#I was going to say that DC likely wouldn't let the hand thing remain like this in the long term but then again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thegeniusofplaytimeco · 1 month ago

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Chapter 14: In a Silent Way

It continues: In the depths of the Playtime Co. factory, you recently faced Huggy Wuggy. You tricked him and sent him straight to death.

You meet Poppy and later even Mommy Long Legs - but are they really a challenge for the genius?

You are also beginning to change, even if it is barely noticeable. It seems as if your journey to redemption is beginning.

---

Here I am again!

Yes, it took a little longer, at least I think so.

Christmas was great, and I celebrated New Year too (not like the people who shoot a thousand rockets into the streets, but that doesn't matter). Anyway, I'm back now.

For those who haven't understood it yet: Now the story really gets going! Pure character development for our reader, but also for the other characters as they also change in the factory.

I don't want to give too much away just yet, so I hope you enjoy reading it!

wc: 8.6k

---

"♫ -On the hiiiiighway to hell-♫ "

Can't she finally shut up?

The group is still here, between the many metal catwalks that lead to the Poppy Room. Cold metal creaks under your footsteps, the darkness interrupted only by flickering light.

The break earlier was short, the critters had eaten something, but the tension remains. Your mind is running at full speed, as always. You analyze everything - the position of the critters, possible injuries, any weakness that could be dangerous now. Your thoughts jump ahead: scenarios of what could await you behind the door with the spray-painted flower.

But she walks next to you.

Olivia.

The woman you've only just met. Her posture, her movements, everything about her seems... different. Too relaxed, too carefree. She doesn't seem to feel the tension, or she's deliberately ignoring it.

"♫ -Hiiighway to hell-♫ "

You breathe out calmly, but the sound of her humming still stings your head.

"♫ -On the highwaaay to-♫ "

You turn your head slightly towards her, but say nothing. Words would be unnecessary, a waste of time. Besides, she's not worth it anyway, as stupid as she is.

She notices your look, stops humming and grins as if she's caught you doing something. "What, you don't like AC/DC?"

You don't answer. Your gaze returns to the door.

She's so damn annoying, why is she even running with us? If she hadn't found us, she'd probably be down there in a pile of corpses right now.

Behind you, the critters whisper softly. Kickin looks nervous, his movements restless. Hoppy, on the other hand, is determined as ever - her gaze fixed on the door. You memorize these details without letting it interfere with your focus.

"All right, boss." Olivia shrugs and laughs softly, but you notice the slight scorn in her voice. "I'll let you have your moment."

This takes you a few steps further. Your thoughts, always analytical, always rational, drift for a moment in a less rational direction.

In my gun, in the second compartment at the top, there should still be the pistol.

Your gaze glides unobtrusively over to her. Olivia walks beside you, her steps springy, as if she's running across a playground rather than through the cold, ominous hallways of Playtime Co. Her silly blonde hair, her goofy outfit not in the least bit appropriate for this environment.

After every fourth step, she takes a little jump. Like a child. A childish, careless behavior that irritates you almost more than the sounds of the old metal corridors below you.

Then there's that ridiculous smile. Broad, carefree, as if you had narrowly escaped a deadly situation twenty minutes ago.

Should I kill her?

The thought comes quietly, coldly, like an algorithm that checks whether a variable should be removed to increase efficiency. Without the critters noticing, it could work. It would save food. Energy. Problems.

But just as quickly as the thought came to you, you pick it apart in your head.

If they found out - and it wouldn't be particularly hard to find out - it would traumatize the group. It would take them time to process it, and time is the last thing we have.

Another hum enters your thoughts.

"♫ -And I'm goin' down, All the way-♫ "

You feel your train of thought sharpening, almost becoming more critical.

It just gives me reasons to question everything even more closely, doesn't it?

You ignore it, like so many things. But in a tiny corner of your mind, its energy lingers. Not because she's important in any way - but because she's... different. Different from anyone you've ever met before.

She should use her energy to think. Maybe then she wouldn't be so mentally absent all the time.

Your gaze turns forward, to the door with the huge flower above it. Each step brings you closer, and your mind returns to what waits beyond that door. Every variable, every possibility is weighed up.

Behind you, the critters are still whispering quietly to each other, but their voices are like background noise that barely catches your attention.

And Olivia? She continues to hum. Quieter and quieter, but just loud enough for you to hear.

"You know, I once had someone in my class who was a bit like you," she says suddenly.

You don't react. You don't look at her. Your steps remain steady and your gaze remains fixed on the door with the spray-painted flower. But you can feel it - the critter's eyes resting on both of you. Their stare is palpable, as if they could thicken the air between you.

"He was the only one who read through the instructions for his calculator," she continues, in a voice that almost sounds like she's telling a secret. "Always liked politics, too. You know, that boring shit."

Do I really have to listen to this stupid shit all the time now?

You exhale quietly, more out of reflex than frustration, and calculate in your head how much energy you could save if she would just stop talking. No humming, no slogans, no stories. The thought lingers in the back of your mind as you analyze every aspect of the surroundings.

Olivia notices your lack of reaction - of course she does - but she remains unfazed. "Well, anyway. The guy was totally boring, but he explained math to all of us when we got stuck. I mean, he really felt like a genius."

You feel a slight twitch at the corner of your mouth, which you immediately suppress. What is she trying to achieve?

"The funny thing was," she continues, "he was really smart. But he had zero idea how to deal with people. Just like you."

The words hang in the air. The critters fall silent behind you.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to look at her out of the corner of your eye.

She smiles at you - wide, unwavering, without a trace of fear or restraint. That stupid, stupid grin that slowly burns itself into your mind.

Maybe I should kill her after all.

"But hey!" she suddenly says, almost shouts it, and turns her whole body towards you. Her grin only widens. "It's not your fault. I mean, I've felt like an outsider my whole life too."

It shows, idiot.

You get closer and closer to the door with the flower. The metal catwalks no longer divide, the path is now straight ahead - a direct corridor to your destination.

Olivia takes a step back. You notice it in the corner of your eye, hear it in her light footsteps on the metal and smell the coffee she obviously drank earlier. The smell fades the more distance she keeps.

"You're all so cute!" she suddenly shouts. With a single, exaggerated step, she wraps her arms around DogDay and hugs him tightly while stroking his fur.

The other critters stop abruptly, their gazes alternating between Olivia and you.

She does know that underneath the fur and plastic layer are the innards of a child, doesn't she? How stupid and crazy is she?

"Hey, Y/N."

Bubba is suddenly standing next to you. Of course you notice him - you always notice everything. You had already noticed his presence minutes before, but now he speaks to you directly.

His gaze is questioning, curious, a hint of uncertainty in his posture. He uses this brief interval while you're all just waiting for Olivia to tell you something.

"What do you think of her? Can we trust her?"

You answer without hesitation. "She's stupid, childish and completely incompetent."

Bubba seems slightly surprised, but you continue.

"She doesn't know when to shut up, speaks without thinking and does things without thinking them through."

Bubba remains silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on you as if he is trying to read more into your words than you are revealing.

"But she hasn't let us down yet," he finally says quietly.

You say nothing. Your eyes fix on the flower on the door as you take the last few steps towards it.

When you reach the door, you and Bubba turn around. The sight is, as you would expect, irritating.

Olivia does what she does best: doing idiotic shit.

She hugs the critters one by one, her movements exaggerated, her voice an octave too high as she makes silly noises and talks to them as if they were pets.

"Uhhh! Who's a good puppy?!" she exclaims as she pats DogDay's head exaggeratedly.

"You're so fluffy!" she adds as she strokes Hoppy's ears.

"CatNap, you smell so mysterious!" she says as she almost forces the visibly annoyed Critter into a hug.

"You're so cute, Crafty!" Olivia grins from ear to ear, while Crafty paces nervously, unsure how to react.

The critters look different - some confused, others annoyed, some even seem to enjoy the unexpected chaos.

"How much time do you expect we have left?" Bubba finally asks, his voice low as if he doesn't want to disturb the scene in front of you.

You answer without taking your eyes off Olivia as she continues with her idiotic comments. "I don't expect. I know."

Bubba looks at you blankly, waiting for more.

"We have to hurry," you continue. "At the current pace, we're just under an hour behind schedule."

Bubba nods slowly, taking your hint seriously, although his eyes keep wandering to Olivia and the critters. "And what do we do with... her?" he finally asks, his voice even softer.

You don't answer. Instead, you let your eyes wander briefly to Olivia, who is trying to give Kickin a high-five as he flicks his wings at her hand.

It wastes energy, time and sanity. But in this moment - this irritating, chaotic moment - she does what you can't do: She makes the group smile.

You watch them, their silly movements, the critters' laughter, Bubba's soft giggles. And for a moment - just a fraction of a second - you think back.

Of course, you saved their lives by getting them out of the factory. But you gave them the life they now lead - dirty, locked up, disturbing - in the first place.

Even at home, when you ordered pizza and they were all sitting around the table, or when you explained the plan for this whole "mission" to them. You can't remember smiling. And if you can't remember it, that means it didn't happen.

For a brief moment - less than a second - you feel a strange sensation in your stomach. Not pain, not hunger, but something else. An unpleasant tug that you can't immediately place.

Your eyes remain fixed on Olivia, still clinging to the critter. DogDay looks confused, but he lets her be. Crafty is visibly nervous, while Hoppy eyes her with her arms crossed, almost as if to reprimand Olivia.

"A heart full of sentimentality is dangerous, you know that Y/N."

There it was again. Elliot Ludwig's voice, which you haven't heard for weeks, and yet it sounds as clear in your head as if he were standing right behind you.

It reminds you of something that you should already know.

Feelings are a weakness. They make you careless and interfere with clear decisions. You know that. You've always known it.

Olivia laughs loudly, a shrill, incongruous sound in the silence of the metallic catwalks. DogDay wags his tail slightly, a reflex he can't control, and Bubba, who is always so serious and analytical, seems... less tense.

Your eyes return to the door. This is your destination. You are the only one who can make sure you reach it.

But still - this second, this feeling, remains.

Without further hesitation, you turn around and open the brown wooden door. The sound is heavy and drawn out, almost like a sigh, and a long corridor awaits you behind it.

Yellow wallpaper adorns the walls, the color is faded and uneven. Simple lamps hang every few meters, their light is weak and casts shadows on the walls.

You don't wait for the others. Without a word, you enter and walk on alone. Your footsteps echo on the wood beneath you as you feel Bubba following a few meters behind you.

The stairs in front of you lead downwards, creaking under your weight. You go lower, following the long corridor, and meanwhile your mind drifts off into thoughts.

From -0 to 0.

What was I thinking?

The critters hate me. That is clear. Their looks, their attitude, even the way they sometimes fall silent around me - it's all obvious. Hoppy especially. Just the way she looks when she even hears my name... that look of disgust and distance.

I will never be on an even keel with her.

The realization burns quietly, coldly. But it is not new.

You reach the next room. It's simple, almost cozy: wooden furniture is spread out in a mess, blue cushions lie on the floor as if they had been carelessly left there. But your gaze scans more.

A movement of your neck, a quick turn, and you see it: a cupboard, large and massive, concealing a secret door. It's locked, inaccessible, but that's no obstacle for you.

Your eyes wander back. From a distance, you see Olivia and the critters slowly following you. Olivia is still clinging to DogDay, her arms wrapped tightly around him as she laughs out loud.

You shake your head slightly, barely noticeably.

Why is she like this? Why can't she just... be different?

But deep down, you know that their normality is different. And that their otherness keeps the group alive.

You turn your gaze away and move on, your focus back on the hidden door and the possibilities it holds.

We are about to encounter an experiment.

This is the Poppy Room - the place where the little doll was once locked up in a glass cabinet.

You remember how Elliot used to talk about her with an enthusiasm that irritated you even then. "Poppy's something special," he'd said. "All the kids covet her. She's perfect."

But behind these words you have only seen the numbers. Poppy was one of the first successful experiments ever created. Nobody had done it before her. It was a milestone - and a bestseller at the same time. The production figures and revenue were astronomical, a testament to what was possible.

But you never liked Poppy.

She was arrogant, always acting as if she wanted to help the other experiments, especially the new ones. But you saw through what she really wanted: Information. She wasn't interested in the experiments themselves - only in the things they knew about the company.

She's manipulative, dishonest. But I know she'll be against the Prototype if there's an uprising.

That is her pattern. She's always looking for ways to protect herself, even when she's pretending to help others. And then there's Kissy Missy - one of the few who could remember Playcare. Poppy has always taken advantage of her, using her memories and loyalty for her own ends.

You're already calculating what that could mean. If the Prototype really has control of the factory, Poppy will turn on him. But how much can you count on that? How long can you calculate her loyalty before it breaks?

Your footsteps continue to echo through the room, the cupboard with the hidden door remains in your field of vision. In the background, you hear the light footsteps of the critters and Olivia's still exaggerated voice as she talks to DogDay.

Kissy Missy, Poppy will stop us or help us. But only as long as it suits them.

You stop for a moment, your gaze fixed on the old wooden door. Your hand rises slowly and glides over the worn wood. It feels cold, rough, almost like an echo of past decisions.

You take the last step. Bubba stands beside you, his tall, blue figure restless but silent. Together you open the door, and immediately your thought is proven.

I knew it.

The room behind it is small, quiet and full of dust, but at its center is a cabinet. Solid wood with a glass door that reveals the contents: Poppy.

The little doll sits motionless behind the glass, her eyes lifeless, and yet she seems to be staring at you. Her hair, perfectly coiffed, the blue skirt and the red shoes - everything is as immaculate as it ever was. She looks exactly as she did when she was at the peak of sales.

She is here. Of course she's here. She has stood up to the prototype's rebellion.

"Is that..." Bubba's voice breaks the silence, his words hesitant, almost reverent. "Another experiment?"

You turn your head slightly towards him before your gaze slides back to the doll. "Yes."

The word comes short, concise, like a mechanical answer. For you, Poppy is not a riddle. She is a relic, a reminder of the beginning of these experiments - and of the mistakes that were made.

"She's... small," Bubba mumbles, his brow furrowed as he looks at the doll.

"Watch out," you say without opening the glass door. Your voice is cool, emotionless. "She has her own agenda."

Bubba swallows audibly, his eyes shifting from you back to Poppy. "Why is she locked up?"

"Because otherwise she wouldn't be here." Your answer is as precise as the calculation running in your head. If Poppy is here, the Prototype has deemed her a threat. So she's not on his side. At least not yet.

The footsteps of the critters and Olivia come closer, their voices softer as they enter the room. DogDay is the first to stand next to Bubba, and Olivia pushes through right behind them, her eyes fixed curiously on the glass door.

"Oh wow, she's so cute!" says Olivia, leaning forward slightly as if she wants to take a closer look at the doll. "Can I touch it? With Big Y/N's permission, of course."

Cute. Of course she is. She needs to shut the fuck up before we get into trouble because of her.

You're quicker, of course. Without a movement on your face, you put down your bag, adjust your GrabPack and move in such a way that nobody can see what you're doing. Your movements are precise, mechanical.

You pull the small pistol out of your rucksack, your eyes still fixed on the cupboard. You stow the gun inconspicuously in your right coat pocket.

If she tries to play any games with us, I'll shoot her on sight.

You exhale calmly, your calculations continue to run incessantly. Risks, scenarios, how long it will take to draw the weapon - everything is weighed up.

But when you turn around, something happens that you hadn't anticipated.

Olivia.

She is standing there. Right in front of the wardrobe. Her eyes are sparkling, and there's that stupid grin on her face that always throws you for a loop. But it's not just that. Next to her - open, wide, and empty - is the cupboard.

Of course she did. Of course she opened it.

Before you can react, the light flickers. A brief, bright flash, followed by complete darkness.

A few of the critters make quiet, restless noises, but no one screams. The darkness is thick, almost tangible, and then you feel it: Olivia is clinging to your arm.

Apparently out of safety.

Your instinct screams at you to push her away, to put your hand in your coat pocket, to draw your gun, to do something to regain control. But then you hear it.

One voice.

"You opened my case."

The words are quiet, high-pitched, almost childlike - and yet they echo in the silence as if they were coming from everywhere.

You freeze, every muscle tensed, while the meaning of the words settles in your head.

This is Poppy. She is now free.

The light flickers once, twice - and comes on again. Your eyes immediately turn to the cupboard. Empty. Of course it's empty.

Slowly you move your head back, your mind working like a machine, but this time without clear answers. Olivia is standing in front of you. She's looking straight at you. You're the same height, so eye contact is unavoidable.

Her hands are still clutching at your chest, the nervous grin on her face showing no trace of fear, but... something else. Her cheeks are flushed, and for a moment you wonder if it was the darkness that upset her, or if she really is that... idiotic.

Red spots. Really? She's even more childish than I thought.

A quick glance out of the corner of your eye shows you the critters' reactions. Their faces tell different stories: Some look confused, others still slightly shocked by the sudden darkness.

But then there's Bobby.

She stands there, both hands in front of her face, her eyes wide open, and a huge grin taking up almost her entire face. She looks at you - you and Olivia - as if she were a teenage girl watching the most exciting scene of a romance.

What the hell is she thinking?

Your eyes return to Olivia, whose grip is slow to loosen, her hands sliding away from your chest, but the smirk remains. She doesn't say anything, and that annoys you almost more than anything else.

Behind you, DogDay can be heard growling softly, probably still nervous about the darkness, and Hoppy steps closer to the cupboard, her eyes searching.

Poppy is free. That's the problem now.

You exhale, deeply and quietly, and refocus on the situation. No time for unnecessary emotions or silly dynamics.

"Y/N?" Bubba's voice is quiet, but you can hear the uncertainty in it. His eyes wander restlessly back and forth between you and Olivia before they finally fix on the empty cupboard. "What do we do now?"

You turn your head just slightly, your eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

"Isn't it obvious, you idiot," you say coldly, without a trace of patience in your voice.

A few of the critters make startled noises, a collective gasp that only heightens the tension in the room. Even Olivia, who just a moment ago had a nervous grin on her face, suddenly looks shocked. Her expression changes - the red blotches on her cheeks fade and she looks at you as if she expected you to say something else.

You ignore them all.

"We're following the plan."

With that, you turn away and leave the room without paying attention to the others. You don't hear their footsteps, only the glances you feel as they look after you.

Every second you move further away from them, every step takes you deeper underground.

You open the door that was hidden behind the cupboard and enter the next Hallways.

The air is colder down here, denser, and the light is weaker, flickering occasionally. The hallways stretch into the darkness, uneven metal and old cables run along the walls as if they were holding the corridors together.

