#I'm neutral on the series itself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gotham-daydreams · 6 months ago

Text

Not Now (PT. 1)

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Mild General Yandere(ish) Behavior, Mild Arguing, Awkward Tension(?)]

(Sorry, forgive and forget isn't an option anymore. Sort of proofread and lightly edited. If you thought the 2nd chapter was long, you're in for a little treat. A little more focus on Dick this time with some sprinkles of the others, and a bit of Tim in the beginning. Meeting some of the reader's friends now. The 2nd part is longer... and sort of where the 'real' stuff happens, but this part of the chapter is still important imo. Take your time reading this, and remember to take breaks!)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain, @d4mi3nn , @mindscape123, @143637-hrrm, @lilyalone, @ceramic-raven , @bruhfan-3 , @i-thirsty-boi , @yandere-enthusiast , @1mawh0re , @vanessa-boo , @agent-nobody-knows , @myeagleexpert , @waitingforanarchicaddiction , @mottysith , @simpingfor-wakasa , @imjustheretogetalif , @toast-on-dandelioms , @instantmiraclekryptonite , @luvr0cksadie , @littlefeather345 , @generosityheart , @emmbny , @sereinitysmind , @love-zami , @angstylittleb1tch , @kiiyoooo , @andrasia , @aenishas , @gyarukitti , @ash1 , @samohxt2-0 , @books-are-everything , @kurai-hono-blog , @veryrascalbiscuitbagel , @lavender-moony

@vikkus-main, @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhha, @iloveanimeandkpop7, @spacecerealbowl,

If you aren't tagged then I'm sorry! I may have missed you, or tumblr was being weird and it wouldn't work :']

Chapter 3 of this post. Chapter 2. Part 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

The night was young when everything went to chaos.

The streets were empty for a change, with no one daring to step outside. With those who once roamed them making an effort to quickly step inside, and wait out the rest of the night. Deciding to be more careful, and not tempt fate one too many times for once.

There was something different about tonight, that much everyone knew, but what exactly was going on was anyone's guess. Something was in the air that made it thicker, and harder to breathe. The atmosphere felt different, and weighed down on the city's residents. No civilian or thug was safe from the sudden change and the effects it had on Gotham. Not to mention that the vigilantes — the people who dared to protect Gotham during its darkest hours — seemed more focused than usual.

Not in the way where they were more focused on targeting crime in Gotham, and getting rid of her more corrupted and infectious roots, but in some… other way. Like they were focusing on one particular thing, and ignoring everything else in the process.

What that thing is, no one knew, but most were wary and cautious enough to not get in the way. Unwilling to find out what would happen if they got caught in the crossfire of whatever was happening.

However, this is still Gotham. Where some saw danger, others saw opportunity. So they tried to start something, thinking they could sneak right past the heroes of the city, and fly under their radar more easily compared to previous nights because of how focused they seemed to be on something else.

Yet, just as the fire began to lit, it was snuffed out.

A heavy stomp stopped the flames from even daring to light, killing it before it could even think to rise. The stomp itself coming down much more swiftly and heavier than before, digging the thugs it hit into the ground. They, the vigilantes who dared to protect Gotham and their citizens night after night, were harsher that way. More brutal than the city had ever seen them before, and that was quick to kill off some sparks that were trying to light. They were quicker, faster, and hit a whole lot harder. As if just wanting to get things over with, and quickly move on.

It was almost like they were rushing, and whoever thought that wouldn't be entirely wrong.

They just wanted to put all of their time and energy into finding you, but still had half a mind to take care of the crime in Gotham. Since, they'd have to deal with it anyway if they wanted things to go as smoothly as possible. Not to mention the off chance that some thugs could be messing with you, and so they'd get to swoop in and save you if they ever ran into such an altercation. Though, they didn't want to run around and just hope for that chance, so they also chose certain places and people to interrogate and search for. Taking out any and all thugs as well as minor criminals along the way.

As if anyone in their way was doomed from the day they were born, and dared to step foot in Gotham. As if they were cursed the very moment they dared to live in this damned city at all.

Nevertheless, some went after your teachers while others went to search through places you had been to for one reason or another. Whether it was for a performance or otherwise, it didn't matter. The fact that you had been there before was the only detail they cared about.

Finding you, and any information about you came first. Everything else was secondary.

That's why Tim was more focused on trying to find more… personal information about you. From your email, to where you lived, and who your friends are — he wanted to know everything. Even if he already had your phone number, you weren't responding or picking up whatsoever. Which wasn't exactly helping him calm down.

If only he could track your phone somehow-

["You have any new information yet?"]

Jason suddenly spoke up, making Tim scoff and narrow his eyes at the computer screen he was looking at, as if it was Jason's face.

How annoying.

"You've asked that question several times in the last fifteen minutes."

["And? Do you have any new information, or what?”]

Tim could only roll his eyes, having been scrolling through so many social media posts and pages, that he had lost count of exactly how many he had gone through or looked at. All he knew was that the total amount was quickly approaching triple digits.

Anything mentioning you caught his interest, and eventually he had found your public account — which, as expected, just held dates for your performances and when a new album or song of yours would be coming out. There were also a few previews of songs you would be playing at the time, had written, or both, and as much as Tim would like to listen to them all, he couldn't. Not right now anyway. He had to focus, for you.

… Though he'd keep it in mind for later.

"Besides more places where Y/n has performed, and when? No. Who could've guessed."

Jason scoffs, which almost made Tim smile a little but he quickly wiped it off his face, focusing again.

["Guys, let's not fight, alright? Just focus on finding Y/n."]

Dick suddenly spoke as well, the sounds of a fight slowly dying down could faintly be heard in the background.

["I'm not trying to start a fight, but y'know what would help with finding Y/n? Some fucking new information."]

["Language!" Dick sighs before continuing, "Look, just calm down-"]

["I am calm."]

["-and focus. We'll find them."]

Jason clicks his tongue, clearly getting upset.

Tim couldn't say much, seeing as he's already a bit upset himself, but that wasn't really saying much either. All of them were getting progressively frustrated and annoyed, but it was the source of those feelings that were different for each and every one of them. You were a big part of it, of course, but their anger wasn't directed towards you — not for Tim, anyway. Never.

Rather, it's the factors that surrounded you, and maybe their hate and guilt towards themselves, and what they've missed in your life — is what really drove them to try as hard as they are now. They all want to see you, but they have their own separate reasons despite how similar they may seem.

["How the hell can you be so sure? They could be getting killed, or being tortured right now. We need to find them as soon as possible- and you'll never guess what we need for that to happen."]

Tim could practically hear the eye roll in Jason's voice.

["We're all trying to find Y/n as fast as we can! Have a little faith, they can fight-"]

["You don't actually believe that, right?"]

["..."]

Dick's silence spoke volumes, but some of them understood it better than others, because they feel the same way. Fighting in tournaments and in controlled environments is different than fighting out in the streets, and in Gotham no less. No amount of trophies or medals could change their minds on that. Nothing could.

["See? Even you don't believe it."]

[Dick sighs, "Look, let's just keep looking while Babs and Tim grab more information, alright? We have to be patient."]

["That's reeeal rich coming from the guy who rushed out of the fucking Manor, the very second he heard Alfred didn't know where Y/n was. Weren't you the first one to start looking for them in the city?"]

["Y/n isn't going to be dead in the next few minutes, Jason-"]

["You don't fucking know that."]

Again, a brief silence passes as Dick just sighs again.

["Grayson does have a point, Todd."]

Damian spoke up, causing Tim to roll his eyes almost instinctively. Just remembering that he was technically working with the youngest Wayne, made his mood worsen. Though he just pushed his annoyance to the side, and continued his search.

If it were up to him, he wouldn't be working with half of the family, but that's the thing — he didn't have a choice. None of them really did. Finding you was just that important to them. You, in general, had become that important to them, and in just a few mere hours no less. Even if it left a few of them biting their tongues, and hiding their clear distaste for having to work with certain people. Still, they tried to work together to the best of their ability.

Tim just took a breath, still listening in on the conversation as he scrolls through even more websites and pages. A collection of photos and announcements leading him down a rabbit hole of posts, and finding some accounts that Tim was beginning to think belonged to your friends with how often they commented, the things they'd say, and how you'd respond. Even if the majority of those comments were on older posts, it was still something. So, he dug deeper.

Eventually, he came to the conclusion that your personal account was private. Since, he found one of the accounts he thought belonged to one of your friend's, and they mentioned an account Tim couldn't access. Of course, he hacked it and got in, but there still wasn't anything of use from what he could see. The occasional pictures were nice, even if they didn't show your face too often, but they didn't give him any information he could use to locate you. Hell, even the account itself didn't have a set location listed, and nor did your email. With the only thing he could gather from posts you privated being that you were still in Gotham, at the very least.

However it did seem like you not only didn't post too often, but were careful about what you posted even on your private account. Not to mention who you posted about as well, and how you worded things. As if you knew someone would be looking through your posts someday, and try to find you. As if you knew Tim would be looking through your page, and try to find you by the little bits of information he thought you'd accidentally leave behind. However, all he found was mostly inconclusive with his current objective. The most he could gather was that you either lived in an apartment, were staying with a friend, or settling at various hotels and such just to have a roof over your head. Though not much else.

Sighing, he kept looking.

Just where are you?

["Oh yeah? How so, demon spawn?"]

["Jason-!"]

["L/n knows how to fight, they can surely take care of themself for a few minutes." Damian states. Cutting off Dick, and ignoring the name Jason used to refer to him.]

["Oh, so you believe that?" Jason scoffs.]

["I haven't been given a reason to think otherwise."]

["Right. Okay. So let's say that Y/n isn't dead for a second here. Do you know how many enemies they could potentially have? Or just how many people want them dead? They're known as a Wayne kid, and a musician too, apparently. Anyone could be after their head, or want to squeeze some money out of them for all we know. How are they supposed to fight against threats like that?"]

["And you think they aren't prepared for that? With how much time has passed, I doubt they'd still remain ignorant to such risks. Especially with the career they've chosen as well." Damian scoffs, as if frustrated and offended on your behalf, "No wonder L/n left."]

["Damian!" Dick exclaims, the youngest Robin's words clearly uncalled for.]

["What? You don't truly believe they just ‘ran away’. Do you, Grayson? Even Father doesn't believe such nonsense."]

Tim could only remain silent, but he had suspected as much as well. He didn't particularly enjoy agreeing with Damian, but for a change, it seemed that they were on the same page.

After all, the more Tim looked, and the deeper his research went, the possibility of you having left, instead of ran away, was turning into a clear certainty. Not to mention that various details he noticed in different posts, seemed to indicate that you had no intentions of coming back home, further proving that thought to be true.

It wasn't really even through posts you made either, but instead posts your friends had made. Various pictures and videos shared on their accounts showing the pieces of your life that the family had missed out on. Showing Tim what he had missed out on.

From parties and celebrations that were held for your accomplishments and your friend's, to events you attended with them instead of someone from your family. To smaller things such as various study sessions that were held, sleepovers and all the fun activities you did with your friends, to sneaky photos taken of you practicing, and how nervous you used to be behind stage — only to later show how confident and comfortable you had grown in more recent pictures.

He saw your life and nearly every part of it he had missed through someone else's eyes. Through the camera lens that captured how much fun you had, or just how happy you were during the time the photo was taken, or how calm you looked as you set up your instrument and prepared to play it, and how focused you became when you did. Videos that showed you getting into the zone, and displaying your amazing skill and talent that Tim never saw up until now. That the rest of the family never knew about until recently, just because they couldn't put a few seconds to the side to even try and give your music a listen. Just because they never made time for you, and now they were finally paying the price for it. Finally realizing what they had truly lost, and why the occasional, soft melodies that would play at night had stopped entirely.

They had pushed you away, and you left. That was the true reality of the situation.

Yet the others didn't seem to believe it, or maybe refused to. Seeing as no one dared to say anything else for a few moments.

["... Bruce?" Dick hesitantly spoke up, he clearly didn't want to think about it. Let alone consider it.]

A heavy sigh could be heard before Bruce said anything.

["It's a possibility." His cold, calculated voice pierced through the air. It was less clear, but he didn't seem too fond of the idea either.]

["'Possibility'? Father, you can't be serious-" Damian tries to speak up, only to get cut off.]

["Exactly! Yeah! It's only a possibility, and we won't know for sure unless we find them." Stephanie pitches in, clearly trying to stay a little positive despite the situation.]

["Right…" Dick took a breath, "Well, what do you think, Tim?"]

"..."

Tim's silence said everything, and besides, he was much too focused on a particular thing he managed to find to really be paying attention anyway.

["... Tim?"]

["To think that Drake would be the only other sensible person here. Unbelievable."]

["Look- we don't know for sure, okay? But anyway, how did the interrogation go? Find out anything?"]

The rest of the conversation fell into the background. Tim would roll his eyes, but again, something else had caught his attention, seeing as he found a rather peculiar post.

