I’m not like nervous to go back…if you get what i’m saying.”

His lips trilled,dismissing your words,”You have Professor Yaga, I would be shitting myself.” Rolling your eyes, you stared out to the rising sky, content with the almost purple ambience across the street. The first hour of the morning shift was always the best,”You’re such a baby. He’s not that bad.”

Choso walked toward his premade coffee, sipping it and watching you with unamused eyes behind the mug,”The difference is because he actually likes you.” Glancing back toward the glass front of the shop, you saw your first customer of the day walk toward the door,”No, the difference is I have the intelligence to keep up with his lectures.”

Your coworker’s jaw dropped, but he couldn’t say anything, since the customer walked in with a pleased smile. What you didn’t tell Choso was that you were slightly nervous for class, but not about the teacher. It’s just, something felt off. You knew your routine like the back of your hand and it brought you comfort, so waking up early before the sun approaches was just normal for you. However, today just didn’t sit right in your chest. Like you knew something was going to go wrong.

You liked being right, but at that moment you hoped you were entirely incorrect.

𖤓

It was a bit shocking how your boss was so lenient with your work schedule. You woke up around five, opened the shop at six with Choso or whoever was assigned to the morning, then waited till nine to leave. Your class starts thirty minutes after that, so it gives you so much down time. Walking across the campus, books held against one arm while you moved, you prayed that the nauseating feeling was just a bad muffin you snuck from the front.

One thing the movies did correct was that college was pretty packed. It seemed every second you were maneuvering around barriers of people that also seemed to have no special awareness. Still, it was just a customary thing for college, so you trudged forward. The entrance to the school was just ahead, its path covered in chiseled quotes on its stone floor, and a majestic statue of a crane ahead of the doors.

You were only halfway when your phone buzzed and after a cautious glance in front of you. Good. No people. Taking out your phone, your eyes caught onto the notification bubble, but your phone couldn’t even unlock before your side slammed into someone’s shoulder.

“Shit.” You groaned, feeling your books slip from your hold. Ah, this was what that feeling was warning me about. The problem wasn't that you had dropped your things, it was the fact the culprit didn’t have the decency to stop and help or at the least apologize. You whipped your head around, locking onto the pure white hair already strolling away from the scene. Anger flooded to your veins and before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth.

“Thanks, Asshole.” Figuring, since he barely reacted to running into you, that he wouldn’t hear your remark. Regardless of how he picked up the sound, the guy had heard you, and you stared as he turned his head. He didn’t make a comment, but instead gave you a quick glance. Oddly enough, his eyes cut deeper than any insult could.

You hated to admit it, but his eyes were beautiful. A shade of blue that could make the sky jealous. They were enticing, but the spiteful gleam made you immediately tense up. Still, you held your ground, no matter how intimidating his look was. Before you knew it, he was already facing the front, bothered by nothing. Your teeth grinned together and picked yourself up off the floor. You’d be damned to look like a helpless fawn in front of these people.

In your heart, you told yourself to chase after him, scream and cuss, but you stayed calm. It was just another dick that believed he had some sort of untouchable god complex. It was useless to sit there and complain. After all, college is huge and you wouldn’t see that guy again.

As you walked to the front doors, your eyes remained straight forward. Paying no mind to the curious glances, you trudged forward to your first class.

𖤓

“-okay, it seems all of you are here.” Your professor started at the front of the room. Maybe it was bias, but you believed that Professor Yaga worked the hardest amongst the other teachers. You’ve had him since the beginning of your time here at college. He taught loads of subjects and you always seemed to shine throughout each,that’s why you were the so-called “favorite”.

“Today we’ll just be a go over of materials and lessons I will be teaching.” He explained, glancing back at the plain slide show he created.

Before Professor Yaga could say the first item, the doors in the back opened quickly. Everyone’s attention shifted as the commotion grew. You had to admit your curiosity got the better of you and you turned to watch who came in so late. Little did you know, you weren’t prepared for the storm about to swoop into the lecture hall.

It seemed almost fake like before you arrived the scene was choreographed. Two men waltzed in, neither of them showing guilt on their faces. The first one had very long hair; dark and it was put up in a claw clip. He gave half a smile, one that was supposed to be an apology, but his other friend did not share this gesture.

The friend raised a hand toward the professor, waving like he didn’t just interrupt him,”Hey, sorry the line at the coffee shop was super long.” You have to be kidding. Your mouth parted at the audacity, but Yaga only let out a disappointed sigh,”It's fine, just sit down.”