Alone, only your own footsteps echo through the silence. Your thoughts remain calm, focused. Poppy is free. It's a risk, but a calculable one.

You know the others will follow at some point. Probably Olivia first, with her annoying enthusiasm, and then DogDay, always trying to keep the group together. But now? You don't need any distractions now.

There you are.

A place where your last memory really doesn't make you feel good: Elliot Ludwig's office.

The room in front of you is silent, as if frozen in time. The heavy wooden furniture, the imposing shelves full of files, and the huge desk with the chair behind it - everything is so familiar and yet so empty.

You are still standing here alone. You know that the others are right behind you, their footsteps barely audible on the metallic hallways. They will be with you in less than ten seconds, but you don't care.

"It's about the family."

The words echo in your head as clearly as if you had just said them. You remember perfectly how you once sat here, opposite him, at this desk. You had wanted to explain the situation with the death of your mother.

Elliot was one of the few people who ever listened to you without fear of your success or failure. But when you dared to say that you wanted to take time off to grieve, he had answered you without hesitation:

"Quite simply, Y/N, there's something more important than a death in your family at the moment. "

You should have hit him. Right in the face. So hard that his nose would break and his head would bob backwards. You should have dropped him until his blood ran down his throat and reminded him of what he had said. A moment he would never forget.

But you hadn't done it. Instead, you had remained silent, staring at him while your mind analyzed and weighed up the situation as usual.

Your hand reaches for your pocket, back in the present. You, the Scientific Director, had a key for every room in this building. Even for the head honcho's office.

If not you, who else?

As you think back, you reach for your bag. As Head of Science, you had a key for every room in this building - including the head honcho's office, of course.

If not you, who else?

Your fingers glide over the bunch of keys, the metal jingles softly. You find the right key, slide it into the lock and turn it with a gentle click.

Even before you open the door, you hear footsteps behind you. Olivia and the Smiling Critters have arrived. Their movements are cautious, their voices muffled - but that doesn't stop Olivia for long.

"Hey, Y/N," she says, her voice carrying a mixture of nervousness and defiance. "Why did you call Bubba an idiot earlier?"

You pause, your hand on the door. Your gaze does not wander to her, but remains focused on the office. The question hangs in the air until she continues.

"I mean, he was just trying to help. And anyway - the Smiling Critters are trying their best, you know? They're not perfect, but who is? You can't treat them like that all the time."

Behind you, you hear the critters whispering softly, their voices restless. Olivia takes a step forward, her words becoming more urgent.

"Honestly, sometimes I don't think you get it. They're not machines. They're people - or at least they used to be. And you don't always have to be such a cold unsentimental- "

That was too much.

You turn around, and for the first time the group sees something they've never seen before: you, angry. Not really overflowing with anger, but the facial expressions were different.

"The Smiling Critters," you say, your voice cutting and unexpectedly loud, "are children's corpses ported over in fabric covers. Don't you get it, you fucking idiot?"

The words echo through the hallway and everything is silent for a moment. Olivia stares at you, her face frozen, her eyes widening. Behind her, the Critters move closer together, DogDay lowers his gaze, and Kickin almost hides behind Hoppy. Hoppy looks angry, very angry at you.

You take a deep breath, the anger still burning inside you, but you don't let it out any further. Olivia opens her mouth as if she wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

She notices that something is different. Maybe not just in what you've said, but in yourself - a crack in the cold, analytical façade you always present.

You turn back to the door without another word and push it open.

The office of Elliot Ludwig.

You enter, the others stay behind you, unsure whether they should follow you. The door slowly closes behind you, leaving you alone.

You look around. The room is unchanged. The heavy desk, the bookshelves, the strange silence that always reminds you of that conversation.

"Quite simply, Y/N, there's something more important than a death in your family at the moment."

You kept quiet back then. Today, you might have acted differently.

Outside, you hear Olivia and the Critters whispering softly. They embody something you weren't allowed to have back then - family, connection, something human. But you know you can't stop doing what's necessary.

You force your mind to stop thinking about such nonsense and turn your attention back to what's important.

Ludwig's office looks the same as always. The heavy, brown wooden desk dominates the room, surrounded by the same old bookcases and decorations that you have always despised. However, one detail immediately catches your eye: there is a tape on the table, neatly placed in the middle, almost as if it had been left for you.

Your eyes linger on it for a moment, but your gaze quickly moves on. Directly above you, on the wall, hangs the opening of a vent. The angle points downwards, just enough for you to reach it with your GrabPack.

You don't wait a moment. Your movements are precise and efficient. Your arm shoots forward and the GrabPack's gripper grabs the grille. With a quick jerk, you pull it down.

The sound is muffled, but in the silence it echoes loud enough for you to hear faint footsteps behind you - the rest of the group.

You turn around.

There they are. Olivia, as always, has that goofy look on her face, her grin inappropriate and incomprehensible. The others show a mixture of reactions:

DogDay seems neutral, but his eyes are watchful, always intent on keeping an eye on the group. Hoppy's eyes narrow slightly, a trace of suspicion on her face, as always when she looks at you. Kickin is nervous, almost frantic, his feet fidgeting restlessly on the ground.

Crafty looks exhausted, her shoulders slumped, but she's trying not to attract attention. Bobby holds back a little, her hands nervously in front of her face, but her eyes follow your every move. Picky seems distracted, her eyes wandering aimlessly around the room as if she doesn't quite understand the tension.

CatNap is rather unconcerned, but his ears twitch slightly, a sign of his watchful attention.

And all because I called Bubba an idiot.

Olivia. You're sure she's the reason the group didn't panic. She probably calmed them down with her silly, pointless ways. And of course it worked - they're just as stupid as she is.

"Hurry up," you say coldly, your voice emotionless.

You turn around again without waiting for their reactions and enter the vent.

The path through the narrow shafts is not particularly long. Your mind calculates the distance almost automatically: just under 20 meters. You know exactly that it will lead you straight to the Maintenance Closet.

As you exit the vent, you jump lightly to the floor and straighten up. Your eyes immediately scan the room without losing a moment.

The Maintenance Closet is exactly what you expected: an abandoned room surrounded by bare concrete walls. The room exudes neglect - the dust in the air, the corners full of cobwebs, and the sparse lighting that casts everything in a dull, yellowish light.

The floor is covered with scattered objects. Cardboard boxes are piled up against the walls, some still intact, others dented or half-opened. Sheets and papers are scattered carelessly, some crumpled up, others half hidden under furniture.

A heavy shelf stands against the opposite wall, overloaded with tools, spare parts and boxes that seem to have been untouched for so long that they have almost melted into the shelf. A desk in the corner is littered with old tools and a yellowed file.

You look around, your thoughts sort through your surroundings, analyzing everything that could be useful.

You continue to look around the room, your thoughts organized as always, analyzing every detail of your surroundings, calculating every possibility.

Poppy.

She must have gotten through here. The light failure was no coincidence, and her movements - even with her limited speed - fit the scenario perfectly. From her room, she would either have had to go through the ventilation or the corridors. The ventilation is more likely, she is smaller and more agile, and the ventilation offers protection from direct pursuit.

Your mind draws the blueprints of the factory in front of your inner eye. You see the routes, the possible paths.

If she came through the ventilation, then she would have had to go through this room. The Empty Closet is a strategic connection. And at a speed of no more than 3 mph...

Your mind calculates the distance it could have traveled during this time.

Thirty meters.

Poppy is at most thirty meters away from you. Probably moving, but not fast. She knows what she's doing. Her destination is clear: the Game Station. There is no other logical point that is so close and at the same time offers so many options for hiding or maneuvering.

Your eyes linger on the box in the corner that caught your eye earlier. It stands there too neatly, too deliberately placed in this chaotic room. But before you step closer, you hear the group reach the vent.

Their voices echo softly in the room, Olivia, as always, the loudest.

"This place is full of stuff! Do you think there's anything important here?"

You exhale, short and controlled, while your gaze wanders around the room.

"I don't know, but it's definitely really creepy here," DogDay mumbles.

"It's bad air down here," Hoppy adds, wrinkling her nose slightly.

"Why is it so cold all of a sudden?" Kickin asks nervously, his wings twitching slightly.

You stand still, the movement of your eyes precise and calm, while you register every little thing in the room. But then something moves next to you.

Olivia.

Of course it's her. She stands right next to you, that stupid, wide grin on her face, like she doesn't have a clue what kind of danger you're in. She stares at you, her eyes almost sparkling with some strange energy.

How could someone like that have worked here?

"Oh! Uh, sorry!" she suddenly shouts as something rattles above you.

Your head snaps up, as does hers. A box falls from the ventilation system, crashes to the floor and stirs up dust. Behind it - hidden in the dark opening - you see her.

Poppy.

The little doll stands up there, her big glass eyes fixed on the group. Her voice rings out, high and childlike, but with a strange calm that doesn't match her size.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I was just trying..."

Her gaze glides through the group. First to the Smiling Critters, whose reactions are mixed - DogDay looks familiar, Hoppy watches them attentively, while Kickin nervously takes a step back. Crafty and Bobby stand rigid, almost frozen.

Then her gaze lingers on Olivia, who stares at her with wide eyes and her typical goofy expression. But finally her eyes land on you.

She freezes.

A look of confusion flits across her small face. For a moment, she doesn't seem to know what to say.

And of course, at this very moment, it is Olivia who speaks.

"Ohhh! How cute you are!" She exclaims, her voice exaggeratedly delighted. "How could you have been locked up?"

Poppy says nothing, her big glass eyes keep switching back and forth between you and Olivia. The tension in the room increases noticeably as everyone waits to see what she will say next.

"Ahem. Um, I wanted to thank all of you for freeing me," Poppy finally says, her voice high and unsteady, almost as if she's choosing her words carefully. "I was stuck in there for so long! Thank you. I'd like to pay you back!"

As she speaks, you notice how she deliberately looks at everyone else - except you.

But you know exactly what she wants. Your calculations have long since been completed. Without hesitation, you take a step forward.

Your GrabPack flicks out, a well-aimed shot over her head, before you run straight to the switch. Your other hand shoots the power lever, and with a loud clack, the power is activated.

Poppy moves immediately. She goes to the vent next to her, climbs in and disappears into it. Her voice sounds through the wall, clear and calm.

"There is a train station nearby. It needs a code, and I have it. We're gonna get out of here."

The words echo in the empty room. A moment later she appears again, this time in an opening next to the large vent that leads back into Elliot Ludwig's office.

"As soon as you guys... get on up here! Hmph!"

"Do we really have to go back now?" asks Kickin, his voice full of displeasure.

"Don't be like that," Hoppy replies, her eyes rolling slightly. "We can easily get up to the vent with a robber's ladder."

Without waiting for an answer, the two get down to business. Kickin bends slightly, her hands firmly on the ground, while Hoppy stands on her shoulders. With some effort, she climbs into the vent and begins to pull the other critters up one by one.

Meanwhile, you are still standing downstairs, your gaze fixed on Poppy. Her eyes stare at you unblinkingly, and this time it's not uncertainty but nervousness that's on her face.

Next to you, Olivia breaks the silence. " 'You two know each other?" she asks, her tone curious, almost playful.

You don't answer. Instead, you lift your GrabPack, aim at the holder above the vent and pull yourself upwards in one swift movement.

But the moment you move upwards, Olivia suddenly clings to your arm. Her fingers grip tightly, and without warning she pulls herself up on you as you both enter the vent together.

"Thanks for the cab, boss!" says Olivia with a grin, her voice echoing loud and clear in the confines of the vent.

I should have killed her.

The thought comes and goes, quickly and emotionlessly, as you continue to progress. The vent leads you back to Elliot's office, then on through the upper levels of the factory. The path is no less dangerous than before, and the obstacles pile up.

A hallway whose floor has collapsed brings you to the next problem. The abyss below is deep and dark, and you know without hesitation that a fall here will be fatal.

Olivia, of course, immediately has an idea.

"You could always take someone with you in your GrabPack!" she says with the same carefree energy that always irritates you.

You just think about how incredibly stupid she is. Who returns to that factory without taking their own employee GrabPack with them?

"It's at home," she had said, completely unimpressed.

"That's a good place to be," you replied, your voice as cold as ever.

Of course you won't accept a suggestion from her. You're not mentally retarded. Instead, you choose the longer but safer route for you, Bubba, Crafty and Bobby. They all have a fear of heights, and you see the risk that the pace wouldn't fit due to suboptimal weights.

Olivia, now with your GrabPack, and DogDay persuade CatNap to cling to Olivia as they take the dangerous path. The situation is ridiculous, but they make it.

When you finally arrive, you have a clear view of Poppy.

A room full of locked gates.

Poppy is standing by a large hole in the floor, her posture calm, and she is quietly humming a tune that echoes through the room. But as you approach, she falls silent and slowly turns to face you.

"Listen. I'm going to need you to trust me-"

Her words are abruptly interrupted.

A pink arm shoots out of the hole and grabs Poppy with terrifying speed. Her screams echo through the room as she is dragged into the darkness.

That was Mommy Long Legs, for sure.

None of you stand still. No one but you.

Almost as if on command, the others jump in after them, without time for doubt or discussion.

Are they really that stupid?

Your mind races as you stare fixedly at the hole. You know the danger that lurks down there. Experiment 1222 - a creature of destruction, manipulative and deadly. In one confrontation, it will tear them all apart.

For a moment, you feel something. No frustration, no anger - it's different, strange.

You know what will happen when they meet her down there. They will die. All of them.

An image forms in your mind, unintentional and yet present. The Smiling Critters - creatures that only exist because you made them what they are. They are in this position because you brought them here.

Olivia.

She's here because you kept quiet back then. You didn't tell anyone that the prototype was planning an uprising. Not a single employee. You had thought it irrelevant - unnecessary to waste time.

Even Poppy.

A doll, an experiment. Just like everyone else, trapped in this system that you have helped to build for so long.

Your hand clenches into a fist for a moment, then you let it go again. You jump after it without any further hesitation.

The fall quickly turns into a long, sliding descent. The walls around you fly by, an irregular tunnel of cold metal. The breeze rushes past you, cutting and cold, and for a moment the world seems to stand still.

No sound except the echo of your breaths and the speed of the fall.

Now you are standing here.

"Did you have to take a quick piss up there?" Olivia asks, and you just ignore it.

Directly in front of the locked metal gate of the Game Station.

The surroundings are silent, apart from the quiet hum of the machines coming from somewhere. The massive gate looms in front of you, a monument to isolation that blocks access to the next phase of the factory.

You look around, quickly analyzing the situation and the group. Olivia still has that unnerving grin, as if she thinks this is all an adventure, while DogDay positions himself at her side, alert and focused.

Hoppy and Kickin stand together, both looking tense but ready. Bubba, Crafty, Bobby and CatNap move closer, their eyes wandering between you and the gate, obviously waiting for you to make a move.

"Wait here," you say curtly, without looking at her.

Your steps take you to the left, towards the Power Room. As you move, your eyes briefly meet Olivia's, who is standing there with her typical goofy expression.

"Come with me," you say, your voice as neutral as ever.

Olivia reacts immediately, a wide grin spreading across her face as she leans forward slightly and places a finger on her lower lip. "Uhhh, is something not teen friendly coming up? Or why are we moving away from the critters?"

Her voice carries this exaggeratedly teasing tone, and her eyes sparkle with feigned mischief.

How can an adult human being be so mentally retarded?

You say nothing, just turn away and keep walking as she follows you with quick steps. Her presence behind you is almost palpable, so much so that you have to force yourself to ignore her and focus on the power room.

You enter the Power Room, a small, compact space that seems to hang in the air. The walls are made of raw cement, cracked and cold. Cables hang loosely from the ceiling, some of them wobble slightly when you close the door behind you.

To complete this puzzle.

Your mind works immediately.

You must connect one of their GrabPack hands to the power source on the Left side, so the wall will not break off the wire. Then, they must go to the right side without having the wire hit the left power beam.

Once at the right power beam, they wrap the wire around the beam, then walk to the right beam and do the same. Finally, they go back to the right and shoot their other hand to the inactive power source.

A simple process. Clearly structured. Precise.

"So, boss, what do I have to do?" Olivia's voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

You sigh softly and point to the left side of the room. "Connect the GrabPack to the energy source on the left. Then go over to the right side without the wire touching the left beam."

She nods eagerly. "Okay, sounds simple enough."

"Then wrap the wire around the right-hand beam. Move on to the next station, do the same, and finally connect the other hand to the inactive energy source."

"All right, boss! This will be a piece of cake." She raises her GrabPack and aims at the energy source.

Your eyes follow her every move. It takes exactly five seconds for her to pull the wire the wrong way, and you hear a loud BZZT as the energy connection is broken.

"Oops."

Of course.

"Wrong," you say curtly. "Once again. Listen and do exactly what I say."

She tries again, slowly this time, and actually manages to attach the wire to the left power source without anything going wrong.

"Now go to the right side without the wire touching the left beam."

"Dude, I can't fly, you know?" She grins at you, lifting one leg in the air as if she's dancing. "Or do you want me to float elegantly, like an angel?"

You ignore her. "Go. Slowly."

She takes a few uncertain steps to the right, lifts the wire almost too high and almost lets it touch the beam. You take a deep breath, but say nothing.

"Wow, Dude, you're staring so intensely. Am I impressive?"

"No."

"Ouch." She laughs and wraps the wire around the right beam.

The rest of the process is no better. She manages to undo the wire three times, bumps into the walls and at one point even mutters, "Maybe I'd be better if you cheered me on. Like, 'Go, Olivia, you're the best!"

"I don't waste time with things like that."

She rolls her eyes, but continues to grin. "You really are the perfect motivational coach, genius."

Five minutes pass, during which your patience reaches the limits of its endurance. But in the end, it finally succeeds. The energy connection is activated and the puzzle is complete.

"I did it!" she exclaims triumphantly. "Well, well, Y/N, I'm a natural after all."

You just look at her, your face remains expressionless as always. Five minutes. For a puzzle that should have taken ten seconds.

Without another word, you make your way back to the others. Olivia walks beside you, and meanwhile she mutters once: "You must have been staring at me while I was bent over the beam."

You give her a quick glance. She's wearing a grin that reminds you of a cat, smug and playful. Without reacting, you delete the comment from your mind.

You walk on, down a long corridor that leads to another locked gate. But something is different.

The ceiling.

It is unusually high and so dark that you cannot see through it. Your eyes linger on it for a moment while your mind calculates the possibilities.