On one of your friends' accounts, there was a post that showed you and two other people. All of you were wearing formal clothes, and stepping out of a theater that Tim recognized. The person taking the selfie had an arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he noted that they were the owner of the account. The other person was hugging your arm, and did bunny ears behind your head. All of you were smiling, and you looked so… happy..

Tim shook his head, and just focused on the individual hugging your arm. He didn't recognize them, not completely anyway, but noticed how their account was tagged in the post, and how it was an account he hadn't looked into yet. So, he went to their page and scrolled through their various posts. A particular detail already catching his interest as he scrolled down.

This person seemed to spend a lot of time with you…

Not that your other friends didn't, but this person seemed to have more posts with you in them, compared to the other accounts Tim has looked through thus far. There were many photos of you both hanging out, with some other personal posts sprinkled in here and there — but Tim isn't here for that. He's looking for you, so of course he ignored posts that didn't involve you.

Most of the photos showed you both hanging out and doing various activities together. With Tim's heart squeezing the more he saw, and further began to realize just how much of your life he had missed. Though he pushed it all to the side, just as he has been doing this entire time.

He could feel terrible about all the nights you spent away from home, and how no one noticed, later. He could feel guilty about all the time he's wasted not being with you when given the chance after he found you.

Only then, once you were safe again, once you were home, would he allow himself to feel the full weight of all he hadn't done. Though only when you were home, would he let himself fully see and realize just how little of an impact he had on your life. How he may as well have just been nothing but a figment of your imagination with how often he was present, along with everyone else.

Though, for that, he had to find you first, and he will, so he kept looking.

Eventually, he did stumble across a curious post. One that not only confirmed his suspicions, but also gave the most important piece of information Tim could've found right now.

It was another photo taken without your knowledge, seeing as your back was facing the camera, and a bit of your friend's face could be shown. You were moving some boxes into a building, and your friend seemed to be covering their mouth with their other hand — as if they had been laughing and were trying to cover it up. The caption of the post said how you lost a bet, and now had to move in most of the boxes yourself, but how they'd help you if they saw you genuinely struggling. Only to put in parentheses how viewers of the post shouldn't tell you that.

However, what caught his interest was the text on the image itself, and what parts of the building were shown.

['First day of moving in!!! Already making my bestie hate me by having them do all of the work♡ They're the best! Look at them go ♡♡'] The text in the photo read, with the building itself having a number, among various other details to suggest that it was an apartment building.

Tim felt his heart leap to his throat. No way, had he really…? No. No, he couldn't get his hopes up, but he searched for the building by using the other photos your friend had taken that eventually got him a street name and number. It didn't even take him a minute to find the exact building that perfectly mirrored the one in your friend's photo.

He tried to not work himself up too much, as he didn't waste any time finding the building's security system, and hacking into it. He didn't want to get his hopes up, only to end up disappointed. He didn't want to think about certain things or make up assumptions, only for them to turn up untrue. Yet, his heart rate increased as his hands began to shake despite his efforts.

No way, he thought. No way.

Getting into the system was a breeze, but Tim could hardly focus on that as he immediately looked through the building's security footage. He matched the dates of both the post and footage, and found you bringing in boxes, just as the photo had shown.

He watched you go into the elevator and took note of what floor you went up to, and eventually what apartment you walked into as well once you got there. Tim even observed as you took a second to yourself, sighing before going back down, and doing the process all over again — and even how you had to use the stairs at one point. Seeing as your friend had the bright idea to 'race' you, and see who could get most of the remaining boxes to the apartment in the least amount of time. It was a close tie, and your friend had won, but that's besides the point.

Tim went through other footage just to make sure he had the right information, and knew for certain that you lived in this particular apartment with your friend. For all he knew, you could've just offered to help them move in that day, so he had to be sure. He had to be certain. He couldn't afford to be wrong this time around.

Yet with all the footage he was able to review, and all the dates getting closer and closer to the current day, he was able to confirm it. He saw you walk in and out of that exact apartment on that exact floor, and leave and enter that exact building multiple times. With the amount of time that's passed, it made sense — even if Tim couldn't figure out where you had stayed between the few weeks you had presumably left the Manor and when you moved in with your friend, but that hardly mattered now. What did matter is that he found out where you live, and now had your address.

He almost couldn't believe it, staring at the document where he has been listing all of the information he's gathered from this search.

Having just finished writing down your address, it all felt so unreal.

He's done it. He's finally done it.

"Holy shit." Tim cursed under his breath, disbelief clear in his voice.

["Language, Tim."]

Bruce's voice suddenly sounded, causing Tim to jump before he quickly tried to settle down.

"Right, sorry." He apologized, placing a hand over his racing heart. God, that scared him more than it should've.

["Did you find anything?"]

Someone tsked at the question – while Tim just looked at his screen, still processing all that's happened, and suddenly feeling unsure.

Should he just keep this to himself, so that he could go after you? The others didn't know where you live… they didn't have to know yet. This was a golden opportunity — should he really be giving this up?

["With how long it's been? And all he's been able to find out? We'll be lucky if he even knows if Y/n is dating or not."]

["Jason, c'mon.." Dick tried to pitch in, dragging on.]

["What? I'm just saying-"]

"I know where Y/n lives." He found himself blurting out, Jason's words irritating him more than they would've. More than they should've.

["... Really? Where are they, Tim?" Dick didn't waste a moment to ask.]

["Yeah, just spill already so we can go get them."]

["Send me their location."]

["Send me the info too!"]

Tim could only sigh, rubbing his temple as he tried to collect his thoughts. Of course he just had to run his mouth before thinking things over. Of course he had to let that little comment get to him. Of course he just had to allow it to get to him so much that it made him give up the most important piece of information he had found out tonight.

Of course. Just great.

["Guys, I don't think it's a good idea for all of you to just go and see Y/n."]

Barbara finally spoke up, voice calm and collected.

["Why? I mean, I get that seeing the whole family all at once might be a little overwhelming… but I don't see why a few of us can't go." Dick questioned.]

["Because it's been months since they've last seen any of us? There's a reason why they haven't gone back to the Manor, and still haven't picked up your or Tim's calls."]

["... You're not saying-"]

["I'm just suggesting that maybe only one of you should go to kind of… test out the waters. We can't be sure of anything, and the best way to see how we should go about things is to know how Y/n feels about us first."]

["But we need to bring them home, they're not safe out here." Jason pointed out, already not liking the idea.]

["I know, but we can't just show up and expect them to comply because we're family. For all we know, they might-"]

["Okay! Um, I think we get it now." Stephanie interrupted, the idea already bothering her.]

["Fine, then I'll go." Jason proposed, sounding like he was just finishing up taking out a few thugs, if the faint noises in the background were anything to go by.]

"And why's that? I already have the location, so I'll go." Tim pointed out, already gathering his stuff, preparing to leave as quickly as he could.

["Because if they try anything, I'll be able to stop them. What're you going to do with your scrawny, lanky arms?"]

"They won't fight me, Jason." Tim sighed, as if that was obvious, "and besides, I thought you didn't think they could fight anyway?"

["I don't, but anyone could take you down without even trying."]

["Jay! Ugh," Dick groans, "Look, I'll go, okay?"]

["Oh yeah? And why should you go instead of me?"]

["Because at least I won't scare them off, and if anything happens then I can handle it too."]

["I'm going." Bruce stepped in, speaking as if the decision was already made.]

["If Father is going, then so am I." Damian chipped in.]

["The last person Y/n needs to see right now is definitely you, demon spawn." Jason scoffed.]

["You'll just scare them before you even get a word in, Bruce!" Dick tried to reason.]

["Hey, um, what if I go instead? At least I won't intimidate them or push them to come with us too hard." Stephanie suggested.]

Tim sighed, "Look, I can go and reason with them. Again, I already have the location so it makes sense-"

["No." Bruce said flatly.]

"But why!?"

["Father already said that he and I are going to see L/n," Damian stated, as if it was obvious, with a small scoff. Adding on, "Todd may also have a point."]

"So?! I already have the information, and I already said that Y/n won't fight me!"

["We can't say for sure what they will and won't do," Dick said, trying to deescalate the situation, "like Babs said, it's been a while. We don't know how they'll react or how they feel about us."]

["Is this you just trying to seem reasonable, so you can go see them first?" Jason asked, unconvinced.]

["What?! Of course not-!"]

["You're not really convincing anyone here, Dick…" Stephanie pointed out.]

The back and forth went on for a while. None of them could come to an agreement, as they all want to see you. They all want to be the first to actually meet you, and to experience what they all have found out about you first hand. Even if certain individuals were more guilty of that than others, the point still remained.

They just want to see you so much, could you really blame any of them?

Barbara sighed at the chaos, the arguments and defenses just getting more and more ridiculous. Eventually, just boiling down to certain people trying to prove that they want to see you more compared to others, and therefore should be the first to see you.

They all miss you, or desperately want to see the idea of you that they had created in their heads, but that wasn't a valid reason for why they should go and see you either. Especially considering how important this meeting would be. Since it would change and determine a lot of things, depending on how well or awful it went.

"Guys, look, just- whoever's the closest to the location should go." Barbara suggested with another sigh, which thankfully caused the constant arguing to stop for now.

["Fine, alright then." Tim agreed, albeit reluctantly.]

Barbara could only be a little thankful for the cooperation, but slowly grew confused at the silence that followed.

"Tim?" She asked, only to get another sigh as a response.

["It's Dick."]

["What? Really?!" Dick exclaimed, clearly happy at this turn of events.]

["Yes." Tim confirmed with a small groan, the frown evident in his voice.]

"Well, that settles it. Dick, you're going. Tim, send him the address. The right address, okay? We don't need more arguments or complications on this." Barbara says, "Don't push them too hard. The last thing we need is for their opinion of us to get worse, Dick."

["I know, I know. It'll be fine! I've got this!" Dick still sounded a little too happy, before suddenly going quiet.]

Barbara could only hope for the best at this rate.

["Did he seriously just turn off his comm link, and leave?" Jason asked as his voice rose, clearly upset.]

["Seems like it. Can't say I'm surprised since he sounded reallly happy to be able to see Y/n." Stephanie confirmed, sighing softly.]

["This is going to go poorly." Damian grimaced with another scoff.]

["Yeah, well, we can only hope he doesn't mess up too badly."]

["Let's try to think a little realistically, Tim." Jason said.]

Barbara just let out a huff as she looked at the screens in front of her. A little hope never killed anyone, but really, she didn't have a good feeling about this.

Maybe Dick really wasn't the best choice.

—

You were still calmly sitting in your apartment, messing around with the instrument in your hands. Since you've been switching between the ones you have every now and again, trying to find a particular melody you were looking for, but hadn't found just yet. You didn't have easy access to as many instruments as you did a few months ago, but you learned to work with what you had. Having taken home the very first instrument you bought yourself, and a few more of your favorites that could fit in the apartment that you managed to get your hands on for a decent price.

Sure, you did have other places you could go to that allowed you to play the other instruments you didn't have, but you liked to play at home if you could help it. There was just something about being in a comfortable space while composing a song or melody, that just felt nice. You truly felt at home, a feeling you didn't realize you missed until you left the manor and finally had a space that you could truly call your own. A feeling you didn't want to let go of, if you could help it.

Your life was still busy but it was beginning to slow down. You dedicated more time to things you actually enjoyed, but also made an effort to take care of yourself and hold onto good habits you had developed over the years. Though you were still trying to let go of some bad ones, you were making progress.

You felt… happy here. At peace, even.

You were surrounded by people that saw you and even recognized you, and were beginning to see that you had a family of your very own all along.

Unlike the family you were adopted into, your friends showed their care and support — and if anything, made sure you wouldn't forget it. With you showing the same care and support back, and your efforts being recognized instead of pushed to the side. Being reciprocated instead of leaving you with nothing, and making you feel more alone and unwanted than words could describe.

Sure, it wasn't perfect, and you've had your fair share of arguments and times where you needed space, but that was okay. You didn't need perfection, and you didn't need constant happiness. You just needed love and care, and that's what you found. Among other things you didn't ask for or necessarily need, but appreciated deeply regardless.

You felt like you had finally found what you've been searching for, and nothing could make you happier.

Yet, somewhere in your heart, you knew it couldn't last forever, and as if hearing your worries, an abrupt knock echoed throughout the apartment.

You paused what you were doing, humming curiously to yourself as you turned to look at the front door from your position on the couch. Who could that be at this hour? It certainly wasn't your roommate, seeing as they were sound asleep in their room, and you could still hear their snores despite being in the living room. So who else could it be?

Maybe it was Ms. Harry again, seeing as she had a bit of an odd tendency to knock on the wrong door sometimes. After all, she was old, and her memory was slowly getting worse, but she was always quick to fix her mistakes. So you just shrugged and turned away, convinced that it was another one of those nights where she just so happened to mistakenly knock on your door. So you let it be, knowing that she'd correct herself on her own and move along.

However, another set of knocks sounded.