The room was packed but no one around you looked to be disturbed—or at the least shocked—their rude enterace. Was this common? No. Most people give a short ‘Sorry’ and skitter to their seat, but they just didn’t care. Your brow furrowed as they walked, showing no signs of picking up their speed. You scanned over there faces, making mental notes to stay away from both of them. Though, as you stared at the other male, your heart sank. Bright sapphire eyes locked onto your own and a wave of Deja vu hit you harshly.

It was the same guy who knocked into you without so much as a word. Your hand resting on the desk tensed into a fist. While in the middle of a staring contest, you expected him to throw you a cocky smirk, scoff, just something. You never guessed he would show you a look of genuine amusement. His lips turned upward and he winked at you. Did he even recognize you? You hadn’t interacted with the other guy, but he didn’t look any better.

These two were practically the stereotype for coming of age movie jock’s. Complete disdain grew in your chest as you watched them stroll down the lecture hall stairs. They dapped up their friends loudly, tossing sultry smiles toward the audience, and—ew did someone just squeal? Whoever they were, their egos shined too bright for your liking. Consider yourself uninterested.

You swiftly turned back around,but sadly the only available seats were the ones directly behind you. Their obnoxious chuckles grew slightly and you were pretty sure you heard the rude one mumble something to his friend. Whatever. Just pretend they aren’t there. It was easier said than done, since throughout the entire lesson their muffled conversation kept skimming past your ears and even as you tried paying attention, it seemed two sets of eyes were burning into the back of your skull.

if you would like to be added to the On Campus: Taglist, feel free to comment/ message me. I will send back a “🤎” once you’ve been added!

Taglist:

@inthedarkshadows000 @se-phi-roth @thattbitchwiththehair @kardi0n @loneworldgazer @geektastic84 @galactacium @love-me-satoru @stilldontknowwhatiamdoing

[broidobe]

𝔞𝔵𝔩 𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔫𝔰𝔣𝔴 𝔞𝔩𝔭𝔥𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔱

requested!

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

axl can’t help but be raw and emotional afterward.

he might pull you close, almost desperately, and murmur things about how much you mean to him.

he needs that reassurance that you’re still there with him

axl loves skin-to-skin contact afterward

once he’s calmed down, Axl might open up and talk to you about his thoughts or feelings, especially if something has been bothering him

deep down, axl carries a lot of insecurities, so he might ask if he was good enough or if you’re happy

he craves validation but won’t say it outright

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

okay there’s two

thighs are a strong contender for his favorite.

he’d adore running his hands over them, gripping them, or just watching them while you sit.

bonus points if you’re wearing something short or tight—he’d have a hard time keeping his eyes (or hands) off you

let’s not beat around the bush—axl’s definitely an ass guy.

he’d openly admire it, give cheeky grabs, and couldn’t get enough of seeing you in tight jeans or nothing at all

axl knows his lips are a weapon in the bedroom.

he’d take pride in the way he kisses, teases, and leaves marks.

smirking against your skin, whispering dirty things, or giving slow, deliberate kisses, he’s fully aware of the power his mouth holds—and he loves it.

so yeah, i’d say his mouth is his favourite

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

honestly? he will cum anywhere on you or in you

it’s whatever he feels like

if he wants to cum on your face? he will

your stomach? he will

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

axl secretly loves being dominated or at least losing control in certain moments.

while he’s fiery and intense on stage or in public, behind closed doors, he gets a thrill out of someone taking the lead and making him feel completely vulnerable.

you pinning him down, teasing him mercilessly, or whispering filthy things in his ear?

he secretly craves those moments where he doesn’t have to be in charge.

he wouldn’t admit it outright—his pride and ego wouldn’t let him—but when it happens, you’d notice how he melts under your touch, totally undone by the role reversal. and the next day? he’d play it cool like it never happened, though you might catch that little smirk when he remembers how much he loved it.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s fucking experienced

but he was like those rock stars that only cared about how they felt, not their partner

so you’d have to talk with him about it

he knows what he’s doing and he fucking loves it honestly

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

doggy style

axl would love the raw, unfiltered intensity of this position. 

it gives him a chance to be rough (if you’re into that), grip your hips, and lose himself in the moment.

