#I’ve forgotten how to draw my boy!

[deviousfatestudio]

My boy,,,,, I’ve forgotten my boy

[losermuse]

CW: non-mc!reader, high school au, angst, unrequited love, hurt/no comfort, insecurity, jealousy, self-hatred, written in first pov, ventfic, unreliable narrator, cliche plot WC: 4.0k

Average. Ordinary. Second best. The plain Jane.

That’s what I am, what I’ve always been. The person who blends into the background, who smiles when I should, laughs when it’s expected.

But never stands out.

So it’s the question of the century: how did I even end up being friends with her? She’s everything I’m not—charismatic, funny, effortlessly pretty, the kind of girl who walks into a room and immediately captures everyone’s attention. The apple of his eye.

I can still remember the first time I met her. It was in the third row, right next to the window. I was awkward, unsure of myself, quietly existing in the corners of the classroom, trying not to draw attention to the fact that I was just another face in the crowd. And then she sat next to me. She was my seatmate, so I guess it was inevitable.

At the time, I couldn’t help but wonder if she had been assigned to me out of pity. After all, who would choose someone like me to be their friend? But she didn’t need a reason. She just…liked me and that was enough.

Initially, I thought it was some kind of fluke. She smiled at me, made small talk, and suddenly, I wasn’t alone in that space. Slowly, I found myself pulling away from the walls I had built around me, allowing her to see parts of me I kept hidden. 

It wasn’t pity in the end. She genuinely wanted to be friends. She didn’t have to choose me, but she did anyway.

Then he entered the picture. Caleb, he was just a name at first, the guy everyone in school seemed to talk about. Star player of the high school basketball team, a natural athlete with a reputation for being both skilled and effortlessly charming. I remember hearing about him long before I saw him. People always flocked to him like he was some kind of magnet.

But when I finally saw him for the first time, it felt like everything seemed to slow down. He wasn’t just a name anymore; he was real. You couldn’t miss him from the way his tall frame moved through the hallways with confidence and the easy smile that never seemed forced. He was the perfect definition of the boy next door. It was clear he wasn’t just someone special to the school, but to her too.

She practically glowed when he was around. I didn’t need to see the way they exchanged jokes or how he called her “pipsqueak” to know she’d known him longer than I had. She was comfortable with him more than I could ever be. And I…well, I was just the audience, watching them from the sidelines. 

It wasn’t like Caleb ever really saw me, at least not in the way I wanted. But then again, he wasn’t the type to make anyone feel invisible. We were both part of her world, after all. So, every once in a while, he’d acknowledge me in passing—small, casual things like a wave in the hall or a brief nod when he saw me sitting next to her at lunch. 

Nothing that stood out. Nothing that made my heart race. But it was enough to make me feel like, maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t entirely forgotten. Maybe he noticed me because he noticed her, and I was simply there, part of the package.

Yet in the end, that’s all it was. A fleeting acknowledgement that never lasted long. Two sides of a perfect coin. Best friend since childhood. 

This is their story, not mine.

—

The school was decorated for Valentine’s Day, with the usual red hearts, streamers and cheesy banners hanging from every corner. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just enough to make the day feel special. It wasn’t a day I particularly looked forward to, but there was something about the way the entire school buzzed that made everything feel a little bit different.

Students milled around, exchanging cards, gifts, and the usual classroom chocolates. I couldn’t help but watch, half-detached as the holiday played out around me. 

I wasn’t expecting anything. Not really. After all, it was just another Valentine’s Day. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then Caleb appeared.

When he finally approached, I saw that familiar smile already on his face. Even in the crowded hallway, he had a way of drawing attention. He reached her first, his grin widening as he handed her a box of chocolates.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, his tone warm, like this was second nature to him.

She laughed, taking the box without hesitation. “Thanks, Gege. You always know the best ones.”

And just like that, it was the same as always. A tradition between them, something unspoken yet expected, like a habit they had no reason to break.

As she tucked the box under her arm, I noticed her phone swinging gently in her hand. Dangling from the corner was a small green apple keychain, bright and shiny like something picked straight out of a cartoon—playful and fresh, just like her.

I might’ve looked away if Caleb hadn’t shifted slightly then, drawing my eyes to the large red apple charm clipped to his bag. Not the same, but unmistakably a pair. Her green and his red—like they were meant to match, opposite but complementary.

The kind of detail that didn’t just happen. The kind of charm you didn’t buy alone.

I looked at them, then back at the apples. Something sour began to rise in the back of my throat, and I swallowed hard, pretending it was nothing. Just keychains. Just a coincidence.

Before I could fade into the background, she turned to me with a playful grin.

“You forgot this.”

I blinked as she handed me a small box of chocolates. The same kind she had been giving out all day.

“I figured you’d want one too,” she continued, her eyes bright. “Even if you’re not into all this Valentine’s stuff.”

I took the box, a little unsure of how to feel. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate it—she was always thoughtful—but something about it felt hollow, like it could’ve meant for anyone. Just another gesture, wrapped up in politeness. Still, I smiled back and took them.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a bit warmer than usual. “I didn’t forget about you either.”

I froze, surprised. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small, familiar red box—the kind of chocolates I’d seen at the store and always picked up for myself but never expected anyone to remember.

“I remember you saying you liked these,” he continued, offering the box with a casual shrug. “So, here. Happy Valentine’s.”

I stared at the box for a second, unable to believe what was happening. Caleb, the one who never paid me much attention—had remembered this one small detail. The world around me seemed to shrink, and I couldn’t find the words to respond immediately.

“Thanks,” I finally managed to say, my voice quieter than usual. I quickly looked away, suddenly aware of the heat creeping up my neck, my pulse racing.

As I held the chocolates, still reeling from the fact that Caleb had seen me, I could feel the weight of her presence next to him. She had already caught his attention again, her laugh filling the space between us as she leaned into him, brushing her hand against his arm.

And just like that, I was back to being a background character in their routine, holding chocolates, a small token that didn’t change anything.

—

It has been a week, and the tension I had tried to push down only grew stronger.

There she was, her usual energy heightened, practically bouncing into the cafeteria the next morning. “Come on!” she said, dragging me by the arm before I could even get a bite of my lunch. “You have to come watch Caleb’s game with me! It’s his biggest match of the season, and he’s asked us to be there.”

I hesitated. I wasn’t exactly a sports fan, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just a third wheel. They were practically inseparable, and the thought of watching Caleb, the one person who made my heart do flips without even trying, while she was there at his side… well, it made my stomach twist.

“You know I don’t really like watching sports,” I said weakly, trying to pull my arm back, but she wasn’t having it.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that!” she insisted. “It’ll be fun! You’ll see. He really wants us to come!”

Before I knew it, we were heading to the gym together, my resistance fading with every step. I couldn’t escape it now.

As we found our seats in the crowded bleachers, the energy buzzed all around us. The game was intense, and the gym filled with the roar of excited fans. But despite all the noise, it felt oddly quiet for me.

There he was, in his element on the court, pulling off play after play, and the crowd was eating it up. I couldn’t help but watch him. He was so…perfect on that court. His confidence, his skills, the way he seemed to shine no matter where he was—it was undeniable.

And then I glanced over at her.

She was watching him too, her eyes glued to him as if no one else existed in the world. Her laughter echoed in the stands every time he scored. She cheered him on, high-fiving the people around her, her whole world revolving around him.

A sharp, unfamiliar sting twisted in my chest, something cold and suffocating, as if green tendrils had coiled around my heart, tightening with every passing second. It was jealousy. I knew it. I couldn’t deny it, no matter how hard I tried. But I didn’t have the right to feel it. They were friends—childhood friends. 

When the game finally ended, Caleb walked off the court, a wide grin on his face. His team had won, and the crowd roared with excitement. She was already on her feet, clapping, her face lighting up as she made her way toward him.

I felt a wave of discomfort wash over me. I stayed seated, hesitating, unsure if I should follow her. I wasn’t sure I wanted to witness whatever came next. I knew it would be the same as always: her congratulating him, them laughing together, the same dynamic that had been in place for years.

And sure enough, as soon as Caleb reached her, they shared a moment that felt like it was pulled straight out of a rom-com movie. He grinned and with a playful nudge, lifted her into a quick hug, laughing.

“Great game!” she said, her voice bubbly as always.

“Thanks,” Caleb replied, his voice warm as he released her, his eyes meeting hers in that familiar way.

I stood there, watching them, the jealousy gnawing at me harder than I wanted to admit. It crept in slowly, the green tendrils seeping through the cracks of my heart, winding their way around it, squeezing until it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I tried to push it down, tried to ignore the way it twisted inside me, but it was impossible. The jealousy was there, growing more than ever.

And I couldn’t escape it.

At that moment, Caleb’s gaze shifted, landing on me where I stood off to the side. His expression softened as he began making his way over, leaving her behind in the crowd of well-wishers. I braced myself for what was coming—another small, casual acknowledgement, just like all the others.

“Hey,” Caleb greeted, his voice as easy as always. “You enjoying the game?” 

“Yeah, it was great,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tightness in my chest. “You played really well.”

“Thanks,” he said, casually leaning against the bleachers. “I’m glad you could make it.” He gave me a small, almost nonchalant grin, and I could feel the air between us growing thinner. “You should come to the next one too. The more the merrier.”

I nodded, but inside I felt like I was shattering. His smile didn’t mean what I wanted it to. He was just being nice, casual. Like we were… just friends. That’s all it was.

Just friends.

—

I hate this.

Jealousy and I have become acquaintances. 

It wasn’t always like this. At first, it was just a passing stranger, brushing against my shoulder whenever I saw them together. A quiet, fleeting thing. But over time, it settled in, got comfortable. Now, it lingers beside me like a shadow, whispering in my ear every time he laughs at one of her jokes or drapes an arm around her.

I should be used to it by now. I tell myself I don’t mind being the extra in their story, the one who watches, who listens, who smiles at all the right moments. But jealousy knows better. It sees the way my heart twists when he looks at her like she’s the only one in the world. It feels like the ache that never quite goes away.

And the worst part? Caleb is kind. So when he turns to me with that easy warmth, when he asks if I’m okay or flashes a smile just because—I almost believe it. I almost let myself think I matter, not just because I’m standing next to someone who does.

But jealousy just laughs. Because we both know the truth.

He notices everyone.

And that’s exactly why he’ll never really see me.

I almost wish he were mean. That he’d ignore me completely, never sparing me a glance. Maybe then, it wouldn’t hurt as much. Maybe then, I could convince myself I never cared in the first place. But he isn’t. He’s warm, thoughtful, and good. And that’s what makes this so much worse.

Because how do you let go of something that was never yours to begin with?

—

The rain started without warning, a sudden downpour that sent students scattering in every direction. Laughter and shrieks echoed through the courtyard as people huddled under jackets, sprinted for buses, or shared umbrellas.

I stood beneath the awning outside the school doors, watching the water hit the pavement in relentless sheets. She had left earlier for practice, and I had no umbrella, no ride—just an excuse to linger a little longer.

“You always get caught in the rain, huh, Sunshine?”

My breath hitched at the familiar voice, low and amused.

I turned, already knowing who I’d see.

Caleb stood a few feet away, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding an umbrella at his side. Stray strands of damp hair clung to his forehead, his school blazer slightly wrinkled like he had just pulled it on without care. 

I scoffed. “That’s a dumb nickname.”

He smirked. “Says the one who never remembers an umbrella.” Then, without waiting for permission, he took a step closer, tilting his umbrella just enough to cover me. “Come on, I’ll walk you.”

I hesitated. But the cold air bit at my skin, and it wasn’t like I had another choice.

So I stepped in.

It should’ve been fine. Normal. We had walked together plenty of times before, always because of her. The thought sat heavy in my chest, an unspoken truth I tried to ignore.

The space under the umbrella was small. Too small. The scent of his cologne mixed with the rain, something warm and clean that made my stomach twist in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge.

We walked in silence, the rhythmic patter of raindrops filling the gaps where words should have been. It wasn’t an awkward silence—he never seemed to struggle with those. To me, though, it was suffocating, heavy with everything I’d spent so long trying to ignore.

Caleb hummed thoughtfully. “You always overthink everything, Sunshine.”

I glanced at him. “And you don’t think enough.”

He grinned. “That’s why we balance each other out.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, willing my heart to settle. We didn’t balance anything. I was just—there. A background character in his life, a passing moment he’d forget by tomorrow.

Then, just as casually as everything else he did, he reached out.

“Hold still,” he murmured.

Before I could react, his fingers brushed against my forehead, tucking a damp strand of hair behind my ear.

The touch was light, but it sent a bolt of something sharp and electric through me. The world shrank down to just that moment, just that sensation.

I could say it. Right now.

The words were right there, lodged in my throat. Three small words waiting to slip out.

But I swallowed them down before they could ruin everything.

I wanted him to be indifferent so bad. To treat me like I was just another face in the crowd, someone easily forgotten. But he didn’t. He was Caleb. Kind, thoughtful, always saying just the right thing, doing just enough to keep me hoping.

By the time we reached my house, my clothes were still dry, but my heart was drowning.

He smiled, completely unaware of what he’d just done to me. “See you tomorrow.”

And then he was gone, walking back into the rain, while I stood there, watching, waiting, wishing—soaking in everything I could never have.

– 

That moment under the umbrella should have meant nothing. Just a momentary act of kindness. A small thing.

To him, it probably was. A simple gesture, something he’d done countless times without thinking.

But for me, it was the moment I realized something ugly had settled inside me. Something that stretched beyond just longing or jealousy.

It was envy.

Because she had everything.

Everything I ever wanted.

Not just Caleb, though that stung more than I wanted to admit. It was the way she moved through life—effortlessly. She was always the centre of attention, always the first choice and always the one people gravitated toward. She didn’t have to fight for anyone’s affection. She didn’t have to wonder whether she was enough. She simply was.

She was loved without question. She was accepted, admired, and celebrated.

And me?

I was the girl who blended into the background. The one whose laugh was too quiet to be heard, whose smile was lost among the crowd. The one who always had to fight to be noticed, but when she was, it felt like an afterthought.

And it had always been like that. I had always been the second best—but now? Now, it was so much worse. Every time she smiled at him, every time they shared a joke or a look that I couldn’t understand, the resentment inside me only grew. I wanted to scream, to shake her, to force her to see that I existed too, that I mattered too. But I couldn’t. She was my best friend. And so, I kept my mouth shut.

It wasn’t just about Caleb anymore. It was about everything.

It was about the way she lived in a world where everything was handed to her, where she didn’t have to second-guess her place in anyone’s life. The way people respected her for being who she was, while I was left wondering what I was doing wrong. What made me less than her?

And I hated her for it.

I hated the way she made it look so easy. I hated how every compliment she got felt like a punch to the gut. I hated how she never questioned her worth. 