They were a little louder this time, as if the person on the other side of the door really did want to be noticed. Which made you pause and look back at the door, taking a brief glance at the clock.

It was getting late, and not many people were out and about during this time of night. Not the people on your floor, anyway. Though, you still tried to think of anyone who could be at the door right now.

Besides your roommate, not many of your friends lived particularly close. With the amount of them that would not only be up at this time of night, but would also personally come to bother you without sending a text or anything, being even smaller. The more you think about it, the shorter the list of potential people got, and you don't know if that should make you more confused or worried. Maybe a bit of both, but you weren't sure.

More knocks sounded. Again, they were louder compared to the last set, if only by a little.

Well, whoever was at your door was being rather persistent, so you decided to at least check it out.

Reluctantly, you set the instrument you had been fiddling with for the past hour to the side. Sighing softly as you got up from your spot on the couch, and quietly approached the door.

Moving about as silently as you could was an odd habit you couldn't shake, and while your friends have joked and commented about it, you suppose it was just another remnant of your life in the manor. A life you were still trying to gradually leave behind.

Regardless, you made your way to the door, and yet here — right at the foot of it, an odd feeling began to blossom in your chest. You couldn't make sense of it, but as you reached for the knob, you found yourself stopping. It didn't feel like a good idea to open the door, and though you couldn't figure out why, you just took a small breath and pushed the feeling to the side.

Clearly, you were having a weird night, but just to humor yourself, you decided to 'comply' with whatever this feeling was, and check who was at the door by looking through the peephole instead.

It was only then did you understand.

You took a few silent steps back, putting your hand over your mouth as you kept your eyes on the door. Tingles of unease slowly crawling down your spine, and your heart began to beat against your chest harshly. You don't know if what you saw was real, but you didn't want to check again. Once felt like enough, especially since your legs felt like they were sinking into the floor.

How… how did they know where you live?

You took a breath, trying to calm your nerves as you took a few more steps away from the door. You have no idea what's going on, but all you know was that you don't want Dick knowing where you live. He might know the floor and building, but you refuse to give him the exact room if you could help it. So, you quickly moved to your room and got ready, a quick plan forming in your head.

Changing was easy, and so was gathering the stuff you thought you'd need for this. Not exactly too worried about the shoes you put on or anything like that, as your heart leapt from your chest to your throat when more knocks came, basically pounding against the door.

Fuck. He was getting impatient.

Picking up the pace, you made any last minute adjustments you could to your appearance, before quickly deciding that you looked good enough to be outside. Rushing to a window, you didn't waste any time opening it, grabbing onto a pipe that was exposed on the side of the building, closing the window, and sliding down the pipe until you reached the ground. Thanking your past self for having done that enough times to be used to it.

Knowing for a fact that you heard more knocks on your way down, you hurriedly rushed back into the apartment building and basically ran to the elevator. Thanking the gods that it had opened when you first called it, you rushed inside and hit the button for your floor. Hurriedly tapping on the button that closed the elevator doors as they slowly shut, as if that would make them move faster somehow.

As the elevator rose, you prayed that it wouldn't stop and that it'd go straight up to your floor, not knowing if you could afford to risk losing time like that. Especially when the thought of a certain vigilante breaking down your door because you didn't answer it, popped into your head.

Your hands were sweaty, your heart was racing, and you could hardly stand still as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor. Staring at the counter above the elevator buttons as if that'd make the numbers go up faster, and occasionally glancing at the doors as if they'd open at any moment. Questions and possibilities rushed through your head, but you hardly had any time to think about any of them as a small ding sounded, and the doors finally opened. Ignoring how the small sound made you jump a bit, you tried not to look too nervous as you stared at the hallway in front of you.

Oh god, you were really doing this.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you stepped out of the elevator and took a breath. Trying to calm down your heart a bit as you gathered your composure, and acted as normally as you could manage. Walking forward, you rounded the corner, and there he was in all of his tainted glory.

"Di- I- I mean, Nightwing?" You call out, trying to grab the vigilante's attention before he did anything rash — and you seem to have caught him at just the right moment. As he seemed just about ready to bust open the lock to your door, and break into your apartment. Which, he thankfully pulls away as he whips around to look at you, clearly surprised.

You were almost too grateful to have caught him just in time.

"What are you doing here?" You took a few steps forward, but nothing more. Not wanting your efforts to go to waste right away, even if you knew it was only a matter of time when it came to these guys.

"Oh! Y/n- hi! I didn't, um, I didn't see you there." Dick greets with a smile, acting oddly nervous, which makes you raise a brow. "How long have you been, uh, standing there?" He asks, probably trying to see if you saw how he was about to break into your apartment. You both know you did, but you could play dumb for now.

"Um, I just got back so… not long, I guess? Why?" You tilt your head to the side, taking note of how Dick seemed to visibly relax.

Was he always so… tense?

"No reason! I was just wondering, but, uh," He glances to the side before looking back at you, and taking in your appearance. He took in every little detail he could, and wow… you really were different from what he was expecting, but in the best way possible.

Your voice was different than he remembered, and everything about you was just so… fitting, even if he's never seen it before. Even if he didn't remember having seen the style of clothes you wore on you before, or seeing the accessories you had on your person either. You really look like you've grown up now and have become an adult, with your own sense of style and fashion. Having all these little ways to show how you've grown, and become more comfortable with yourself.

Dick couldn't help but love it as much as it hurt him.

"It's good to see you." He couldn't help but blurt out, smiling softly. Though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

You only fiddled with your sleeves, averting your eyes for a moment as you purse your lips into a thin line. The way he looks at you made you feel uncomfortable to say the least, and his whole demeanor was nothing you have seen from him before. Not directed towards you, anyway, and you couldn’t help but struggle trying to remember the last time he smiled at you in person. All you could remember was seeing his back turned towards you as he walked away, a flash of a pathetic smile showing on his face briefly before he continued walking forward. Never looking back...

Maybe you've just grown too familiar seeing his smile in photographs and painted pictures, instead of in person.

Yet, how he looks you over now — and seems to take in every detail he manages to find — isn't exactly making this the most comfortable situation to be in. You feel exposed, and rub your arm before stopping yourself. You couldn't afford to show signs of weakness or vulnerability. Not with him. Not while he was in the suit.

Taking in a short breath, you gave a small nod. Managing to look back at Dick, and push down your nerves. The last thing you want was for him to notice how you truly feel, and point it out, or feel some kind of obligation to do something about it. The last thing you need was for him to stick around for longer than he has to.

"Yeah, um, anyway- that didn't really answer my question…?" You hesitantly point out, unsure if you should've mentioned anything at all, but feeling the need to do so. Even if you rather not be in this position, you prefer this over him breaking down your door.

"Did something happen? I- I don't know how much help I can give since… y'know- I'm not a crime-fighting vigilante in latex, but I can see what I can do?" You try to joke a little, mostly for yourself and to further ease your nerves as a few small chuckles escape you. Yet it doesn't help as much as you would've liked.

Did they always scare you this much?

"Oh, no! No, no, no- nothing happened! I just wanted to, um, come see you, is all!" Dick admits, and even if that may have been enough reasoning for him, it wasn't for you. It just doesn't make sense, and maybe that was the years of being put off to the side — or almost outright ignored — talking, but you couldn't imagine him just randomly popping out of nowhere, just because he wants to see you. There has to be a reason, even if you don't know what that reason would be.

"By going to my friend's apartment…? That doesn't really make a lot of sense.. um, Nightwing."

"Oh. Uh, you don't live here?" It was so weird seeing someone like Dick be so openly nervous. Was he always like this? You couldn't really tell, but if there was something going on he wasn't hiding it very well. It was almost like he was trying to not mess up or something, but you don't know why.

"No… but I do visit often? I mean, that is why I'm here and everything-" A few nervous chuckles escape you as you scratch the back of your neck, once again averting your gaze. "If you want, we could talk over a cup of coffee? I know a good place nearby, and even if I'm sure you can't exactly dine-in or anything, I could just take it to-go or something." You hesitantly offer, getting the feeling that Dick wouldn't leave easily, and still thinking that if there really is something going on — you could give him a chance to talk about it, at the very least.

"Sure! Yeah! But, uh. Is that really a good idea? It could be dangerous, and I think it's for the best if we stay inside or go to your place instead." Dick suggests, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion.

"My place?"

"Yeah, I mean I would offer mine but Bludhaven isn't exactly close, y'know?" He snickers. Yet it only made you pause. The smallest bits of a bad feeling beginning to form in your stomach.

"I- I don't think that's a good idea…"

"But it's better than hanging around outside or something, right? This is Gotham, after all." You didn't like how Dick says that. Saying it like you didn't already know. Like you were ignorant of how bad the city you live in was, despite having experienced it first hand on multiple occasions.

"I know, but there has to be some other place we can talk, then just my place."

"Well, there is the-"

"No." You immediately shot it down, already feeling like you knew what he was going to say, "Not there. Let's- let me just grab the coffee first, and we can figure it out from there, alright?" You didn't want to deal with more than you have to, and you weren't going to go back. Not now. Not ever, if you could help it.

"Oh, sure! I'll just tag along," Dick said simply, almost as if it was obvious, as he smiles, approaching you casually.

"I-" You pause before just sucking in a breath and giving a small nod, a weak smile displaying itself on your face, "-yeah, sure. That- that works." Even if you don't want Dick to follow you, it is better than having him just stand at your door, anyway. Though you still aren't exactly comfortable with the idea, you didn't have many options.

"Great! I'll meet you outside!" Dick grins before leaving through the window at the end of the hall.

Now by yourself for a while, you exhaled deeply, not even realizing how long you've been holding your breath.

You aren't sure if you could do this, but you don't feel like you have much of a choice anymore as you just try to steady and calm down your racing heart.

Making your way back to the elevator, you try to not think too much about what's going on as you step back inside, and push the correct button, waiting for it to descend.

Your heart felt heavy in your chest, and despite how you try to ignore it – you could feel that something was wrong. Though you just chalked it up to how you aren't used to Dick talking with you, or smiling towards you – or really anything at all when it came to him. You tried to, anyway, but you were slowly beginning to doubt it.

There was something in his smile, and the way that he spoke that just felt strange to you. Even if you haven't had many conversations or interactions with him, you could still catch how different he seemed tonight. Though you weren't entirely sure. After all, you didn't know much about his personality or usual antics, just as he didn't know much about you as a whole.

On any other occasion you'd try to let it go, but doing so didn't feel right this time. It feels stupid, and almost as if you'd put yourself in more danger by trying to, so for now you'd just keep it in mind. Even if nothing came of it, at least you were being cautious, right?

You aren't sure, not entirely anyway. Since it was always hard to tell what is and isn't a good decision with Dick and the others, but you don't have much time to dwell on it as the elevator doors open once again.

All you could do was just hope that this would end as quickly as it started. For both your and Dick's sake, but mostly for your own.

Nevertheless, you step out of the elevator and make your way out of the building. There, you saw Dick leaning against a lamppost, before looking at you. The smile he gave only made the pit in your stomach grow bigger, but you tried to return the gesture the best you could.

Neither smile reached either of your eyes.

"So, you know where it is?"

"Yeah- it isn't too far from here. Just a few blocks away, it's not that far of a walk."

"Great! You don't mind leading, then?"

"No, um. I can lead."

"Perfect, let's get going then." Dick says, his smile growing a little bigger as he makes his way over, and stops beside you, waiting for you to lead the way.

You just gave a nod, taking a nervous step forward as you both began to walk. You knew the directions by heart at this point, and so you just let your own feet guide you along the streets of Gotham. With Dick following right along, humming under his breath.

An awkward silence fell over both of you.

You try to not think about it too much, knowing that the detail would only further bother you, and make you feel more nervous than you already are. So you drew your attention elsewhere, and focused on the city itself instead.

Not many people were walking about, which immediately struck you as odd since Gotham was always so lively despite how dangerous it is. Even if more people were out during the day, there were still lots of people who were out at night for one reason or another. Granted, most of them are dangerous, everyone knows that, but some just simply went about their business. The city was dangerous, but that didn't stop people from going about their lives. Even if it did make it easier for thugs and the like to hide within the crowds.

Still, the change was noticeable. Gotham wasn't exactly known to be quiet, let alone this inactive. It felt strange, and when you glance over to Dick, you couldn't help but feel a little surprised that he didn't seem all that bothered by the change. If anything, you were almost getting the impression that he hadn't noticed it at all.

So, you just keep looking ahead, and focusing on other things. Deciding to not comment on anything if Dick wasn't.

Yet you still couldn’t shake it.

The absence of sirens in the air and occasional gunshots didn't sit right with you, and even the amount of people driving by wasn't as much as it'd usually be. The city didn't feel busy, let alone as alive as it would've been on any other night, and it's bothering you. It's like some sort of silent evacuation is going on, or a lock down of some kind that not everyone was informed of. There were more whispers than there were shouts, and a kind of awkward peace, instead of striking violence and chaos.

You couldn't believe it, was this Gotham's first real quiet night?