Mommy Long Legs.

The thought is unavoidable. Here, in this height and darkness, she could attack you without you seeing her first. Her ability to stretch out and disappear into the darkness makes this corridor her perfect hunting ground.

Olivia doesn't notice anything. She shoots the scanner on the door in front of you with the red hand of her GrabPack to unlock it.

But before the hand touches the scanner, it happens.

A pink arm shoots out of the darkness above you, grabs your hand and pulls it upwards.

Mommy Long Legs: "gasp New playmates! And even the Smiling Critters!"

Her arm pulls up and the cable between the GrabPack and her hand snaps with a loud bang. Mommy Long Legs - the culprit - glides down from the darkness. Her long limbs seem unnatural and grotesque, and she moves with an elegance that seems uncanny.

"It's been so long..."

Her right hand lowers, and in her grip she holds Poppy hostage. Webbing covers Poppy's mouth, preventing her from speaking, but her eyes are wide open, fixing on you - pleadingly.

"Isn't this exciting, Poppy? Very exciting, Mommy! Mommy heard that Ms. Poppy was going to just give you the train code to escape. Now how is that fun? Instead, why don't we make a game out of it? The Game Station is still working. It will be just like old times."

Her voice changes again, she imitates Poppy in a childlike way:

"And if you win all three games, I'll give you the train code! Mommy loves that idea, Poppy! Ooo, you're going to have so much fun. Head to Musical Memory and Mommy will get things started. Obey the rules, or I'll tear you apart, and eat your insides while you're still alive."

An eerie laugh erupts from her as she moves back into the darkness. But before she disappears completely, she stops for a moment.

Her eyes glide over the group and linger on you.

Her gaze changes.

Her confident, mocking expression becomes something else - terror.

"What... What are you doing here?"

You don't answer. Your empty, cold eyes remain fixed on her.

"You... How did you survive? Impossible... You should be dead-!"

Your voice cuts through the silence, calm and razor-sharp: "Just like your son."

Dead silence.

Mommy Long Legs' eyes widen and she freezes.

"What... WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!"

Her angry roar fills the room as she slides lower, her arms spread out menacingly. The others instinctively move behind you, even Poppy moves her eyes to you, her nervousness unmistakable.

But you don't move. No fear, no nervousness, just the same stoic manner that always accompanies you.

"I said, 'Just like your son'. Now go, before your game ends like your failed pregnancy."

The words are like poison.

Olivia pulls on your arm, trying to get you to shut up, while Poppy looks at you with a look that almost begs you to stop.

Mommy Long Legs trembles, her rage palpable, but she slowly retreats. With a final scream, she disappears into the darkness again.

With a loud click, the massive gate to the Game Station opens. You stride forward without hesitation, the others follow you, more hesitantly, but full of admiration - or fear.

"Damn!" Kickin breaks the silence with a triumphant grin. "He totally showed her!"

"But... what did he mean by 'failed pregnancy'?" asks CatNap, visibly irritated as she eyes you suspiciously.

"Who cares!" Kickin waves it off. "He dissed her and she knew she didn't stand a chance."

You turn around. Some of the group, like Bubba and Crafty, seem almost amused, maybe even a little relieved. But Olivia looks at you like you've just been a shining knight who rescued her cat from a tree - that admiring mixture of naivety and disbelief that almost makes you nervous.

This will take you to the Game Station.

The Game Station is a huge underground facility, completely filled with artificial light, as no natural light could ever penetrate here. Someone had once suggested in an official proposal that fake windows be installed here to give the children an illusion of daylight - an attempt to protect their mental health. But as it is now, the station feels oppressively artificial, despite the bright colors that adorn the walls and play equipment.

The walls are painted in a colorful mix of red, yellow and blue. There are play structures everywhere: slides, circular climbing frames and spinning play wheels that look like remnants from a happier time long gone. In the center, a massive train sits enthroned beneath a bright logo that proclaims "Game Station" in playful letters.

An eerie contrast: while the play structures are supposed to look like a paradise for children, the place has an aura of abandonment - as if the lights went out here a long time ago and no one had the courage to return.

After you have passed through the station, you will finally reach the train. A glowing console will prompt you to enter a code to activate it.

"Uhhhhh..." Olivia deliberately drags out the word and looks at you questioningly. "What's the code so we can leave?"

You reply in your usual matter-of-fact tone: "We have to play Musical Memory, Wack-a-Wuggy and Statues first to get the full code."

Olivia grimaces. "Can't we just... guess?" She grins mischievously. "And we can always rescue Poppy later." The grin widens, almost like that of a cat that has just discovered a new toy.

"That's not possible," you say matter-of-factly. "The third code contains a randomly generated element - a sequence of four digits. If you consider that we have to type them in and every wrong entry costs us five seconds of delay, it would be inefficient. It makes more sense to play the games."

"But I don't want to play by the rules!" Olivia starts to pout like a child. For a moment, it looks like she's actually going to throw herself on the floor like a toddler in the supermarket.

You sigh audibly before shaking your head. "By 'actually' do you mean...?" Olivia raises an eyebrow and looks at you challengingly. "You have a shortcut that gets us straight through?"

"The solution is right in front of you," you reply dryly.

For a moment, Olivia actually seems to think you're pointing at something in the room and turns around, searching. Bubba slaps his forehead in resignation, while Bobby snorts in embarrassment.

"Ahhhhh..." Olivia's expression brightens as the penny drops. "You're the solution!"

"The others stay here," you say firmly. "You and I will get the codes."

"But...!" Bubba starts, but you interrupt him. "If you come along, it'll only be more dangerous. Besides, you're blocking the games."

With a quick step, you turn away and walk off. Olivia follows you with a broad grin as she flutters after you.

"What a gorgeous genius you are! "

---

Let's go! Y/N even messes with Mommy Long Legs, and there's nothing she can do about it. But what do you think he meant by "failed pregnancy"? I'm happy to finally publish another chapter for this story. Now the game is really starting, and character development for Y/N is also getting underway - in case that wasn't already clear. For the Poppy Playtime stories, however, I'm taking a short break (which means I'm working less on them and concentrating more on my Arcane story). There'll be a new chapter for Poppy Playtime at the end of January, and I'll pick up right where I left off - including some of my other stories. Thanks to everyone for reading, and happy new year! 🎉

2 notes · View notes

heliophobek · 3 years ago

Text

Invictus

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Season 6 Alexandria

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: You try to give Daryl a book of poems as a way of saying thanks for helping you out. The only problem is that Daryl isn’t exactly a poetry guy, much less an avid reader. Regardless of this, he still tries to read it. Just for you.

Content Warning: Mentions of age-gap relationship (Reader is in early-mid 20′s), fluff, swearing, things heat up a bit near the end but that’s about it.

Authors Note: This is my first Daryl fic in quite some time so please bare with me as I struggle to figure out the tagging system all over again. ;p If there is any mistakes/errors that I haven’t picked up on, please let me know as I’ll greatly appreciate it, thankyou. <3

The blush that had bloomed on your cheeks began to make it’s way across your body. Like a wildfire, it spread it’s nauseous warmth across your neck, down your back and god only knew where else. To say you were embarrassed was an understatement. What the fuck were you even thinking? Ofcourse he wouldn’t want your stupid little book. This was the end of the world. People were starving and Alexandria was only just making ends meet as it was. It was plain stupid of you to even think Daryl might want to spend his – limited as it was – spare time reading a book. Much less, poetry.

“Y’know what, just forget I said anything. It was a dumb idea.” You began to retreat from the porch where Daryl had been sitting. He had just come back from a run with Aaron. Walking backwards, your steps quickened as he quickly hopped off and followed close behind you.

Before you were able to get any further he had caught your wrist in his firm and unsurprisingly steady grip. The months of wielding a crossbow had come in handy for such an occasion as this he thought. An occasion where Daryl just wouldn't able to avoid you anymore. Especially since you had sought him out, he wasn’t going to let an opportunity like this pass him by anymore.

His hold on you was more delicate than you had imagined, both of you had your eyes concentrated on where your skins were touching before you met back up with his curious gaze, shaking his head so his brain could have a moment to catch up his grip loosened. “Just hold on, I barely sat down when you started talking miles a minute.”

“Oh,” was all you replied as his hand fell back by his side once he was sure you weren’t leaving. You could still feel the warmth from where he had touched your wrist and prayed that he hopefully hadn’t picked up on your already racing pulse. You had noticed that Daryl was always hyperaware of his surroundings, constantly being the ever observant protector of your group. Ever since you first met him at Terminus, you had never seen him anything less than stoic. Maybe that was because he hadn’t fully trusted Rosita, Eugene or you. Much less your Dad, Abraham, whose intimidation and scare tactics were what kept your small group alive on the way to DC. So finally managing to earn the trust of Rick, Daryl and the rest of the group was something that you were indisputably thankful for.

His posture had relaxed as he leaned against the banister of the house. “So you were saying ‘bout a book? Need some more?” Daryl tried to remain nonchalant as he looked at you but he couldn’t help it when his mouth ran dry the second his eyes slid briefly down to your lips. It wasn’t because he was nervous, he was sure of it. Maybe he just needed some more water since it had been a long day.

Softly coughing, you tried to repeat what you had been practicing to say all day, but you just couldn’t form the words. “I- I just wanted to thank you for the math books you found.” You managed to stutter out before pushing the small pocket-sized book towards his chest awkwardly.

You hadn’t expected it when he had dropped three school books by your side a few days ago without saying a word. The sentiment had really touched you, and even if it had only been a momentary thought that Daryl had of you, it was regarded very dearly to you.

It took a few seconds for him to register the book you had pushed since he had stopped breathing for a bit. “The books have been really helpful with teaching the younger ones simple arithmetic,” your continued as he clutched the book. “So I just wanted to say thankyou with this.” Repeating yourself again, you nodded towards the book, quickly tapped it as if it wasn’t obvious before and stepped back again.

This was when Daryl glanced down to actually look at the leather bound anthology that was in his hands. “Thanks.” he said and genuinely meant it. He was thankful since this was the longest conversation he had had with just you. “But am not much of a reader.”

He never knew how to accept gifts but even being given the chance to finally have a conversation with you was enough for him. Daryl leaned forward to you and tried to hand the book back with -what he hoped was – a reassuring smile.

Instead of accepting his refusal, you softly placed your hand over his and pushed back. To say this was awkward would be an understatement. “No, please keep it. I want you to have it.” It became quiet between the two of you once again as you both stared at each other, testing to see who would break their resolve first. Afterall, it was debateable which of you was quieter since neither of you were known to be chatty. Finally nodding his head, he made a promise to himself to try and read it as he realised this could be his chance to talk with you more often. It was like a sense of giddiness had overcome him which he tried to hide with a small sniff.

“It’s okay if you don’t read it though.” You said quickly, unravelling yourself as you realised that perhaps you could have sounded too pushy. He didn’t respond soon enough for your liking so you continued to dig yourself further in a hole of embarrassment. “I just didn’t know how else to show my appreciation and a few of the poems remind me of you… I mean, I guess.”

Damn, why did you say that. You could feel the blush getting worse and secretly hope Daryl wouldn’t pick up on it with the sun setting making it slowly darker. Little did you know Daryl was thinking the same thing. What type of stuff was in this book, for you to even be reminded of him?

To make matters worse, you couldn’t help yourself though as your mouth continued to run on, quickly picking up a notch. “You should read Invictus by William Ernest Henley. It’s near the back.”

With this, you couldn’t help but physically cringe and bid him a farewell before quickly scampering away to overthink every single word you had said to him.

Later that night when most of Alexandria had fallen asleep – apart from those on watch - Daryl was laying down in room, wide awake. He tried to shut his mind off the best he could, but thoughts primarily of kept nestling their way into his head and were refusing to leave. Tossing and turning in his sheets, he grunted to himself as he thought of how you were probably softly snoring by now in the redbrick house across the road. Or maybe you preparing the for the day ahead, figuring out what you should be trying to educate the children of Alexandria with. Maybe you were just talking with Abraham. Bile rose in his throat as he realised how wrong it was of him to be thinking about you. These thoughts weren’t even that bad in comparison to others he’d had of you before.

There was just something about you that made him feel an overwhelming amount of emotions. Guilt bloomed in his chest as thought came back to you father. Abraham was only a little older than him and it was an obvious fact that Daryl was old enough to be your father. It was wrong of him to think of you like that. You were already so timid around everyone, the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. The only time you ever seemed to be in your element was when you were with children. Rick was more than happy to learn that you had been a newly graduated highschool teacher before the world had changed. It gave him hope that Judith would grow with enough foundations to survive and Carl could learn about something that wasn't related to a gun. You were a natural as a teacher and it could be seen by everyone when they had all arrived at Alexandria as you all settled in. Your job was the reason why Daryl had brought those school books back for you in the first place. He wasn't sure if you'd like him trying to help you though, so I he thought only three would be the best way to start.

Daryl couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause for his restless and unrelenting thoughts but he knew it was futile to try and sleep in his current state. So with that, he made his way downstairs, careful not to wake Glenn and Maggie, his bare feet padded across the wooden floors towards the porch. Maybe the night air could put him to sleep, or at the very least distract his thought. After all it was worth a shot.

Sitting on the porch swing, his mind kept replaying the interaction he’d had with you earlier. Almost automatically, he fished out the small book you had given him. When you first came up to Daryl, he had barely any time to process what you were saying as you shoved what had looked like a pocket bible towards him. Glancing across the street to your house he saw that the light from a second floor window was still on. Maybe it was you? God he had to snap himself out this. Which is why he was going to read a book instead. A book you gave him.

Smiling at the irony, he settled back into the porch swing and thumbed through the book, admiring all the notes you had pencilled into the columns. Maybe this book really was his shot at talking to you more. Or at the very least trying to figure what was always going on in the pretty little head. Looking for the poem you were on about earlier he quickly skimmed the titles until he found it.

Invictus by William Ernest Henley. That was it. Something about it remind you of him and he wanted to find out exactly what. Thankfully the poem itself was barely a page long. But the annotations you had left were crammed into all the blank spaces. Several areas were rubbed out with eraser and refilled with other words that you must have thought were better. Exhaling slowly, he began to read.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

He could already tell that if it weren’t for you, he would have put down the book after the first sentence and never have given it a second thought. All these big words that smart people used to say before the world ended were right there, printed on this tiny page in front of him. He didn’t even know what half it meant but he rubbed his eyes and continued you on.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

Finishing it, he couldn’t understand why you seemed to even like this stuff. It was a waste of time to try and think of a million ways to describe something. Using a metaphor to show a meaning was stupid. What was the point in a world like the one you lived in now? Getting straight to the point was how you survived. Daryl didn’t like to bash around the bush when it came to most things, he never had so why try now? Atleast that was what he thought until he realised that was exactly what he'd been doing with you, tip-toeing around with his feelings for you. Never confronting them for what they truly were out of shame. Shaking his head at his own self-awareness he squinted back down to the book.

From your notes he found the poem to be much more enlightening though. As he read what you wrote, he could almost hear you saying it aloud. Invictus conveys the message to never lose hope no matter the circumstance, and how you control your fate and decide your future. It’s about courage in the face of death, and holding on to one's own dignity despite the indignities life places before us. He still couldn’t understand why you thought of him though. Perhaps you were lying. Yeah that was probably it.

Nearly jumping out of his own skin, the crunch of gravel was what alerted him to your presence. Switching his gaze between your face and the now darkened window across the street, he realised you must have seen him on the porch. You were wearing your normal hiking boots, but had combined it with a grey tank top and plaid bottoms. It was just starting to come into fall so he wasn’t exactly shocked at what you were wearing but his mouth had once again run dry from the sight of you. “Hope I didn’t scare you.” You apologised and toed the gravel.

“nah, takes more than you to scare the-“ he said and paused before looking back at the poem, “-Captain of my soul.”

You grinned at his obvious attempt at a joke. Even if it wasn’t exactly the correct use of the quote, you felt an insatiable hunger come over you for him. He looked irresistible in that moment, and he was reading the poem? This felt like the beginning to a new fantasy of yours. Trying to clear the cloud of thoughts you focused in on him, “Did you like it?”

Your nerves were on fire but you couldn’t help it. When you peaked out your bedroom window a few minutes ago you were hardly expecting to see Daryl sitting on the porch. It almost seemed too good to be true that your Dad, Rosita and Eugene were all already passed out in their respective rooms.

Daryl let out a small sigh, deciding how he should play this. Holding up the book in his hands he quickly shut it before sitting up right so there’d be room for you on the wing. “I didn’t really get it.” He said honestly. Afterall, why pretend like he was smart. You looked downed abashedly, you suddenly regretted asking him what he thought before Daryl continued on. “Did like your notes though. Helped me understand better an’ all that.”

Feeling a small boost of confidence you smiled and planted yourself down next to him. “I can always write some more annotations if you’d like.” Your voice had a note of uncertainty which Daryl picked up on in your offer. Afterall you still weren’t sure if Daryl was just putting up with you for the sake of manners or if he even wanted to be spending time like this with you.

Daryl moved the book back into your hand. “Show me another one. Maybe with less fancy words.”

You had to laugh at that which caused Daryl to grin a little smugly. He made you laugh. Something you hadn’t done in quite some time. “Some of the words are a little pretentious, I must agree.”

He had no clue what pretentious meant but the little smirk you gave him was more than enough to make him crave more of your happiness. Your eyes quickly settled back down as you flicked through the book while strands of your hair that had been tucked behind your ear began to fall out. “I can show you my absolute favourite poem, if you’d like?”

Before he could even realise how bad of an idea it was his hand had swiftly moved towards your face and brushed the loose strands back. You sucked in a breath at his action which Daryl most definitely heard, causing him to pull his hand back as if it had been burned. The two of you remained frozen att the sudden tension that had risen from his incredibly forward action. Something that was so uncharacteristic oof him you almost thought you’d just vividly imagined it.

Nodding his head, he couldn’t help but shut his eyes hoping he’d be swallowed up by the ground. “Sure.” He answered, hoping you would also ignore what had just happened. You heartbeat was pumping through your ears as you realised that possibly, there was a chance that you’re feelings weren’t as one-sided as you had first originally thought. He kept his eyes closed as he waited for you to break the silence.

Nervously you looked at him, glad he couldn’t see you and the desperate look of admiration you knew you had on your face. Not even glancing at the book anymore, it was cast aside. This was probably the one poem you didn’t need to read off the book for. It had been engrained into your mind ever since first reading it. So you started.