I couldn’t even give myself the comfort of believing I was worthy of anything.

So, I pulled away.

Not because I was hurt or heartbroken. Not because I couldn’t stand seeing them together. But because I was angry. Angry at her, angry at him, and most of all, angry at myself for constantly standing by and letting them have everything I wanted.

I avoided her calls, stopped texting back right away, and made excuses when she asked if I wanted to hang out. I found myself making plans to be somewhere, anywhere, but with her. And when she did manage to drag me somewhere, I was quiet. I’d say as little as possible, smile only when necessary, and just... disappear into the background.

It was easier that way. Less painful.

I started isolating myself. Avoiding her meant avoiding Caleb. And avoiding Caleb meant less of the painful, gnawing feeling that clawed at my chest every time I saw them together.

The worst part was that she didn’t notice. She never did.

She was so used to being the centre of attention, so used to everyone loving her, that the subtle shift in our dynamic went completely unnoticed. She never realised that the space between us had grown wider, that my silence wasn’t just me being distant—it was me retreating from a world I no longer wanted to be part of.

It was suffocating. 

I couldn’t let her see. I couldn’t let anyone see how much it hurt. Because if I did, they’d know the ugly truth. That I wasn’t just a background character in their story. I wasn’t just plain.

I was jealous. And envy had become my constant companion, my closest friend.

And I wasn’t sure how to let go of it.

–

Caleb’s graduation was the moment I had been dreading and expecting all at once. The school gymnasium was decorated with streamers and balloons, the air was filled with pride and excitement. The graduating class stood at the front, Caleb among them, ready to speak as the valedictorian. He had earned the title, of course—everyone expected it.

As he stood at the podium, his easy smile and effortless charm seemed to fill the room, the crowd hanging on every word he spoke. I watched from my seat in the crowd, alongside her, face beaming with pride. So much for distancing myself. She was proud of him, and so was I, in a way. After all, he was her best friend, the boy who had been part of her life for as long as I could remember.

Caleb’s speech was inspiring, warm, and heartfelt. He spoke about friendships, dreams, and the future, words that made everyone in the room feel like they were part of something bigger than themselves. When he finished, the crowd erupted in applause, and she was already up from her seat, rushing toward him.

My eyes followed her, knowing exactly what would happen next. She was always there for him, and he, in turn, was always there for her. The bond between them was undeniable, visible to everyone. They had been friends for years, but sometimes, it felt like more than just friendship. I couldn’t help but feel like an outsider, a silent witness to the connection they shared.

And then, it happened. She reached Caleb, her smile wide, and before anyone could say anything, she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. The crowd cheered, and Caleb smiled in return, a look of fondness in his eyes. It wasn’t anything new. It wasn’t anything special—at least, not for them.

But for me, it was like a dagger in my chest.

I wasn’t jealous. I am not jealous.

I told myself it should’ve been fine. I had walked with them before, watched them interact, and laughed at their jokes, but this moment? This one was different. This one hit harder than I was prepared for. The way they looked at each other, the ease in their gestures—it was a reminder of something I’d never be a part of.

When Caleb pulled away from her, his eyes scanned the room. I could feel his gaze, and for a brief moment, our eyes met. But unlike the usual moments when he would smile, wave, or make some casual comment, this time, he simply looked away, his attention already drifting toward someone else.

No acknowledgement. No wave. Nothing.

I swallowed hard, fighting back the sudden wave of emotion. It should’ve been normal. He was just being Caleb. Kind, friendly, the same as always. But in that moment, the silence felt like a slap.

She was glowing from the attention she got from him and turned back toward me with a smile. I couldn’t bring myself to return it. I just looked at her, at the way she was so comfortable with him, and the heaviness in my chest made it harder to breathe.

I wasn’t part of their world. And deep down, I knew that was never going to change.

I stood up from my seat, moving slowly, hoping to blend into the crowd. My heart pounded in my chest, not from excitement, but from the sharp sting of realising that no matter how many times I told myself it didn’t matter, it did.

I had no place in their story. They didn’t need me. I was always going to be a side note in the narrative that was unfolding before me. The quiet, unnoticed figure in the back of the room while they moved on to bigger things.

And I would remain there, in the background, just like I always had.

Forever. Always. Unnoticed.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I am going FERAL over this imagine:

So basically Bruce brings reader home to be his new daughter/the boys' new sibling but Uh Oh! They now want you carnally and reader is just like "you said you wanted me as a daughter/sibling, wtf is this" and being their platonic darling is better than being shared between them romantically so reader tries to come off as innocent and child/sibling coded by being like "yeah I've never actually kissed or dated anyone before aren't I just so innocent" and the boys are like :)))

So then Dick says you can call him your boyfriend "just to feel it out" and Tim starts blatantly stealing your panties and Jason says he can give you your 1st kiss so you can "practice" with him and Bruce offers to teach you how to touch yourself and (and him) and when you try to walk it back cause the boys are being Freaks they're in their delulu era so eventually you end up tied to the bed with the boys and Bruce drawing straws over who gets to take what 1sts (like 1st date, kiss, virginity, ect).

And Damien is just in the background absolutely SEETHING cause the the boys and Bruce's Horny Time keeps interrupting his Mommy Time with the reader

And reader using Damien as kind of a shield cause what are they going to do, feel you up in front of a CHILD? Like just, "Stay Platonic :))"

Just that kind of pseudo incest makes me Feel Things (*/∀＼*)(///∇///)

I'd love your thoughts/a fic based on this! Ty ❤️

TW: Brief mentions of pseudo incest(y) scenarios/behavior, manipulative tactics, yandere tendencies

(Okay so I’ll answer this with my thoughts for right now.)

I know I primarily write incest(y) related topics for my Game of Thrones/ASOIAF stuff but I have been tempted to/curious about branching it out into some of the other fandoms I write for 👀. (I’ve had a few ideas rolling around in my noggin for a bit if anyone is interested.) So I would be willing to give this a try. I’m down to experiment with some new stuff, within reason of course.

I imagine the Reader being older (probably 19-23), maybe even having been a runaway of sorts or not having a very stable home life, so when they’re given the ‘offer’ to become part of the family they’re looking to fulfill a familial void they’ve never experienced or have forgotten how it’s felt like. I definitely see Bruce and the rest of the boys keeping a very close eye on the Reader before they decide to finally bring them into their family, basically full on stalking them from the moment they caught their attention (you know how the Batfam works). It wouldn’t be a surprise if even before the Reader was with them physically that the boys developed a more carnal desire for them. At first, their intentions were completely platonic, but with all the lengthy observing and information gathering of their supposed-to-be-new-family-member eventually something changed in how they all saw their darling.

I really see the change in their obsession starting with either Dick or Tim first. Especially regarding some accidental or purposeful peeping Tom foolery. I feel like Bruce would be the last to fall victim to the change in direction or at the very least he’s the last one to admit to it. If Damian is younger than I see his obsession staying strictly platonic, but if he were much older than I could see him involving himself to the same depths as his family.

At first, I see things happening subtly. Knowing that at the very least a few of them are already in an obsessive-romantic headspace in regards to their darling before they even physically become part of the family the guys would try to be as welcoming as possible without revealing their true intentions. They don’t want to scare you off right away, they want you to walk into it semi-willingly at least. But the interactions with the Reader would show something else. The lingering touches, the being much closer to you than really necessary, the heated grazes over your clothes here and there that leave you wondering if that actually happened or not. I also kind of like the other members not being fully aware of each other’s change in obsession, everyone giving each other the side eye until it sets in and then all out war of who gets the darling to themself unfolds only to eventually end up with them working together and agreeing to share. That’s when Bruce’s heel-turn is revealed.

Once things get truly amped up, the interactions with the Reader really begin to escalate. The boys would walk around shirtless more often, all of them trying to get their darling to look at them, to really look at them. Eventually, it’s not just them being shitless but either them in nothing but their underwear or nothing at all. They start out as accidents but eventually it’s pretty loud and clear that the guys want you to see them, all of them, to even touch them and feel them to your hearts content. But thats not all, of course it’s not. The touching of their darling only gets all the more intense, to the point that you know damn well that they’re touching you and they want to leave you wanting for more. So much more. The Reader’s innocence and lack of experience would only spur them on even more. They absolutely thrive off of it. They all want to be your first, your first everything. There will be a lot of secret ‘lessons’ being given behind closed doors and telling of “Don’t tell Batdaddy or he’ll get real mad.” “Don’t let Jay know, or he’ll want to punish you for not doing this with him.” “Let this be our secret, (Name). Something just for you and me.” “Can’t tell anyone about this or they’ll ruin it for the both of us.” And they only get even worse from there.

I can’t see Alfred being okay with this in any situation, whatsoever. I think he especially would feel like Bruce and the other boys completely took advantage of the Reader and he would try his best to aid them in trying to keep up with the platonic intention of this entire fiasco. He would be a total cockblock, even going as far as helping Damian in his cockblocking endeavors. Alfred’s intention would be to play both sides so he knows how to help the Reader when it comes to Bruce and the others but it wouldn’t take too long for them to figure out that Alfred is working against them. Like, Alfred was all for the familial-platonic obsession but when things started getting more romantic he was ready to shut that shit down ASAP. You can’t tell me he hasn’t, at least a few times, locked Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim out of the house to give the Reader some peace and give Damian his much deserved allotted time with them.

Speaking of Damian, he is a menace (as per usual) but even more so than normal. He really doesn’t take too well to the new direction of his father’s and brothers’ obsession for the Reader. He thinks it’s pretty messed up but he sincerely likes and cares about the Reader and he wants them to stay, he wants them to continue being a part of the family forever so he’ll let some things slide. Some. He even may be willing to look the other way when it eventually comes to Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim baby-trapping the Reader if it means this whole ‘family’ thing becomes set in stone with the arrival of a new ‘sibling’. But for the most part, at least early on, Damian would be a huge pain in the ass for the other family members. He feels like he needs to step in to save his darling from the others and their ulterior motives. He’s all his parental/older sibling figure needs, at least at that point. He may even try to runaway with them to keep them safe from the others. Hell, he may even get his mother involved if he was desperate enough, especially if he saw the Reader as a parental figure. Or maybe even another Justice League member to either adopt him and the Reader so that he could have that family experience he was promised with the Reader. Or he would be completely content just living the rest of his life just him and the Reader, platonically of course.

It would either take Bruce or Dick to have a talk with Damian to get him to come to some agreement to allow them to continue with what they’re doing in regards to the Reader. I think Dick would get away with manipulating Damian much better than Bruce could. I think Damian would have some opinions about his father especially throughout this whole situation. Especially since I see Damian being very observant of how Dick, Jason and Tim are behaving towards the Reader early on and picking up on the fuckery taking place, even going as far as telling Bruce about it under the belief his father would be on his side (not ever fathoming the idea of his father also doing similar things to the Reader without him ever knowing). As far as Damian knew his father was completely platonic towards the Reader, as a ‘father’ should be. Right? So understandably Damian feels not only betrayed but also disgusted when he finds out that his father was and still is taking part in, acting in a similarly depraved fashion as the others.

Eventually, I could see them coming together and being one big ‘happy’ family. But it sure as hell comes at a price. (Usually the Reader’s freedom and sense of self outside of the obsession they’ve been dragged into, to drown in alongside their yandere(s).)

[shuenkio]

Lover Demon — 제이크

Paring: Jake!Demon X M!reader

Synopsis: Summon the wrong type of demon consequences with something you never thought would ever happen.

Genre: Smut without plot. Cw: curse, smau.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

Witchcraft is a quiet, curious thing—something that seems to catch only your eye. In a world so full of technology and science, there’s little space left for whispered stories, magic, or the old myths that once felt so real. Those tales have grown faint over time, gently brushed aside by facts and reason, leaving behind a world that’s slowly forgotten how to dream.

Yet you can’t help but gather books on witchcraft—magic, power, rituals, spells, summoning—anything that catches your curiosity, even if most of them are likely just clever tricks for profit. But that doesn’t really matter. It’s enough to quiet your mind, to feel that familiar comfort in studying, in learning about the things that draw you in, no matter how unreal they might seem to others.

The sun sank below the horizon, leaving the sky to rest as a radiant full moon took its place, flooding the earth with silver light. It was the perfect night—the kind you’d been waiting for. Months of study led to this moment, the chance to perform a ritual, to summon a demon that haunted your thoughts. Wishes you’d longed for danced on the edge of possibility. Whether the books were lies or truth didn’t matter. It was worth the risk.

Behind your grandparents’ backyard, surrounded by trees that whispered in the night breeze, lay the perfect place for this ritual. Hidden from prying eyes and safe from interruption, it was the ideal spot to summon the demon that had lingered in your thoughts. Under the full moon’s watchful gaze, the air felt heavy with possibility.

“Finally, I’ve been SUMMONED—” the demon stretched, his body cracking with a sound that echoed through the small, broken-down house. He sighed, clearly relieved to be back in the human world. His glowing eyes scanned the room before landing on you. He blinked, his expression shifting from smug to surprised. “Wait... you’re a guy?” he asked, pointing at you with one sharp claw.

You stood there, clutching the book to your chest, heart pounding as you stared at the towering figure. His horns nearly brushed the ceiling, and his presence filled the room with an aura that made it hard to breathe. You swallowed hard but forced yourself to stand tall. Clearing your throat, you tried to keep your voice steady. “What’s wrong with being a boy?” You scoffed, turning your nose up just a little. “You know damn well you can’t do anything to me since I’m the one who summoned you.” You tried to sound confident, hoping he couldn’t see how your hands were trembling just a bit.

The demon looked at you for a long moment before rolling his eyes. “Ugh, fine. So what do you want? Must be something big if you went through all that trouble.” He crossed his arms, his muscles flexing under his dark skin. “Just so you know, my name’s Jake, and I’m the Demon of Love.” He paused, his face twisting into a scowl. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I know it doesn’t sound all that terrifying, but it’s not what you think. I’m no damn cupid.”

You stared at him, your mind blanking for a moment. Demon of... Love? Your stomach sank as the realization hit you. You’d summoned the wrong demon.

“Uh... hey, so... I think I made a mistake summoning you,” you started, your voice wavering as you tried to keep your composure. “I was... actually looking for a wish demon, not... um... a love demon.” You could feel your face heating up with embarrassment. “So... can you, like... go back by yourself? Or do I have to, uh, do another ritual or something?”

Jake’s glowing red eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable as he stared at you. For a moment, you were convinced he was either furious or just incredibly disappointed, but then he let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Of course. Should’ve known. A rookie,” he muttered, his voice echoing with that eerie double-tone that made your skin crawl.