CRACK.

Perhaps you spoke too soon.

A sickening crack sounded from somewhere within the city, the noise so loud and sudden that it immediately caught your attention, as you looked in the direction of where you heard it come from. You could've sworn you heard a scream that followed right after, only for it to swiftly get cut off.

It was only then did you really take a look around, and notice how the people you passed by looked equally tense and nervous. An unsaid, but shared feeling of tension and anxiety hung in the air, and now that you noticed it — you couldn't ignore it.

What didn't help was when you saw someone in an alleyway cocking their gun, only for them to swiftly get roped into the darkness, causing them to drop their weapon in the process. A sickening pop sounded, and then deafening silence followed. The only evidence that anyone had ever stood in that particular spot, was the gun the thug had dropped.

Through the shadows of the alleyway, and faint light from the moon, you could almost make out a figure in the darkness. Yet just as they turned to look at you, your eyes darted away.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Are… are you sure there isn't anything going on? It seems oddly… quiet, tonight." You point out hesitantly, small tingles dancing down your spine, and they were far from pleasant.

"Hm? Oh, well, I guess you could say something is happening, but the others are taking care of it." Dick reassures as he waves his hand dismissively. "Though that's why I think it'd be better if we talked inside. The last thing I want is for someone to eavesdrop on our conversation, and for you to get caught in the crossfire of everything." Yet you couldn't help but feel like it was a little too late for that.

Being associated with Dick, and the others — let alone being someone that they'd actually turn to for assistance or anything — already made someone prone to being caught in any crossfire that dealt with their vigilante work. Even if the person didn't get caught in between things by some miracle, it would be hard to ignore the newly painted target on their back. Being known for having a connection to Batman, and anyone he had taken under his wing one way or another, had its problems, and you already had to deal with your own fair share of trouble just for being known as another kid who got adopted by Bruce Wayne.

You wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly had to deal with more trouble just from this conversation alone, since word traveled around fast in Gotham, but you didn't want to think about that right now. You'd just deal with that when the time came, if it ever did.

Still, you didn't fully believe Dick. Your feelings of the situation becoming more messy, and unclear as you try to piece things together. You couldn't tell if what was going on was something to worry about, or stress over. Since Dick was acting so dismissively about it, and yet the effect it's having on Gotham was unmistakable. Is it big enough to cause the city to go quiet, but not dangerous enough to worry about? Or is it something else entirely?

You took a breath. Maybe it's best if you just think about it later. You already have enough on your plate as it is, and the biggest thing you have to worry about right now is Dick. All you have to do is find out what he wants, and handle things from there. That's it. That's all you have to do.

So, you nod hesitantly. Still not looking at Dick as you said, "Right. Okay. That… that makes sense, I guess," but your voice betrays you despite your best efforts as it wavered slightly. Still, you make sure to add, "but I still don't think it's the best to talk at my place."

Dick only gave a nod, saying, "Alright," and nothing else.

Your body refused to relax after that.

You still couldn’t shake the odd feeling you were getting from Dick, even if you couldn't exactly pinpoint what's wrong or where this feeling is coming from. The distant sounds of snaps, cracks, pops, and cut off shouts and screams in the distance didn't help much with that either. Especially when they weren't far, and sounded like they were only a few blocks away from you, with the distance slowly growing shorter each and every time a new sound echoed across Gotham. Especially when you realized that the snaps and cracks were the sounds of bones breaking, and the pops were joints getting dislocated. Which caused various memories to pop into your head that you tried to shove away.

Small beads of sweat began to roll down your neck. Your hands feel clammy, and you try to steady your breathing once you realize it was wavering again. You try to fix any outward reaction you notice you were displaying before Dick could catch on, fiddling with your sleeves as you try to reassure yourself.

You're going to be okay.

CRACK!

You're going to be fine.

SNAP!

You're going to make it through this.

POP!

You could tough it out.

"AAAHHH-!" CRUNCH.

This would all be over soon.

So, you try to ignore how the pit in your stomach continues to grow with each second that passes. How each sound causes you to tense, and sometimes jump the smallest bit, but you try to ignore that too.

You glance over to Dick once again, only to catch him immediately turning to face forward. The detail made you pause and furrow your brows, had he been looking at you?

You shove the thought to the side and face forward again as well. A weight of some kind begins to form in your chest, yet you still try to push on and keep walking.

Seconds turn into minutes, and it's only now that you fully realized how long this short walk felt. The sidewalks stretched on, and the streets never seemed to end. The traffic lights felt like distant glimpses of life and civilization that one would catch in fog, with the small amount of cars on the road not helping with that feeling. Dark clouds begin to form overhead, and cover the inky black sky. With the full moon looking down at you. Its sight pinned on you, staring in silence.

Maybe that's why you were so relieved when the diner finally came into view, and you found yourself holding back a sigh of relief. You had to stop yourself from running over, and rushing inside so that you didn't have to walk beside Dick anymore. Further reminding yourself of how awkward this whole experience has been for you thus far. Which didn't help with how you are feeling at all.

"How do you like your coffee?" You decide to ask, seeing as the diner was only a few steps away at this point.

"What?" Dick asks, seemingly snapping out of whatever trance he was in. With your question bringing him back to reality.

"Um, how do you like your coffee? Since, y'know. That's what we're here for?" You repeat, giving Dick a confused glance.

A look of realization flashed across Dick's face as a small 'ohh' left him. "Right, yeah. Uh," he stumbles at first before saying his preference, with you just nodding along.

"Okay, I'll just go inside and order so… you can just wait out here?" You said, unsure as you glance at the diner, only to look back at Dick.

"Yeah, I can do that." He agrees with a simple nod and small thumbs up. Making you nod as well as you took a breath.

"Right, okay. I'll just, um, head inside then." You exhale sharply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "It shouldn't take too long." You stop once you're in front of the door to the diner. Folding your hands into fists, squeezing your fingers and digging your nails into your palms, before releasing, letting your fingers relax, before repeating the process a few more times.

"Got it." Dick nods again, and you return the gesture as you open the door and step inside. Once again holding yourself back from letting out a sigh of relief, as you made your way over to the counter. A weight of some kind being lifted from your shoulders the moment the smell of food, and freshly brewed coffee hits you.

It's only when you reach the counter and see your friend did you finally sigh deeply, and heavily. You rest your arms against the counter and let your head hang low, a feeling of exhaust and fatigue slowly eating away at you. Not being in the immediate vicinity of Dick definitely made you feel exceptionally better, especially now that there’s a wall between you and him.

"Y'know, lots of people have been comin' in and sighing just like that, tonight." The waitress points out as she makes her way over to you. Her comment causing you to lift your head, and look at her. She gave you a little smile, amused by your antics, but you could see the little worry that hid behind her eyes.

"Really?" You ask, allowing yourself to relax a little, now that you were in the presence of a friend. You didn't see Jessica outside of the diner much, but that was never a problem since you've been a regular for a while now. You had met when you first began coming to the diner late at night for coffee since you couldn't sleep, coming around just when the place was about to close. It was only after a few more nights passed that you both began to talk, and really connect. You like to consider her one of your closest friends because of all she's done for you, and not just because she knows how to make your coffee just the way you like it.

"Yeah, it's kinda weird but there's seems to be somethin' going on tonight. So I guess it makes sense." Jessica says with a shrug, "Anyway, you want the usual, I'm assuming?"

You perk up at that, "Wait, you think something's going on too?" You couldn't help but ask, though made sure to also say, "Oh, and that'd be great. But I'll… um, take it to go this time, and I'll have another coffee for my…" you glance over your shoulder and look at Dick. He had his back turned to the window, and looked to be talking to someone with what you assumed to be his comm link.

You turn back to Jessica, a crooked smile on your face, "My acquaintance…?"

"I can't think of anyone who doesn't. Everyone can tell that something ain't right about tonight. Hell, even Jim looked bothered when he came in. I swore he was shakin' like a leaf, and looked like something was out to get him too." Jessica replies, writing down your order on her notepad mindlessly, already knowing it by heart.

"Jim? Like the commissioner?"

"Nope, I'm talkin' about the guy who came in from Metropolis."

"Oh." You said, before slowly nodding as you thought about it, "I guess that makes sense. Though, I didn't think that guy had a single nervous bone in his body, to be honest."

"Well, y'know what they say; Gotham changes people. It can even make people like him, who're barely present with the rest of us, get a little shaken up every now and again." Jessica hums, looking at what she has written down for a moment.

"Right… yeah."

Jessica sighs softly, looking at you with unsaid care and concern before speaking up again, "Anyway, does your…" she drags out the 'r' as she glances behind you, before looking back at you. Waving her pen in the air as she gestures towards the window, "'acquaintance' want anything else?"

"No, um. Just the coffee will do." You rub the back of your neck, making sure to mention how Dick said he likes his coffee. Jessica only gave a nod as she wrote it down.

"Alright, but I gotta ask. Is that guy bothering you?" Jessica asks as she starts to brew the coffee, shooting you a certain look, "I can get William to have a chat with 'im if he's causing you trouble. He won't like it, but he'll do it, y'know."

The question catches you off guard, but you quickly shake your head, and try to adjust the smile on your face to look less obvious. As much as you don't want to be in this situation, you at least want to hear Dick out. If there's even the smallest chance that he really does need something from you — you want to help. You don't want to be the reason why whatever is going on is prolonged any further, or if a solution they have is delayed.

Despite everything they've done to you, and the little they've given you throughout all of your life, you want to do this one last thing for them. That's all.

You could afford to do this one last time, you thought as much anyway.

"I'm fine, he- he isn't bothering me… I promise." You try to reassure your friend, mustering the most convincing smile you could as you watch her work. She clearly knew what she was doing, since it looked as if it came so naturally to her, and you wouldn't be surprised if it did, with all she's told you in the past.

"Well, alright. But if he does anything you can always shoot me a text or give me a call. I can't do much myself, but I know people."

You huff at her words, an easy smile making its way up your face as your shoulders relaxed, "I know. Thanks, Jess."

"Don't mention it. After all, I've gotta look out for the person who gives the best tips." She snickers, a smile of her own beginning to show itself. You can't help but laugh lightly as you just shake your head, and look away.

The soft tune of old melodies plays in the background, filling the space of the diner and washing away any awkwardness that may have been present otherwise. Some jazz begins to play, and you couldn’t help but tap your foot along with the rhythm, the voice of the singer taking all of your worries, and whisking them away.

The other customers are quiet for the most part, but seem at ease for the time being. The outside world almost seemed so far away despite being just past the windows, but there was some peace to be had with that. The street lights gave off a homey feeling with their soft orange hues spilling into the diner, the quiet from the outside only making this place feel more safe, in a strange way.

"So it's just for the money, huh? And here I thought you genuinely cared about me." You chuckle, fiddling with your fingers mindlessly.

"Of course I do. But I'd like to see you work in customer service and living off of tips," Jessica chuckles as well, "Maybe then you'd see how that's just me appreciating you more, hon'."

You just shake your head, "Right, whatever you say."

"I'm being serious, Y/n. Even the boss appreciates you, and your wonderful donations." Jessica snickers, beginning to pour the coffee into two cups.

"You make it sound like he runs a charity, and I'm a big donor."

"Of course he does! Except, y'know. It isn't your typical charity, and we gotta work our asses off to ‘give back to the people’. With your money making up about… hm, seventy-five percent of my paycheck?"

"Jess!"

"No, no. You're right, it's more like eighty-three. Maybe even eighty-five at a push." She laughs, giggling at the expression you make as you huff, before laughing a bit yourself.

You both continue to joke lightly, laughs and giggles being shared as Jessica makes your order, and you patiently wait. A light, soft sort of smile resting on your face, and you almost forget what had made you so tense in the first place. Which was one of the reasons you love this diner so much — it felt like a home away from home, even if it was only a few blocks away from your apartment. Jessica just added onto that comfortable vibe you got from this place, and your mind always felt so quiet when you're here.

It almost made everything feel like it'd be okay, and that as long as you remain inside, nothing bad could happen to you.

Unfortunately, it was only that. A feeling, and nothing more. Your current situation only made that detail all the more apparent.

"Welp, here you go. They're both hot and ready, so be careful, okay?" She smiles down at you before snickering, "Though you don't gotta tell the guy that if you don't want to."

You're confused for a moment, not entirely sure who Jessica was talking about until it suddenly hit you. Right, Dick.

You laugh along, but it wasn't as genuine as it was before, and died down much quicker. As if scared that he'd hear both of you from past the window now. The thought alone made you suddenly hyper-aware of his presence outside. "Right, yeah.."

Grabbing the two cups, you slide them towards yourself and stare down at them for a moment, finding yourself hesitating again. You don't know why you were taking so many pauses, but this whole thing just didn't feel right to you. Though you couldn't exactly pinpoint why, you knew the reason was different than why you were so awkward around Dick, and reluctant to talk to him.