“I wish I wrote the way I thought” Your brief pause didn’t seem to stir him as he listened intently.

“Obsessively – Incessantly – With maddening hunger.” Inhaling as much air as your lungs could hold, you were about to continue until the swing began to shift under both your weights. Gently moving to reposition yourself, you accidentally grazed against his arm, swiftly steadying the swing again. Although his eyes didn’t open, his breathing stopped as he savourd in the small amount of pressure against his arm. In that moment the both of you had realised the physical proximity you were to each other and that this swing was actually, a love seat.

Keeping his eyes shut, he waited patiently for you to continue. Or move away. Whatever it was that would happen he was waiting for it. Without having the pressure of his always observant stare on you, you couldn’t help but lap up the opportunity to intently let your eyes roam his whole body. The way his arms flexed as they laid atop his slowly rising chest, the small lines under his eyes, the scruff of his beard and the way his chapped lips seemed like they were on the brink of saying something. Continuing, you leaned your head on his shoulder hoping he wouldn’t mind. “I’d write to the point of suffocation - I’d write myself into nervous breakdowns - Manuscripts spiralling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing.” Trying his absolute hardest not to move, he froze as he felt your hair brush along his vest. You were so close that Daryl knew if he breathed through his nose he’d be able to smell the shampoo him and Aaron had picked up while back.

Your voice was just above a whisper now. His eyes had opened again as apprehension at what was actually happening slowly dawned on him. “And I’d write about you.” Giving you a questioning look, you nervously moved your hand towards the warmth of his that was resting on his thigh, desperately hoping he’d react. “A lot more - Than I should.”

The tension that had suddenly built up between the two of you was immeasurable. As if it was the most natural movement in the world, his hand tenderly turned to hold onto yours, his fingers quickly making their way interlinking with yours. Silence was thick between the two you as the feelings you both had been holding back these past months rose to the surface.

“You write that?” His voice sounded more hoarse than usual, as if he’d barely used it for days.

Looking back up to him, the blush that was prominent on your face when you shook your head no was undisguisable. “No, some guy called Benedict Smith did. It just reminds me of you.”

“Oh,” he coughed and inadvertently glanced down to your lips. They looked like the softest thing he’d ever laid his eyes upon. You slowly began to rub your thumb along his and glanced down. He couldn’t believe how beautiful you looked from the low light of the porch, divinely ethereal or something like that would be how all the poets would have put it he thought. Regardless, he felt like the luckiest man on earth for whatever was happening in that moment. “I think I’ll just pretend you wrote it.”

You could feel the flutter of his breath flow across your face now. The two of you so tantalising close the warmth that radiated from him was something you didn’t realise how much you’d been yearning for. Leaning your face closer to him, you waited for Daryl to seal the distance, but he didn’t move. Staring at each other, the wordless conversation was so in deep in meaning it felt like no language could ever begin to be as in depth. You couldn’t help but let out a small plea to him, hoping he’d finally give in to you, “please.”

He couldn’t seem to move as he spoke to you. “Sweetheart,” his hushed voice sounded pained, “y’know I’m too old for you.” As he leaned back your hand found it’s way to his cheek. Daryl shut his eyes once again, relishing at the touch he knew he’d have to be giving up too soon before anything got out of hand. Shit, it was already out hand, but he simply couldn’t.

It wasn’t right to take advantage of you. You were a forbidden fantasy that he had no right in pursuing, regardless of how much he desperately wanted to. He had to make sure you knew that. Before he could push you away any further, you had cupped his face with both hands with a rising perseverance. “Maybe back then you were, but things are different now.”

“What would your Pa say, honey.” He countered in return and moved his calloused hand up to yours, preparing to pull you off him. He wasn’t sure who was more pained by this as you shut your eyes to the sight.

Shaking your head with defiance, you weren’t going to give up on him so easily. It was obvious by the way he was looking down at you he wanted you just as much. Hastily moving, you saddled yourself on top of him, straddling his lower waist to secure him on the seat. Maybe it was how late it was. Maybe it was these new and scary feelings that were being unearthed inside the both of you. Maybe you just couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, but there was no way you weren’t going to fight for this.

His breath had hitched at such an inappropriate position you had placed him in. If anyone saw this and told Abraham, he knew he’d be a dead man walking. Trying not to moan at the pressure you were putting on him, Daryl looked up at you pleadingly.

Physically, he was strong enough to push you away or even stand up to put you down, but he knew somewhere deep within him that wasn’t a possibility. He could only deny the temptation that was you for so long and the more you kept pushing back it was becoming harder and harder for him. Moving your upper body closer to him, your chest lingered against his as you moved your mouth to his ear. You tried your absolute hardest for him to understand that you really didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t want anyone else. “You’re a good man Dar.”

Grunting, he tried to keep up his resolve but it was quickly crumbling around him at a rate he was not use to. He tried his absolute best to not enjoy what was currently happening but it was with extreme difficulty. “You can’t just say shit like that.” He huffed and pulled your hand that was still holding his closer his chest. Having them act a a divide between the two of you, he was wanting nothing more that to kiss your knuckles like he use to see in those old type movies. “You deserve so much better.”

“I really don’t Daryl and you- oh my god.” Your tone had completely switched as the blood drained out of your face. Jumping off him as you had been electrocuted, you tripped over your feet and fell flat on your ass right beside the large pot plant, praying he hadn’t seen you. Daryl rushed over to you, kneeling down to see if you were okay before looking around the close perimeter. Not seeing any immediate threat he looked back at you. Your hair was ruffled and your breathing was deep. Shaking his head from the unhelpful thoughts he moved his hand to your cheek.

“What is it?” He asked, looking around once again tense and ready to face the danger wherever it came from.

“Eugene. I- I think.” You admitted and nodded towards your house. Daryl looked over and saw the light in the front first floor bedroom was now on and the silhouette of Eugene shutting the curtains was clear as day. He must have left them open earlier in the day and only closed them now. Soon enough the light was turned off again and it was just the two of you again.

Sighing out with relief, Daryl almost laughed at the state you were in. “Well shit, didn’t realise you were so embarrassed to be seen with me”

Rolling your eyes you faked laughed. “Yeah, I’m the one who’s embarrassed.” You responded and began to push yourself back up onto your feet before feeling small pain in your hand.

Naturally Daryl noticed and picked up your hand to see for himself the problem. “Ya got some splinters there.”

“No shit Sherlock.” You said and elbowed him which had earned a small chuckle. The mood had once again shifted, what you tried to start quickly fizzled out. Staring at him intently, you weren’t sure what to do. Afterall, he knew exactly how you felt and you couldn’t believe the casualness Daryl was currently oozing. In reality, Daryl was in uncharted territory with you and it scared the shit out of him. What the fuck was he going to do? That was quickly decided for him when he realised that it was almost time for guard duty shifts were going to be swapping soon. Not wanting anymore chances to be caught but still wanting to talk with you, he soon realised that was only one option for him to actually pick.

“Wanna come inside?” Motioning his head towards the door he braced himself for your answer. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was something he’d expect a teenager to do. Something he’d expect someone your age to do. “Might have some tweezers.”

Biting your lip you nodded before trying to make light of the situation. “If I said I sprained my ankle, would you pick me up like you did just before?”

“Very funny.” He said in a voice as unamused as he could make it. Standing up he held out his hand for you. However before you were able to accept his help with your good hand the man had squatted himself back down to your level and wrapped his arms around you. One along your waist and the other under your legs. Carrying you bridal style, he made his way into the house.

Quietly, Daryl made his way up the stair to his bedroom, a million thoughts racing across the both of your minds as he still held his firm and steady grip on you. Setting you softly on the bed he quickly pulled away and moved to the bathroom down the hallway in search of tweezers. This left you on your lonesome in his room. It was the first time you had been up the stairs, much less actually in here and it was just how you’d expected it to be. Minimalist. Nothing but his crossbow placed on the empty desk signifying that this was in fact Daryl’s room.

When he came back, he quietly shut the door before turning around to find you standing right behind him.

“Thought you had a sprained ankle.”

Shrugging, you innocently smiled at him, “I guess I’m a fast healer.” Shaking his head in disbelief he held up the tweezers and looked at you questioningly.

“Want me to pull em’ out?”

You nodded walked right up to him, revelling in the look he gave you. Holding out your hand with your palm open in front of him he began his work. There were only three that needed to be pulled out, it was quite frankly childish considering some other injuries the both of you had collected in the past year alone.

The feeling of his hands softly cupping yours was enough for your ever present blush to turn a few shades even darker. After he had finished examining you hand and declared it to be ‘”right as rain.” You went up to your tiptoes and let your lips softly brush against his cheek.

Moving away just as fast as you had come, you waited with baited breath for his reaction. His cheeks had flushed as he became suddenly engulfed in thoughts of you. Looking at you he couldn’t bring himself to pull away as his hands remained on you. He was enthralled by your loveliness and simply was at a loss for words from your sudden action. Watching as your face fell ever so slightly, it was like his brain had gone on autopilot. So when his mouth had met your, the initial reaction from both of you was shock. Immediately followed by hunger as his arms became wrapped around you back, pulling you further into him.

As your lips reacted to his, your hands began to wonder of their own accord, slowly draping their way around his neck to pull his lean frame closer to you. Feeling your hands lightly tug against the ends of his hair only further encouraged him.

The two of you began walking towards his bed, the ever growing friction between you two coming to a head as you sat down and scooted further up the mattress with him following closely behind.

The feeling of you against was making him ravenous as he lips parted to quickly trail soft kisses down your neck causing you to moan. Finding your sweet spot, he couldn’t help but feel proud of the fact he was the one pulling these noises out of you.

Gasping at the feeling of one of his legs pushing in between yours, he was hovering above you now, his arms supporting him as he moved back to kiss your face. “Oh Dar,” you sighed in content, gripped his vest at the front while moved to kiss each of your cheeks before staring at you.

“You okay, Sweetheart?” He asked when you stroked his face. You nodded at him before moving your hands down to his shirt.

He quickly stopped you however, one hand picking up your wrist and moving it back up to his face. Hurt was evident on your face before you had time to hide it from him he reassured you. “Not tonight, baby.”

“But that means we will- it will…happen one day?” You asked as hope bloomed within.

Moving back down to place one last kiss on your forehead he answered, “promise.”

And God forbid, Daryl wasn’t anything apart from a man of his word.

Cracking a grin, he couldn’t help himself before he added. “That is, if your Pa doesn’t feed me to the walkers.”

---

Thankyou for reading! I haven’t written anything in what feels like an eternity so coming back to tumblr for Daryl is making me feel almosty giddy :D

I’m currently accepting requests so please send them through if you’re interested!

Also the two poems I mentioned in this fic are some of my all time favourites and it was a necessity for me to added them in :)

#Daryl Dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd fluff #Daryl Dixon Fluff #Daryl Dixon fanfic #twd #fanfic #fluff #daryl dixon smut #daryl imagines #daryl dixon #daryl dixon oneshot

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strawberry-nugget · 3 years ago

Text

Bloom Later | S. Todororoki / Reader

Summary: a shameless self insert about sharing feelings, interests, and even remains of unfortunate situations with Todoroki. Or the one where Todoroki turns into a comfort character because I'm trying to cope about having second degree burn scars

Warnings: mildy sexual situations, heavy sexual tension, reader has anxiety, other than that it's pretty fluffy, minors do not interact

Disclaimer: since this is a very personal work my experience with my burns scars is what applies to me, I am not taking away anything from other burn victims, I hope you know you're beautiful and powerful for getting through such a difficult situation. All characters are of age/20s

Word count: 3.5k

Most of your evenings are spent watching superhero cartoons.

It's the most inevitable in the first stages of the fate of a superhero, planted in their heads from the early childhood years as they zap through kids channels on the TV; watching Superman blow his villains to next year with his icy breath, jumping from one furniture to another after a new episode of the amazing Spiderman and admiring Batman for eliminating evil one night at a time despite his lack of powers.

Shoto Todoroki, ever the hero, has forever been deprived of this. Born and raised into abuse, fighting his way out, has only found peace after permanent scarring now, in his 20s with you, on this ratty rundown couch in your apartment that you cling onto dearly, in the collection of superhero shows you own.

And it's rather enjoyable because your interests are fairly common. You talk about the recent comics issues of the heroes that you like religiously and there's a sparkle in his eyes when he lets you finish and talks about his, even more so when you analyse your knowledge on any hero that he likes.

Shoto is sweet, in the way that he bought you a whole lot of three years worth of Batman issues so you can have physical copies to add to your collection because you simply gifted him a DC Comics encyclopedia out of the blue. He says it's refreshing he gets to live such an exciting part of one's childhood even now and you tell him there's no age in enjoying the things that you like, that he's not late to anything.

And there's the part of you that longs so much for him that it feels unreal.

It's been like this ever since you met him through a mutual friend -Camie- two years ago on the first days of June. You, very close to a breakup without even knowing so, Camie trying to convince herself that she wanted Shoto a few moments before embracing her true self and coming out and the man somewhat enticed by you -to the point a small hangout between the two of you almost turned to a make out session.

Keyword, almost. You've tried to keep everything you've ever felt for Shoto deep inside of you, locked away by swallowing the key, shoved in the closet with a stick and forcefully shut closed, but it's almost impossible.

You've thought about him at night, on your own, he's helped you get over your break up, you've bonded over so very, so many similarities and common interests that you've come to end up being a nervous wreck with shaky hands whenever you merely do so as lay eyes on him.

And then there's this intimacy that you share with him, the carefulness in the way you hug, because there's so much tension between the two of you that anything could be inappropriate, anything wrong could ruin the friendship that you've built. You often think of him slamming you against the wall, kissing your neck, you've wondered what his lips taste like whenever your faces are just centimeters apart only for one of you to pull back, to set things straight.

You're sure that had his fangirls known about you having such intimacy with him you wouldn't be able to go online -and you want to have that ability because in times he's gone for months and when you can't rely on his poor online communication skills to see his face you rely on his posts, on the posts of his friends and you find yourself texting him over and over at times and then none at all. He always makes up for the time he's spent away with a bottle of booze that he buys wherever his heroic missions take him.

So there's tonight for you; Justice League Snyder's Cut playing in the background, cognac filling cup after cup and Shoto curled on your couch with his warm, blue turtleneck and his baggy jeans -both articles of clothing hugging his body so beautifully in all the right places that you can't help but stare and choke on your spit from time to time- everything is topped with the worst snowfall you've seen coat Musutafu in years.

In other words, it's already 11.30 pm and he's trapped in here. But the movie is four hours long and Shoto and you had already talked about the fact that a sleepover might be needed to get through the night and you had initially been fine with that -of course- but now you're not sure you can actually do this tonight.

You've already watched an hour and a half of the movie -you actually loathe how slow paced it is- when Shoti turns to look at you, lower lips tucked under his front teeth, tugged until his skin turns white. He's turned his gaze onto you one too many times tonight but this one is different; you press pause on the controller in your hands and instantly the screen freezes.

"You okay Sho?"

"Okay?" He blinks "yeah more than okay, I actually uh," His dual colored eyes look around the room "I need to pee, be right back"

You watch him get up and instantly you feel cold; you try to blame this on the fact that he's warmer on his left side by letting your logic push your stupid heart in its place before it takes up the whole room. You're right, you know you're right and even if there's no harm in making a move on him there is something definitely still holding you back, something you're scared he won't like about you.

"I'm back" He announces and startles you so that you jump slightly "sorry for scaring you"

You nod, pulling your sleeves over your fingers "I'm good Sho, come sit next to me again 'm getting cold"

He smirks at you and he's so cute at doing so that you almost pout, or you actually do pout, because Shoto squints his eyes as he stares at you, as if trying to make out what you're pouting about

"Am I doing anything wrong? Did I say anything that hurt you?"

"Oh, i- uhm"

God this is so awkward. You think… you think this is the end of you, for your heart is fluttering in a peculiar way and Shoto's eyes are fixated on your form and they look warm and icy all at once and it's too much.

And despite being sure the man was into you two years ago when you met, despite being of age that your experience let's you know whether someone has the feels for you or not, there's a doubtful voice in the back of your head that says he would never like you this way. You're too much of a nerd, too plain for him and you think you're erotic when you probably look so ridiculous in his eyes.

"...I would have loved to see some of the bat family in this, it has so much potential and…"

But he; he looks so beautiful talking about his interests, so much that you lean into him a slight bit, not knowing when or how this little rumble started, but still enjoying it anyway.

"...dont you think?"

"Mhm" You nod your head but you have no idea what you're agreeing with. It's only then his mouth shuts closed, thin lips pressed together softly dual colored eyes staring into yours once again as he leans back into the couch.

He eyes your breathing chest and in return you choke on a breath.

You make a mental note to try and look from his eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes -advice courtesy of TikTok and in your defense you've only just wanted to find out if it actually works- and you exhale so shortly that he should be startled.

But it looks like he's counted down all of your breaths, like he knows what your future moves are going to be; you wonder, does he know the thought of him is not-so-reluctantly crawling under your skin, raising the hair at the nape of your neck? Your chest stiffens so very heavily that you almost choke again.

The two of you, dense as a pile of bricks, are probably going to be staring at each other until all sexual tention on the room is thrown out of the window in the cold, piling snow in the streets of Musutafu.

"I, uh-"

Shoto blurts out his first choice of words and it's enough to know the inevitable has finally happened, you've ruined it, in between your cowardness and his stupidity you've grabbed a butter knife and cut through the sexual tention with such ease. You hold your breath and shut your eyes and puff your cheeks in disappointment and behold and await for his world crushing words.

But they never come. Instead you find your world taking a rather horizontal pov to it. It takes no more than a second to realise Shoto is laying you down, hands resting authoritatively by your sides; one next to your burning face and one with its thumb to the curve of your stomach

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, and he doesn't really have to, but he knows your ex gave you a cinematic first kiss before you had to get to the train to head back to your hometown, and he fears crossing boundaries with you.

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and you can't, you can never, take a decision for yourself but this time if you don't act now and if you don't act right you're going to mess everything up royally.

And so you cup his face with your hands and take a swan dive into his face.

It's too much, too soon and you manage to hit his face with yours more so than you manage to kiss him. Perhaps it's for the best, for he squints his eyes melodramatically and smooths your cheek with his thumb, bumps your nose with his, ghosts his lips over yours.

"I'm so sorry, Shoto, fuck, I'm so so sor-"

"Shh, it's fine" He whispers and the change in his voice has you weak in the knees "I wanted to take my time with it but I don't think I can wait any longer"

To say you feel your core throb would be such an understatement. You've never had someone long to kiss you that much, you've never felt this drunken way, you've never wanted to know what it feels like to kiss lips you've only ever dreamt of this much.