He crossed his arms, his massive form leaning against the crumbling wall. “You humans never read the fine print, do you?” His eyes roamed over you, lingering just long enough to make you uncomfortable. “Alright, since you’re... kind of handsome and clearly clueless, I’ll tell you the truth. There’s only one way to send me back.”

You waited, holding your breath.

“Mating,” Jake said lazily, as if he were discussing the weather. “Since you’re my summoner, we’d have to... you know, perform a ritual of love. It’s my rule.”

Your jaw dropped, and for a moment, you forgot how to speak. “W-What?” you finally managed, voice cracking in disbelief. “You’re kidding... right?”

Jake just smirked, his sharp teeth gleaming. “Hey, don’t blame me. You summoned the Demon of Love. What did you expect?”

////

Right on the spot, your body was naked where your clothes had been torn into pieces by the love demon. The moment you couldn't even take time to react, that was when it changes to the state that you're in right now, completely butt out and length kiss the cold air. However that's just the beginning, The love demon— shape shift himself into the human version of his, in order to intimate the rule he just spit, for a better saying was to FUCK Jake to send him back.

A flash red light flickering, before Jake stands proud in front of you with his exposed flesh. His build masculine body makes you question whether this is a reward or a punishment? Not to mention in detail was that— even though Jake was a demon, he understood the human need... A bit all too well for how lustful they are in bed, and he isn't any better from humans, Jake likes it more than they ever would.

The 12 inches cock hanging between his legs, the balls are covered in a heavy skin stretching like a cauliflower. Jake's tense thighs only to fuel your desire to just kneel right there before him and begging for his to fuck your brain out of you.

Yet you made no move. In a blink of an eyes you find yourself on the red comfortable mistress to the unknown, the dark absorbed any surrounded which all you see is blank plain ancient walls around.

Jake wastes no time before Lough into your smaller frame which caused you to yelp in a surprise manner. As your back hits the cold bed before his hip enters your closet personal space. Your groin of course. The demon itself tends to know a lot of people's daily life and stuff, nevertheless he doesn't know how to kiss, to intimate more sexual love making, to bond more yet all he knows was to mate and fuck, that's all he's good at.

"If you dare to PUSH me off right now darling, I'll be forever stuck here with you for a century, and boy—I do not care if you have a manhood to make children, i fuck whoever summon ME!" Cool sweat dripping down on your forehead, with a shriek were heard inside the chamber once Jake's enormous largely cock entered the tightness of yours.

For once in his whole life— Jake could finally find pleasure for the first time in humans, resulting in him throwing his head back, goosebumps running down in his vein as his both reds glow eyes disappear into white. The pleasure of his cock burying the inside of your hole alone already turning Jake into a wild animal.

"Holy Demon— mhmm why is it SAUR GOOD I fucking love it, need to BREED with my fucking FERTILIZER SEED ARG" The demon shriek to the undeniable lust he felt in this moment, his growling alluring through your ear drum.

"Unghh... fuck! So goddamn tight...!"

Your eyes turn white of the intense pleasure, my ass hole is too taunt better than a vice, make him fold into two even though he was pounding me just like demon possessed. It was too much for us yet it was too overstimulated for Jake, to hold on to the point he needed something to hold on.

The taller frame grunts and pants harshly, sweat beading on his brow as he struggles to maintain his relentless pace, your incredibly tight hole clenching and fluttering around his pistoning cock like a silken vise. "Shit... M/n... your fucking ass... it's too goddamn tight!"

He snarls through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

His hips slap against your ass with brutal force, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room along with his animalistic grunts and groans. The couch creaks and shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, threatening to topple over.

Jake leans forward, his chest pressing against your back as he tries to find some semblance of stability. His hot, ragged breaths fall against your neck and ear, his lips latching onto your skin to bite and suck. He's quickly losing himself in the tight, wet heat engulfing his cock, his movements becoming more erratic and desperate.

Suddenly, he hilts inside you, grinding his pelvis flush against your ass, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your taint. He stays there for a moment, just savoring the feeling of being completely sheathed in your clenching channel before he starts rolling his hips, stirring his thick cock around inside you.

His hand snakes around your body, grasping your own weeping erection, squeezing and stroking it in time with his relentless thrusts. "Unghh... fuck... I can feel every throb, every twitch of this greedy little cunt... like it's sucking me in fucking deeper...!" Whimpers sniff painted his face, he's absolutely destroying himself.

He changes the angle of his thrusts slightly, aiming straight for that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you. With each snap of his hips, he grinds against that spot, determined to make you fall apart on his cock.

The pressure builds rapidly in his heavy, churning balls as he chases his pleasure, his strokes becoming shorter and sharper, his grip on your hips tightening. He's getting close... too fucking close. But he won't stop, not until he's pumped every last drop of his hot, thick seed deep into your guts.

His hips slap against your ass with brutal force, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room along with his animalistic grunts and groans. The bed creaks and shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, threatening to topple over.

Jake collapses heavily against your back, his entire body shaking and twitching with the force of his intense orgasm. A guttural, almost feral roar tears from his throat as he empties his aching, overstimulated balls deep inside you, painting your inner walls white with thick ropes of his scalding cum.

His cock jerks and pulses wildly as it pumps what feels like an endless stream of jizz into your spasming hole, the sheer volume of it causing some to leak out around his shaft and drip down onto the couch. He grinds against you, making sure to push his load in as deep as it can go, marking your insides with his essence.

But the overwhelming sensations and the intense pleasure pushing him over the edge also have an unintended consequence. As he's lost in the throes of his release, feeling your body clench and milk his spurting cock, he loses control of another bodily function. A warm, unfamiliar sensation rushes through his shaft, and suddenly, he feels a strong, forceful stream of piss erupting from his cock, mixing with the thick cum already flooding your ass.

Panic rises in his chest as he realizes what's happening, but he's too far gone, too consumed by the all-encompassing pleasure radiating from his core. He can only let out choked, strangled groans as he continues to empty his overstimulated body into yours, the heat of his piss momentarily startling you, even as it washes away the excess cum.

After what feels like an eternity, his release finally starts to taper off, leaving him slumped against your back, both of you coated in sweat and the remnants of his spending. His softening cock, still buried deep inside your cream-filled hole, gives a few last weak pulses, a few last drops of piss and cum dribbling lazily into you.

The man remains in place, his entire body heavy and sated, his breathing slowly returning to a somewhat normal pace after the intense workout. He nuzzles into your neck, pressing soft kisses to your sweat-slicked skin, a rare moment of gentle intimacy. He's utterly spent, but a part of him is still marveling at the incredible tightness of your body, the way it took everything he had to give and then some.

"cum... It's coming...."

Jake could feels the hot spurts of your release splattering against his fingers and your stomach, mixed with the sweat and other fluids already covering both of your bodies. A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his face, his chest rumbling with a deep, approving groan. "Heh... that's it, M/n... come for me just like the needy little slut you are. I can feel you fucking soaking my hand with it...— I guess I won't fucking leave this human world you're now forever mine— My you"

The slave mark appears on your lower tummy.

A/n: Some part might be confused so I'll left into your imagination. This was inspired by bff of mine— from my famous friend @angelsfat3

Funtalk: Dare to get rail by demon Jake?

[sharkflan]

i feel like i’ve forgotten how to draw my dear harry du bois it’s been so long :’o)

[moonstruckme]

Hello! First I wanted to tell you how much I love your work, I think I almost read them all ! Second, I wanted to request, if that’s ok, a poly!marauders or any marauder with a reader insecure about her small chest. I thank you for the time you’ll take reading my request, and hope you’ll continue writing !

Thank you lovely :)

cw: smut mdni, reader has insecurities around breast size and makes a joke about looking like a boy

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 797 words

The sky outside is a pale gray, and droplets of rain cling dearly to leaves and flower petals. You’ve left the bedroom window open, letting in the cool breeze that smells of green and freshness. It licks over your skin like a fine mist, sweet and earthy. 

But you like Remus’ licks better. 

His mouth is warm on your breast, both of your books turned over and forgotten at the end of the bed. You have one hand burrowed in his hair, extra fluffy from the damp air, while your other runs up and down his back, beseeching. Remus kisses and sucks at you so gently you don’t even suspect the hickey he’s leaving behind until he moves to a different spot and you see the mark. You don’t let him get very far on his next project. 

“Rem,” you plead, giving his hair another little tug. 

He chuckles but complies, stretching up for a syrupy, lingering kiss. You sigh into his mouth. He devours it happily, slipping a hand around to the small of your back and starting to press you downwards onto the pillows. But that’s a position you haven’t taken for a reason, and you push back, covering your resistance with the guise of kissing Remus harder, forcing you both upright. 

Remus’ mouth curves against yours. He goes along with you, nipping playfully at your lip and gripping you tighter, rougher. 

But it’s not long before he tries again, urging you horizontal so he can get on top of you properly. This time, when you don’t go, he takes notice. 

“Something wrong?” he asks casually, still tending to the corner of your mouth with soft, sweet kisses.

You hum a denial and go for the distraction, clutching at the muscles of his back and trying to maneuver yourself into his lap. Not particularly easy, since he’s currently in your lap, his body spread over you with his legs on either side of your hips. 

Remus sets a hand on your shoulder. A restraint. “Sure you don’t want to tell me?” he asks softly. “I can tell something’s bothering you.” 

Your lips still on his. For a few moments, the only sounds are bird calls and the tinkling of raindrops falling from trees like silver coins. Remus doesn’t pull away. He waits for you. 

“I don’t really want to lie down like this,” you admit. 

“That’s fine.” Remus’ hand slopes down your shoulder, thumb beginning to draw circles into your arm. He’s always had a sense for when you might need soothing. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah.” You laugh at yourself, a light little puff of air that sounds as forced as it feels. “I’m being vain.” 

His eyebrow twitches upward. “How’s that?”

It’s an effort not to look down at your chest. “I’m just not really feeling my boobs lately,” you say simply, trying once more for insouciance. “I don’t even want to think about how they’d look concaving back into me, so I’d rather avoid having to see it.” 

Remus grins, a small, crooked thing that lets you know he’s playing along with your levity even if he doesn’t buy into it. “They do not concave,” he sneers teasingly. “And you don’t have to be the one feeling them, dovey. I’ve been feeling them for about a half hour now, and I’d say they feel excellent.” 

“Ha ha.” You direct your smile just over his shoulder. 

Remus hums and plants a hand in the middle of your chest. “Now, that didn’t sound very sincere,” he says, pushing downward. 

There’s a bit more force to the motion this time, and you can’t resist for long. You go down giggling, even as unease twists peskily in your gut. 

“See?” Remus bends over you, laying a kiss on your cheek before creeping downwards. “Still lovely.” 

“I’ve become a young boy,” you lament jokingly, but squeak when Remus nips admonishingly at your neck. 

“They’re perfect,” he says, mouth marking a trail down into the valley of your chest. He presses his lips to the inside of one breast. Lets them linger there, emanating a tenderness you can feel seeping into your core. When he lifts them, it’s with a soft suctioning sound. “Perfect.” 

“Remus,” you whisper. 

His eyes flick up to yours, eyelashes nearly brushing his eyebrows from the angle. “Yes?” 

“You…you don’t have to.” 

He looks back down, tsking. He sets another kiss on the same breast, moving slowly closer to the stiff peak of your nipple. “Still doesn’t believe me,” he mutters as if to himself. Another press of his lips, this one almost directly on the bud. 

Remus sighs, and goosebumps skitter over your skin. You shiver.

“I think you may have to get comfortable, darling. I’m going to be busy here for a while.”

[radawaycunt]

Soo ... How about a hannigram where the reader draws and paints too but never showed her drawings to the boys because she thinks they're not good enough, then one day Will accidentally finds them and I decided to show them to hannibal, how do you think they would react ?

!!!!!❤️!!!!!

———

Will found an errant slip of paper sticking out of one of Hannibal’s sketchbooks. Curious, he carefully pulled it out to examine it.

On it, he found a small collection of pencil sketches that seemed to be copies of Hannibal’s work. The lines were unsure and a little messy, but they weren’t bad at all. In fact, they had a surprising amount of detail.

He gently traced them with his fingers, frowning.

“Hannibal?” He called him over.

Hannibal walked over to his side, shutting the book he’d been perusing. “What is it?”

“These aren’t yours, right?”

“No… they’re not,” Hannibal said thoughtfully, inspecting them more closely.

From your spot on the couch, you glanced over at them curiously. When you realized what they were looking at, you were momentarily frozen with dread. Oh no.

You must have forgotten it last time you’d taken his sketchbook to practice. You leapt out of your seat and hurried over.

“Um, well, actually funny story but… that’s mine, yeah,” you said, reaching for it, your face warm.

Will pulled it just out of reach, not wanting to concede it yet. “You didn’t tell us you liked to draw.”

“It’s because I’m kinda new to it… been practicing whenever I can,” you said. “I didn’t want you to see it until I was better at it.”

“I was wondering why I’d seen graphite on your fingers so much lately,” Hannibal said. “I would’ve enjoyed drawing with you, and I could have taught you a couple of things myself.”

“Well, you kind of did. I’ve been using your sketches as reference all along…” you felt your face heat up even more and you covered it with your hands. “God I’m mortified! I should’ve just asked.”

“Aw, come on, give yourself some credit. These aren’t bad,” Will said. “I really think you’re on the right path.”

“It’s not up to par, though…” you muttered, uncovering your face.

Hannibal waved this off. “Who cares about that? What matters is you’re doing it. And besides, my offer to do it with you still stands.”

“And we both know how good a teacher Hannibal is, don’t we?” Will added, a slightly playful edge to his tone.

You smiled a little, feeling less discouraged. “You’re right about that.”

———-

[melliemell]

Pairing: Jouno x reader

Contents: SFWish, interrogator jouno, reader has a mind control ability, improper use of tea, CW for noncon and dubcon elements but nothing too major, he's an ass and there are consequences duh, Approx 2.8k

The problem with having an unconventional ability–

–is that it rarely goes as you planned, yes, but boy does it do good for entertainment. 

“My, you seem to be in good spirits today.” Jouno sipped from his teacup leisurely before resting it back down on the saucer. The audible clink of porcelain rang in the small room like a ripple. You swallowed the sound up as your heart thumped fast suddenly. Your eyes bore into where it rested in his hands. 

Tea. He brought tea. 

“Such a shame to waste it all up in here, wouldn’t you agree?” he said. Jouno smiled at you then, lips pulled in a pleasant, almost friendly expression. And entirely fake. 

He was tormenting you and enjoying it, yet he had no idea what he’d just done. None at all. You could fall into hysterical laughter then and there just by the thought of it. The…

The opportunity.

Hopefully… soon. Yes, soon. 