"... Are you sure that guy isn't bothering you?" Jessica asks again, leaning against the counter as she places a hand over one of yours. You couldn't meet her eyes, knowing that if you did it'd just make things harder for yourself. So you look off to the side, unsure.

"Yeah!… He's just.. yeah." Was all you could really say. You don't want to say anything that would make Jessica worry more, but most importantly, you don't want to make it harder for yourself to leave. You got this far, would it really be alright if you leave now? If you took back the words you said, and just went back home? Probably not.

You hear Jessica sigh, causing your heart to feel heavier in your chest. "Look, I get it if you don't want me to get someone to handle him, but if you don't want to stick around, and don't want him to see- I can let you out the back." She offers, giving your hand a small squeeze. Trying to reassure you, and give you something to work with.

You perk up at her offer, looking back up at her in slight surprise, "Really?" You ask. The sense of hope and relief that washed over you didn't make you feel any better, and only furthered the conflict going on in your mind.

"Yeah. Especially if it'll get you away from that weirdo." She chuckles with a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood a little.

You think about it for a moment, just looking at Jessica as countless thoughts rush through your head. Why did this have to be so complicated? Why are you making this so hard for yourself? The choice is so simple, so easy, and yet you just couldn't take it, but why?

You look back at Dick, and make eye contact.

You both stand there, staring at each other for a while, and the music playing in the diner suddenly didn't feel so comforting anymore. Your shoulders lost their weightlessness, and gravity seemed eager to try and pull you down to the floor.

Dick is the first to look away, presumably resuming his conversation with whoever he's been talking to this entire time, but you didn't. You don't.

Turmoil and conflict is clear in your eyes. You could see it through your faint reflection in the glass of the window that separates you and Dick. Which, from that alone, you begin to feel worse.

Even if you did leave, would that change anything? Would you be able to actually leave Dick? Or would he catch on? They already know where you live, and even if you managed to fool Dick momentarily, you doubt that he believes your little lie now if he is talking to the others. Yet if you went back to him, what would happen? Where would you both end up going?

You look back down at the two coffees, and sigh. Either way, you’re faced with uncertainty. If you left now, there's no telling if you'd actually be able to get away. Yet if you went back to Dick, you couldn't even imagine what would happen next. It felt like you were stuck in a lose-lose situation; having to pick between two different types of poison, and deal with whatever consequences that came with the kind you chose.

Holding the cups a little tighter, you think it over for another moment before shaking your head. Taking in a breath, and letting yourself calm down a bit.

"I think I'll be okay, but thanks for the offer, Jess." You gave her a little, appreciative smile, "I'll just message or call you if anything happens, like you said." Jessica didn't seem entirely sure of your decision, but nods anyway.

"Well, if you're sure, then alright. But the moment shit goes south, you know who to call."

You nod, and give her a small ‘thank you’ as you paid and left. Taking the drinks with you as you did so, the warmth of the diner slowly leaving you, and now being replaced with the cold breeze of the night.

"Sorry that took so long, I would've told you otherwise if I had known." You apologize as you turn to Dick, flinching at his close proximity. Since, you didn't realize just how close he had been standing to the door until now.

"It's no big deal! Besides, it didn't take that long." Dick said, dismissing your apology as he kept up that smile of his. You only nod, handing him his coffee, which he gladly took.

"If you say so.." You glance off to the side again, remaining quiet for a moment before looking back at Dick, "You were talking to the others, I assume?" You decide to ask, not exactly sure if you should've said anything, but you didn't see the harm in doing so at the moment.

"Hm? Oh, yeah! I uh, I was." Dick confirms with a small, awkward nod.

"Is… everything okay?"

"Yep! Things are going well. Great, even!"

"Oh. Alright then."

Another beat of silence passed over both of you.

You clutch the cup in your hands, its heat pinching and nibbling at your skin through the sleeve. You took a glance inside the diner, and noticed that while Jessica is doing her job, she's still shooting looks and glances your way past the window. She furrows her brows as you both made eye contact, and you could tell what she was going to do just from that alone.

You shake your head, and play it off as if you were just pushing a thought away once you look back at Dick, shoulders rising and almost locking into place as you try to stop your smile from dropping. Holding it at just the right height, and making sure it didn't look too crooked.

"So, um. How about we walk and talk? Just so that we're doing something instead of just standing around- y'know?" You suggest, a wry chuckle escaping you as your eyes wander off again.

"Sure, yeah! We can do that," Dick nods along, and you give a curt nod in return.

"Great!" You begin to walk off, only to be stopped by Dick as he grabs your sleeve, causing you to flinch a little bit. Whipping your head around to look back at him, your heart stopping for a moment as something flashed in your eyes, before it quickly disappeared.

For a split second, you look at Dick as if he was about to kill you, or something similar to that. Like he was going to hurt you in some unimaginable way by just trying to grab your attention.

Though Dick just pushed that little detail to the side, he couldn't help but keep it in mind. He didn't want to think about what it could mean, but couldn't forget it either. Since no matter how quick it was, or how short it lasted, just seeing that expression on your face and directed towards him — it hurt worse than any injury he could possibly receive in any shape or form.

He didn't want to believe what seemed to be the undeniable truth.

So, instead, he tucked it away in the back of his mind. Still managing some kind of smile as he looks at you, hiding behind a face of confusion.

"Isn't your place back that way?" Dick asks, gesturing behind him with a tilt of his head. He notices how you swallowed — taking note of how nervous and on edge you seem to be. He's known since he first saw you, but he didn't think anything of it. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want it to mean anything.

So he ignores it. Pushing it away until he can't see it anymore, despite it being so clear and right in front of his face.

He prays to every god he knows, and hopes to every heaven he's aware of — blind and ignorant to the fact that they have long since shut him out. The light and grace they'd give, forever out of his reach.

His little wishes couldn't help him now. Not when they never helped you.

"I-" You couldn't help but sigh, shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, before speaking again, "I already said that I don't think that it's a good idea to talk there, Dick. And I don't think it's smart to have this conversation here either- so let's just walk as we try to figure this out. Please?" Your weak smile begins to strain as you take a step back, grabbing Dick's hand and tugging him toward you. You hope he'll listen, if only this one time.

Dick looks to the side, unsure as he weighs his options before looking back at you, and suddenly he's hit with all the convincing he needed.

You look at him pleadingly, almost silently begging for him to comply and just come along with you. The moon, albeit partially covered thanks to the dark clouds passing overhead, lit up your eyes in such a way that further emphasized the emotions you were feeling, but left unsaid. How the internal conflict and struggle you were experiencing, made the color in your irises shine that much brighter, and how such a little thing took Dick's breath away.

Suddenly, for a moment, he realizes how soft your hand was in his, despite the fabric of his glove in between them. Even if it is just for that split second, he can't help but… love it. Love you. So how can he say no? How could he say no when he's slowly beginning to see all of these little things about you in a different way? When his guilt was slowly shifting to something else? Something worth trying for?

How can he deny such a little request from his little sibling? Especially when you look at him like that? He can't. So he didn't. Unable to stop the soft but partially happy smile that grew on his face.

You found it uncanny and misplaced, but he found it fitting and refreshing in a way. A way he hadn't felt before — not in a while, anyway.

"Sure, alright. Let's get going then!" Dick replies after a second of silence had passed, holding onto your hand and walking beside you when you began to move again.

You didn't say anything this time, just nodding as you focused on walking away from the diner.

Yet, Dick couldn't help but look back at the establishment. Curious as to why you wanted to move on from it so quickly, and wanted to see if he could catch anything in particular that might've caused it. Not that Dick was complaining by any means, but he couldn't help his own curiosity.

It was then that Dick and the waitress from inside the diner made eye contact. Causing Dick to narrow his eyes, and the waitress doing the same back with a certain look in her eyes.

He didn't like it, and even if the impression he's getting was far off the mark, he didn't care enough to change it.

Yet, when you and Dick pass the diner, your phone suddenly vibrates.

Oblivious to how Dick's gaze lingered on the diner for a little while longer — or how he was even looking back at all — you fish your phone out of your pocket once you shake Dick’s hand off mindlessly, not thinking too much about the action as you check your notifications.

There, you saw that Jessica had left you a message.

['Be careful with that one. I'd watch your back if I were you, hon.']

You were confused to say the least, but before you could think to respond, Dick turned back to you and suddenly spoke. Smile ever present, eyes trained on you.

"So, where are we going?"

"Oh- um, I'm not entirely sure." You admit, pocketing your phone quickly without much thought. Hoping Dick didn't see what the text said, but you didn't count on it. Not much slipped past him or the others in any given situation, not unless it was something dealing with you. Though, with his attention on you now? You couldn't be too sure of what he would and wouldn't notice. Not anymore.

After all, just knowing that he could see you now, and is actually talking with you, along with the fact that you've been in his space for over a minute was… a new experience. You didn't think you'd get this far — you never have before, and so this was all new territory for you. All you knew, and could gather from how things were going thus far, was that slipping away wouldn't be as easy as it was before. Not with his eyes trained on you like they were now.

"Well, that's fine but we still shouldn't stay out for long. It isn't safe." Dick pointed out again, causing you to sigh and nod your head.

"I know, but I still-" you cut yourself off, and took a quick breath before continuing, "it doesn't feel right going back to my place. Besides, not many people are out tonight… and as weird as that is- at least not many people will be around to eavesdrop on our conversation, if we did talk out here." You said, shrugging your shoulders, and taking a slow but small sip of your coffee. It burned your tongue, but at least it gave you something else to think about.

"That doesn't exactly make Gotham any less dangerous, and besides- those who are walking around, and are still out and about, could be from a worse crowd. You should know that, Y/n." Again, you didn't appreciate how he spoke to you like that. Talking as if you were ignorant to that possibility, or just generally unaware that Gotham was a bad place filled with even worse people.

"I do, I'm just saying-" you try to defend yourself, looking at Dick before immediately looking away. You don't like how he looked at you, and how much taller it made him appear, "Gotham isn't just filled with criminals, and besides… most people look like they're rushing to get home anyway." You comment, noticing how a group of people — presumably friends or roommates, maybe even 'coworkers' to a certain degree — rushed inside what appeared to be an apartment building. Along with how a family quickly got inside of their house, ushering their kids inside before hurriedly closing the door behind them.

"It's like some kind of apocalypse is going on…" You mutter, narrowing your eyes at the sight, before just focusing your attention back on the sidewalk ahead of you. You didn't recall getting a memo of any kind, or an alert if something like that was really going on. Though, your best bet to figuring anything out was unfortunately through Dick, by the looks of things.

Dick rubs the back of his neck, a strange feeling of nervousness, and something close to embarrassment, radiating off of him as he chuckled. The strange detail caught your attention, causing you to look at him and notice that his smile had become uneven, before he fixed it when he noticed you were looking.

You couldn't help but raise a brow, silently questioning Dick with your eyes, a small hint of suspicion growing behind your gaze.

Dick just shrugs, fixing himself the very next moment, which only causes you to narrow your eyes. Were they actually causing some kind of apocalypse? Surely not… right?

"Then that's just all the more reason why we should head inside too." Dick said, giving your hand a soft squeeze. Forcing you to acknowledge that you were holding hands once again – but when did he grab it? You don’t remember feeling him hold it again until now… but that wasn’t important, not now anyway, "I don't want anything bad to happen to you, Y/n. I'm just worried."

You grew quiet at that, a mix of emotions beginning to swirl around in your chest before you just shove it to the side. You couldn't tell if he was joking or trying to be genuine….

Though, your heart and mind seemed to agree that he wasn't being serious, and maybe that's why you didn't like how he looked at you.

Taking your hand back once again, you shook your head dismissively, "You're a vigilante, right? One of Gotham's finest, and looking over Bludhaven at that- if anything happens I'm sure you can handle it." Huffing, you add, "Even then, I can handle myself."

Dick's eyes linger on you for a little longer. The hand that had been holding yours twitched, and he kept it there for a second before letting it drop to his side, his smile beginning to die down before he sighed. "Still, I think it'd be better if we tried to avoid something like that all together."

"I think it'd also be better if we could avoid something like that happening at my place."

"It won't, not with me around."

"So now you're confident that nothing will happen?" You laugh lightly, more air escaping you above all else, and disbelief clear in your eyes and tone. "You can't be sure. Someone could follow us there and find out where I live."

You snicker again, not fully believing that you were actually having to tell Dick all of this, "I mean, it might not matter much to you but-"

"It does matter to me. I don't want you to get hurt, or anyone else to come after you." He took another breath, and you bite your tongue. Reframing from mentioning how it was a little too late to be saying that now. "Look, I understand if you don't want to go back to where you're staying, but if that's the case then we can just got to the-"

"No." You speak up before he could even finish. Already knowing what he was going to say, and the mere thought of going back to that place made you feel uneasy. Causing you to clutch your cup with both of your hands, barely registering its heat.

"I didn't even get to say where…" Dick sighs again, just pushing the detail to the side for the moment, "Can you at least tell me why? I don't see why we shouldn't."