plus, he’d get a perfect view of you, which he’d definitely appreciate

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s pretty serious

he’s a pretty dominant person that takes sex to a whole other level

and that level doesn’t include any joking around

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i think he’s like a go-bald-once-a-month kinda guy

he lets it grow out and shaves it the first of every month

and you find it hilarious how on schedule he is

yes…he’s ginger down there too

but it’s honestly so light

and guys…it’s lowkey so smooth down there

like when he grows it out…

it’s like…silk

OKAY I’M SORRY I’M DONE

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he’s really into the moment if that makes sense

he’s never too romantic

he’s very cocky and he always makes these snarky comments about how good at fucking you he is lmfao

but uhm…he can be funny

in his own way

he likes to talk in this very literal, big worded way

here's an example

you're really enjoying that, aren't you? i'm completely immersed in this experience with you, and it's incredibly exhilarating

he normally does this when he’s drunk but sometimes he’ll just…do it

and it’s fucking hilarious

j = jack off (masturbation headcannon)

oohhhh yeah

this man loves jacking off

he did it A LOT before you

but he’s cut down

but he really only jacks off to things that have something to do with you

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

as mentioned before, he’s just so fucking dominant

BUT as also mentioned, he also has a thing for being submissive

he’s a switch (fight me if you disagree)

teasing

he’s evil with it too

he never stops teasing

denial

he never gives you a break man. how the fuck do you do it?

dirty talk god

he degrades, teases, praises

oh jesus he’s a kink god this list could go on forever

light bdsm

spanking, light restraints, and other forms of controlled pain

but nothing too painful

voyeurism

he likes the idea of being watched while he fucks you

he’s a show off

impact play

spanking, slapping, or using other implements (like paddles or whips)

but again, not very hard

power dynamics (master/slave)

it would play out in verbal commands, physical restraint, and possibly obedience

sensory play

blindfolds, restraints, or even sound-depriving methods (like headphones) to heighten other senses

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

he will take you anywhere

he doesn’t have a favourite

i mean you’re still you no matter where you are

but if he was being held at gunpoint and he had to pick?

he��d say in one of his bandmates beds

he thrives off of the risk it serves

and the bed forever being seen as “the bed we fucked on while blank wasn’t here”

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

oh god anything

like anything

it’s just a constant hard on when he’s around you

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he wouldn’t put you in excruciating pain

total submission

i couldn’t see him completely being at your mercy

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers receiving

because they’re quick, easy, and they feel amazing

but he’s up to eat you out at any time

he just prefers getting a blowjob

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he is so rough it’s deadly

i don’t think this man has ever gone slow in his life

he’s like the definition of go big or go home

even when he’s blackout drunk

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he loves em

they fit well into his schedule

especially because he loves fucking you as much as possible

like he’ll take you during soundcheck, before the show, after the show, in the tour bus bathroom

ANYWHERE ANYTIME FOR ANY DURATION HE’S HAPPY

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he is big on taking risks

he’s never not taking a risk

he fucks you in the riskiest places ever

and he doesn’t care

he loves the thrill

and he’s totally up to experiment

he’d honestly do anything you ask

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

4 rounds 30 minutes give or take

i could see him being like really used up after the first round but being so obsessed with you that he doesn’t want to stop

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

never had them for himself

doesn’t have any for you

like you have ONE

and you use it when he’s not there (in which he doesn’t know)

cause he can get a bit jealous

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s fucking terrible honestly

he will gladly take 10 minutes of his time teasing the shit outta you

he’s an ass

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s really loud

like neighbours could file a noise complaint loud

you like that, don’t you?

don’t make me wait (even though he makes you wait SO LONG)

i’m gonna take you slow (LIAR)

beg for me

do you feel me? you should (COCKY)

i could do this all night

let me show you how much i want you

i can’t get enough of you, it’s like i need you

i love hearing you moan for me

mm... you’re so tight, fuck (spoken with this throaty growl)

shit... i’m so deep in you... mmh…

ahh... right there, baby, just like that…

mmh... you like that, don’t you? Fuck...

mmh, so fucking perfect...

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

axl once got super into the moment and tried to pull off one of those dramatic, slow, intense moves, but instead, he miscalculated and ended up rolling off the bed entirely, landing in a heap on the floor.

he just laid there for a second, blinking in disbelief, before cracking up.

you were laughing too, and he sheepishly said, “guess that was my big entrance, huh?” 

from then on, you two couldn’t help but giggle every time you tried to get all serious in bed.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s low key packing

7.5 inches, i couldn’t say anything otherwise

he doesn’t have a whole lot of girth

but that doesn’t mean he has none

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH.

i think i’ve said enough.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

i think it really depends on how much he uses himself

i’d say on average, 15 minutes