The hunting dog came here from time to time. Trotting in, chair in toll and all. But it was hard to draw an exact pattern. The small white room you’ve been confined to seemed suspended in time and devoid of all life. Except you– its sole occupant for, hmm, days? Definitely days, but how many weeks? You had to give it to them; their tactics of extracting information were very creative, in an unpleasant, cruel type of way. Your eyebags were proof enough of it.

Maybe they were hoping the isolation would bring about your betrayal of the Agency. Sooner or later you’d give in and beg for freedom. It was a close call, you couldn’t deny it. It was taking its toll on you, and that’s why… it had to work. Now. If not now…

“Can’t I enjoy your company without your jabs?” you said, forcing a calm demeanour. “We both know you won’t be letting me out anytime soon.”

“Quite observant, aren’t you?” Jouno said, voice pleased. “I see you’ve had some time to ponder.”

You held your tongue. The first time Jouno came here, all smugness and not a filter to his mouth your fist flew right through his face, the small white particles dispersing before they rearranged into his twisted grin. You could barely stand him then. Now he was merely a pest. An entertaining one, yes, but still unpleasant.

You really didn’t like him.

“All I can do here is that, thanks to your wrongful accusations,” you said evenly.  

Jouno laughed, light and completely devoid of merit. “Your loyalty is admirable, I’ll give you that. Actually I’m impressed by it.” He leaned in. Even with his eyes closed you felt him bore into your soul. “I’ve always upheld the belief in equal devotion. And yet here you are, completely forgotten by the ones you’d give all for. Left to rot away. A shame.”

You couldn’t deny it, Jouno was really good at jabbing right where it hurt. Yet his visits were the only form of stimuli you got in here. He might be the only thing keeping you from completely losing it, yet he never failed to struck at your nerves, playing you like a fiddle each and every time.

You held your ground, you did. As hard as it was. But this time, he needed to feel like he was winning if he were to trust you enough for your plan. Or fall for it.

You looked down, keeping still.

“What’s the matter?” Jouno probed, the bastard enjoying this. “I apologise for my frankness, but I can only offer the truth.”

“Shut it,” you said quietly, voice honeyed with self-doubt to the fucking moon.

Jouno only hummed, raising his cup for another sip. 

Your eyes followed the entire movement; from his firm grip over the handle to the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. Forcing your body to react as strongly as it could brought a strain, but it was worth it. Jouno might be blind but he relied on his other senses to read his opponents. Every detail counted.

He had to pick up your signs. You were going to force him.

You saw his lashes flutter, head cocked to the side as though observing you. You held your breath.

Finally… “In that case,” Jouno said, straightening up with a lazy stretch. “I’m sorry to hear that. I was looking forward to our little chats but since you wish me gone–”

Your heart dropped, panic engulfing you. “No,” you said before you could stop. “Please don’t go.” 

Damn it.

“Oh?” Jouno swirled the tea around in his cup. That smile was back in place, spreading wider by the second. “You change your mind so quick lately; this place really has a bad effect on you.”

You bit back your reply. It’s what he wanted, after all. You could do better than that. 

“Well you should up your game on the decor, it’s depressing just looking at it.” You hesitated, before, ���Food too. Is only white rice the best you could do? Talk about a small budget.”

Jouno considered you, remaining quiet for a few seconds too long to your liking. Maybe it was more a game of chance, all this. Who knew what the other was thinking?

“Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?” Jouno asked, head tilted. “How delusional.”

“From you?” You laughed, voice hollow. “No, I know there’s no point in that.”

“So we’ve learned quite a bit about each other, it seems. How educational.” Jouno tapped against his cup, humming. “And boring.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“You should be, yes. I have no interest in you personally. And your quietness has been disappointing, ” Jouno said, sighing. “What a waste of good time it’s been. Anyway, we’ve been dealing with your little friends of late. Not much need of you now then, I'm afraid.”

Your body froze, heart seizing as worry engulfed you. “Dealing how?”

“No one can escape judgment.” Jouno ignored you, hand swirling his tea in his cup. “Sooner or later. Just as you now, and seeing as you won’t be needed I believe this will be our last little chat.”  

He waited for your answer, relaxed as ever.

You could only laugh heartlessly at this. He could be playing you for all you knew. But a small tug at the back of your mind screamed. 

Last chance, your ass. He’d be back. He will be. But when? How long until next time?

How long until you can help your people?

Act now and regret it later sounded so much sweeter now.

“Thrown away like a stray, huh,” you finally said.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Jouno’s lips curved. “You’ll be safe and sound– right here.”

You looked up at the ceiling, gut twisting. You certainly looked the part of a depressed person. “Can I get at least a small mercy? Or am I too lucky to have you as my guarding dog?” 

“Of course you may ask,” Jouno said. “I’d be happy to hear your sorrows and provide no absolvement for them.”

You looked at him then. To this stupid man and his stupid smug face who would rather spend hours enjoying your torment than do his job. Upholding the law sounded like bullshit coming from him. What law? He could hardly discern being played with by his real enemies, how could you ever trust him to uphold the law? 

If he so liked being deceived then let him be your guest. 

Let him.

“That tea,” you began quietly, wetting your lips. “May I have of it? Please,” you added, looking anywhere but at Jouno.

There. You sounded pathetic enough. Hopefully desperate too. But it wasn’t for you to decide. 

You waited.

“Is that so?” Jouno trailed a finger over the cup’s rim. 

“You can just say no,” you said, forcing the words out. “No need to be an ass.”

Jouno tapped the handle, head rising up. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m considering.”

“You are?”

“I really don’t like people like you, you know,” Jouno said. “Trying to squeeze by unscratched, believing yourself to be above the rest. You run and run, and then you get caught because that’s how it is. Yet the shock is still there. It’s not hard to connect the dots; you reap what you sow.”

Ah. He was going on his favourite little rant again. Not good. “So you’ve said.”

“Then you know what my answer is.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I see.”

You had a guess; not a pleasant one. You wouldn’t be getting anything unless you gave back in return. The golden rule. Like you hadn’t already said the truth. All the rest was details they were sure to use in fucking up even further. But…

There was a gamble in this. One that wasn’t of much use, but it would surely be worth at least a damned cup of tea. 

You didn’t even need to drink the whole thing, really, you just needed your lips to touch it. Only that. Transferring saliva was a tricky thing, but if done unnoticed, Jouno’d be at your mercy. 

“I could…” you began, eyes boring into Jouno’s face. “I could tell you of my ability, then.”

“My my,” Jouno whistled. “You must despise rice that much.”

Your nose flared. Food felt more like a chore here, the necessity of it the only driving force behind you eating it. Some days even chewing was hard; forcing your weak body to rise from bed only to swallow a spoon of cardboard rice was too much before you huddled back onto your small bed.  

Pathetic. 

But not eating meant death.

“It’s what I offer,” you said, forcing your voice to be stern.

“Hmm, tempting. Yours and your allies’ as well.”

“No. Only mine.”

“Then I’m afraid I’ll decline,” Jouno said.

Damn him. Like hell you were going to say all that.

“That tea must have gold leaves in it if you want so much,” you said.

“It’s not what’s inside, it’s how much you want it.” Jouno smiled.

Damn him. You were getting impatient. “My ability and how to deactivate it. Nothing more.”

Jouno peaked. “Deactivate?” You didn’t like the look on his face. “So it’s effect-based.”

“Why, if you want to know more– you know how,” you said, voice sweet.

Talking to him always sent you back and forth. It’s no wonder they chose Jouno as your interrogator; he was truly marvellous at crawling under your skin. Types like his were better to deal with first lest they cause more problems.

“Fine,” Jouno finally said, your eyes widening at the sudden change. “You have yourself a deal.”

The moment your hands touched the porcelain, Jouno stretching it out to you, your mind blanked. The water was dark, maybe black tea? it smelled nice but you were never good with smells. A deep scent that engulfed your senses as your stomach growled just from the proximity.

This… you’ve– damnit. You could almost cry. Such a small thing and they’ve managed to get you to a point where a stupid cup of tea could almost bring you to a meltdown. You tried to push away the memories of your warm bed, the curtains flapping to a distant breeze as light seeped in. Daylight. 

Not the hospital white they had here.

But it didn’t matter. Not when you knew Jouno’s whole attention was directed to you. 

You brought the cup to your lips, your movements slow. 

You’ve… never done this before. The idea of it so absurd you began to now doubt its success. And yet, you licked your lips; try as best you could to transfer part of your saliva into the liquid. Just a drop; no need for more.

Any liquid from your body should do the trick. Blood was ideal, yes, but it’s not like you could shove a bloodied palm in Jouno’s face and say ‘drink’. He’d probably have an opinion on the matter. 

No, no– this was best. The only option. As far-fetched as it was…

You knew mind control abilities were as powerful as they were rare. But only if the right conditions were met. Yours just happened to be on the peculiar side.

So long as your target ingested it… Not that you knew how exactly you’d make Jouno. The best guess was if he’d drink from the tea after you. But– 

You drank a few gulps, barely stopping yourself from more. It wasn’t part of the plan.

“Well?” Jouno asked.

You swallowed, the segments of an idea forming. You looked down at the tea, your heart racing with the possibility. Jouno’s brows furrowed. 

“Yeah,” you said absently. You stretched your hand. A starving prisoner would goble the entire thing; not just sip like a dainty lady and then give it back obediently. You knew that. 

And most importantly– Jouno did too.

There wasn’t time to self-doubt. He wouldn’t drink from it. Not when he expected your answer. No, the tea was nice, warm. It left a pleasant tingle inside your mouth; one you let engulf your senses as you gripped the handle harder, pulling back just enough to set the momentum of throwing the hot water against Jouno’s face.

It was rather comical. Jouno sitting before you, face straight as his hand went to the sword at his waist– only to have your wrist flick tea at his face a second later, the droplets falling down his perturbed face as you both sat still in silence.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, blinking at him. “My bad.”

A swishing sound and you found the end of a sharp blade pressing into your neck with Jouno standing over you.

He… looked angry. About eighty percent angry, maybe. Hopefully. The tea trailed down the curve of his cheeks, nose… the cupid bow of his lips. A few fell onto your thighs, staining your pants dark.

“I see you’re finding ways to amuse yourself. How is that turning out for you?” Jouno said, the blade pressing into your skin. 

You winced, head tilting. You focused on a drop trickling down Jouno’s cheek, only to stop at the end of his lips. You smiled. “Pretty good.”

“Amusement time’s over then. We’ll see how lucky you’d…” 

Jouno’s words felt distant, your focus entirely drawn to the sensation in your body. The ever-recognisable tingle of your ability on the crisp of activation. The pull was barely there, you doubted it would hold for much of anything, so you had to make do with what you had until now.

You imagined your hands reaching out and clasping at a string. And you pulled.

“Jouno,” you said, cutting him mid-sentence. “Don’t move.”

A cool wave washed over you as Jouno had but a second to scoff indignantly before his body seized up, muscles locked in position as his face relaxed into the all too familiar expression of blank obedience.

You stood up quickly, nearly toppling as your sight turned black. But it didn’t matter. Your hands found purchase in Jouno’s triceps as you pulled him in, smashing your lips against his. 

The tea was barely enough for one command. And you were just getting started.

You reached up, hand clasping Jouno’s jaw as you forced his lips open. He tasted of coffee, not at all what you expected as your tongue moved against his. You didn’t know how long you had to do this, it’s not like there was a manual on ability use. But you held him in place, your worry spiking until you could sense the strings wrapping around Jouno, your ability building up in strength by the second.

“Relax,” you whispered against Jouno’s lips, the command forcing you to tighten your grip around him as he staggered against your body. “Not that much, fuck!” you said, scrambling to keep you both up. The sword slipped down with a loud cling.

Okay, this was… good. Manageable. Could have been worse. You pulled at the strings, feeling him being engulfed by them entirely.

You drew back to look at Jouno’s face. The annoyed pull at his muscles was gone, his expression bordering on serenity that barely suited him. For all his cruelty, you didn’t feel like throwing the same back at him. Your thumb trailed down his cheek, caressing curiously. He could almost be pretty if those smiles had any real emotion behind him. 

It’s a shame people like him existed. Kindness was foreign to him, all the more reasons to not feel bad for doing this.

“Jouno,” you began, drawing his attention to your words. “Get me out of here. Discreetly, please,” you added. 

Jouno straightened up, picking up his sword. Within seconds you were in a long hallway, your steps echoing into the vast emptiness beyond. 

Your entire body tingled with excitement. Hope. The place you were in could have been at the other end of the world for all you knew, but as long as you held Jouno under your ability– yeah, you’ll be okay. 

You thought you’d feel bad about it, at least a bit. But the emotion wasn’t there and it didn’t come the longer you moved, your steps steady behind Jouno’s the entire time. 

You began to smile. If luck would have it, you might end up bringing a hunting dog to the agency yourself. You doubted Jouno would mind. 

Not anytime soon at least.

...

and now I crave jouno hate sex, love it when that happens

thanks for reading!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 424: Detroit Tears

Previously on BnHA: You know what, fandom is way too heated about this still so we’re just going to leave that be that for now and not get involved. I have some conflicted feelings about it, but this is not the place or time. This is a happy post.

Today on BnHA: Oh right, Horikoshi still owns the rights to my soul. And I’ve just been reminded of why I willingly signed them over to him so freely.

Quick heads up that this isn’t going to be my usual style of chapter reaction post, in that it’s really just going to be a ton of rambling about That One Scene. Partly because I’m only halfway caught up with stuff, but mostly because tbh, this is the only thing that matters to me right at this moment.

Also this is your friendly neighborhood spoiler warning that I’m posting about a chapter which hasn’t officially been released yet! So proceed at your own discretion. This reaction is based on @pikahlua’s excellent spoiler translation writeup here. I’ve officially lost all of my fucks about spoilers and it’s extremely liberating.