"It just-" You didn't want to say it outloud. Not out here. Not with him around, and listening to every word that fell out of your mouth. "I just don't think that's smart either. Again, someone could follow us back there and find out about… you know."

"Well, then someone else could just take you back-"

"Wouldn't that seem suspicious if someone saw, though?"

"Now you're worried about being seen?"

"Like you weren't before-"

"Y/n, please. We can't just stand around here and talk about stuff all night. Either way, we have to go somewhere." Dick tries to reason, adding on, "Look, if you don't want to go to your place or the 'other' place, how about we just-"

"No."

"I didn't even get to finish!"

"I know what you were about to say, and just-" You took a breath of your own, sweat rolling down the back of your neck as your hands began to shake a little bit. Your nerves were getting to you. You could feel it with how your chest became heavier, and how it was getting progressively harder to continue walking — as if your feet were slowly sinking into the cement below you.

"I don't think it'd be the best to go there either." You mutter, looking off to the side.

"Why? I can sort of understand the 'other' place-" he didn't, but in his attempt to get through to you, he said otherwise, "but why not there? Again, we can't just wander around all night and talk out in the open like this, Y/n. You should know better than that." Dick states, furrowing his brows as his gaze remains pinned on you, never once looking away.

You wish he would. By the Gods did you wish he would look away just once. Yet such a blessing had yet to be given, if it would ever come.

With every second that passed, your doubt only grew.

"I just don't see why we can't go to any other places? Somewhere that isn't personal, or technically considered to be personal since it could reveal your identity and such- and I don't think I have to give reasons why someone knowing where I live, or used to live, would be bad too- but… yeah. Just-" You gather your thoughts, looking down at your cup of coffee for a brief moment, "Just somewhere that isn't necessarily connected to either of us, or could reveal potentially personal or sensitive information on one or both of us? Like the park, or some random rooftop…? You guys still have talks up there, right?" You manage to slide in a little joke, but the laugh you gave is more awkward and nervous than anything, so you just clear your throat and continue.

"Or- or just an abandoned building or something? If you still really want us to be inside? Since Gotham has some of those… maybe too many of them- but that's besides the point." You try to suggest, hesitant to even say anything but managing somehow regardless.

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Dick – so you missed how his brows creased, and his smile was just barely holding up. His hand twitches again, but he tries to stay mindful of the coffee he's still holding.

"Are you serious?" His tone made you press your lips into a thin line. Your nails begin to dig into the sleeve of your cup. "I get that you're paranoid, but are you serious right now? Y/n, c'mon." An odd warmth began to bloom in your chest at Dick's words. It was far from pleasant, and lit like a match, with the flame itself bursting to life. It started much larger than you were used to, and controlling it was more difficult than you expected.

"I'm just saying…"

"Saying… what? That we either stay out in the open where anything can happen, or a clearly dangerous place where we're most likely going to get jumped? 'Cause if that's what you're saying, then I don't even know what to say, Y/n." Dick really can't believe you right now. Just how long have you been living in Gotham, exactly? Who were you even living with? He couldn't understand what you were thinking suggesting such a thing.

He had a feeling you may have been unaware of the true dangers of Gotham, since he and the others had kept you away from such things – from what he could tell. Not to mention that you didn't have any intention of becoming a vigilante yourself, from what he remembered, but for you to turn out like this? He had no idea you were so oblivious, and if he had before, he never would've let you out of that apartment building. He never should've to begin with, clearly.

"No! Of course that's not what I'm saying!" You couldn't help but yelp in surprise, finally looking at Dick as you held your coffee closer to your chest. You felt offended that he honestly thought you'd think something so stupid, but you didn't know what was worse. How he didn't seem convinced, or how he looked as if he believed himself more than you.

"Then…?" Dick drags on, gesturing for you to give an explanation. Almost daring you to say something that proved him wrong, or went against his point.

You huff harshly, the warmth in your chest beginning to turn hot as you went on to say, "I'm just saying why can't we go anywhere else, that isn't technically connected to you or me in some way?"

"... And your solution to that is to go to a public area, stay out in the open but on the rooftops, or go to one of the abandoned places around Gotham where something bad will definitely happen?" Dick rose a brow, with you restraining yourself from rolling your eyes. Instead, you manage a sigh – smile long gone from your face.

"Those were just examples, Nightwing." You hold back a scoff, clutching your cup a little tighter, "We don't actually have to go to any of those places, or do those things. I was just trying to suggest ideas, not say; 'Hey, we should go to that one place by the bay that's been abandoned for around five years and have our talk there. Since surely nothing will happen, and a gang totally doesn't hang around that area.' Or something like that."

"That's oddly specific," Dick gave you a questionable look before shaking his head, "but still. Those places and areas aren't safe. At least the places I suggested are, and if something happens, then there's security measures in place for that."

"How do you know if my place is secure or not?"

"Are you trying to say that it isn't?"

"No- but it's not like I have a super complicated system or hypersensitive security like- y'know. The other places. So what would make my place so safe?"

Dick sighs, "Fine. Alright, maybe your place isn't our safest bet right now. Even if I feel like I can definitely handle protecting a single apartment." You didn't even bother to say anything, just rolling your eyes and shaking your head instead.

"I don't want anything to happen to my place, Nightwing."

"You really don't think I can't defend one room?"

"I don't live alone, D- Nightwing. I don't just have myself or my things to worry about." You couldn't help but say, scoffing under your breath. However, Dick could only blink, a little confused.

"You… have a roommate?"

"Yeah? Who do you think I was referring to when I said I was visiting a friend?"

"Oh! I thought that was a complete lie. I guess that makes sense, but why would you need a roommate anyway? Does your job not make enough money or-"

"Does that really matter right now?" You gave Dick a pointed look, hoping that he would take the hint and drop the subject, "We're trying to find out what the fuck to do, not delve into my personal life."

"Alright, fine- no need to get all worked up." Dick put his free hand up to show that he wasn't trying to start anything, and was trying to keep this peaceful and civil, "But why don't we just go to one of the other two areas? They're secure, and I'm sure your friend won't get hurt if something ends up happening while we're there."

You open your mouth to say something, only to shut it and look away. You clutch your cup a little tighter.

How could you tell Dick that you just don't want to be in the manor again, and that you didn't want to go back — without actually having to tell him? How do you tell Dick that you don't feel comfortable being in a space where you knew the rest of them would be, and that you'd rather have to just deal with him than anyone else? That you had a bad feeling about going to any of those places with him, and you don't trust him or the others at all?

You'd rather avoid going to the manor if you could help it, and you had more than enough reasons for feeling that way. Though, would Dick understand? Would he accept your reasons, and see why you wanted to go somewhere else? Maybe not, and even if he did understand, there was no guarantee that he would value your personal comfort over your 'safety'. There was no guarantee that he still wouldn't try and get you to agree with him.

You also wanted to avoid going to the clock tower. Seeing as just dealing with Dick was… difficult, to say the least, and if you could barely handle one — you couldn't imagine what it'd be like to handle another. Since there was bound to at least be someone else at the tower, just waiting for you to arrive.

The thought alone made you feel uneasy.

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

[Chapter 3, part 2]

#yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #gn reader #yandere dc #platonic yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere dc x reader #yandere dick grayson #not series

2K notes · View notes

ashherahh · 3 months ago

Text

your first date + first interactions with your future spouse

Note: Please take it if it resonates, leave it if it doesn't. Meditate before making your decision. It's completely okay if you don't resonate with this reading. The collective is huge and I'm sure you'll receive the messages you need in due time.

pile 1

Cards: King of Wands, The Sun, Temperance, The Fool, Four of Wands

I literally giggled when the first card popped out! This is a very much a "When I see you, it's on sight" kinda situation.

I'm not saying you'll get hot and heavy on your first date (maybe), but I'm picking up that the attraction is very energetic and very, very strong. You feel like you met someone who matches your freak in every way.

I'm seeing a lot of smiling, giggling. They make you nervous, you'll probably not realise how much you're blushing until you decide to go to the restroom and see how absolutely down bad you look. You'll leave the date with your cheeks hurtin'!

I'm picking up a very chilled setting as a first date, the date itself is very low-key but damn, the vibes... The vibes are immaculate. Either you or your future spouse immediately know that you're it for each other. Maybe both of you realise it at the same time!

For some of you, you might be on a dating app or your friends put you on the dating up and you matched with your future spouse. The conversation was quite normal, no real fireworks and that's why your first date was at a very neutral place. But y'all, when you see each other and start talking and laughing, FIREWORKS!

For others, I see you apart of the same group of people. Like you might have mutual friends and see each other at parties and events or whatever. They always caught your eye and you always caught theirs but you never really spoke to each other. There's an image clearly in my mind for some of you, you're sitting on the couch with this person while a party is dying down (finally, sort of alone). There's sparks, connection, it's all so intimate.

I'm seeing New Year's might be significant for this pile. There's a lot of physical and spiritual attraction here. It's also very giddy. It's that feeling you get when you just can't stop laughing, an overwhelming joy.

pile 2

Cards: Two of Swords, Judgement, Five of Swords, Wheel of Fortune, Six of Cups, Three of Wands

Your future spouse plans your first date. They really wine and dine you actually. They're more of a romantic than you are. When you meet your future spouse, one of you is looking to settle down and be in an exclusive, proper relationship and one of you is on the fence.

My dear reader, I feel like you'll be the one on the fence.

For some of you, there's a person in your past you felt like should've been your end game but it seemed like there was something always missing. You might be in a state of right person, wrong time and it's left you feeling hopeless. You're sorting of still waiting on them...

When you meet your future spouse, it's like you're going on a series of dates to get this past lover out of your mind. Your future spouses energy is very gentle and understanding, but you're not really paying attention in the beginning. They are willing to wait for you.

This isn't an immediate knowing. You don't know this person is your future spouse when you meet them, you might be seeing a few people while seeing them. I'm not seeing cheating but I am seeing is that you two don't get exclusive immediately.

You're feeling out your options. Deep down you're afraid of making the wrong one and a part of you is like, is there even a wrong one? Do I believe in stuff like The One? Your past lover did a number on you, I can see.

I do see that everything eventually comes to a head and you need to make a decision, I see you making the right one for yourself in that space and time. Don't worry, your future spouse does stick around and I see you two smoothing all the rough patches.

pile 3

Cards: Strength, The Chariot, The Moon, Page of Pentacles, Two of Cups Rx, Ace of Swords Rx

Interactions with your future spouse leave you feeling like you're in a game of cat and mouse. Oh my goodness, they make you flustered! Oh, but you keep telling yourself they're not your type and you will not date someone like them.

You guys know of each other for a while. Maybe you went to the same schools or you even met them at uni and they just always left a sour taste in your mouth.

Hectic, I'm picking up strongly that you're turned off by them because they always have their foot in their mouth and they say dumb shit to you. That's hilarious! Be a little patient with them, you make them nervous.

Goodness, I see them treating you like royalty and they just want to be your loyal subject. Oooh, they literally just want to please you. If you ever do give them a chance just know that you're getting SPOILED.

They're going above and beyond for your first date and even though you have the impression of them that they're a bumbling oaf, you're surprised by how much attention to detail they put into everything. For some of you there's three parts to your first date, it'll last for hours actually and in that time, pile 3, they ended up cracking you open like a walnut!

You have to let your heart guide you in matters of the heart. Your mind will not be able to understand what your heart is telling you. This is especially the case as your future spouse challenges your idea of who you envisioned your future spouse to be. Good luck, babe!

#tarot #tarot readings #tarot community #tarotblr #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a card #tarot pac #tarot love reading #witchblr #witch community #intuitive messages #intuitive readings #ashherahh

862 notes · View notes

theminecraftbee · 9 months ago

Text

being in true sexyman nostalgia mode today (on account of. IT'S BEEN ONE YEAR BABY.) i think one of the most fascinating things about it is that we will never manage to do that again. like, not in a "we couldn't organize it better" way; there were better ways to do the spreadsheet, we would just turn off comments on posts and anon asks from day one so that we wouldn't then get people accusing us of censorship while we tried and failed to control the tide of things that ended up in the comments and inbox, we'd definitely have a WAY higher non-hermit contingent, both thanks to qsmp and thanks to the sexyman blog and medusa now having MUCH wider reach to other corners of the fandom and the original spread not all rooting at me, etc.

but the reason we couldn't do it again is that i don't know if we could ever replicate the exact circumstances that lead to it blowing up quite to the extent it blew up.

it was while tumblr polls and doing tumblr poll brackets on tumblr itself was still new-ish, and people were still excited about them. the idea of a mcytblr bracket was basically brand new; i won't claim we did it FIRST (because i have no idea if we did and doubt we did), but certainly we did it big first. so there's that; we can never again invent in real time "shit people are sending us threats about fraud lets legalize fraud because its funny, we can't stop it, and that neutralizes that drama as a thing anyone will take seriously", and then in turn accidentally invent a fandom culture of. um. wide-spread voter fraud.