And there's raw energy in that kiss, tangled between short breaths, woven into how romantically his lips are dancing against yours. You've never been kissed like this, you've never come close to feel as good as this kiss feels. You know, you could probably die right now and the piece of heaven this kiss has given you will be enough to last you the rest of this eternity.

You can't help smiling like an idiot, every five seconds you've got to pull back, give yourself some time to come to terms with your reality.

By the time Shoto is smiling too, you think, you've accented into a space in time, where your tongues don't have a single body they belong to, they're wet and unkind in the way they fight against each other and they're too eager to engage in battle again and again until saliva is dripping down your cheeks, until Shoto lets out a silky moan and detached from my out mouth as suddenly as he attacked it to launch a new attack on your chin and travel down your neck.

There's not a single point of return between the two of you. You want to have him, you want him to have you and you don't want to wait any longer (it's exactly what you've always feared would happen were you to allow your lips to touch his own; the lack of self control in your bloodstream that screamed of his name only)

"Am I going too fast?" He asks when he pulls back, tugging his hands inside and out of his pullover, slowly taking it off his head but throwing it in an unknown corner of your room with inhuman force and speed

"No" You breathe out

"Great"

It's probably a bad time to think about this, but when Shoto's hand manages to reach under your shirt and his thumbs, eager to locate your supple breasts roam around your frame as he grabs onto you, you freeze.

There's one too many things you and Shoto have in common. You share similar tastes in music, you're both comic book nerds, you like all the same foods, so many talents to match but there's something that can beat all of those and it's the only thing he doesn't know about.

That being you're a burn victim yourself.

Shoto doesn't, he can't know about those because he's never really seen your torso without makeup, and you always like to wear even the slightest bit of a cardigan to match with your outfit, not to hide any scars, but out of your own stylistic choices.

Of course, you or rather circumstances, playing their foul game, you've seen a plethora of shirtless pictures of Shoto on his profile, in his gym Instagram stories that he says his pr team forces him to upload every once in a while and even on the cover of Vogue Japan; his pictures paired with empowering quotes for all burn victims to embrace their beauty.

And you too embrace the beauty in healed scars that look just like the ones on his body, a few tones lighter than your skin tone but completely healed and sometimes you feel lucky you've only been burned with water and you feel lucky that you can't see the scarring on your face (read: the water poured all over your face).

And in fact it's not that you're feeling insecure about it, having it to be viewed as a birthmark for your whole life, having older love interests not take notice of it despite the smaller, yet visible less-healed scars scattered amongst the bigger picture of your body, it's only Shoto that makes your spit pool in your throat.

So much that when he tries to take off your shirt you stop him.

And you can't take your eyes off of the discolored marks on his skin that look nothing like the scar on his face. He looks at you and his chest, panicked.

"I thought these weren't visible i-" He backs up to himself, looking around for his pullover "I'll cover up-

You grab his wrist in protest and for the first time the frog that sits at the end of your throat decides to take a leap out of your mouth and let your voice be heard

"It's not you it's- fuck how do I say this?" You curse under your breath and he remains silent, almost sat onto your crotch "there's nothing wrong with you I just-"

"I know, it's weird, you're weirded out, I get it, it's weird for people to encounter this in real life-"

"I know"

"And I shouldn't have taken off my shirt so I'm sorr- did you say you know?"

You nod, reluctantly. Your brain is a soup of accusations to yourself, an endless wonderland of guilt because you've ruined -you've ruined, you've ruined- this moment with Shoto, you've ruined two years if anticipation and now he's going to be sick of you, and how much of an idiot you are, and he'll get mad for not knowing about what you haven't told him sooner.

"How?"

You look at him, the frog finding its home at your throat once again. The phrase you want to utter is just so difficult to voice "just take off my shirt" Yet you say it nonetheless

"Let me put on mine first"

"Shoto just take off my shirt"

"I insist I do my part-"

"Please take off my shirt" You cry out, though you don't know if you're ready for this yet.

Perhaps you're rushing into this, you think, but it's too too late because your idiotic hands are merged with Shoto's, guiding them to the hem of your clothing and you're found tugging your shirt off of you over your head. The lack of bra is evident, it has been evident since Shoto came here but it's not the nipples that have been stiffened by the cold that actually catch his attention -they do too- but there's more to your chest that his eyes are feasting on.

And it's something he could so easily distinguish, he has his own canvas stained by this paint as well.

"You…" He trails and you turn your head away. Ashamed? Confused? You've no idea. You only think you owe him an explanation.

"Boiling water. I was three, I poured the kettle all over my face, it got to my stomach my upper back my arms, my neck, i- I do know what it's like"

Shoto is looking at you, mouth slightly agape, the tips of his fingers outlining the borders of your scar, the one over your breasts; it runs on top of them, it marks right under.

He doesn't say anything for a while, but he does seem to be in deep thought before his moment of surveillance is cut short quickly when your hands come to cross over your chest, making him keep his fingers to himself.

"You never told me" He admits, plainly, it hurts just a tad to remind yourself that this is his usual tone.

"I didn't want to trigger you" You curse under your breath, your hands clinging tighter over your chest "and now I'm fucking things up"

"Trigger me?"

"Burn marks and all"

But Shoto is so kind that you think you might explode. It's a kiss to your lips that confirms it as eventually, he ends up resting his lips over yours to seal your mouth shut, confident in his movements, sweet even. His expression is not far from his usual poker face save for the squinted hooded eyes and the newfound rosiness in his lower lip. It sends chills to run down your spine when he's staring into your soul like this.

But once you gulp the stress that's gathered all around your heart starts to slowly scatter. You relax your back against the couch and Shoto relaxes over you moments after he manages to peel your number hands away from your chest.

And you lay with his head resting on the bone of your chest, feeling the warmth of his left side coax you into ultimate peace of body and mind.

"You can't trigger me, I promise"

"But what if you look at me and realise you're tired of looking at scars for once in your life" There's a long pause, you need a few seconds to seep into what you said "i mean, you, you'll get tired of seeing scars on others or… I should probably shut up"

Shoto laughs shortly and your chest vibrates in warmness "how do you come up with these?"

"My… insecurities?" You ask, popping your head upwards to look at him, though he quickly shoves it down, followed by an order to relax. You breathe again and he's right, his weight on you increases and you feel like an idiot that cannot get used to a cuddle "I suppose I try to put myself in your shoes and try to view myself in your eyes"

"You can do that? I thought you were quirk less!" He states, almost too stunned and you contemplate on whether he means it or not. The answer to your question comes when he pops up from your chest and laughs it off silently, fingers lingering at the side of your face.

"I'm not going to get tired of you. Are you going to get tired of me?"

You shake your head, he so awfully dead panned that you're startled

"I'm relieved honestly, to know someone can share my concerns"

"You get to live with it" You comment silently to which he agrees, humming into your chest

"At least we share a fear of kettles then too"

You laugh at him through squinted eyes, shoving your hand onto his face. Is it a reach that you think it's cute when he kisses your palm? "I take boiling hot showers" You lean into his ear, whispering like it's a secret to be held

"Me too. I think it's a trauma response."

You laugh again and as Shoto lifts his torso up, dedicated to launching a kissing attack to your neck once again, the cups of whiskey still linger on the coffee table, the snow is coating the streets heavier than before and the movie is long forgotten. Your hero gets to live the happy moments in which he drowns himself in as much love as he wants after an everlasting game of cat and mouse, left to wonder what may his future hold.

#todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki #Bnha

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herstarburststories · 4 years ago

Text

You Have A Home

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After a call from Y/N, Sam comes back town to help -- and brings Dean with him.

Requests: N°1 heyhey, could you do a Sam x reader where they went to college togehter and later meet again and they realise their feelings for eachother...xx + N°2: can you do a college sam headcanon with medicine student reader

A/N: This was fun! The monster here is mentioned in season 6, when the boys ask Bobby for advice on how to kill it. This is my first Samgirl long imagine, with Dean being the flirty he is. I wrote this almost one year ago, so it's more crude and I'm nervous to be posting it! And my piece for @cajunquandary 's 600 challenge, my prompt was monster of the week. Dividers by @talesmaniac89!

Dean's eyes remained on the road when the bitter statement left his body, tangled with a wry chuckle, “I can't believe you are still in touch with those people.”

“Those people?” Sam arched elbows, slightly skeptical by his brother's tone, “They were my friends, Dean.”

“Sammy, all our friends? Dead. They all die. Or worse.” He glanced at him for a moment, pursing his lips together. It might not be an easy assignment, but was part of the job. Sammy had tried to run away plenty times and always came back, when would he understand? “We don't get to have friends. You should've learned that.”

“They are not our friends, they are my friends. Also, they don't know about the hunting life, they aren't in harm.” Sammy hissed once the other locked his green eyes on the road again. Dean sighed, moving one hand away and up from the steering wheel in a rendition gesture.

“Whatever you say, man. I'm just warning you, this doesn't usually end up good for them.”

Sam scoffed, Dean could get on his nerves sometimes, “We saved many people that got to have a good life.”

“Yeah, but those people didn't know us before that. I told you when you left Stanford--”

“I didn't keep contact, okay!? I just... I just still have a phone that they have the number of. No social media, no calls on birthdays.” Nervously gesticulating, he added, “I know how to keep them safe, Dean.”

“So, old friend?” The eldest Winchester asked after the few minutes of silence that followed Sam's outburst, “Female old friend?”

“Yes. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Dean smirked, and Sam to rolled his eyes at his behavior, “Keep it in your pants.”

He'd let out a malicious laughter before turning on the radio, the first guitar sounds of AC/DC playing in the background.

“I think you'll be the one not keeping it, Sammy.”

“Hello?” The woman in nothing but a towel who had opened the door greeted them with a question, her brown eyes glaring at the two men with clear confusion.

Dean had no shame to check her out, innerly celebrating that she was still wet from her shower. Perhaps visiting Sam's friends wasn't that big mistake. “Hey, you.”

She grimaced at Dean for two seconds before turning her attention to Sam again, sudden recognition written on her face.

“Sam? Sam Winchester?” He nodded, smiling that light-hearted boyish grin at her. Not caring about her dressings, she just threw herself at Sammy, hugging him tightly. “I missed you!” She pulled away only to hit his shoulder. Her short stature didn't match Sam's, but he'd still make a grimace at her attempt of slap. “Why didn't you call? God, your hair grew a lot. Listen, I have some scissors.”

“Tried that, didn't work.” Dean interrupted their reencounter, trying to get in the conversation. An usual lopsided grin on his face, “Dean Winchester, Sam's brother.”

“Layla, Sam's friend.” She gave him a friendly smile in return, opening space for them to pass through the door before closing it, “Come in, I need to change in clothes.”

“I wouldn't even dream of that. Seriously.”

Layla would just wiggle one of her brows at Dean's comments, not impressed by it, “Ele é sempre assim? (Is he always like this?)”

Thankfully, Sam still remembered a bit of his friend's native language. He just chuckled, managing to apologize for Dean's typical Dean behavior, “Unfortunately. Sinto muito. (I'm sorry)”

“(Y/N) is in the kitchen. I'll be right back.” Her accent was thicking stronger duo the comfortability around Sam. Excusing herself, the caramel skinned girl leaded upstairs.

“What did she say?” Dean asked, side glancing at the path Layla had just gone on, not even sure of which language she'd just spoken, much less what was said. Sammy didn't bother replying, satisfied to grin at his obvxion brother. “Dude, come on!”

“Sam!” A well-known voice filled the room as the image of (Y/N) appeared in front of them, dressing your loyal cook's avental. You didn't think twice before jumping on Sam. “I missed you, giant!”

He, like always, caught you with a light-hearted laughter, “I missed you too, cupcake.” You two spent a few moments like this, enjoying each other's warm and long lost touch, until Dean cleared his throat. You finally went back to the ground, embarrassed by having a stranger to see that level of intimacy between you and Sam, “This is Dean, my--”

“Handsome brother. Hello, cupcake.” Dean was so going to tease Sam for the rest of his life for it.

“You really live up for Sam's description.” You giggled, heading towards the kitchen “Come in, I'm baking.”

“So, you and Layla still live together?”

“Most of the time, yes. You know how she is, comes and goes. Never wanted to stay in a place for too long and got a job that supported that.” The boys followed you, Dean examining the kitchen and trying to discover what you were cooking through the smell, while Sam couldn't take his eyes on you, “Apparently, just like you.”

Even though your back was facing them as you checked the food, the bite didn't pass unnoticed, “I had to leave, (Y/N)”

“I understand that, Sam. But you never called or texted. It was like I--” You quickly corrected yourself, “We never existed for you.”

“It's not like that.” Sam sighed, how could he justify? He knew you wouldn't buy a simple excuse. You were smart, and knew him too well to swallow a 'I went on a trip with my brother and just decided that college wasn't my deal' and leave it for that.

“I'm here!” Layla declared, arriving into the room with an excited smile, it was good to have the gang back together. Although, the tangible tension almost made her go back to the shower, “Am I interrupting something?”

“A sitcom DR.” Dean answered with sarcasm, spreading his figure on the chair when you turned around with an apple pie in your hands “What about we talk about the ca-- Is this pie?”

“We heard a scream followed by a loud roar and (Y/N) stayed near the camping part because there was still a signal and I went looking for who it was. When I got there, the thing ran away. Jorge's body... No human did that. His chest was cracked open irregularly, as if it was done by an animal and his heart looked weird. Like it was squeezed and drawn on up somehow?”

“We got a Samia.” Dean stated, relaxing on his spot. Some sault, rosemary and fire would do the job just fine, “Let me guess, it left a clawn near the body or inside it?”

Layla nodded, “Right in the chest or what lasted of it.”

“Are you okay? Finding the body in that state.” A comprehensive manner englobed Sam's question, whom noticed the normality with his friend described finding a shattered body.

“Just some guts.” She shrugged, a grimace was all the reaction they'd get. Crying wouldn't help, neither being terrorized as they expected her too. “I've seen Grey's Anatomy enough not to care about it.”

“Well, I'm literally a medicine student and I am still not okay with that. Especially after you made me go and check the body.” You argued, glaring at your best friend who'd only roll her eyes in response.

“I needed a professional to say if he was dead or not!”

“You need a therapist.”

Dean got up, looking straight at Layla. Time to play the hero in shining armor, “Don't worry with that, we will take care of it.”

Frowning, you were the one to respond, “Do you work for the police now or?”

“Are implying that we investigate it by ourselves?” Your best friend added.

Dean couldn't believe his brother. How the fuck did he let them get inside without saying they didn't know about the hunting business? It was a luck shot that they didn't think much when he said Samia.

“Nope. Not you two. We will do it.” The blonde one said, pointing at them with a smirk.

“I agree, we will do it.” Layla replied, matching his taunt smile.

“Sam, I'm not letting you and your brother do it by yourself. Jorge was my professor, I knew him. Besides, we found the body.” You got on your feet and crossed your arms, waiting for a response. Sam always had a sort of hero complex, ready to help no matter what, but there was no way you'd be letting him go into danger with his brother. Getting in your dormitory to kill a cockroach back then or facing an idiot during a bar fight to protect one of your friends was something, but this? They were talking about looking for an assassin. What if something happened to him? You were the one who called. All on you. The thought of Sam getting hurt for any reason was unbearable, but because of you? You weren't willing to do that.

“You would be in danger, (Y/N). You both.” He tried to explain, internally hoping you'd accept his reasoning and let it go. Sam didn't want you to become one of the friends who knew about this life, you deserve more. He already lost one woman he loved in this city, he couldn't lose another.

You huffed in frustration, “Just like you will!”

“It's different.” As he was terrified of, you insisted. Arms crossed still and eyes locked with his, determined to get something from him. Sam was smart enough to know that you would keep it going. Perhaps he could give you a short explanation, “Me and my brother, we are used to this. We hunt things like that.”

Layla tilted her head to the side. The way Sam talked remembered her of animal hunting, although she highly doubted that was the case, “Little more explanation?'”

“Monsters are real. Vampires, werewolves, spirits. The list goes on. Call us crazy. Roll the credits.” Sarcasm saltered every word of Dean's as he gestured up and down with a cocky smile. Everyone glared at him, a special furious look from his brother, “What? I thought they knew what we did and that's why she called.”

“Sam?” Your voice was fragile when you said his name, a demonstration that you would believe him through the fear of the truth, but that he had to say it.

Sam laid his hazel eyes on you. God, how he wished he didn't have to confirm anything, to break your vision of world so abruptly, “Dean is right. Supernatural things are real. I know it sounds--”

“Unbelievable? Problematic? Scary?”

“Yeah, all of them.” Sam offered you a humorless smile, then holding your hand the way he used to when you were nervous about an exam, “But I wouldn't lie to you, cupcake.”

The silence was broken by Layla opening a bottle of Whiskey, pouring them for the three people in the room besides herself. You rolled your eyes at your best friend, while Sam wore a tiny smile and Dean was astonished.

Noticing the eyes glued, the latina just shrugged “What? If you are gonna tell me that Dracula is real and you are a sort of Buffy's apprentice, then we will need some alcohol.”

“Why did you call?” Sammy asked, his brows knotted together, mouth slight open as he waited for your response. “You didn't know what I did. And he wasn't my professor at Stanford. Then why did you call, (Y/N)?”

You could make up a hundred excuses. Lie and say he was the one friend besides Layla that you had somehow a way to get to. Appeal to the excuse of 'I felt something weird about the death and you said I should call if I ever had a problem of any kind'. But for as much as you felt horrible for using a death as a pretext for calling him, that was partially the truth. You already had put yourself into a mess of monsters and a drained heart, it couldn't be scarier than being honest to Sam and to yourself.

At least, you hoped so. But your heart was rushing like when you saw Jorge's body. Jesus, when did love become so morbid?

You took a deep breath, oxygen barely achieving your lungs, and then started to talk.

“I wanted to call you the minute that you left, Sam. I almost did a million times.” You answered, looking down at the bottle of a sort of plant that he was putting in a dark green bag. “I thought about what you could be doing, what was so important that you couldn't send me a message. But you just didn't want to call, I guess.”

“I wanted to call, of course I did.” You scoffed at his statement, looking up to match his eyes, “(Y/N), I'm serious.”