I’m glad that Kacchan’s arm isn’t just magically better and that he’s never going to be 100% again. and also that the doctor mentions him needing to rest his heart as well. because I did feel like there needed to be at least a few lasting consequences from him LITERALLY DYING AND UNDERGOING OPEN-HEART SURGERY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BATTLEFIELD. but I’m also glad they established that it wasn’t career-ending or anything. he’ll probably have some chronic pain and occasionally aggravate his old injuries while fighting, all of which is great for angst purposes. but it was good to see him being calmly accepting of that while also being determined to put the work in to rehab it as much as possible.

also enjoyed the doctor summing up Kacchan’s highly improbable main character resurrection and subsequent antics as basically being some wild bullshit that nobody can explain. lampshaded the shit out of it. “I don’t really understand” lol. nobody understands. in truth it’s that his secondary quirk is bending reality to his will in order to kick ass.

moving on to the main event now! so Kacchan and Izuku’s reunion was obviously the highlight of this chapter and of my life, probably. I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like it wasn’t. y’all know how it is.

what really made this scene for me was Kacchan being more upset at Izuku’s loss than Izuku himself. all those callbacks and all that guilt. that careful selection of flashback panels. the fact that Kacchan’s past bullying of the quirkless Izuku wasn’t glossed over or forgotten, and in fact is the emotional core that fuels Kacchan’s reaction here. Horikoshi didn't have to cut that deep, but he knows what he's about.

and then the crying. I need to write a lot of words about this right the fuck now. first off, having Kacchan just flat out sob while Izuku for once is the calm one (at least until All Might goes in for the emotional kill later on), is such a beautiful reversal and really shows how far they’ve come. even better is that none of it was even remotely out of character. I’m always appreciative when an author can produce top tier emotional hurt/comfort like this and have it feel earned and authentic rather than forced. well done.

also, “Na--cchan!!” fuck yeah Izuku. we’ll never let him live this down. (but also, him later trying to reconcile his forever-tough image of Kacchan with the crying, hiccupping version standing in front of him, by blaming it on Kacchan’s weakened physical state... oh, Izuku.)

also the fact that Kacchan so easily reverts to this smol crying boy even after defeating the world’s greatest evil pretty much activated every protective instinct that I have. he’s seventeen. he’s practically a man now. he’s objectively one of the strongest and toughest people in the entire world. and yet his eyes still go so wide and his face is still so young and Horikoshi still draws him so tiny and vulnerable whenever he’s like this. goddamn gets me EVERY single time. let’s be real, it’s been this way ever since the “you looked like you needed saving” scene back in the literal first chapter. just, omg. he’s still just a kid and he’s too small to contain all these feelings SOMEONE HELP HIM.

anyway so NEEDLESS TO SAY, Kacchan full on mourning in between sobs because he wanted to keep being rivals with Izuku cut me to my core. I cried too, goddammit. because in Katsuki’s mind it’s like. he wasted a dozen years of potential friendship by being a giant asshole. and they were only able to start getting things back on track less than a year ago. and that was probably the best year of both of their lives. and that rivalry meant so much to both of them. pursuing their dreams together as equals. and he wanted it to continue!! he missed out on so much, and it was his own damn fault, and now it’s all being taken away again maybe!!

and I think it’s especially devastating to Katsuki because he was trying so hard to make up for how he treated Izuku, and then this comes along and now he’s worried it was all for nothing. he’s scared that Izuku will maybe have to quit being a hero. (we know that won’t happen, obviously, but Katsuki is living this and not just reading it. he’s never met narrator!Deku and doesn’t have the benefit of all that foreshadowing and stuff.) but even more than that, I think he’s scared that it will undo all of their progress toward mending their relationship. not because Katsuki thinks any less of Izuku now, quirk or no quirk; but because of how Izuku might feel about being quirkless again, and because of the memories it might bring flooding back to the surface. I don’t think Katsuki fully believes that Izuku has forgiven him. so that’s a major fear potentially rearing its ugly head once more now.

and of course, he’s also just sad and upset on Izuku’s behalf, because he knows Izuku is sad about it too, even if he’ll never show it and will just downplay it because of his selfless nature. it’s a major loss, and one deserving of tears being shed, even if Izuku won’t shed any of his.

so yeah. it’s a lot. in Katsuki’s mind it’s the potential loss of a partner (if Izuku quits heroics), and a friend (if Izuku does cool toward Katsuki as a result of being quirkless again), and a dream (of them reaching the highest heights together), and his friend’s dream. so it makes perfect sense that all of that would overwhelm him. all of this is stuff that’s broken him down on past occasions as well.

so anyway it’s going be very cathartic when all those fears prove to be unfounded (because they better be unfounded lol). but in the meantime it’s a very moving reminder of how much he really does care and how far the both of them have come.

also Horikoshi really couldn’t resist giving Nobu one last chance to destroy everyone when this scene rolls up in the anime. that’s so reckless of him. there will be no survivors.

All Might telling both of them they’d become the greatest heroes was also the perfect chef’s kiss moment on top of everything else. we already knew it, of course. but it was good to hear him say it. and they needed him to say it. they needed and deserved to hear it.

and I really love that the qualities he specifically praised them for were the same things that each of them had struggled with the most in their respective journeys. he tells Izuku, who had such a difficult time learning how to tell the world “I am here!!”, that he inspires everyone and has become everyone’s hero. and he reminds Katsuki, who struggled with learning how to save people, and has especially struggled with his guilt over what happened to All Might at Kamino, that he saved All Might’s life and is the reason he’s able to still be there with them. both of them just really needed to hear that acknowledgement and encouragement, and it was such a powerful passing of the torch moment. All Might gets so much shit from the fandom, but he really is a phenomenal mentor when he’s in the zone, and I’ll die on that hill.

also a nice touch keeping the focus of those panels on the two boys and their reactions. even though I would have liked to see All Might’s face when he thanked them at the end, it definitely felt deliberate. this is their moment. their soft little tearful smiles afterwards punted my heart off a cliff and then picked it up and held it gently.

lastly, let it be known that I’m still convinced Katsuki has OFA (All Might vestige explanation when??), and it’s not lost on me that that would be a mighty convenient way for Izuku to potentially still go on a-quirkin’ in the end, if that’s how Horikoshi wants to play it. I'm just saying.

also before I forget, just a quick shoutout to Horikoshi for FINALLY showing all three members of the Bakufam in a scene together in which they finally managed to not be completely dysfunctional lol. my deepest darkest BnHA secret is that Mitsuki is secretly super high up on my list of favorite characters. and she was great in this chapter, and I love how she was just “WHAT THE FUCK” aghast at Katsuki using his main character powers to continuously ignore his injuries. and then she and Masaru kind of silently agreeing to step outside the room and let the boys and All Might have their moment. while still secretly listening in. because you know they were. good for them.

lastly for reals, I just want you all to remember that as great as this chapter was, the one thing that it was STILL missing which we have STILL not gotten is a HUG. we demand HUGS. I’m not leaving this manga till I get a bkdk hug goddammit. I will stay here all night if I have to.

[myokk]

✨WIP TAG GAME✨

Thank you so much @libellule-ao3 for the tag🫶🫶🫶 I LOVED reading your excerpt, your writing flows and reads beautifully. Like a classic♥️ and I really feel for Ominis…the vulnerability of not being able to navigate with his wand��

I’m writing three things right now so I went a little overboard😅

Before it Felt Like a Sin, Chapter 26:

“I just…in my dreams, she’s showed me how to extract my memories. I thought I would try, see if I was successful, and then you showed up. And…I just don’t know how to talk about it. I don’t know how I could make you understand…All I’ve ever wanted - or thought I wanted…”

Standing up awkwardly, too quickly, Eloise started to walk towards the Pensieve. Sebastian stumbled after her, confused, not comprehending anything she was trying to tell him, and paused when he saw how her hands trembled as she lifted the vial with her memories. She faltered right as she was about to pour them in.

Now, instead of seeing the silvery liquid as something beautiful, Sebastian was looking at it with trepidation. He brought his hand up to the one holding the vial and gently ran his fingers across hers, lowering it slightly. Her hand was shaking - her whole body was trembling - and all he wanted to do was comfort her somehow.

“Eloise, are you sure…?”

She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath before nodding, giving him a significant look before turning back to the Pensieve. They poured her memories in together, watching silently as their golden hue mixed with the moonlight liquid already inside.

“I’m not sure this will work,” she breathed, moving across from Sebastian as they stared at each other. With an unspoken agreement, they both lowered their heads together and before he knew it, Sebastian was experiencing Eloise’s life.

Going into a memory was just as strange and uncomfortable an experience as it had been the first time.

Oneshot:

He slips a note to her during Charms.

Dust particles are swirling in the air, Professor Ronan is unusually dull, and the hot summer sun streaming through the windows is just another reminder that they are almost free. Almost done with Hogwarts, almost ready to start the next chapter of their lives and become who they were always meant to be. She can’t deny that she’s been terribly worried about what’s to come - she still is unsure what she wants to do after graduation, and feels her stomach drop whenever she hears the others talk excitedly about the opportunities they’ve lined up; the only constant in her life is the boy at her side who has been unusually patient with her.

And yet he still hasn’t made it clear to her that she is as important to him as he is her. Yes, he is carrying her bag from class to class, reading with her every nice afternoon by the Black Lake, showing her he cares with every gesture, but still:…she can’t be sure of how he feels. What if it is all perfunctory? She doesn’t want to be forgotten. She loves the little routines they’ve created for themselves, loves sitting by his side during classes, passing notes; she’s loved her short time at Hogwarts and doesn’t want to end it yet.

The note is one of many they’ve been sending back and forth throughout the course of this terribly boring theory class, but this time is different.

His hand is resting on top of the bench between the two of them, note underneath, and were she not so in-tune to his infuriatingly intoxicating presence, she wouldn’t have noticed it. He moves with the ease of someone who has been avoiding being caught for many years. And, in the hazy memories (or are they?) she has of her past with Sebastian, the notes the two of them have sent back and forth to each other have not always been so tame.

Surreptitiously, so as not to draw the attention of Professor Ronan (she does not want a scandal), the sound of her blood rushing in her ears as she thinks about what she’s about to do, she slowly slides her hand toward Sebastian’s - the one resting on top of his note. He starts moving his hand away - he’s learned by now to not play any games - but she’s faster.

It feels like all of her nerves are located in her fingers as she grazes the back of his freckled hand. She can feel him staring at her in surprise, but she doesn’t dare look up at him.

She continues.

Her fingers flutter over his, hesitating, until she gets up her nerve and laces her fingers through his, pressing their palms together. She hears his breath hitch and warmth pools to her stomach at the sound as she finally glances at him. He’s looking at her with the most dumbstruck expression on his face and…and her own must mirror his.

She flushes and looks away, but doesn’t remove her hand - all she can think about is the feeling of her heartbeat thrumming through her body (can he feel its nervous flutter?), how right the contact feels, and how has she not done this before? But, the nerves she feels are so intense and overwhelming and she doesn’t concentrate on Professor Ronan’s words for the rest of the lesson.

Sebastian sits, flushed, notes forgotten - even as he leans into the palm of his other hand, trying to look anywhere but at her, she can feel the intensity of his gaze every time his eyes swipe over to her and it's unbearable.

But the thought of letting go of him is even worse.

Leo and @the-ozzie Bea��:

He doesn’t remember the first time he actually noticed her presence, but he knows there must have been a time in his life before she was hanging around. There must have been a time before Leonard Babbit was tormented by Beatrice Bennett. He’s sure of it.

She’s really quite annoying.

Like now, for example.

They’re supposed to be working on their arithmancy project. Leo bemoans the fact that they were partnered up - he’s always preferred to do all the work himself, but their professor was immune to his protests and insisted they work together.

This is how he finds himself tucked away in a quiet corner of the library with Bea, specifically chosen because it’s away from the noises of the other students: their distracting murmurs, the rough scratching of quills, the rustling of pages, the occasional outburst of quickly muffled laughter. Bea knows that he gets distracted easily, and yet there she is, twirling her quill in her fingers and letting the ink drip all over her notes, effectively destroying them.

NO PRESSURE TAGS (but I would love to read any wips if you have any to share🫶) @sloanesallow @anomalyaly @superconductivebean @kay9leo @okeydokeylackey @sav-less @writing-intheundercroft @rambling-tam @spookybriecheese @newdreamlove95 @bookie-bookdust @morelikeravenbore @whizzing-fizzbee and anyone else who might want to share!!!!♥️ I am always so bad at remembering off the top of my head😓

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter One

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

You leaned back against the desk, ignoring the leftover smattering of paint as it seeped into your overalls, and checked the time. Miles’s face was stuck to the pages of his sketchbook, blue and red ink staining his cheek as he snored softly. One hand loosely gripped an open highlighter, the other dangled over the edge of his desk, half-eaten sandwich abandoned on the floor.

Twenty minutes. He’d been asleep for twenty minutes, and if you let him sleep any longer, he’d be late for fifth period.

You rapped your knuckles on his pencil case, the ringing tin jolting the teenager awake. Brown eyes flashed around the room, fists shooting out in an amateur boxing move as he tried to figure out why his spidey sense hadn’t warned him of any danger.

But there was no danger here. Nope, just Miss Y/l/n staring at him curiously from under raised brows.

“Wakey wakey, Miles,” You wore your usual pair of yellow Converse and paint-splattered overalls, the pockets hanging wide and loose after years of carrying around paint bottles, brushes, and books. The school board liked to complain about your “improper dress,” but at the end of the day you were one of the school’s only art teachers - and the most highly approved by students.

“Oh heyyyyy Miss Y/l/n.” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck before dropping to the floor and snatching up his forgotten lunch. This was the fourth time you’d caught him sleeping in your classroom. Any more and you might actually have to start giving him detention. He tossed pens, snacks, and his sketchbook haphazardly into his bag, but not before you caught sight of a familiar blond-haired, blue-eyed girl smiling in front of a backdrop rioting with yellow, pinks, and blues more vibrant than a fireworks display. “GWEN!” the comic-style calligraphy called out next to her glowing face. Miles always seemed to be drawing her these days.

“You’ve still got five minutes left, calm down.” Miles straightened up to face you, clutching his lunchbox to his chest and smiling nervously. You folded your arms over your chest and stared pointedly at the gangly boy in front of you. With how much he’d grown over the last few months you wondered if one of his ancestors had been a garden weed. 

“You want to talk about what’s been going on, Miles?” 

“What do you-what do you mean?”

“You’ve been falling asleep in my class, this is the fourth time I’ve caught you napping here during lunch, and now I hear from Mr. Maloney that you’ve been skipping English.”

“He-he told you that?” He tugged at the collar of his shirt, hoping for a breeze to drift in through the window and save him from his nerves. He thought he’d been good about juggling the responsibilities of being a high-schooler and everyone’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. If his parents noticed anything different about him they chalked it up to teenage angst and grief over Uncle Aaron’s death. But someone had caught him slipping up.

You shrugged, “The teacher’s lounge exists, and people like to talk.”

“Oh…” he mumbled, shoulders dropping.

The dull ringing of the school bell cut through the silence, followed shortly by the rumblings of conversation as students filled the hallway, moving with the current like fish in a river.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Listen, Miles, you’re not in trouble, ok?” Miles sighed in relief. “If you need to eat your lunch or just take a break in my classroom that’s fine with me. I just want to make sure you’re not trying to flunk out like last year.” 

He shook his head adamantly. He couldn’t - wouldn’t - drop out of Brooklyn Visions now. He had a plan for the future: go to Princeton, figure out multiversal traveling, and reunite with Gwen and Peter and the rest of the Spider-gang. Seemed simple enough… and totally doable…

“I promise that’s not the case, Miss Y/l/n.” The sincerity behind his words satisfied you.