(i don't know if we should apologize for, uh, causing the specific way mcytblr voter frauds. i still think it was better than the alternative at least, especially after seeing how so many other polls crashed and burned after us. there were MANY things we could have done better but i have seen SO MANY ways we could have done things worse since then so i think we came out looking pretty okay.)

but also: february 2023 was a very different time in mcytblr. we were in a hermitcraft dead period, where most of the hermits were either on vacation or playing tcg (which was fun, but didn't end up generating that much fandom activity by that time in february). the former dsmp crew was very much doing Nothing (and in that awkward space when the entire fandom knew dsmp 2 was never happening, but also people were still claiming it would happen, so it was just... busy waiting). qsmp didn't exist yet. there was no ongoing life series and wouldn't be for some time. i think even the dominioners and lifestealers were in a fairly dead zone. there was very little new for people to be excited about, mcyt content-wise.

enter: our poll. our poll which cleo then thinks its funny to call out on twitter. our poll, which was not only new mcyt content for the fandom to interact with (thanks to the fact we KEPT GETTING CC INTERACTIONS???), but participatory.

for about two weeks, we were the mcyt event de jour.

and like. the thing is. now we're in february 2024. mcyt is BOOMING. a new hermitcraft season JUST STARTED. we came off of vault hunters before that. meanwhile, qsmp just restarted and is, if i'm understanding correctly, booming. they just added a new guy! the two current juggernauts of the fandom are in FULL SWING. i honestly think we'd be somewhat overtaken by the fact things are actually happening in fandom. there's stuff to do that ISN'T go insane about a poll.

and it's not new, and we've seen it all before now, and frankly, it's hard to cause a mass hysteria event TWICE. lightning in a bottle, as they say.

i think part of the reason we all just REMEMBER mcytblr sexyman so much is that we could never, ever recreate it, so it remains crystalized in a single moment in time, impossible to replicate, forever memorable.

anyway: HAPPY ONE YEAR TO THE JOE HILLS SWEEP BABY,

#mcytblr sexyman #sorry i'm in nostalgia mode and feel like rambling. o7 happy one year to joe's victory

1K notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 6 months ago

Note

Ngl I want a sequel to bad ending 'yuu gets sold' series

Cause imagine the boys go to NBC just to find out that yuu is actuality doing great, better than great, even better than the time they were doing in NRC

I like to think that Rollo is legitimate a nice person when you remove the hatred over magic type of stuff

He deffo makes sure that yuu is well fed and clean (let's be honest, not something that yuu always has in NRC) plus treat yuu greatly

rollo fans who are starving since everyone stopped talking about him after november I'm here for you. I see you. take my hand

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | 'bad' ending

summary: yuu transfers to NBC type of post: fic characters: rollo my beloved additional info: yuu is gender neutral, implied romantic ^_^

It had been a long six months for everyone at Night Raven College.

The departure- and subsequent absence- of their beloved Ramshackle prefect was very much felt.

Days were longer, nights were darker, the first year class itself felt empty.

"At least they're not dead," was the consensus.

Of course, you continued to communicate with your friends- it wasn't like you completely dropped off the map, although Noble Bell College had a stricter policy about phone usage.

You even sent some letters back and forth, yours filled with updates and mementos, theirs with pictures of all you'd left behind.

Did you miss NRC?

Well...

You missed your friends.

But Crowley? The overblots? Being everyone's personal therapist?

...Yeah. You could live without that.

Noble Bell College may have been more exclusive, and more strict in their code of conduct, but it was more peaceful, too. Smaller, less students, and much less reliance on magic, so that you and Grim could be whole students independent of one another.

The curriculum was much different than NRC's. Less of an emphasis on a personal connection to magic, and more on tradition, ritual, and history. There were few times when you'd have to sit out a class, or watch your friends have fun from the sidelines.

If anything, Rollo made a point of including you.

A part of it may have been personal pride- after all, he just couldn't resist showing you how much better he is.

But he also had a vague idea about how stressful your life at NRC really was, and how isolated you felt, despite being surrounded by people. It was his duty, in a sense, to rectify that.

Even if it meant you had to sit through his lectures and recitations of the traditional magic laws.

...Though, even with his intense adherence to tradition and structure, he made quite a show of being kind to you.

Despite his best efforts to claim fairness and righteousness, it was no secret to anyone that he favored you. You quickly became the only person he spent his free time with (not that he was particularly social in the first place...)

And... it was nice. Is nice.

He holds himself to high standards, and expects that of others; he's cold, harsh when he feels it necessary, and repressed in all ways imaginable.

And yet... well, there's no sabotage, no swindling, no scamming, no manipulation to make petty ends meet.

Rollo, as a person, is both confusingly complex and reassuringly simple. You know as much. He sticks to routine, to rules, to tradition. He's diligent in every sense of the word, and highly respected because of it.

And when the eyes of the other students are turned away, he treats you with a sort of gentleness that you'd become wholly unfamiliar with at NRC. Like a porcelain doll, like something precious he desires to wrap in cotton and silk and store somewhere safe.

You wonder if his behavior towards you is at all connected to the very reason he risked his status bringing you here in the first place... but you don't dwell too long. He's as mysterious as anything.

When your former classmates come to visit over break, it's like they're meeting an entirely different person.

"Happy to see us, eh? You're like, glowing," Ace smirks.

Deuce elbows him in the ribs for that comment. "What he meant is that you look great. I mean, really! You've been sleeping more?"

You nod. "Lots, yeah,"

"Weird, I woulda guessed they'd been working you to the bone. This place is all "no funny business", right?" Ace shakes his head.

You laugh, walking alongside your former fellow first years in the streets of Fleur City, the very ones you'd become so accustomed to in recent months.

"I've actually been doing well with my studies. I think I've finally decided what I want to do after graduation,"

"Oh, that's great!" Deuce says. A lengthy pause follows, much to your confusion- it's as if everyone has something they want to say, but won't be the first to say it.

Epel clears his throat. "You been 'doin alright?"

"Um... yeah. I have,"

"Cause... you know, if anyone was giving you trouble, we'd give 'em what for!"

You chuckle. "I'm fine, really. People here are pretty nice..."

Again, that same silence follows. Epel, Deuce, and Ace look between each other, as if daring the other to say the next thing.

This time, you take the initiative.

"Listen. If this is about Rollo, he's fine. I'm fine. He's been nothing but helpful,"

The tense silence breaks and Ace sighs, shaking his head. "You can't blame us for being worried,"

"I mean, this whole situation has been really shady. Everyone at NRC has been worried sick..." Deuce says. "We just wanted to make sure..."

You smile. "I appreciate it, but you really don't have to send in a rescue party. I've been... I've been really good. Happy. And I miss you guys to pieces, but I've felt closer to home here than anywhere else. Does that sound strange?"

A short pause follows. Deuce is the first to speak, his voice sounding strained. "Not at all. We just want you to be happy,"

You can tell he's trying really hard to sound positive. Epel, on the other hand, doesn't sugarcoat anything.

"You really won't come back with us?"

You smile again, though this one is wholly apologetic. "No, I don't think so,"

The three are quiet for another moment, and then seem to drop the subject. The rest of their stay goes by smoothly, even with all the strained moments where you can tell they have something to ask. You assume they've already figured out the answer.

The day trip is over by sundown and you return to campus just before curfew, taking a seat in one of the cozy (though currently empty) lounges by a familiar face.

"They're gone?" Rollo asks, not bothering to look up from the textbook he's perusing.

You watch him carefully, and think it's best not to mention you friend's attempt to bring you back with them.

"Yes, they're gone. We had fun, nothing happened,"

"Good," he says. A brief silence follows before he speaks again. "I do trust you. But-"

"You don't trust them. I understand. If I were you, I suppose I wouldn't, either. But I'm fine,"

"When are they coming back?"

"Two months. They're taking the weekend. Might bring some other people,"

Rollo hums a note of acknowledgment, fingers rolling around the pen in his right hand. The book is still open, though he's looking ahead now. His face is flushed.

You know he's unhappy with it, but he won't say anything. You're grateful he likes you enough to let you rub elbows with people he despises. Especially after all that's happened...

He stands, closing the book. "Very well. Let me know what day so that I may adequately prepare myself. Good night. Be safe,"

And with that, he takes his leave.

Ever distant. Ever polite. One might mistake the way he speaks for coldness or resentment if you weren't so familiar with his mannerisms by now.

You turn to look into the lounge fireplace behind you, watching the flames flicker and die until all that remains are soft, glowing embers, the same shade of red that burns on his cheeks when you look at him.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rollo flamme x reader #rollo fans come here. come here. I'll save you

1K notes · View notes

librababe99 · 2 months ago

Text

Vigilante's Lullaby |Part One|

cw: Red Hood, Gender Neutral Reader, Angst, Mentions of violence, blood, injury, medical procedure, hurt no comfort, dark romance, hurt no comfort word count: 1.9K summary: In the shadows of Gotham’s underworld, you run a clinic that caters to those no one else dares to help. One night, Red Hood stumbles in, bloodied and defiant, refusing assistance despite his wounds. As you force him to stay, a strange, electrifying tension fills the air.

A/N: Hello! Just finished up the final edits to the first part of this new series. For the sake of dramatics I really liked the idea of leaving Jason's identity anonymous and sticking with his alias. Also as of now I'm wanting this to be a four part series but of course that can change! If you'd like to be tagged in the next part just let know <3 As always comments and feedback are greatly appreciated - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

(DC Masterlist) (Marvel Masterlist)

(Synopsis) (Part Two)

The clinic was a small, dimly lit space tucked away in the decaying heart of Gotham’s underbelly. The walls were cracked and worn, the faded paint peeling in corners no one bothered to care about anymore. Shadows lingered in every corner, as thick as the stench of sweat and antiseptic that clung to the air. It was late—well past the time most sane people would be out in Gotham. But sanity was a luxury in a city like this, and you’d long since learned to live without it.

You leaned over the trembling form of a thug, stitching up the gash in his side with quick, practiced movements. He wasn’t important—just some small-time crook who got into a fight he couldn’t win. It wasn’t your job to ask questions. You weren’t paid for that. People came to you because you never asked why, and you never judged. Criminal, vigilante, or something in between, it didn’t matter. In Gotham, everyone bled the same.

The thug winced, muttering a half-hearted complaint, and you hushed him quietly, focusing on the task at hand. It was routine—just another night in a city that never slept, where violence was a constant companion.

Then the door slammed open, hard enough to rattle the rusting hinges.

You looked up, instincts on edge, fingers stilling mid-stitch. A figure loomed in the doorway, casting a long shadow across the floor. The helmet gave him away immediately—Red Hood. His presence dominated the room, his chest heaving, blood dripping onto the worn floorboards.

"Out," his voice growled, distorted through the modulator in his helmet. It wasn’t directed at you.

The thug on the table scrambled up, clutching his side. He didn’t wait for a second warning. As soon as Red Hood stepped into the room, the thug fled into the night, disappearing into Gotham’s shadows.

The vigilante staggered forward, his movements heavy, labored. Blood soaked through his jacket, staining the dark fabric and leaving a trail of crimson in his wake. His breathing was harsh, his body barely holding itself together, but when you moved toward him, his gloved hand shot up.

“I don’t need your help,” he growled, even though his knees almost buckled from the effort of staying upright.

You stopped short, eyeing him carefully. His wounds were bad. Too bad. He wouldn’t last long in this state, not even in Gotham. But you’d seen his type before. The kind who thought they could muscle through the pain, through death itself, out of sheer willpower. Maybe he had cheated death once, but not tonight. Not like this.

“You’ll die if I don’t patch you up,” you said, voice calm but firm. You weren’t afraid of him. That was important. Red Hood’s entire persona thrived on fear. “Sit down. Now.”

His helmet turned slightly, as if sizing you up. There was tension in the way he held himself, every muscle coiled tight, ready for violence even though his body was betraying him. His fingers twitched like they were ready to reach for his gun. But you stood your ground.

“I’m not going to ask twice,” you added, eyes narrowing. “You won’t make it out of this room if you don’t let me help.”

For a long, painful moment, he didn’t move. The silence stretched, thick with tension. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he let his hand drop to his side. A begrudging acceptance. He stepped forward and sank into the chair, the weight of his injuries catching up to him.

You didn’t hesitate. Moving quickly, you grabbed your supplies and knelt beside him, carefully peeling back his jacket to expose the wound. The gash across his side was deep, and there were other cuts and bruises littering his body, evidence of a fight he barely survived.

As you worked, the room fell into a tense quiet, broken only by the sound of his labored breathing. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the mix of blood and sweat clinging to his skin. Your fingers brushed against his flesh, the contact sending an unexpected jolt through you. The air between you seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment, thick with something unspoken.

He watched you from behind the mask, his eyes hidden but his presence palpable. You didn’t flinch, didn’t show any reaction to the violence he wore so plainly on his skin. You’d seen worse, and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he unsettled you. Still, there was something in the way he sat so still now, the way his body surrendered to your touch, that made the space between you feel... electric.