“You didn't even come to Jess' funeral, Sam. Layla said that maybe you needed to leave to clear your mind, that was too much to deal with. But I was so worried, and sad and confused and I wanted to talk to you because you would understand, you always did. About anything. And I wanted to give you some sort of comfort, but--” You lifted your hands and shrugged your shoulder, a broken chuckle leaving your body. “But you weren't here.”

“You stopped leaving messages after two weeks. Calling was gone when it made a moth.” You sniffed. Sam's lips curved into a pure, cautelous grin. God, he was always so sweet. “The emails took two months.”

“You were never good with dates. I gave you a calendar in your freshman week.” Your teeth met your lower lip. He didn't answer, only nodding at your affirmation, omitting the fact that he still had the calendar between latin books and pieces of newspapers, “Yet, you remember all of it.”

Sam leaned forward, holding your hand with all the delicacy you would expect from a sculptor. It had been too long since he hugged you, and his touch made all your skin tickle with warmth. “I missed you too, (Y/N). I thought about you all those years.”

“So, Cupcake?”

"Let's focus on the case, Dean."

“Then you can go back and eat your cupcake?” He remarked with a grin. His brother just huffed, pointing the flashlight through the trees, “So, Layla…”

Sam rolled his eyes, like he usually did when Dean started being too Dean for his liking, “Dean. The case.”

Before he could make another teaseful comment, a roar invaded their audition. The hunters gave each other a quick glance before heading towards the direction of the noise.

Shaking the salt and rosemary mixture in his hands, Dean smirked, “That's it. Time to shine, cupcake.”

“I have to admit. Being patched up by a doctor is better than by Dean.”

A surprised, half relieved laughter came out your body as you finished another stitch on Sam's arm. That boy was unbelievable; openly talking and making jokes about his brother, who was also being patched up by your best friend in company of a bottle of whiskey, while he spoke about Layla's name being a rock song. You were working on a large wound on his shoulder-- which you were sure that was full of dirt from the forest.

Medicine student, but I'll take that complement.” You winked at him, gaining a soft grin from Sammy, “I was expecting more blo-- Why are you smiling? I'm touching a recent wound. It doesn't look dangerous, but I'm sure it is supposed to hurt. A lot.”

Sam's answer came out easily, the bare, vulnerable truth: “I'm happy you are here.”

You looked at him, his hair longer than before, but the soft simper remained on his face. You bit your lip to hold a giggle; her heart dared to hope. What he expected when he said things like this? A quiet contentment spread through his expression while he watched your reaction.

“You should have come home sooner.”

His mouth formed a line, “I don't have a home, (Y/N). It's just Dean, me and the road now.”

“No, Sam.” Shaking your head lightly, you intertwined your fingers with his. His life was dangerous, you couldn't afford the luxury of waiting even more to share what you had finally admitted to yourself in the moment he walked through the door. It didn't seem like the easiest, simpler situation. But the only hard thing you couldn’t go through was to be away from Sam Winchester. He lingered on you for years, you were done letting him run away. It was time to hold his hand and walk together. “You should've come home sooner. To me.”

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albertasunrise · 4 years ago

Text

It's Yours - Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: You and Javier have been sleeping together for almost two years but after his name was leaked by the papers, he is sent home for investigation. You remain behind with Steve to catch Escobar but when he’s finally dead, you decide to go after the man you’ve fallen for. You don’t like what you find when you finally reunite with him.

Warnings: Angst, Kissing

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

Note: I picture that Si looks like Charlie Hunnam, hot but with the kindest eyes and face.

The guest house was beautiful. The wood panelling was whitewashed with two potted orange trees sat either side of the steps that lead up to the porch, a swinging bench hanging to the left and a small table and chairs say to the right of the front door. Javier unlocks the painted, white, door and leads you inside to the lounge with minimalistic decor. It was clear that the place wasn’t finished but it was certainly liveable.

‘The bedrooms are through here.’ He states as he motions with an open hand for you to follow.

He takes you down a long hallway. The first door to your left is a bedroom, its small with a single bed on one side and a desk and bookshelves on the other, then a little further on to the right is a bathroom, tiled white with a large double shower, clawfoot bath and double sink. Javier watches you as you admire each room you pass. He comes to a stop next to a door at the far end of the hall and you glance at him before heading inside. The room’s walls are painted a warm shade of red with a four-poster bed stood proudly within. A door sat in the centre of the wall opposite the bed with a wardrobe on one side and a dresser on the other, both the same rich shade of brown as the bed.

‘This is beautiful Javi.’ You say as you turn to look at him, noting his nervous expression.

‘The place isn't finished yet but I hope you’ll be comfortable here.’ He states ‘Well at least until you find a place or whatever.’

‘I’m sure I will be.’ You reply with a smile.

‘There’s no food in the fridge, didn’t get a chance to buy anything in but Pops has invited you to dinner tonight if you want to join us.’ He pauses as he studies your expression ‘Unless you and Si have plans.’

‘Si’s working tonight.’ You reply and he nods ‘I’d love to join you and your father. Be nice to get to know our baby’s grandpa.’

Javier’s heart tugged at the mention of the tiny being growing inside of you, the being that he had helped create but then his heart ached a little as he remembered that you wouldn't be raising this baby together. He showed you where the towels were and how all the appliances in the kitchen worked and then left you alone. You took your time looking around a little more before picking up the phone to call Si liked you'd promised.

‘Hey, baby.’ You say sweetly, grinning down the phone like a loon ‘I’m here. The place is lovely.’

‘That’s great baby.’ He replies ‘Everything okay? Not weird or anything?’

‘Well of course things are a little weird.’ You chuckle ‘I’m pregnant with my partner’s baby and living in a guest house on his father’s ranch. No way for this not to be weird.’

Si chuckles in reply and you laugh along with him, chewing your bottom lip as you swoon over him.

‘He’s invited me to join him and his dad for dinner tonight.’ You start ‘Should probably get to know my baby’s only grandparent.’

‘Probably.’ Si teases ‘But I’m taking you for breakfast tomorrow morning beautiful.’

‘Oh, are you indeed?’

‘What?’ He chuckles ‘Can’t a guy treat his girl?’

‘So I’m your girl am I?’ You tease, eyebrows raised in feigned surprise.

‘I hope so.’

‘I hope so too.’ You grin ‘See you tomorrow handsome.’

‘Bye baby.’

You hang up the phone and practically shake with excitement. You’d not felt this excited about someone in a long time. Simon exhilarated you in a way that only Javi had before, but you hadn’t been Javier’s girl. You unpack your clothes and decide to take a walk around the ranch, surprised at how many animals Javi’s father has. You perch yourself on the bench that overlooks the two horses you’d seen that first day you came, smiling as they play and prance.

‘Those two never stop.’ Chuckles Javier as he walks up beside you.

‘Do you ride?’ You ask, glancing up at him as he watches the two mares play.

‘Yeah.’ He replies plainly as he looks down at you ‘You?’

‘Used to.’ You reply with a smile ‘Haven’t in years.’

‘Well, maybe we can go for a ride some time.’ He says sweetly and you smile at him.

‘I’d like that.’ You pause as you place your hand on your belly ‘I uh… I made an appointment to get a scan done. It’s on the 17th.’

‘Okay great.’ He replies as he perches himself on the edge of the bench.

‘I’ll probably need you to drive me. I need to return the car tomorrow.’ You state and he nods.

‘Do you need me to collect you tomorrow after you give it back?’

‘No Si’s coming with me.’ You reply, a pang of guilt rearing its head when you mention his name ‘He’s actually going to take me to breakfast tomorrow morning so I’ll be gone early.’

‘Oh right.’ He replies, unable to hide his disappointment.

‘What?’

‘It’s nothing.’ He replies, giving you an unconvincing smile.

‘Javier I know when you’re lying. What is it?’

‘Pops bought a load of extra food in. He assumed as you had no groceries that you’d join us for breakfast too.’ He replies honestly, grimacing as he spoke.

‘I’ll cancel with Si.’

‘No don’t.’ Javier shakes his head ‘Why don’t you invite him? There’s plenty for us all. Pops won’t mind.’

‘Javi-.’

‘It’s fine really.’ He says, giving you a small smile ‘I better get back to work. There’s a really nice walk down that way.’ He says as he motions to a small dirt track ‘Just don’t leave the path. So easy to get lost.’

‘Okay.’ You reply as you watch him stand ‘Thanks.’

He gives you a brief nod and leaves, heart aching for you as he walks towards his truck. He doesn't want Si there but he knows that that man can offer you everything he can't so he has to accept he's lost you to the nicest man he knows.

‘Chucho, these are the best Enchiladas I have ever eaten!’ You gush and the man grins at you ‘Actually Javi made these.’

‘You can cook?’ You make no attempt to hide your surprise.

‘Yeah well, I’m Mexican. Cooking was forced onto me from a young age.’ He chuckles.

‘Well, these are delicious Javi.’ You smile ‘At least I know the baby will eat well when it visits.’

Javier’s face drops at this and you feel your stomach twist. You hadn't really discussed what the arrangement was going to be. It was a little early on to be thinking about it but you’d somewhat assumed that you would move back to DC and the baby would come to visit during the holidays. The distance is a bit much for alternating weekends.

‘Have you thought about what you want it to be?’ Asks Chucho, trying to relieve some of the tension.

‘Not Fussed’ ‘Girl’

You look up and Javier in shock, a small smile tugging at your lips.

‘You want a girl?’ You question ‘Didn’t know you’d given it any thought.’

He shrugs as he chews ‘I dunno… I've just always thought if I have a kid, I’d like it to be a girl. Boy’s are hard work.’ He chuckles.

‘You really not thought about it Chica?’ Asked Chucho, smiling at you.

‘Honestly, as long as it’s healthy I’m happy.’ You reply, smiling back at him.

‘Javi said your boyfriend is joining us for breakfast.’ You nearly choke on your food at this statement, you’d not labelled him yet.

‘Uh… yeah.’ You reply ‘If that’s okay with you.’

‘Not a problem.’ He replies ‘Plenty of food.’

‘Thank you, Chucho.’

Dinner goes by with relative ease. Some leftovers get wrapped up for you, you thank Chucho for a wonderful evening and then Javier walks you back to the guesthouse, casserole dish in hand. Stopping beside the front door you take the dish for Javi and smile sweetly at him, willing your heart to slow down.

‘Thank you, Javi.’ You start, feeling your heart flutter a little as he looked at you with his expressive brown eyes ‘Was a really lovely evening.’

‘Glad you enjoyed yourself.’ He replied ‘Goodnight.’

He leans in and kisses your cheek, your heart stopping as his soft lips make contact with your skin. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls away, just enough that he can look you in the eye and you find your gaze flitting between his lips and his glittering brown orbs. In the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours, kissing you with fervour and after the initial shock, you’re then kissing him back. Then your brain catches up with you and you push him away with your free hand, chest heaving as you feel tears forming.

‘We can't do this Javi.’ You sob.

‘Hermosa-.’

‘No… We can’t.’ You interrupt ‘I’m with Si. I care about him and he doesn't deserve this.' You pause as you wipe your tears with the back of your hand 'Goodnight Javier.’

You quickly unlock the door and disappear inside and leaving a heartbroken man in your wake.

‘You don’t have to do this baby.’ You say as you walk towards the main house with Si at your side ‘Still time to back out.’

‘Well, I should probably get to know the sober version that is the father of my girlfriends baby.’ He states and your heart skips a beat ‘If this is heading where I think it is then we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.’ He finishes as he spins you around to kiss you passionately, beard tickling your lips and making you giggle.

‘Girlfriend eh?’ You question with a wink.

‘That okay?’

‘More than.’ You reply as you place a sweet kiss on his lips.

You knock on the door three times and you’re greeted by Chuchos smiling face ‘You didn’t tell me Si’s your man!’ He exclaims as he gives the man a friendly pat on his shoulder.

‘Good to see you Chucho.’ Replies Si as he grins at him.

‘Come in, come in!’ He says excitedly as he motions you in with his hand.

The table is covered in food and you can’t help but smile at the effort that’s been made. Javier is busy at the stove and you make your way over to him, peering at the pan and seeing that he’s making scrambled eggs.

‘Good morning.’ He says with a smile and you wonder if he’s forgotten about what happened last night.

Then the smell hits you and your stomach rolls. You say nothing, just make a b-line for the bathroom and Javier’s face drops as he watches you run. Si sprints after you and holds your hair as you empty the contents of your stomach, letting out a sob as you try to breathe through it.

‘You okay?’ Si asks as he rubs comforting circles on your back.

‘What happened?’ Asks a flustered Javier as he appears in the doorway.

‘Morning sickness.’ Replies Si as you rest your head remains resting on your forearm ‘She gets set off by the smell of eggs and Coffee.’

‘Shit I-.’

‘You didn’t know man it’s fine.’ Interrupts Si and Javier nods before leaving, not wanting you or him to see the tears forming in his eyes.

He feels like he should know these things. You’re carrying his baby yet the local barman knows more about your triggers than him. You walk back in to the kitchen ans see him tossing the eggs into the trash and your brows furrow.

‘What are you doing?’

‘The smell makes you sick so we won’t eat them.’

‘You didn’t need to do that Javi.’

‘It’s fine Chica really.’ States Chucho ‘There’s still plenty of food.’

Si and Chucho talk each other’s ears off over breakfast but Javier doesn't say a word. You note that his eyes are bloodshot, that he keeps wiping his nose with his napkin and that he avoids any form of eye contact with you. You help clear up, hoping that it will give you a moment alone with Javier to talk but he doesn't say a word to you, doesn’t look at you and you feel yourself getting more and more irritated as it goes on.

‘Can I speak to you a moment?’ You say suddenly as you toss the drying cloth down and grab his arm, pulling him through the backdoor ‘What the fuck is your problem?’

‘What? He growls.

‘You’ve been in a shit mood all morning.’ You spit ‘I’m sorry that I got sick because of the eggs. You didn’t need to act like a child about it! You put this kid in me. You don’t get to be upset about some silly eggs.’

‘You think that's why I’m upset?’ He says, raising his voice a little ‘I’m upset because I don’t know what triggers morning sickness in the mother of my child and yet the local barman does. I’m upset that I won't get to raise my first kid with the woman I love. I’m upset that I’m not going to be able to do the feeds with you, the night changes... I’ll miss watching them grow, walk, probably talk. This is not how I imagined things would be when I finally became a father but it’s what I deserve right? I’m a bad man. I don’t deserve the perfect life with a wife and a baby. But he does!’ He finishes as he points at the closed door before he storms through it, leaving you speechless.

The woman he loves?

What were you supposed to do with that information?

You looked through the windows and saw him swiping up his keys and bidding his father and Si goodbye before leaving them as abruptly as he left you. Then your eyes drift to Si who’s looking at you with a sympathetic expression and your heart flutters. You’d waited years to hear Javi say that he loved you. It had been all you'd ever wanted but you also knew that he’d fuck it up. He wouldn’t be able to prioritise you and this baby. The job would always come first. Si was everything you’d ever wanted in a man. He was kind, loving, committed. He knew what he wanted and he would stop at nothing to get it and what he wanted is you. You could feel yourself falling hard from him already and that scared you because you had to decide. Do you want the man you’re in love with? The father of your child. Or do you want the man you’re falling in love with? The man who you know will give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

Time to decide.

Chapter 4

#javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #narcos fanfiction #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #fanfiction

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dreamifics · 4 years ago

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Immature

Oneshot

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Talk of sexual activities and stuff but no smut

Y/N joined the Avengers shortly after the big fight between Tony and Steve. Stark recruited her due to Fury's orders, she used to be under control of Hydra, like Barnes.. All of the Avengers had no problem with her, only one..

''Stupid Rogers!" Y/N shriek as she stares into her bathroom mirror..

Once again, Rogers benched her, because and she quote

'She used to be just like them!'

They were supposed to raid a Hydra facility, and something snapped at Steve's brain when he saw that Y/N was going too.

Y/N sighs, she just gripped the porcelain sink and steadied herself, she was ready to kill Steve, she was so angry.. Y/N just washed her face with the cold water from the faucet, hoping that it'll help ease the anger in her blood.

She exits the bathroom and was greeted by Bucky, he was sitting in her bed.

"Hello Tinman.." Y/N gave Bucky a smile.

"I want to apologize for--"

"You don't need to apologize in behalf of Steve.. I'm cool.."

"Are you really?"

"Yepp!No word of Captain Ass can get to me.."

Bucky crossed his arms, he knew she was lying.. Y/N just awkwardly smiled at him, she walks to her bed and dived in her bed..

"You can leave now, your boyfriend's might be missing you now.."

And in queue Sam and Steve popped up in her door, Steve was furious.. His eyes were fixed to Bucky, while Sam was just smiling slyly..

"Speak of the devils.." Y/N mutters as she gave Steve a deadly glare.

Bucky stood up from her bed and gave the two men a small nod.. Steve was still looking at Bucky but it soon averted to Y/N, she just raised her eyebrow at him.

"Have a fun mission, you two.."

"Will do, Y/N" Sam answered and gave Y/N a smile which she gladly gave back.

"Oh, Bucky!Pouvez-vous s'il vous plaît pousser le capitaine hors de l'avion pour moi?" Y/N spoke in french knowing that Bucky will understand.

Can you please push Captain out of the plane for me?

Bucky just laughs and shakes his head as Sam grabs him and drag him out of Y/N's sight. However, someone still hasn't left and it made her anger bubbled up even more.

"I swear to God if you don't leave, I'll squeeze your kneecaps.." Y/N said jokingly? She was not sure, she might just do that if Steve won't stop his douche ways..

"Cut it out, Y/N.." Steve ordered..

Y/N rolled her eyes, she sashay her way to Steve and move her face closer to his.

"You're not my Captain, you don't get to order me around.."

Y/N was supposed to walk away but was stopped by Rogers hand in her arms.. However, his hands didn't hurt her, his touch was soft and gentle.. Typical Steve..

Always a gentleman..

"I'm the Captain, you'll obliged to me.."

Y/N scoffs as she takes her arm away from him, she looked him deeply in his and saw that there were anger filling his blue eyes.. This guy really hates her..

"And what if I don't?What would you do?Fire me?Spank me?" She sassed but Steve eyes soften and his eyes wander to her body..

Y/N brows furrowed, what was Steve doing? He just stared at her and his cheeks suddenly got flushed.. Di-Did he just imagine what Y/N has said??

"What?" Y/N was weirded out, she hated the eerie silence between them and to top that up he might be imagining sexual things or so she thought..

"Capsicle, let's go!" Stark voice boomed out through the whole tower, it made Steve snap back to reality and he just walks away.