“Alright Miles, but I’m keeping an eye on you,” You said dramatically, squinting your eyes and pointing at his chest. Miles snorted, mouth breaking open into a lopsided grin, “Now get out of here or Mrs. Cape will think I’ve convinced you to go to art school again.” 

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I just…”

“Yes, yes, you want to go study physics at Princeton,” you waved your hand in the air, tracing some invisible pattern in the sunlight before grabbing a wet wipe from your desk and tossing it to Miles, “Quantum mechanics, the multiverse, and all that stuff.” 

It wasn’t the first time he’d told you about his future plans, but the words that left his mouth had a tendency of flying over your head. The kid was too smart for his own good.

You paused and took a moment to look at Miles, to really look at him as he scrubbed away at the ink on his cheek, “Those Princeton schmucks would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks Miss Y/l/n.” Again he gave you that crooked, boyish smile.

“Alright now out, out!” You shooed him towards the door, watching as he saluted you and flashed you one last smile before joining the crowd of students and disappearing around the corner.

You slipped back into your classroom, the smell of charcoal, dried paint, and pencil shavings settling into your lungs - sweet and comforting. There wasn’t an inch of space that wasn’t covered in some manner of artwork: sketches, paintings, collages… colorful graffiti that you should probably scrub out before parent-teacher conferences. Most of the pieces were the works of current students, but sometimes people like to leave things behind on purpose, trusting that you would find a place for them somewhere.

You wiped down the desks, rubbed the worst paint splotches from your overalls, and then collapsed into your chair, swiveling around and munching on the sandwich you’d picked up at the Prospect St. bodega. You had thirty minutes of peace and quiet before sixth period. 

That’s more than enough time. You thought to yourself. Maybe I’ll get some grading done and-

A head of curly black hair popped into the room, face wet and screaming with tears. You straightened in your chair as the boy’s lips thinned, then turned down. His shoulders began to tremble.

“He…He,” Hiccup, “He broke up with me, Miss Y/l/n.” 

“Oh geez,” you sighed deeply, setting your sandwich down and ushering the boy in. 

There were things you missed about being a teenager… the highs and lows of a first love were not on that list.

>>>

Saturday nights were sacred - the only time you reserved entirely for yourself. No grading, no reviewing and updating lesson plans, no agonizing over student reviews. You’d used to go out with old college friends for drinks on the weekend, but most of them had moved out of the city or gotten married and were doing married people things.

Is this what getting older is like? You wondered as you snuggled further into your couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders to keep out the chill. It wasn’t too terrible… albeit a little lonely.

The latest in a slew of cooking shows played out on the tv, throwing flashes of light onto the book-burdened coffee table and providing the background noise necessary for you to finally get your thoughts out of your sketchbook. But the moment you went to put the pen nib down, your mind went blank, and not in a good way. Every line looked wrong, the eyes of the figure looking bloated and misshapen. Time creeped by slowly, dragging you along for a ride as smooth as sandpaper.

 You knew the cause of your frustration, but knowing never made it better. It had been two months since Richard had moved out, two months and one day since you’d found out he was cheating on you with some grad student at NYU. 

Pendejo.

You’d hated his interior decorating, but now the blank spaces on the wall screamed his name. 

You tossed your sketchbook and pencil onto the ground and went to make a cup of tea. Maybe you were better off calling it a night and crawling into bed. Mid-year reviews had just ended and you had a long list of emails to reply to in the morning. One thing you hadn’t been expecting when you’d accepted this job was the number of parents who’d be on your ass about their kids getting a B in art - in art. 

The tea kettle was just about to open its mouth and start singing when a crash sounded from the living, followed by a sheepish “Whoops.” The muffled word punctuated Paul Hollywood’s critique of someone’s lemon tart - too stodgy.

Your blood ran cold as the stranger continued to mutter. 

“There goes another one. Wow there’s a lot of stuff on the floor.” Another one of your precious potted plants hit the ground with a dull crack. 

You grabbed the wooden bat from where it leaned against the wall, swinging it easily behind your head. At least there was one good thing Richard had left you with. 

You creeped out into the hallway, backing up towards the front door with your eyes trained on the shadowy figure making a mess of your living room. The figure fluctuated in and out of existence as he stumbled about the room, tripping over the piles of books and art supplies littering the ground. His body splintered outwards like cobwebs and twisted with flashes of bright light, haunting and inhuman. 

The creak of the floorboards gave you away. All at once the figure stopped and turned around to look at you. Where its face should have been was a single, flickering white spot, pulsing with curiosity as it tilted its head to the side. 

Mierda. 

You bolted towards the door… but he was already there.

“Why hello Mrs. O’Hara. Nice to finally meet you.” A thousand voices said at once.

You screamed and swung. 

The first swing missed, leaving a crater in the drywall. The second swing hit true, but the bat merely sunk into the black void of his body, some force ripping it out of your hands as you staggered backward. “Oh! Well that wasn’t very nice.” The creature laughed. 

Spindly tendrils of dark matter grabbed hold of you and you let out one final scream before the Spot swallowed you whole.

There was a momentary blindness and the sensation of falling before you were unceremoniously spit out onto a hard granite floor. You winced at the rough cut of broken glass beneath your heels, with nothing to protect you but a thin pair of socks. You looked upward and gasped. 

Where there had once been a towering glass ceiling dozens of stories high lay a gaping hole, the metal beams blown backwards into the night air like a blooming flower. It took you a moment to recognize the building, after all you’d seen it nonstop on the news for weeks last year - Alchemax.

What the hell?

Police tape criss-crossed over the debris like yellow spider webs, the scene broken up by black holes that morphed and twisted around you, pulsing with the same energy as the stranger in your apartment.

I must be dreaming. You thought. But in the back of your mind you remembered bits and pieces of what Miles told you he’d been studying over the summer - wormholes and spacetime and portals to different universes. 

You picked up a piece of metal off the floor, experimentally tossing it into one of the spots. It disappeared under the surface like pottery in slip before popping back into existence above you. You only narrowly lunged out of the way before it crashed into the ground and stuck there like a sword in a battlefield.

“Beautiful, isn’t it Mrs. O’Hara?” the Spot stepped out of a hole in the fabric of spacetime beside you. 

You jumped back, choking the scream in your throat. “That’s not-that’s not my name.” You managed to say. “Maybe you’ve kidnapped the wrong person?” A stupid hope.

“Oh? What is it then?” You said nothing, daring to lean down and pick up a jagged piece of roof panel. It might not do much, but it made you feel safer with its weight in your hands. “Well you don’t need to tell me. I just wanted to ask you a question.” He blipped out of existence, taking with him the darkness that pooled out of his skin.

“Who is Spider-Man?” the voices said as the Spot reappeared right beside you.

“You’ve got to stop doing that! Pendejo.” 

“What?”

“Just talk to me like a normal person.” You pointed the roof panel at him, keeping him at a safe distance.

“Who. Is. Spider-Man?” He stepped closer, the tip of your makeshift weapon sinking into his skin like he wasn’t even there. 

The question made you pause. That was what he wanted to know? He had kidnapped you just to ask about Spider-Man? 

“Um, I mean, he’s kind of the local superhero. Stops thieves, saves kittens stuck in trees, makes questionable brand deals at times-”

“NO! I know who Spider-Man is.” 

You blinked in confusion, eyes shifting to the side, “Then why did you kidnap me?”

“I want to know Spider-Man’s identity! His real identity.” The edges of his body sparked, shooting outward and striking the walls of the room. Dust and plaster fell to the ground like snow.

“I don’t-how the fuck am I supposed to know who Spider-Man is?!”

“You know him! The other version of you knew him!” 

“What, other me?”

“The alternate universe version of you!” He threw his hands up into the air like a petulant child. The darkness around him grew with every passing minute, crawling around on the floor and up onto the walls like a reptile looking for its next meal. He slid his hands down his face, somehow pulling at the ether he was made of as he muttered under his breath.

“Whatever, I may have miscalculated. You’ll still be important. Don’t you worry. You may not know who Spider-Man is, but Spider-Man sure knows you.”

Next chapter ->

>>>

Author's Note: so... I may have gotten carried away and written the second chapter as well... hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things

[aurorawhisperz]

that’s the thing (e.l)

I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE DRAFT AND LOST THE ASK 😭😭😭 (but here u go anon if u find this 🙏)

contains: swearing, fluff, smut 18+ (oral, fingering, slight overstimulation)

spiderman!ethan landry x fem!reader

based off you’re here that’s the thing by beabadoobee 🙏

•

Ethan definitely screwed up.

He swings across the city in tight spandex. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Ethan exclaimed, speedily typing on his phone, but you wouldn’t respond.

Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, he always had priorities—but that didn’t stop him from spending time with you. Knowing this, you forgave him every time he’d miss something.

Well, that jinxed it. On the lookout, he had completely forgotten about your date, Ethan—being the dork with the heart of gold, thought this would be the last straw for you.

Ethan often thought about this every time he’d be swinging around New York just to make it up to you. One reason why he’d always make it up to you is because he felt like he should, or must.

The second reason why is because it always ends in something wonderful—whether it’s him sleeping over, or the other way around, or something else that would have the boy completely whipped.

Then he spotted you, wearing his jacket you ‘forgot’ to return. His whole world seemed to stop—that was until he remembered the fact that he left you waiting.

A bunch of people backed away when Ethan took you with him. “It’s the spider dude!” Someone near you exclaimed.

“What? Oh my god!” You exclaim, swiftly sliding your hands around his neck. “I am so SO sorry that I left you waiting, okay? I was on the lookout, I completely forgot about our date, I’m really sorry, I REALLY AM!” He exclaimed, talking fast, then you pointed at a pole that was about to hit his head.

Once Ethan was about to dodge it, it hits the top of his head instead. His grip tightened till he swinged back to your dorm—though weakly.

He yanks his mask off and leans back on your bed.

“Less talking, more swinging.” You sigh, grabbing the sides of his face—then you kissed him, your lips moving in sync. He could taste the fruity lipgloss you had put on. Ethan's eyes widened in surprise as you pulled away. He blinked a few times, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

Then a smile was on his face, pulling you back. Deepening the kiss.

“Being a superhero’s girlfriend isn’t that hard,” You frown, then he kisses more again before you continue, “But seriously, you have to change out of this shit.” Ethan kept a hand on your waist, “Actions speak louder than words, right?”

You jump as Ethan quickly jumps under your bed, your roommate bursting in. “Hey, I’ll be leaving you alone here for a while since I’ve got somewhere to go.” You nod, then they wave, “See ya.” And leave.

Quickly falling on your bed as Ethan uses his webs to lock the door, “This is really cute,” He holds up your diary, the drawing of Spider-Man you made on a sticky note during a lecture. “Can I keep it?”

“Change first.” He rolled his eyes at your command.

He quickly changed into his normal clothes after slipping off the spandex. “Dammit,” He exclaimed as he checked his backpack for flowers he was gonna give you—there were flowers, but only a few, the petals flying away instantly.

Walking into the living room, Ethan uses his webs to snatch the remote from your hands, “We’re watching a movie, because I have to make it up to you,” Then handing you the somewhat ruined bouquet of flowers. “Eth, you shouldn’t have.” You teased then grabbed his camera from the table.

“Try and take a picture of me holding these, that’s how you can make it up to me.” Ethan takes the camera from you then more words come from your mouth, “Although you’re already here, that’s how you can make it up to me.”

The camera flashes in your face as you cover the lower half of your face with the flowers—then laying down on the couch with Ethan as the movie starts playing.

“You know,” says Ethan, “I’m really glad I forgot about our date today,” You frown, then he chuckles, “It led to this and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You both chuckle at his words then you shower his face with kisses. Ethan quickly pulled you down to kiss his lips. The movie was long forgotten soon after that.

His lips crashed into yours once again, then his nails dig in your thighs as you straddle him.

“Maybe because you knew it would lead to this,” You mumble against his lips, his other hand running down your spine like an instrument. Ethan broke the kiss to move down to your jawline—then your neck.

His hands tapping on your lower back as you pulled away. “You’re a sneaky one.” You pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, then Ethan let out a breathy laugh, “I’m Spiderman, of course I’m sneaky.”

“But I love Ethan Landry more.” Right after Ethan takes quite a few minutes to process your words, he pulls you in by your waist to kiss you once again.

You wrap your arms around his neck as his fingers dig into your hips.

He mumbles against your lips, “I want you,” He starts to smoothly put a little tongue in the kiss, then when your lips part even more for permission, it slips in. You hum against his lips as Ethan slowly grinds into you.

You pull away and smile, he drags his thumb over your bottom lip, you try to kiss him again, but he keeps a hand on your chest to stop you. “Can I go down on you?” The question makes your eyes widen as you turn beet red. Ethan’s stupid puppy eyes made you nod, and the smirk felt good to kiss off.

His arms placed you back on the couch, the needy boy got on his knees. Ethan gives you a deep kiss, then he moves down your jaw, he leaves a mark on your collarbone.

It goes from your chest, to your belly, and he reaches your clothed core. Ethan looks up at you and you lick your lips.

The boy pulls down your panties and starts with kissing your inner thighs. The sneaky little thing was always a tease, it pained you slightly but you know you love him.

Ethan presses a wet kiss to your left thigh, sucking on it. His breath fans over your core and you shudder.

He presses a kiss to your clit, then makes his way down to your entrance—licking up then burying his face in between your thighs. Your back arched at the pleasure.

In the early stages of your relationship, you had always told him what felt good, and he made it feel even better.

Your legs threaten to lock around his head, but his big hands hold your hips down. You were basically squirming, and he was only trying to drive himself away from the spot you wanted him to stay on.

Ethan harshly sucks on your clit, circling it with his tongue. You feel like you’re close, VERY close. Without warning, his middle finger enters you and that makes you lift your head up and whine in pleasure, you could feel him smile against your core.

“God, don’t stop.” You say breathlessly, and while muffled, you could still hear him, “I won’t,” He pulls away with a pop, “Trust me.” He dives right back in as soon as he finishes.

When his ring finger enters, your body felt limp and like everything slowed down for a minute.

The hot feeling down your stomach was heating up.

When his nose bumped into your clit, along with his ring finger entering the chaos, that feeling hit it’s peak.

Though Ethan didn’t stop, he kept lapping up your juices—it felt so overwhelming. Your hips were basically jolting up out of instinct.

You shuddered under his touch, he reaches up for your hand and laces his fingers with yours.

When Ethan finally pulled away, he crawled back on top of you and pushed away a stray strand of hair. He didn’t say anything, he just smiled. You know you’d forgive him for missing a date either way, the only way he could make it up to you is just being there.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, then he mumbles in between kisses, “I’m not done yet,” Your eyes blink open as he pulls away, the taste of yourself lingering on your tongue. “I wonder how people would feel if they find out their friendly neighborhood Spiderman was a pro at not only superhero-ing, but this.” says Ethan.