This made Y/N flabbergasted, he walked away just like that.. After the awkward silence and him being flustered, he just walked away with no explanation or whatsoever. Y/N just huffed in annoyance and flops back down to her comfortable messy bed..

What is wrong with Steve?

Days passed and it seems that Y/N is finally at peace, there were no longer eyes watching her.. Yes, Steve has given up.. How does she know? Simple, Steve is now avoiding and pretending she doesn't exist.. Which is fine by her, but there's this small pain in her heart.. She missed Steve acting like a douche..

Y/N mentally slaps herself, she used to complain about Steve always criticizing and annoying her but why is she missing it now? Y/N sighs as she slams her head in the table infront of her. A piercing pain welcomed her as her head hit the table but she ignored it.

"Umm, can I go on with my briefing?" Tony was standing in the middle of the big briefing room..

Y/N put her hands up and gestures an 'okay', she completely forgot that she was sitting with the Avengers in the middle of a meeting..

"Are you okay, Y/N?" Wanda was the first to ask her that, Y/N just let out a groan.. All of them just shared knowing looks and Tony fakes a cough.

"If you want to rest, you can go.." Tony chided..

"Alright.."

Y/N stood up and was almost to the door when Steve's phone suddenly rang, he answered it..

"Sharon?"

This name made Y/N stop, are they together? They look nice together, she hope that they'll break up soon.

"I'll be there.." Steve endes his call and stands up..

"Sorry everyone, I have a date with someone.." He push passed Y/N leaving her heart on the floor..

He has a date? Why is she even concerned about that? She doesn't care, Steve's stupid anyway!

"Wow, Capsicle is going on a date, I'll be damned.."

"And with Sharon?She's nice.." Wanda chirps in..

Meanwhile, Natasha notices Y/N who was dumbfounded and hurt by all the recent events..

"Aren't you gonna go, Y/N?" Nat asked with mischievous eyes wandering to her face..

Y/N put out a fake smile and left, how is she feeling this way? Does she like Steve? She groans as those thoughts eat her alive, maybe she just need a fresh air..

Yes, fresh air..

That's exactly what Y/N needs, she has been cooped up in the tower for weeks now.. She sped up to her room and grab her keys, jackets and Tony's credit card.. He won't mind it, that man is richer than the whole US goverment..

Y/N jogs to the elevator, turns out she's not going to be waiting for the elevator alone.. Steve is right there, also waiting for an elevator so he can go to his fancy date with someone else..

"Fuck.."

Y/N was deep in her thoughts that she didn't realize that Steve was looking at her.. She cleared her throat and walked up to the elevator doors..

"Up or down?" Steve asks making Y/N look at his stupid handsome face.

"Can't you figure it out Sherlock?" She's grumpy and she doesn't care.

"What?" Steve questioned.

"Down!"

"Could've just said that.."

"We're on the fuckin--"

"Language!" The infamous 'language', he's being dramatic as hell.

"Fine!We're on the freaking top floor and your asking me if I'm going up or down?"

"I didn't notice."

"You're just stupid.."

The elevator was taking forever, normally it would be up in a minute but she's been standing her for almost five minutes and the elevator is still a no show.

"This is taking forever, I'm going to take the stairs.." She was going to the staircase when the elevator doors opened..

"You're impatient.." Steve mumbles.

"Asshole.." Y/N mumbles back..

And before she knew it, she's pinned to the floor.. It happend so fast, Steve has pinned her down to the floor.. Their face were only inches apart, it made Y/N blush but she somehow hid it..

"Let me go, Steve.."

"Not until you beg for forgiveness.."

"Beg?Didn't know you had a kinky side, old man.."

Steve got flustered by her words, still he didn't let Y/N go.. She started to fight back by getting the upper hand and overpowering Steve.. Now she's on top, she smirks and inch her face closer to Steve's face.

"Dominant, I like that Cap.."

"Although, next time ask for a girls permission before you go and pin her to the floor.."

Without thinking Steve kissed Y/N, her eyes widen but soon she melted to the kiss. It started out soft but it became rough within seconds.. All of the unsaid feelings were mashed into the kiss.. She was out of breath but she didn't want it to stop.. Steve pulled back and smiled sweetly at Y/N, she was confused but she smiled back..

"You like me back?"

"No shit, Sherlock.." Y/N smiled but instead of Steve saying language he smiles back..

"You're so immature.."

They both laugh as Y/N got up and offered her hand to Steve, he gladly accepted..

"Go, you'll be late for your date..Wouldn't want to keep her waiting.." Y/N shooed Steve away but he just stands there..

"You are my date.."

"Well powder me in sugar and call me a donut.. Was all this planned?" Steve nods and Y/N just shakes her head in disappointment, she interlock her arm to Steve's arm.

"Let's go eat some ribs and steaks, Cap.."

On the briefing room with all the remaining Avengers, they were cheering and celebrating as they watch the two from a surveillance camera.

"Not bad, Cap.." Natasha mumbles as she eats popcorn with Wanda and Bucky.

By commenting, or reblogging this post, you’ll be telling me that you’re interested in being on my tag list! You’re also welcome to DM me or send me an ask if you’re more comfortable with that :)

If you guys have any request for a oneshot about ( marvel characters, DC characters, stranger things, game of thrones, brooklyn 99, friends, basically anything! I accept everything!)

#steve rogers #imagines #steve rogers x reader #marvel #steve rogers imagine #the avengers #oneshot #captain america #captain america imagine

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years ago

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Dangerous Love (Pt. 06 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

Word count: 2.5K

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{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

Dance With Me

Bruce kept his promise and brought you a TV. He also streamed the first season of Game Of Thrones before giving you the second book, and the old deal remains. You'll watch the second season when you're done with the book. But you don't mind. They did leave a lot out of the TV show, and you want to know everything that happens. He even stayed to watch some of the episodes with you. You cried when one of the characters died. You and Bruce have the same favorite characters. Daenerys, Jon, Arya, and Tyrion. And you love to talk about it with Bruce.

The week goes by quickly, and now you have a digital clock too, so you'll know which time and day it is. And that's how you know your birthday is coming.

Today is Saturday, and Bruce is hosting a party. You can see many people down in the garden already, making things ready.

“Alfred will bring you dinner tonight.” Bruce reminds you, as you eat lunch. “But I'll come tomorrow.”

“I'll forgive you if you promise to have fun today. For both of us.” It's so damn hard not to think about that blonde woman. “Try to dance a little.”

“I will.”

He stays for a little longer until he has to go.

In the next following hours, you focus on the book. The noise gets louder, and the music starts playing as soon as the night falls. You also take a shower, long and warm, washing your hair. Patiently, you dry and brush it, struggling with your thoughts. Then you try reading again, but you can't seem to focus.

That woman is down there, and the image of her and Bruce dancing fills your head, like torture. Her beautiful blonde hair, kind eyes... She will pull him close, and he won't resist her touch. Why would he?

He will pull her against his chest, and what you can only dream about, she will feel it. How lucky she is.

You go to the window, a knot on my throat. Why do you want to cry? Why do you feel so terribly sad over a freaking scenario you just imagined?

“Because it'll probably happen...” You tell yourself.

And if not her, with some other girl. Looking through the window, you see the pretty lights on the garden, and some people, smiling, talking... A soft music start playing, and you see as some couples get together, slow dancing.

Smiling, you close your eyes as you step away from the window, resting your back against the wall.

You imagine yourself down there, among the people, and they don't bother you. You're comfortable, wearing one of those pretty dresses. You're not a villain, you're a normal woman, someone people won't be afraid of... Someone Bruce could love. You would walk around the house, the gardens, and you finally get to see all of it. And then, you'd find Bruce...

Opening your eyes again, you walk to the bathroom to wash your face. Wash away the tears. What is going on with you? You can't let this happen. Not with Bruce. You've never been through this, you never needed or wanted someone so bad. It's weird. You don't want this to be love, you can't let this be love. Punching the sink, you ignore the pain that spreads through your fist.

“Remember who you are,” you tell the girl in the mirror. “Remember who you are.”

But it doesn't work. Who you are, or who you were, is a distant memory. He's succeeding, Bruce is changing you, he's making you see who you are behind the villain mask you had on. And you don't think you can go back there. You don't want to... You want him...

You're crazy. Now you're finally going crazy. Bruce won't like you. And you can't expect him to. You can't want him to. A loud laugh coming from the garden gets your attention, and you run back to the window. You can see a couple, happy, in each other's arms. You envy them... You won't ever have anything like that.

When the door clicks, you dry off the stubborn tears that came rolling down again. “Alfred, tell Bruce everything is beautiful.” You say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“It's me.”

Your heart skips a beat as you turn around, seeing Bruce by the door. He looks amazing in his tuxedo, so handsome. You step forward abruptly, an impulse, ready to run into his arms, but you manage to control yourself, biting your lip to hold back a smile.

“Hi.” It's all you manage to say.

“Why do you always keep the lights off?” He inquires.

“I'm just used to it, I guess... I... I tried to read, then I tried to sleep, so...” Walking away from the window, you move closer to where he's standing.

“I'm sorry if the noise is disturbing you.”

It's not the noise that's keeping you awake, it's him, and all the things you shouldn't be feeling. “That's not it. I don't sleep too much, remember?” Taking a deep breath, you avoid his gaze. You must look so bad, in your black tank top and sweatpants... The girls down there look so beautiful... “What-what are you doing here? The party seems to be going very well.” You gesture at the window, the only sight you have of outside.

“It's considered polite for the host to dance with the single ladies.” He reaches out his hand, and you wonder what it means.

“I... I'm not at the party...” His hand doesn't move, so slowly, very slowly, you take it.

“You're here. That's what matters.”

“I don't know how to, remember? I don't–”

“Relax, (Y/N).” Bruce pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist. It feels like a drug, inebriating. “Just follow my pace.”

Why is he doing this? Why does he care enough to come here instead of focusing on the party he's hosting? Bruce will be the one to drive you crazy.

You start moving, from side to side, following the rhythm of the soft song playing down there. The distance he first put in between your bodies disappears as you move until you're very, very close.

“You... Why did you come here? I-I mean... Don't you have enough girls down there? To dance with? You shouldn't lose your time with me.” You whisper, stuttering. Hesitantly, you look up, meeting his eyes. It's breathtaking.

“Thought you would like a dance.” He keeps his voice low as if the didn't want to disturb the darkness. “Was I wrong?”

“No.” You burst out, too fast. Suddenly, you decide to tiptoe. “This is how I'd be like if I were wearing high heels. And you can pretend I'm wearing a pretty, long dress.” Smiling, you notice your face is closer to his now. His lips get your attention, so you close your eyes.

“You're beautiful, just like this.” His voice is so low that it's hard to hear it. But does he really mean it? Can he find you pretty in such simple clothes? “Sorry I can't take you to the actual party.”

“It's alright. I... I wouldn't feel comfortable, I think... Among the people.” Bruce moves your arms, from where they were laying, on his biceps, to be around his neck.

It's hard not to look at him, but you feel that if you do, you won't be able to control yourself. “I would be by your side the whole time.”

“But what about that... That woman I saw...”

You're begging yourself not to do this. Not to ask something that will make you feel bad to know the answer. But you need to. “Wouldn't she... Wouldn't she want to have you too? I know you're just saying that to make me feel better, I... I shouldn't even be saying that. Just ignore it.” That's embarrassing. Good thing he won't see you blush in the dark.

“Angela is an old friend,” Bruce says, taking your hand and pushing you away in a smooth motion. You've seen this move in some movie, and you're happy to know what to do. You step away for a moment, and then, you spin around, back to his arms. But you miscalculated the movement, so you end up with your back against his chest.

“Sorry.” You quickly say, but before you can turn around, Bruce softly holds you there, swinging to the song. His arms are like a cage, but a good kind of cage... One that makes you feel safe. You feel his breath on your hair, and how his chest moves as he breaths.

“Relax, it's alright.” You close your eyes to hear his voice. “And don't worry about Angela. She's married.”

“Oh... That's good. For her. That's good for her.” You hate how you're always so damn nervous around Bruce. He probably thinks you're stupid.

“I guess it is.” He spins you around again, as the song ends, and pulls you close, strong arms encircling your waist.

Taking a deep breath, you gather all the courage you have to tiptoe again. Your faces are only a few inches away, despite the height difference. He'd have to bend down a little to kiss you. Would he want to kiss you? Would he even consider it? Your stomach feels funny, like butterflies. A hand comes to touch his face, your fingers caressing his skin. You're about to pull him, to end the last inch separating you when you hear someone saying his name out there.

Freezing, you step down, catching your breath. Bruce is breathing fast too, but you're not sure why. “I have to go.”

“Sure.” Smiling, you nod. “Go get them, Batman.”

“Thank you for the dance.” Bruce doesn't let go of your hand, but eventually, he moves away. You can only watch as his fingers let go of yours.

Then, you're all alone again. You're waiting for the familiar click that separates you from Bruce, but it doesn't come. Letting yourself fall on the bed, you cover your face with both hands. You're going mad. Would you really kiss him? What would you do when he pushed you away? You need to take these thoughts out of your head. So you hide under the blankets, eyes closed, trying to sleep. Sleeping is the only way to stop thinking, and right now, the nightmares are the least of your worries.

•••

You're staring at the digital clock. 4 a.m. The party ended two hours ago, and the house is silent. Your head keeps going back to what happened earlier. The dance, and the kiss that almost happened... You're tired of thinking about it, you need to stop. You're caught between trying to understand what's going on and trying to ignore it. To forget it.

But there you go again, replaying everything... Even in the very end, how it seemed like he didn't want to let go of your hand... And then... The click of the lock...

The click that didn't happen.

The door is open.

You jump up, running to the door. Hesitantly, slowly, you turn the handle. And you were right. It's open. A rush of adrenaline sets you in motion, and you swing the door open, running through the hall, to the stairs, and to the first floor. You don't know where you're going, you don't even remember where you went when you first tried to run. You know the front door will be locked, so you run straight past it. You end up in the kitchen, just as you did on your first day here. Your attention is caught by the window above the sink, and in your rush, you try to push it open, but it doesn't move.

You can actually go now. Nobody knows you're here. Taking the blender that's on the kitchen counter, you throw it against the glass until it breaks. You need to move fast now because the noise might wake up Bruce. Climbing on the sink, you use your hand to remove the last bits of glass of the way out...

Bruce...

You made a promise to him. And you know that, if you go on with this, there are chances that you'll end up back in Belle Reve. And Bruce would be sad... Right? You remember how it felt to be so close to him earlier today. His arms holding you... He touches you like no one else did. He's not disgusted... That's probably just Bruce being kind... But even so, you can't do it.

You're looking outside, to the rock path you'd have to take to get to the gates. Slowly, you step down the sink, a sharp pain on your left hand. Looking down, you see a cut in the palm. Taking a deep breath, you start making your way back to your room. On your way out of the kitchen, you see Alfred coming from the hall. He stares at you, wide eyes.

“Sorry for the glass,” you mutter before running upstairs again.

You close the door behind your back, crawling to the bed. You leave the bleeding hand hanging off so the blood won't stain the sheets. You shouldn't have done that. It happened so fast, your body just moved. You just had to get out of the room, and running felt so good. It doesn't take much time for the door to open, and you know it's Bruce. He turns the lights on, and soon you feel the mattress moving when he sits on the bed, but you can't even look at him, so you keep your eyes on the wall.

“I saw you in the kitchen.” He says, his voice soft. Why isn't he mad?

“Hiding in the shadows?” You can feel his eyes on you.

“Something like it.” Bruce takes your hand, and you hear him opening something. The first aid kit, probably. You feel as he starts cleaning the cut.

“Aren't you mad? Or disappointed?”

“Why should I be? You didn't run.” He goes silent, and slowly, you look at him. He's focused on the wound, but it doesn't seem to be too serious. He wraps a bandage around it before laying it on the mattress.

“Was it a test? You left the door unlocked.”

“I forgot. I have a lot going on in my head.”

You want to know what is it he thinks so much about. “I'm sorry about the glass.”

“Why did you change your mind?”

“I can't tell you.” You sit up, and when you do, you're suddenly very close to him. You know you should move away, rest your back on the headboard, but you're frozen, looking into his eyes. Bruce doesn't move either.

“Alright. I'm glad you decided to stay.”

You don't think you wanted to run. You just needed to get out of the room. “Bruce, my... My birthday is coming.”

“I know.” He says with a smile.

“Can I ask something?”

“Sure.”

“Can I... Can I see the gardens?” The moment you say it, you regret. He won't let you out just like this. “You know what, nevermind. A cake would be just fine.”

His face softens, and his hand comes to your face, fingers softly caressing your skin.

Bruce needs to stop doing that because it's sending you the wrong signs, and you should probably tell him to. His touch is so different from anything else, is addicting.

You're falling for him. You're just about to fall in love with Bruce Wayne. And that will probably the your biggest mistake.

@redwolf-7 @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony @chipster-21 @agustdpeach @yaakimoon2 @chloe-skywalker

#bruce Wayne #imagine bruce wayne #Bruce wayne imagine #ben affleck batman #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman imagine #imagine batman #batman x reader

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averagesmw · 4 years ago

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DC Girls x Reader- Christmas time! (2/3)

DC Comics (Comics, not the movies)

A/N: This is a small one-shot collection, with the theme being the holidays!

I don’t own any of the images, they’re just so you can identify the characters easier

CHARACTERS:

-HARLEY QUINN AND POISON IVY

- KILLER FROST/ LOUISE LINCOLN

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

Harley and Ivy

If there was one thing you swore to do was protect Gotham City, even on nights like this one, where most spend their time with their loved ones and get together to eat and party

But the moment you walked into the door, the guys at the GCPD stopped you on your tracks, all insisted that you take the day off, especially since you had covered for a few of them in the past. Normally, you wouldn't agree to it, but when the commissioner himself told you to go home, there was not much to do about it

You got a call from Harley inviting you to Pamela's apartment not so far away from yours. She said she wanted you all to get together for the holidays

It would have come as a surprise if she hadn't talked about it for weeks, even arranging a Christmas exchange between the three of you

And so, with your wrapped gift on hand and a couple of drinks, you walked to the building Pamela lived in. It wasn't hard to spot, it had a greenhouse on the roof

You got to the floor she lived in and knocked on the door, all the noise suddenly coming to an end when you did

Then, Harley herself opened the door, her eyes going wide when she saw you

"Y/N!!"