You chuckle and pull him back in for another, when he breaks the contact he takes the square foil out of his pocket and smirks at you, then places it on the table next to you both. He tries to kiss you again

You grab it from the table, “I’m not on the pill, babe,” You assure him, he shrugs then takes it from your hand. He sticks the tip of his tongue out when he struggles to open it. You laugh at Ethan, and open it yourself. “I’ll be your walking stick tomorrow,” he whispers to your ear.

You were in for a long night.

[foxconfessorandthewolf]

Okay, so I’m a bit wine drunk but I don’t think I’ve ever really articulated why I love Snarry together and I’m currently trying to finish a fic after taking a three-year-hiatus from writing these two, so this is probably a good exercise!

I’m a bit on the older side of fandom, having been a fanartist and fervent reader since 2003, so my connection was really sparked during that time between OOTP and HBP when Snape and Harry were at some of their most clashing and deeply vitriolic, forced together into hateful vulnerability by Occulmency lessons. Every scene between them was electric, laced with tension as we truly did not know how things would go, or even where Snape’s true loyalties lay. He was an unknown, tied up with Harry’s own family’s mysterious past, connected to Harry in a myriad of odd ways that few other characters were, and - as a rivals-to-lovers lover - I was fascinated by him. From that first moment when they lock eyes in the Great Hall and that frisson of pain shoots through Harry’s scar, I desperately wanted to know who the hell this man was and his story. I think a lot of Snarry shippers come to the ship with a special appreciation for Severus Snape’s character himself. He’s such an incredibly drawn character, rich with complexity, complicated and pretty fucked up, with clearly-held passions, hatreds, weaknesses, and motivations. He’s emotional in a way a lot of other characters aren’t, though I think he’d loathe to hear that. And his character voice! It’s unique and pitch-perfect. You always know exactly who is speaking with his lines. Honestly, the way he evolved from a spy/traitor stock character to become so multifaceted and enigmatic is a masterpiece of characterization, and it’s an aspect of why I’m drawn to him - there’s still so much about his origins and well, what his damage was, that we don’t know. Because of this, I especially love Snarry fics that delve into character studies of him, trying to explore all the shadows left behind. I also admit I have a preference for interpreting Snape as morally grey. I like him petty, sharp-tongued, ambitious, with an incredibly liquid definition of what is right and wrong. He’s self-interested, dripping with disdain, and really doesn’t see that as a problem. What happens to him when he deeply falls in love?

I love a ship that makes me work for it. There’s no obvious line of how Snape and Harry might wind up together, so each fic is a wealth of possibilities of bringing these two together despite their roadblocks. As I mentioned, I’m big fan of animosity in a ship. Give me rivals, give me enemies, give me the sparking passions, the sharp fury, the way they stoke each others’ emotions and seek to hurt, the racing hearts, the raised hackles, the intense emotional reaction to another person. Just throw it at me. I devour that shit. I love the messy and taboo nature of their relationship, the complications raising from their age difference, temperaments, and largely similar and shared traumas. There’s an interesting element of Snape being a foil to James Potter, and how that relates to Harry and their past. Basically, this shit is really good potting soil for incredible fucking fics, packed with nutrients.

The shared natures of their traumas, like Voldemort and each being forgotten and abused as children and how they might be able to understand each other and bond from it is also something that’s fascinating to explore. I love when a writer pushes on Snape’s bruises, looking to make them hurt, cracking his sardonic brain open and rooting around in there, and I love when they compare and contrast to Harry’s. There’s a seductiveness to how Snape is so obsessed with Harry, fixated on his Boy Who Lived heroic reputation, clearly dripping with envy. What, beyond jealousy, might draw Snape to Harry and what, other than hatred, might draw Harry to Snape?

It’s all this, the passionate, electric, dangerous nature of their relationship; the way their characters contrast each other yet have surprising connections; and the question of finding solace that keeps me here, 21 years later. I’ve had wines less complex than this ship. They’re fascinating. They’re messy. They’re everything.

[crossposted from a reddit comment I just left, and wanted to share with y’all]

[whatitshouldvebeen]

(no idea if these even go through, first time pls be patient with me) i’ve been going through your blog for a few days and i am loooving it omg i love the way you write so much! i was wondering what you would think would go down when,

a victim using reader as bait to let the victim go

a victim hurting reader (mistook as a family member) or

A victim dragging reader out an exit to escape also (thinking she’s another person trapped there) please don’t feel like you have to answer all, (or even answer at all) you have your own life and you can make your own decisions in life :) 👋

A Dog's Loyalty

I wrote this as a combo of all three requests of yours!

Description: Ana tries to escape with you, but you don't want to leave

Warnings: blood, injury

"Oh my god, Leland, there's someone else in here!"

You looked up at her, your eyes wide. You were huddled in the corner of Johnny's shack, frozen in place. It had been months since you saw another person; you'd almost forgotten anyone but Johnny truly existed.

"Don't worry, hun, we'll get you out. My name is Ana, what's yours?" the young woman asked, working to untie the rope from around your ankle. She had the most beautiful tan skin, her dark hair matted with sweat but still cascading in pretty waves down to her shoulders. The guy she'd called Leland kept watch, peeking out of the cracked front door anxiously.

You hesitantly told her your name, and she smiled as she helped you up from the floor. "I think our friend Julie already unlocked the front gate. We just have to get there without getting caught."

Leland signaled that the coast was clear, sliding through the crack in the door. Ana waited for you to go, and you marveled at how easy it was to get through now. You'd been here so long you'd lost a lot of weight since the first time you'd been sneaking around trying to escape.

You're almost blinded by the light as you emerge on the other side. How long had it been since you'd been outside? You couldn't even remember. Months? A year? Longer?

Ana came out after you, and not long after the three of you heard a chainsaw revving. Ana pulled you into some tall grass while Leland ran away from the exit, drawing the attention of the man you'd heard Johnny refer to as "big boy," who yelled in outrage as he chased after him.

"Come on, now's our chance!" Ana said, grabbing your hand. You stumbled after her, not used to running after so long locked away.

"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?"

The voice stopped you in your tracks, only a few feet from the gate. Ana looked at you incredulously and tried to pull you toward the gate.

"Come on! He's coming!!" She screamed, tugging at you. You stayed rooted in place, your ears burning.

"Be a good girl and stay right where you are." Johnny rounded the corner of the white picket fence, walking so slowly you probably could get away if you started running. But you didn't.

"Oh my god, you're one of them, aren't you?!" Ana accused, pulling your back against her chest. She took out a bone scrap and held it to your neck, her breathing erratic.

"Let me and Leland go, or I'll kill her!" Ana said, pressing the scrap against your neck and backing up toward the gate. You winced, but it wasn't anything new to have a sharp edge threaten your life.

Johnny stopped, his eyes narrowing.

"'Fraid I can't do that. Your friend is already in the basement being chopped up as we speak."

Ana swallowed harshly. "You piece of shit! You're lying!"

Johnny grinned. "Stick around fer dinner and I'll let you see him again, all dressed in some nice gravy ‘n chitlins."

Ana's tears fell on your shoulder as her back ran into the gate. Johnny stayed where he was, his fingers twitching at his side.

"Johnny," you whispered, trying not to move.

"Obviously, she wants to stay. Keep her," Ana said, shoving the gate open. She then took the bone scrap and jabbed it into your thigh, throwing you to the side.

You screamed as you fell to the ground, blood welling around the bone scrap. Johnny let out a feral growl before lunging, moving faster than you'd ever seen him move.

"Help me!" Ana screamed, running out onto the road. Johnny moved twice as fast, fueled by rage as he grabbed her around her midsection. He didn't hesitate before dragging his blade across her throat, her blood fanning out through the air and splattering on the road. He let her drop to the road, discarded, and you heard him run back through the gate.

He collected you in his arms, sitting on the dusty ground and holding you close.

"Are you okay baby?" He asked, gently stroking your hair from your face. He looked down at your leg and winced, the first time you've ever seen him queasy at the sight of an injury.

You nodded, though your face was pallid and your fingertips felt cold.

"I… need a bandaid…"

Johnny laughed and nodded. "I'll get ya one. Come on." He picked you up easily, cradling you against his chest. Instead of taking you to his shack, he brought you into Nancy's house for the first time. Once inside he laid you out on the dining room table, much like the meals they'd served over the years.

He rushed to the bathroom and brought back gauze.

"This is gonna hurt sugar. Here." He unbuckled his belt and put it between your teeth. "Bite down on this, alright?"

You nodded, and he smiled. "Good girl. One… two…" He then yanked the bone scrap from your thigh.

You wailed, more thick blood oozing out onto the table. Johnny poured alcohol over the wound, making the pain almost unbearable. He then, as quickly as he could, wrapped your leg in gauze. You felt your vision getting fuzzy as you began to fade. But then, Johnny leaned over the table, took his belt back, and kissed you.

Your heart instantly picked up, and your eyes focused on him as he pulled back, his cocked grin on his handsome face.

"You showed your loyalty today, sugar. I knew you were special." He kissed you again, and even though your arms were weak you still wrapped them around his neck. When he pulled back, he looked happier than you'd ever seen him.

"Welcome to the family."

[anjuschiffer]

Of Forgotten Memories and A Beloved Mother - Chapter 2

...So this was only suppose to me a oneshot but has turned into a short mulitchapter fic... enjoy!

-

Chapter 2: Dami's Whale

PREV | AO3

They had warned him several times to never lower his guard. Never. 

To never underestimate his opponents. 

And yet he did, causing this current dilemma.

“Give it back!” Damian yelled, running after a howling Jason, Damian chasing him with a Nerf gun in his hand. 

“I’m so glad it’s only a Nerf gun in your hand!”

“You’re lucky Dad doesn’t- Dad!” Damian yelled upon seeing their father enter the foyer, scowling at the fact that he just missed a shot. “Dad! Jason won’t give me back my sketchbook!”

“Jason.” Bruce tried to say sternly but failed when a smile escaped him. He had come back from work, Alfred walking off with his coat in hand and wasn’t expecting to hear Damian call him Dad shortly after entering the manor. After all, he was always calling him Father up until a few weeks ago. “Give Damian back his sketchbook.”

“I say you look at it. You should really be getting him better materials for his drawings instead of whatever office supplies you keep getting him.” Jason suggested as he gave back Damian his sketchbook. “Like seriously, whatever you’re getting him keeps drying up the day he opens it.

So I asked an artist buddy of mine to give me some suggestions.” Both stifled a smile when Damian’s scowl softened upon hearing the words ‘art store.’ “He highly suggested Holbein gouache or Winstor and Newton acrylics for someone who paints.” Jason said with an innocent smile.

The boys watched as Bruce gave it some thought.

“I’ll ask Alfred to look into it and we’ll take Damian to pick out whatever he wants.” 

“We’re going to an art store?” Damian asked with a twinkle in his eye. “Can I get whatever I want?”

“He’d buy the whole store while you’re at it.” Jason instigated, watching Damian stare at his sketchbook.

“Dad, we have to go. Now.” Damian practically begged, lifting his sketchbook to his father’s face. “I’ve been meaning to turn more of my sketches into portraits to put around the manor.” 

“Excellent idea, Master Damian.” Alfred spoke, returning from the coat room. “The manor can surely use a more modern touch to its decor. Your paintings will add a nice touch of color to this dreary place.”

“Alfred.” Bruce tried to admonish but was met with an unfazed look from the man.

“I’ll make sure to leave a list of some nearby art stores on your desk. If you’ll excuse me, I have dinner to prepare.”

-

Calls. Bruce forgot how much he hated them. But this one was an exception.

Bruce was already halfway through settling the conditions he had set down for the art store he had planned to take Damian that weekend when the boy himself hung up the call.

Bruce watched as Damian lifted his finger from the switch hook, his eyes not once looking away from Bruce’s. Bruce listened as the dial tone droned in his ear.

“Damian. I was in the middle of finalizing the trip to the-”

“I know.”

“So why-”

“Can’t we just enter like any other customer?”

“But you’re not any other-”

“Can’t we just go? I don’t care if people see us go in just like that. You’re my dad and- people should accept the fact that you’re my dad. And just like any other dad, you’re spending quality time with his kid- me. Is that too much?”

And with that mini speech, Bruce agreed to just walking into the art store that weekend, doing his best to ignore the glances he and his son would get every now and then. 

Bruce had his share of following people around a store and trying to understand their enthusiasm regarding products. He would smile and give them nods of approval and sweet words of encouragement as they would ask him questions about items he could care less about. 

But unlike the various times he had to follow a woman around a jewelry store, Bruce found himself intrigued and actually invested in the conversation between Damian and the store employee who greeted them upon their arrival.

It didn’t take long for Bruce to completely ignore the stares and whispers that surrounded the two.

Heck, he was too busy absorbing every piece of information the store employee gave them, he didn‘t realize they had already been in the store for two whole hours.

He listened as the employee would ask Damian what media he was looking for and what type of project he was working on. 

They discussed different types of media, the types of paint and texture each variety would give him. How oil paint would give him the texture he wanted in this project but if he was on a short deadline, it would not be recommended to use.

Damian would then go on a lengthy discussion on how he didn’t have a deadline and would much rather use oil paint opposed to acrylic due to the tones he needed for this piece, considering he needed a paint that had a longer drying time frame. He also had to consider that he wasn’t set on all the colors of his painting and had found mixing oil paints was easier for him compared to acrylic paint. 

Bruce couldn’t forget the face the employee made upon hearing that.

Wrapping up the media choice, they moved on to canvases, something called gesso, as well as thinning and thickening agents for the paints. They then spent another hour at the brush aisle, Damian carefully selecting at least 20 different brushes before they made their way to the register to pay. 

Luckily there was no one in line and the employee who had helped them already placed most of their items into several canvas bags. Paints, carefully wrapped brushes, bottles of unrecalled liquids, palettes and containers peaked from them. When Bruce was told the whopping total of 700 and something he had to pay, Bruce just handed over his card. 

‘Pocket change,’ was all Bruce could think of when he heard the price.

As they waited for the employee to finish the transaction, Bruce realized it was already three in the afternoon. He turned to Damian to ask him what he wanted to do afterwards.

Maybe he was hungry. They had skipped lunch after all.

“Damian, what do you think about going to- Damian?” Bruce called out when he realized Damian wasn’t by his side, feeling a pit in his stomach. 

He was starting to notice the edges of his vision fuzz as he scanned the area near the counter. 

Empty, save for a single person who just realized Bruce was standing right in front of them.

“Damian?” He called out again, apologizing to the staff and letting them know he was coming back as he found himself picking up a jog as he searched the store for his son. 