Was all she said before launching herself at you and trying to start a make-out session, but a vine wrapped around her leg and forced her down. Honestly, the sight was kinda funny

From across the room, Pamela stood there with a smirk and her palm raised to control the vine, making it drag Harley to her

It had quite a few plants, but not too many either. There were also festive lights hung across the walls, probably Harley's idea

It was cozy, to say the least

"Now now, give them some space"

Harley pouted, making you chuckle. This same sound made the redhead look at you with a smirk

"And you, you're here early. Not that I'm complaining"

"Yeah, we thought you'd be working your ass off 'till noon!"

Harley added, still on the floor and you placed the bottles you brought along in the counter nearby

"Well, pretty much the entire police force told me to take the day off so...here I am! Hope it's alright with you girls"

"Are you kiddin'? It's even better!"

The clown girl finally got up, sporting a huge grin as she did. Ivy herself walked closer to you as well

"Yeah, it was about time they recognized what you do for the city"

She then placed a hand on your shoulder and slid it to your cheek, her eyes filled with worry too

"I still don't know why you waste yourself in that place"

With a sympathetic smile, you put your hand on hers and reassured her with your voice

"Someone has to keep the people safe. You know, when the bats aren't around, they deserve some happiness too, you know"

The redhead was about to say something when your mutual lover came through talking from the kitchen

"That's sweet and all, but tonight you ain't a cop, sweetie"

Then she showed up with glasses filled with some of the wine you brought, raising them as if they were an award

"You're Y/N, the sweetest guy/gal in town, and who deserves a drink more than anyone else in here!"

Before any more of the liquid spilled into the floor, Pamela's vines snatched the drinks away and placed them back on the kitchen counter

"While I agree with you, Harls, it's way to early to get wasted. Don't you want to be sober for the exchange?"

Harley began arguing with Pamela about it and all you could do was stand there and smile. Their dynamic was so cute, it was so easy to forget their background sometimes

"Y/N, tell Red I can handle it!" Harley's voice stopped your train of thought with the attitude of a child

"Pam's right, Harley. There's still a long night ahead of us"

And you weren't wrong about it. The dinner was just the beginning, there was a bit of a dance party and of course, the gift exchange

Pamela bought you a package containing all the seasons of your favorite series, suggesting that you watch it together some time

You gave Harley a couple of new roller skates, she wouldn't shut up about how amazing they were and she also wouldn't let go of you until her time was up to bring her gift

It was a plant that had traveled all the way from Asia and into Ivy's arms. You had never seen the girl happier for a gift before

Harley suggested that you should start watching your newly acquired series, but after a couple of episodes, she fell asleep on your lap...and Pamela's

Maybe if you hadn't been stroking her hair she wouldn't have fallen asleep so early, but it didn't matter. The redhead asked you if she could talk to you in the balcony, she said it was important

Upon agreeing to talk, Ivy used her vines to gently lift Harley enough for you to stand up from the couch and as the plants took the girl to sleep, you met the retired supervillain at the terrace

It wasn't that cold, but it was certainly more fresh than inside, a bit darker as well

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

"I just wanted some fresh air, to be honest"

You couldn't help but chuckle at this turn of events. Both of you looking over the city from the balcony with a cup of coffee in hand

"Yeah, it's nice to take a break from everything"

She nodded before taking a sip from the cup

"You said it, a hell of a life we got"

As you looked at the city, you were surprised by her scooting closer to you and trying not to blush about it

"But at least we're in good company"

You chuckled while pulling Pamela close to you, making her yelp by this gesture, but she didn't comply either

"Yeah, we are"

Returning the gesture, Pamela held you closer as well, placing the cups of coffee away before doing so

As for the embrace itself, it was soft, silent for a good couple minutes until you heard her giggling

"You know, I didn't notice until now, but Harley placed some mistletoe here"

She pointed at where the small plant was and smirked at you, making you laugh in the process. It was honestly hard to believe it wasn't Pamela's idea

"You got to respect the tradition"

With your hands on her hips and with hers around your neck, you proceeded to do the only logical thing when faced in this situation. Her lips were so soft, it was addicting

...or at least it would have been if a certain someone hadn't shouted from across the apartment

"IT WORKED!!!"

Harley was peeping just around the corner of the room, and her child-like excitement might have come as annoying, but all you could do was laugh about it

You knew that

Pamela did too

And so did Harley herself, but she was the first one to stop laughing to look directly at you

"...but seriously, I want one too"

Louise Lincoln/ Killer Frost

Arkham Asylum was many things: the home of madmen, the place with the worst security on the planet, and so on but if there was something it was not, was heartless, and Louise soon discovered that the moment there was a knock on the door to her cell

Soon enough, a guard opened the door as well as a psychiatrist. The noise was loud enough to wake her up and sit down on her bed, growling at the poor souls who dared wake to end her sleep

"Good morning, Louise, I trust you sleep well?" The psychologist asked with a kind tone

"Until you came here, yeah" Her answer was weak, but just because she had just woken up

She yawned as she turned around to face the staff, rubbing her eyes

"What do you want?"

"Well, today's a special day. You'll be allowed a complete meal and two extra hours"

Louise looked at the staff in disbelief. They had hardly ever been that kind to her, and they just come to her saying this out of the blue

Better not to joke about removing her inhibitor collar now

"What's so special about today anyway?"

"Well...It's Christmas"

The girl felt her eyes go wide with the realization of the date. Being a resident in Arkham does take away any real sense of time and while the date was meaningless to her, it still felt like a big revelation

"But before you can go on, there is still the daily check-up with Dr. L/N"

She tried her best not to smile at the mention of that name, barely able to maintain her facade

"Fine, take me to them"

Without further due, the guard escorted them to the next room. Along the way, however, Louise found a wide array of different scenes that honestly, were not something to forget

Some of the walls were decorated with ribbons or lights, some of the staff were using Santa hats and hell, even some of the inmates were acting less creepy than usual

It almost felt...peaceful

"Alright, we're here"

The voice of the guard brought Louise back to reality, standing just outside of the room where her interviews tend to take place.

Upon being asked to enter, she stepped into the place to find out that even you were infected with some of that "holiday spirit", the Santa hat and the red/white cup with hot chocolate gave it away

Regardless, what caught her attention the most, was your smile

"Hello, Louise! How are you today?"

You invited her to take a seat across the table, which she did (but her gaze remained just as confused)

"I'm...fine, thanks for asking"

You gave her a nod whilst opening her file, taking out your pen to start taking some notes as was the standard procedure

"Before we begin, I just want to tell you, merry Christmas, Louise"

While the tone alone was enough to make anyone smile, this wasn't the case with her, not even close

"Yeah...you too"

Picking up with her reaction, you immediately shifted your topic of discussion

"Hmm...rocky relationship with the holiday?

"I'd rather not talk about it if that's okay"

Her eyes moved to the side, looking down in an attempt to hide the memory. While it was a trauma worth exploring, it would have to be another time

She barely had any joy in this place, it wasn't proper to ruin the only day she could be happy by forcing her to say it

"It's alright, Louise. We'll begin with our session so you can leave early"

She nodded and without further due, you began asking questions about her state, some opinions on different topics to understand her current pattern of thought and later compare it to the previous evaluation

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, if anything her answers seemed to be improving, but ever so slightly. And so, in a matter of minutes, you had written down her answer to the final question

"Alright, thanks for your cooperation"

"Wait, that's it?"

"Yeah, you can enjoy your day now"

Instead of showing relief or anything of the sort, you saw her gaze sadden. This little hint of emotion would not go unnoticed

You stooped storing away your material to look at her and softly ask:

"Is something wrong?"

"Well, it's kinda hard to explain, it even sounds weird..."

A sympathetic smile formed across your face. To be honest, such a thing sounded even insulting considering the kinds of things you saw on a daily basis

"There is no such thing as weird, Louise, you know you can trust me"

"That's the thing. You're the person I've spent most of my time with in this nuthouse and now that I got a day to myself I..."

A deep sigh left her lips when she found herself unable to continue. You, on the other hand, said nothing, giving her a chance to gather her strength but also, to appreciate the fact that she was actually being honest for a change

"Can...can I ask you a favor?"

She looked back up, straight into your eyes for that sentence, her confidence being nowhere near where it was, but none of the rudeness was there either

This was... something else

"Of course, what can I do for you?"

You answered almost out of pure instinct, unsure of whether saying yes was the right thing to do, but you had never seen Louise act like this before. You had to discover the cause

"Listen, can...Can you stay with me, just for today?"

All the intrigue, the curiousness, and even fear disappeared with that single request

No longer did you have a metahuman criminal whose attitude made treatment difficult

Now you had a person as fragile as anyone else and just as alone that, in that moment, was asking for your help

This moment of silence brought doubt into Louise, she quickly tried to look away, only for a hand to rest above hers to catch her attention. When she returned her gaze to you, she saw you smile

Not the professional, polite kind of gesture, but a genuine one

"Sure, I'll stay with you"

#dc comics #harley quinn #poison ivy #raven #killer frost #reader #christmas

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iwritethat · 6 years ago

Text

Tim Drake: Puppy

A/N: Doggy Plan 4/?, Tim struck me as a Sheep Dog person but this is the DC universe and Krypton exists... :)

Warnings: Mentions of undergarments? *GIFs do not belong to me.*

>>>>——————————>

Look after one of Krypto's Pups they said.

"It'll be fun." Kon said.

"Only for a month or two." Kara has added on.

Tim had his own apartment after moving from the Manor, minding a puppy wasn't too much of a chore for him at the moment especially if it was a favour for one of his best friends. Alas, he was grateful they didn't give him the whole litter as that might've been too much to handle alongside vigilantism but a month or two with one companion wouldn't be so bad.

How wrong he was.

The experience had its ups and downs, yet he'd grown somewhat attached to the creature and his little quirks. The pup had a mischievous streak no doubt about it, often enjoying plays of tug of war and stealing things littered about the apartment were only part of it. However, when he awoke one morning, Tim strolled into his kitchen to find the nameless white, half alien, pup proudly seated outside his bedroom with his treasure strewn before him. Hesitantly, the vigilante stepped forward, analysing his recent discovery before he became instantly flushed and embarrassed.

A Batman Thong.

He wasn't sure what to do with them, figuring his pup had brought them as some form of play but alas he had his suspicions of exactly who they belonged to.

The 56 year old Ms Baker across the hall wasn't a possibility, it simply didn't fit her fashion choices, and it definitely didn't fit the size of Mr Crosby who consistently hung his boxers on the balcony which left his remaining prime suspect - (Y/n) (L/n). As much as they were on friendly terms he knew you had yet to reach a personal enough level to slip your undergarments into casual conversation, usually exchanges consisted of asking how each other's day was during hall passing's or crossings in the lobby.

Regardless, assuming it was a one off occurrence he chose to ignore it.

Although, after a month the underwear was piling up just as the frequency was increasing and Tim had no idea exactly how to handle the situation. Of course, it just had to be his cute neighbour in the apartment complex as the proximity made sense but how the pup had obtained her panties remained a mystery. Every other day his companion would bring a new pair of delicates thoroughly pleased with the growing confusion reaching his masters features. He even called his older brother for advice, the latest artefact of the day being red lace underwear much to Timothy's horror - the thought had potentially crossed his mind but he most definitely hadn't planned on seeing your private items under these circumstances.

However Dick found the whole situation amusing and couldn't stifle his laughter when Tim presented him with a box containing the topic of choice but didn’t let him open it for confidential reasons.

"And the pup keeps bringing you ladies panties?"

"Yes! I'm pretty sure they belong to (Y/n), I overheard her talking to her friend the other day about how she's either misplacing her laundry or there's a serious pervert problem." The concern was evident in Tims voice, although Dick couldn't understand his lack of confidence regarding solving the issue.

"Just return them already, explain that your dog stole them and that you're sorry for the trouble. You'll finally talk to (Y/n) rather that longingly stare and crush on her from afar." Dick gave a lopsided smile, leaning back against the couch.

"We do talk! And I was going to, but every time I got to her door I panicked. Standing there with a box of her underwear, that's so creepy and I don't want (Y/n) to think I'm weird." Tim desperately explained, and they could understand his argument as he came to a halt with an exasperated sigh.

“Nah, just that you’re the pervert she was talking about.” Duke openly laughed, finding the whole situation hilarious.

"Alright, do it tomorrow and just tell (Y/n) the truth." The eldest confidently stated, Duke nodding in agreement.

"Right, I will do that. Not so hard." Tim wholeheartedly spoke, determination renewed thanks to his visitors but required serious consideration on how to handle the matter in the least awkward way.

"He's not gonna do it." Duke quietly chuckled, shaking his head whilst fussing the pup on his lap who gleefully barked in response.

The next day he had every intention to do so, a month was long enough and with the numerous delicates his puppy had brought back he assumed you'd be running low. The box was situated under his arm and the wait was tantalising after he'd knocked, he'd evaluated the best terminology to use and ran over his explanation countless times until it was flawless. Yet despite all of that, he couldn't explain the sheer amount of relief his body experienced when you didn't answer the door and he could safely head back to his apartment next door.

Tim suddenly halted outside, unfamiliar mumbling automatically rebooting his senses as he quietly unlocked his door and stealthily entered his apartment to better hear the commotion of the potential enemy, dropping off the parcel in the process.

"I swear you better give those back before your hot owner comes back Snowball or I'll be arrested for breaking and entering!" The melodious voice immediately put him at comfortable ease, subconsciously bring a smile to his face in the process as your compliment didn’t fall on deaf ears as well as the nickname you’d given his temporary pet.

Upon reaching his living area, he found the white bundle perched on the sofa with you slowly prowling around like you were cautious as to not scare him away, it was cute watching you both like this. That is until you lunged across the couch, fingers hooking onto whatever the canine had in his jaws as he tugged against you in reply with playful barks emitting from his companion.

"Damn you're strong pup, but please... it's my last pair..." Your tone quietened at those last words, yet you continued with your game of tug of war.

"Yeah, he‘s tough huh?"

You instantly froze with a quiet squeak of surprise, your utter startling causing you to let go of your item and stumble to your feet in embarrassment after being caught. Meanwhile the furball happily plopped over to his owner, Tim kneeling to collect whatever he had taken from you but as he dropped the item into his hand the man flushed as you face palmed.

Tim stood, garment between his thumb and index finger as he offered it back to you unable to make eye contact and a flood of apologies escaping his lips, if only he could see how flustered you were too.

"Thanks and about your apartment, sorry - it's just my last pair and I couldn't lose those before I went shopping." You briskly explained, pocketing the underwear with a sheepish smirk.

"Ah - yeah, about that..." Tim sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, walking over to the counter to pick up his previous cargo before handing it to you as he became increasingly flustered.

You opened the mysterious thing, rooting through the contents with a contrast of awkward relief and mild concern. Your red lacy pair, your ribbon briefs, the basic garments, they were all here.

"So... you just kept a box of my underwear in your kitchen?" Your tone was mildly suspicious but held humour as you cocked an amused brow.

"Don't say it like it that! At first I thought it was an accident, the pup only brought back a Batman thong and I thought it was a prank. But then it continued, almost everyday and I couldn't just throw away whosever they were after I'd attained so many. I didn't even know they were yours at first, it was simply a logical deduction. It's not like I could just knock and say, oh here's your panties that my dog stole." Tim instantly justified, hands waving up in defence as he flushed even further, cute really.

"True, what would the neighbours think about us. But thanks for not throwing them you’ve saved me a shopping trip and again, sorry for intruding." You gave a kind smile, along with your apology whilst the pup wagged his tail at the exchange.

"How did you get in exactly?" Now Tim was curious, crossing his arms and raising an expectant brow at your awkwardness.

"Um, I may've climbed over the balcony. I was preparing dinner when I caught sight of your puppy tugging my last piece of underwear off of my clothes line - I had no choice to but to chase after him. Lord knows how he managed to get across that gap." As you explained, you walked Tim out onto his own balcony, pointing over at yours whilst the male paled slightly.

Admittedly, Tim was worried for your safety, falling from the third floor would definitely cause you some injury and the last thing he'd want was to ever let you get hurt. Yet the more pressing matter was that Kryptos offspring may have inherited certain abilities that allowed him access to your home.

"That's one talented dog." He only managed an uncertain remark as to not clue you in on his Alien related thoughts.

"Right? Anyway, I should probably get back over there." You happily chimed, moving to sit on the balcony railing before Tim automatically grasped your waist to pull you back down to his level.

"Wha-What are you doing?!"

"I left my key on the side when I gave chase, my door is locked so I've gotta go back the way I came." You shrugged but gave a small laugh at your hasty behaviour, you never expected your first proper meeting with your hot neighbour to go down like this and you’d hoped it’d improve your relationship with him.

"No, you're not doing that. You're here because of my house guest so I'll do the honours, please wait here (Y/n) and help yourself to anything you like." The male gave a weak smile, ensuring he’d deterred your adventurous intentions before hopping onto the railing himself with ease.

"Anything? Hm I guess fair is fair, where do you keep your underwear neighbour?" Your mischievous tone caught Tim off guard, his words faltering at the forwardness of your question.

"I - (Y/n) -"

"I'm kidding Tim, sorry I'll keep Snowball here company." Your neighbour shook his head with a smile, stabilising himself before hopping over effortlessly compared to the strain it took you to waddle across the connecting ledge.

Tim returned through his front door moments later, finding you and the pup situated on the couch holding up the Batman Thongs.

"Ah (Y/n), I know we skipped a few steps in the friendship ladder but I've seen enough of your underwear for the past month." Tim jokingly commented, covering his eyes as he placed your keys on the coffee counter before you.

"Oh no, these aren't mine..."

You both stared at each for a moment, then back at the thongs with realisation hitting you simultaneously.

"Ms Baker!"

"Ah since your pup stole them you should return it Tim."

"You held them last!" At that you tossed them in his direction, the man instinctively dodging whilst the pup caught them mid air and brought them back to you.

Only, it wasn’t normal.

The pup was suspended in the air, tail frantically wagging as your breath hitched whilst you backed away ever so slightly.

“Neigh-neighbour... I um, I think I know how your friend stole my panties...”

It was the underlying fear in your hushed whisper that caused Tim to focus his attention on you rather than the beverages he was making, his discovery caused him to sigh with his previous assumptions proven correct by the flying super canine.

“What - oh crap... Um I think you should stay for dinner, I can explain...”

“Ye-Yeah...”

Best first date ever. At least it would be when you retold that story about your boyfriend and his canine, Snowball the Superdog.

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake x reader #red robin #red robin imagine #red robin x reader #dc #dc imagine

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