“Damian.” But no response. “Damian.”

“Damian!” His chest felt heavier with each aisle he found void of his kid, his eyes darting all around as he passed by yet another aisle with no Damian in sight. 

“Damian!” He called out once again, when he came to a halt when his eyes caught sight of Damian standing near a gallery tucked in the back of the store. “Damian!” Bruce scolded as he turned the boy around to face him. “What are you-”

“She made that.” Damian cut him off, turning back to look at the wall behind him, Bruce only then realizing that the gallery was a collection of paintings. With a quick glance, he realized it was a collection of paintings put together by participants from one of the store’s events. 

A Mother’s Memories.

Each painting that hung on the wall portrayed one of the many memories that a mother who participated in the event cherished. 

Some mothers had painted their kids at a park, a family outing, visiting a farm or aquarium. Family time at home. Holidays. Birthdays.

Every painting had a child painted on the canvas, the children usually smiling back, except one.

There, on the upper most corner to the right, on a canvas no bigger than a sheet of paper was a painting of what appeared to be a bathtub filled halfway with water. A fluffy baby blue towel hung on its side, bubbles floating on the surface of the water. And there, right in the center was a lone blue whale. 

The tiny baby toy smiled right at them, as if having been waiting for them all this time.

Bruce looked back at Damian, noticing his son stuck in a trance. “She made that.” He said again, but louder this time around.

“She? Who are you referring to?” Bruce dared to ask.

“Momma did.” Damian easily answered, Bruce hearing his breath hitch. There was that name again.

Momma.

Ever since Dick told him about the day he found Damian talking about a person named Momma, he tried his best to coax an answer from Damian himself. But every time he tried to, all Damian could remember from her was the color of her eyes and her voice. 

“Talia?” Bruce asked, hoping it would jog up his memory a bit. 

Maybe this time, Damian could recover some information on the woman he once called ‘Momma.’

“No, Momma.” Damian clarified, his brows furrowed. “Mother never delved into the arts the way Momma did. She’s the one who taught me how to draw.”

“How did you figure out she was the one who made it?”

“The whale.” Damian pointed out, letting out a ‘tt’ when Bruce only stared back at him. “Momma made me that whale with her magic. There’s no other whale like that anywhere in the world.”

Bruce looked back at the whale, wondering how that exact whale didn’t look like any other baby toy on the market. “Momma even made sure to flawlessly replicate the Guardian’s Emblem at the top of the whale’s head.”

Guardian’s emblem? What was a Guardian?

“Emblem?”

“Don’t you see it?” Damian asked. “It’s right there.” Damian tried to point, but the longer Bruce stared at the whale, he couldn’t see what Damian was able to. “Dad, it’s-”

“Oh, I see you’ve taken a liking to one of my favorite pieces.” A voice spoke up, Bruce and Damian turning to see an old lady with a red ladybug cardigan. Her gray hair was short, two strands framed her wrinkly face, the curl ends reminding Damian on bug antennae. “Such a heartbreaking story that one has.” She said, tutting as she remembered the tale.  

“Heartbreaking?” Bruce asked. “Did something happen to the artist behind, um.”

“Dami’s Whale. That’s the piece’s name.

When I asked Marie why she chose to draw this piece, she told me that bath time was her baby’s favorite activity of the day.” The lady smiled when she saw Damian quickly look back at the painting.  “She told me she would do anything in the world to go back to those times, saying his squeals and laughter were all she needed to get through that part of her life.

When I asked her what she meant by that, she told me one thing.”

“What did she say?” Damian asked, returning his attention to the old lady. “What happened to her? To her baby?”

“They took him away from her.” The lady softly said, frowning. “She only loved him the way she was meant to love him. And they took her away from him.”

“They got separated?” Bruce tried to understand what the owner was trying to say.

“That I would not know. Shortly after finishing the piece, Marie suddenly got a heart attack and was rushed to the hospital.”

“The hospital?” Damian asked, his voice warbling. “Is she okay? Where can I find-“

“You seem to be familiar with Marie, young one.” The lady looked at Damian and then at Bruce. “Do the two of you know-”

“He has been searching for other family members ever since he recovered some of his memories from his childhood.” Bruce provided. “He used to live with his mother as an infant but then lived with his grandfather when his mother couldn’t provide for him anymore.” 

“Oh dear.”

“He was brought to me by social services once he passed away as I’m a family friend and someone his grandfather trusted” Bruce struggled to say as he half-lied to the owner. “Since then, Damian has been searching for his only other living relative.

Somehow, this painting of Marie’s seems to be a clue to finding his mother.”

“I see.” The old lady softly said, patting Damian’s head. “You must’ve really loved your mother, didn’t you, little one?”

“I had a whale like that as a kid.” Damian spoke to divert himself from the commentary of being seen as a child. “I want to ask Marie some questions regarding it…if she can.”

The old lady hummed  

“Marie did tell me only a few people would be able to tell that the whale would attract some attention.”

“A few?”

“She told me to be wary of those who ask about her upon seeing that painting. But, she did tell me to do one thing if a young boy were to ever ask about her location.” 

The lady took an envelope out of her pocket and handed it over to Damian, an oddly designed wax stamp sealed on it. “Do you recognize this?”

“It is a Guardian's Emblem.” Damian answered in a whisper. “It looks just like the one on-“ he looked up to tell the old lady it looked like the one on the whale only to find her gone. 

“Where did she go?” Bruce asked, wondering what the hell happened. 

Weren’t they just in front of a gallery? 

How did they manage to be standing outside the store with bags of art supplies in hand?

Bruce turned to Damian who still held the envelope in his hands. 

Damian ran his finger over the wax stamp before deciding to open it, finding a photo of the same exact painting that was inside the store. Only, this time, he was also in the photo. 

Or rather, his baby self was in the photo. 

He looked so small. So fat. 

He turned it over, feeling a weight lift off his shoulder. 

You’ll find her at Gotham General Hospital. Best of luck, Damian. 

-Tikki

NEXT

[saltandburnheathens]

Good morning Miss Winnie. (Part II)

Part I

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader.

Rating: Gen.

Summary:

Two weeks after Dean became a father, it's time to jump back on the hunting horse. But he's hesitant.

Notes: Non-canon, no time line. And I don't ever want kids. But I just became an aunt and I sort of need to get this out of my system! Short and I'm not promising that I won't continue this. Who knows really. Finally this was written after I'd taken my usual nightly gummy.

“Bonnie?” 

You shot Dean a look across the kitchen. He was cooking eggs on the stove while you were nursing. Castiel was the only other member of the bunker awake at six a.m. and, fortunately, occupied the library. It wasn’t that you cared about the other men seeing you breastfeeding, it was how they reacted to it. Both became very awkward and outwardly attempted to look anywhere but at your breasts.

“You can’t accept Winnie, but you pick Bonnie?” 

Dean shrugged. 

“I was just thinking if we had a boy we could call him Clyde. We’d have our own little gang.” 

“Firstly, I’m not doing this again. And secondly, Bonnie and Clyde were felons.”

“What do you mean ‘you’re not doing this again?’ Don’t most women go crazy for more kids? They smell the baby's head and some hoo-doo helps them forget about the pain and bodily fluids.” 

“Yeah, well. You try being in labour for damn near forty eight hours and shitting yourself in a room full of people. Including the man you love. Then come back and tell me you’ve forgotten about it and wanna do it all over again.” 

“Point taken.” Dean laughed, plating up eggs and bacon for them both, “And you didn’t shit yourself by the way.”

“I didn’t?”

“I think I’d remember.”

You smiled at the plate of food and carefully lifted the baby from your breast. She’d long since stopped feeding and was instead squirming, ready to be winded. 

“I can take it from here.” Dean reached down and lifted the little girl up into his arms. He held her upright against his chest and began rubbing circles into her small back, “There we go kiddo. Get it up.” 

“Be careful.” You warned. 

“I’m not taking any chances.” Dean gestured to the polka-dot muslin cloth on his shoulder. 

You watched as he gently walked your daughter around the kitchen, her little body squirming while he cooed into her ear. She made several little squeaking noises, threatening to cry, only to be brought back to earth by her father’s tender voice. 

“Come on now, no tears. I’ve got you.” 

Your eyes locked with Dean’s for a moment, both reflecting a soft smile. He was proving to be an excellent father, not that you’d doubted him for a second. But Sam had. He’d been very vocal about Dean knowing nothing about babies and how, despite the fact that he was happy for you both, he thought this whole ‘raising a family thing’ was a bad idea.

“You guys are great together! But I don’t think this is the right environment for a kid.”  Or something along the same bullshit. 

Dean had been adamant about her though. He damn near refused to speak to Sam until he stopped with his questions and logical answers. Sure you both had been sceptical about bringing a child into this life, but neither of you had actively prevented it. If it happened, it happened. 

Speaking of the devil. Sam groaned and stretched his arms above his head, stumbling into the kitchen. He dug the palm of his hands into his eyes, drawing them down his face afterwards. 

“Morning. Coffee’s in the pot.” Dean said, his voice shifting from Dad to brother by just an octave. 

Sam poured himself a hefty mug before offering more to the kitchen. You declined but insisted that he fill up Deans. 

“He’ll need the caffeine for your hunt.” 

“Oh so you’re back on the job then?” Sam questioned, his eyebrows rising. 

Dean’s brow furrowed as he shifted the little one on his chest. He searched her face, the cogs visibly turning in his head. 

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” 

“What? I thought you’d be happy to get back on the horse.” You’d assumed that after being out of work for almost two weeks that Dean would be craving a hunt, but his face said otherwise. 

“Yeah. I mean I am. But she - “ 

“She’ll be right here when you get back.” You interrupted, “It’s a simple in and out job. Right Sam?” 

“Sure. Run of the mill ghost in the attic for some old friend’s of Bobby’s.” Sam took a lengthy sip of his coffee, “And it pays too.” 

“See? And we could use the cash for Winnie.” 

Sam scoffed, barely holding onto the coffee in his mouth. He looked between you both and then to his niece. 

“Winnie?”

“Short for Winchester but not her name. Just a placeholder until we find the perfect one.” You inform, “But what’s so wrong with Winnie anyway? It’s a perfectly acceptable name.” 

“Nothing wrong with it at all. It’s just not what I pictured you both to come up with.” 

“Fortunately it’s not.” Dean added, shifting the baby from one arm to the other as she reached up with her little hands, “As for the hunt, I’m not sure.”

He offered a finger for her hand to close around, eyes never leaving her. the features on his face softened, lips almost pulling downwards into a frown. 

You exchanged a knowing look with Sam. 

“If this is about Win- her- you don’t need to worry. I can cope fine on my own for one night.” You offered

“Yeah but what if it isn’t just one evening?” Dean answered, his voice doing nothing to disguise the concern he was feeling. 

“It’s only a few towns over. We’ll be home by four am - ” 

“But what if something goes wrong? Huh? Then what? I’ve left my wife without a husband, my little girl without a father. And -” 

You jumped to your feet at the distress in his voice and rushed to loop an arm around his middle.  

“Don’t say that. It’s a run of the mill job, something you guys have done one thousand times over. Nothin’ bad is gonna happen other than a few bruises.” You laid your head on his shoulder, eyes coming to settle on the little lady in his arms, “I can deal with those. And she’ll not know any different.” 

With a deep sigh, Dean kissed you gently on the head. It was an uncharacteristic display of affection, especially in front of his brother, but you hadn’t the heart to react. You knew he was feeling vulnerable, that much was clear in his reaction, and to draw attention to it would only make things worse. Instead you settled against him and allowed his warmth and the soothing sounds of your baby to still your own anxiety. 

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that some part of you was fearful of your husband walking out of the bunker and never coming home. Hunting was a dire job, one which had claimed the life of many of your comrades. Dean may be an experienced hunter, renowned in his own right, but he certainly wasn’t immune to unfortunate outcomes. That much had been proven time and time again. 

Lost in thought, the only sounds in the kitchen were the gentle fussing of your daughter and the whirring of the circulation fans. 

Finally Castiel broke the silence with his sudden entrance. He appeared in a flurry of feathers, one coming to land on the table top by your abandoned coffee cup. 

“We have doors, Cas. Use ‘em.” Dean warned, pulling your daughter closer to his chest as she began to fuss. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. It’s a force of habit.” Castiel answered, taking a seat next to Sam, “I startled her.” 

“You think?!” 

You moved to take the baby from Dean but he shook his head, whispering a small ‘I got this’ back to you as he started to rock her from side to side. But it was no good, her cries grew louder and more furious. You began to wonder how those big sounds could even come from such a small creature. 

Before you could offer your help again Castiel brushed past you. 

“I didn’t mean to scare her.” He said, coming to stand in front of Dean “Is there anything I can do?” 

“Here” to your surprise, Dean held your daughter out towards the angel, “You can settle her down while I grab her diaper bag.” 

You lean in and quickly sniff.  

“I don’t think she needs changed, D.”

“Well I don’t know what else to do. She -” 

Castiel reached forward and lifted the infant from Dean. He brought her to settle in the crook of his arm, offering up his fingers for her to grab at. Gradually she began to quiet, her hands reaching up for Castiel’s and her eyes wide, staring into his face. 

You and Dean watched on in outward confusion. Castiel, to your knowledge, had never handled a baby before. At least not in recent years. 

“How did you do that?” Dean asked almost aggressively, “She was cryin’ up a storm seconds ago and you just took her and nothing.”

“Did you use your grace?” Sam suggested. 

“She’s much too small to handle my grace in any capacity. It would kill her.” 

You considered jumping in and taking her from Castiel but stopped yourself. She was settled and happily holding onto the angel's fingers. No sense in ruining it. Beside you Dean was tense, clearly struggling with something along the same lines. His face was etched in hard lines and you could see his brows furrowing. 

Gently you looped your arm through his and guided him to his long forgotten coffee cup. He moved but his eyes never left you daughter in the angel’s arms. 

“So,” Sam cleared his throat, “About this hunt.” 

“What about it?” Dean glared at him over the rim of his cup. 

“Are you in or -” 

“He’s in.” You answer before the question could even be finished. 

“Wha - I -” 

“Oh come on. You got this. I can handle her and Cas will be here if I need any help. Right Cas?” The angel gave something akin to a positive response, “You have to get back out there at some point.”

Dean’s gaze flickered from Sam to you, finally coming to land on Castiel. He watched the angel gently swaying the little girl in his arms and the lines on his face began to soften. 

“Hmmm. You’re sure about this?” He asked. 

“Positive.” 

“If there’s any trouble, anything at all, you call me.” 

“Sure.” You smiled, “But I doubt Winnie will be as much of an issue as your malevolent spirit.” 

Dean chuckled, accompanied by Sam. 

“God, we’re really going to have to talk about her name when I get back.”