“You don’t ask questions,” Red Hood said after a while, his voice low, almost conversational now. There was a hint of something behind his words, like he was testing you. “Everyone else does.”

“I’m not everyone else,” you replied simply, not looking up from his wounds as you stitched them closed with quick precision.

He made a noise, somewhere between a grunt and a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “No. I guess you’re not.”

Your hands lingered for a moment longer than necessary as you finished up, the tips of your fingers brushing against the edge of his skin. His body tensed slightly, and you could feel the air shift between you. There was a moment—brief, almost imperceptible—where Red Hood’s guard dropped. His gaze softened behind the mask, as if for just a second, he was letting you see past the armor. Past the walls he had built so high.

But then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Red Hood stood abruptly, wincing as he moved, pulling his jacket back into place. He didn’t say thank you—he wasn’t the type. He didn’t have to. The way his eyes lingered on you, just for a heartbeat longer than they should have, told you everything.

“Don’t expect me to come back,” he muttered as he made his way to the door.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have to.

He disappeared into the night, and you stood in the quiet aftermath, staring at the blood he left behind on the floor. Something about that encounter stuck with you. It was more than just another wounded vigilante passing through your clinic. It felt like the start of something darker. Something deeper.

A week passed, and you tried not to think about him.

But Gotham had a way of bringing people back into your life whether you wanted them or not. The nights were long, the clinic busy as always, but a part of you found yourself glancing at the door more than you cared to admit. You told yourself it was just a matter of curiosity—nothing more.

Until he returned.

This time, Red Hood didn’t burst in with the same dramatic entrance. He slipped through the door quietly, his presence immediately recognizable despite the effort he seemed to make to go unnoticed. He was wounded again, though not as badly as before. His jacket was torn, blood staining his side, but his steps were more measured, less desperate.

You raised an eyebrow as he stepped into the light, crossing your arms over your chest. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

His lips twisted into something like a smirk, though there was no humor behind it. “Didn’t have a choice.”

Without waiting for your response, he sat down in the chair again, wincing as he moved. You took a deep breath, grabbing your supplies once more. This time, there was less urgency, but the tension between you had only grown in his absence. As you worked, the silence stretched again, but it wasn’t the same. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air.

“You live like this every night?” you asked after a while, breaking the quiet. “Bleeding all over the city?”

He chuckled, though it was dark and hollow. “It’s Gotham. Bleeding’s part of the job description.”

You glanced up at him, instinctively drawn to where his eyes should be beneath the mask, though you still couldn’t see them. The white lenses covering his eyes remained in place, a barrier between the two of you, preventing you from truly seeing the man beneath. But you could feel his gaze on you, sharp and unwavering, as if he were studying you just as closely.

There was always something about that mask—how it made him unreadable, cold, distant. Yet, in moments like this, when the tension in the room grew thick, you could feel the weight of emotions hidden behind it. The silence stretched on for a beat too long, the sound of your steady breathing filling the space as you tried to ignore the electric pull between you.

“And what job is that, exactly?” you asked, your tone carefully measured. You couldn’t let your curiosity get the better of you, but the question slipped out before you could stop it.

He hesitated for a brief moment, his head tilting slightly as if considering his answer, though the visor obscured any hint of where his gaze fell. "Righting wrongs. Settling scores," he finally said, his voice low and cold. "Call it whatever you want."

The cold finality in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t just talking about Gotham’s criminals. No, there was something more personal in his words. He was talking about himself—his own demons, his own darkness.You didn’t push further. It wasn’t your place, and you knew better than to pry into the shadows he carried. But it didn’t stop you from feeling the weight of it, the sheer force of the rage and pain he carried with him.

“I’ve seen plenty of people come through here with wounds like yours,” you said softly, focusing back on the gash you were stitching up, your hands steady despite the tension in the air. “They usually don’t last long. This city eats people alive.”

His head tilted slightly, and though you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt the intensity of his attention shift back to you. For a moment, the air felt heavier, thicker. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was low, rough. “I’m not most people.”

You couldn’t help the small, bitter smile that tugged at your lips. “No. I guess you’re not.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt charged, like standing on the edge of something dangerous. There was always something about him that made you feel that way, as though you were staring into an abyss and contemplating whether to jump. Maybe you were a danger to each other, a collision waiting to happen.

When you finished patching him up, your fingers lingered, the soft brush of your skin against his as you pulled the gauze into place. This time, he didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, he remained still, the air between you crackling with something unspoken.You glanced up at him again, meeting the featureless gaze of his mask, your breath catching in your throat. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could feel them on you, feel the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Something was happening between you two—something inevitable, dangerous, and completely out of your control.

Without a word, he stood, pulling his jacket back over his bandaged torso. The movement was sudden, almost abrupt, as if he needed to break the moment before it went any further. He didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t offer any words of gratitude or reassurance.

But you knew he’d be back.

Even as he left, the heavy door of your clinic closing behind him, the presence of him lingered in the room—dark, dangerous, and unmistakably powerful. The pull between you both was undeniable, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was happening between you was far from over.

And it was only a matter of time before that tension snapped.

197 notes · View notes

noodlesarecheese · 7 months ago

Text

So Watcher is launching a Dropout (it's not called Dropout but they're clearly using the same template format platform thing idk what it's called, and the same pricing structure), and the reaction so far has been wildly different than what I remember from Dropout's launch. I was curious about why that was or if I was just misremembering the Dropout launch, so I went back to the Dropout launch video to compare them and I think I can see where some of the difference is coming from.

If you want to make the comparison yourself: Watcher's Video, Dropout's Video.

I wanna clarify first though that this isn't a knock against Watcher or the fans who are reacting one way or another or anything like that, I genuinely am just fascinated with how different the reactions are to what seems to be the same business decision. This also isn't a 'wow watcher sucks and dropout is so much better' I'm just using them for comparison because they did the same thing with different results. ALSO this isn't about the business decision itself, just the presentation! Disclaimers out of the way, here's the analysis.

Title and Thumbnail So the Watcher.tv announcement video is titled "Goodbye Youtube" and the thumbnail is Ryan, Shane, and Steven sitting on a couch looking serious, with a dark background. That really makes it seem like they're quitting (which, ok, they are quitting youtube but not quitting quitting). Viewers are already primed to be upset, and it's easier to go from upset to angry than upset to excited, curious, or neutral.

Compare to the dropout announcement video: "How the Internet is Ruining Comedy" - inline with other collegehumor video titles, might make you curious. Thumbnail - Big News! with Sam smiling and a bright background. We know its big news, but he looks happy, and the exclamation point let's us know they want us to be excited. Viewers are primed to be curious and excited.

Tone The Watcher announcement has 2 main tones. The first half is very sentimental, almost sad or wistful at times, and while there are parts that veer into pride at achievements, it's mostly bittersweet and sentimental. The second half is a bit more uplifting, but still quite serious. It reminded me of a tech announcement, like when they introduce the new iphone or something like that. Very professional, sleek, and serious, which isn't automatically a bad thing! But I do think that's not the vibe a decently-sized chunk of the audience expected or wanted. Many people watch Watcher for the cast's dynamic with each other, humor, and the more relaxed/conversational/friendly feel that most of the series have.

Compare to dropout - excited and comedic tone. Still professional, but also fits the expectations of the viewers. People watch collegehumor for the humor (it was in the name, after all). They also poke a bit of fun at themselves, which lightens the mood, shows self-awareness, and alleviates some of the bad feelings about paywalling.

Focus The Watcher announcement focuses a lot on the creative journey of the cast and company, as well as how this move will benefit them. Which isn't a bad thing, that's actually quite interesting! The problem here, I think, is actually more about what isn't here - a solid explanation of how this will also benefit the viewers and why the viewers should be excited. There's a brief description of one new show, and the promise that existing shows will get an upgrade, but we weren't given many specific details about how they'll be improved, and there's only one new show to tempt us into subscribing. Some people will be excited for that, some people won't, and some people will be excited but not enough to subscribe. Having 2 or 3 series (even if it's 1 fleshed out plus a few teasers of what's in production or what is being planned) plus some more details about how existing shows will be improved would've helped. Without that, it really does seem like it'll just be the same stuff viewers were getting for free, but now paywalled, rather than new and exciting stuff. That makes a big difference. I think with the fans not getting as much focus, this also led to some (accidental, I hope) hurt feelings. Based on what I've seen from fan reactions, all the talk about hitting the peak of what they can do on youtube and wanting more, translated for many people to 'youtube isn't enough' which became 'you (the current viewers) aren't enough.' Which I don't think was their intent! But I also don't think fans are wrong for feeling hurt by that.

Compare to dropout: They clearly explain how the move will benefit fans, and reassure viewers that existing content will stay where it is, and only new content will be behind the paywall. (Watcher clarified this too, but in a comment. It's not in the video itself, which is a huge problem.) They include clips of several new (at the time) series that would be premiering on dropout, including things that specifically could not be made on youtube (due to weed, violence, and sexual humor), so the reason for the shift is clear to the audience.

Advertisers Both videos contain the sentiment that being monetarily successful on youtube means working to appease the advertisers, and that over time what the advertisers want and what the creators want drifts further and further apart, putting strain on the creators.

However, I think the message gets lost a bit in the Watcher vid. Instead, it leaves viewers with the idea that the main problem is just ads are annoying instead of advertisers putting constraints on content. I'm not even sure what the specific constraints are for watcher, because they didn't give any examples. And the focus on ads being annoying leaves viewers frustrated because people typically either don't mind ads or they already have an ad blocker.

Timing and Size Okay, this isn't exactly about presentation, but it is still a factor that impacts perception so I'm tackling it. And I'm actually going to do dropout first. CollegeHumor launched dropout in September 2018. Pre-pandemic, but also pre-Sam Reich as CEO. The company was still owned by IAC. It was a Company, and while it wasn't huge it wasn't tiny either. So launching dropout was a Company Decision, a Business Strategy. Some people were upset about, but it wasn't a personal betrayal (generally, anyways). If I remember correctly, this was also not a high point for the company. They kinda needed dropout to do well to keep things running smoothly (which is why they shut it down and sold it to Sam just 1 1/2ish years later), so the sudden shift made sense.

Watcher Entertainment is a company, but it doesn't feel like one. Ryan, Shane, and Steven own and operate things, but they're also the faces, and they're youtubers. Which makes every business decision they make feel more personal to viewers, especially those who have been watching for a long time. They've also seemingly been doing well on youtube, which makes it more difficult for viewers to understand why the sudden change is happening now. They do talk a bit about it, about the company expanding and wanting to do things that advertisers don't like (which I've already covered). However, mostly the choice to start a streaming platform is framed as 'the next big step' without much clarification on why it's the next big step. Plus, it's post-pandemic, and a lot of people are still struggling financially with the ripple effects of that. Yes, $6 isn't a wild amount of money, but there have been some months where $5 absolutely meant the difference between paying all my bills or not, and I know I'm not the only one. This, coupled with a lack of clarity about why exactly they're doing this, leads to fans feeling hurt, betrayed, bitter, and frustrated.

Now, presentation and framing isn't everything. No matter how perfect your announcement is, some people are still going to be upset. It's a big change, of course people will be upset! But I do think a more careful presentation would've alleviated some of the hurt and anger that fans are feeling. While I do think a lot of the reaction we're seeing is due to the decision, I think (based on what I've seen) that some of it is also based on the poor communication in the video itself, and that could've been avoided!

So I'm gonna get a little speculative and describe what I would've done. In this hypothetical, they've decided to launch the streaming service and brought me on just for the announcement.

Firstly, switch the title out. If they're married to Goodbye Youtube then add a (and hello...?) after so it's at least obvious they aren't fully quitting. The dark color scheme of the thumbnail fits their regular vibe, but they want everyone to be excited so they should look excited. Next, let's lighten the tone up. Being proud of what they've done so far is great, but we don't need the sentimental music and bittersweetness. Remember, the goal is to get viewers excited about what come's next - so let's focus on what actually comes next! Talk about specific show plans and mention why they wouldn't work on youtube. Then, take some time to reassure the fans. Predict a few likely worries and address them in the video. Acknowledge that it's a big change, that it will take time to get used to, and that not everyone will be onboard, and let the fans know that it's ok if they aren't onboard.

Like I said, this wouldn't fix everything. There are a few differences in between dropout and watcher that don't have anything to do with presentation. Dropout launched with primarily new shows rather than new seasons of existing shows, and they continued uploading to youtube relatively regularly in addition to the content behind the paywall, which I do think went a long way to keeping fans happy. At this point it's unclear if watcher will do either of those or not. But, while I don't think it would fix everything, I do think improved communication in the announcement would've helped.

#watcher #feel free to share your own thoughts but please be nice #I just like communication ok! And I really enjoyed the 1 marketing class I took in college #and it's pretty rare that you get such a clear comparison between 2 unrelated companies!

328 notes · View notes

drvscarlett · 7 months ago

Text

About You Pt6

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

A/N: okay so the draft did not save itself that's why i made a quick edit and just post this one. I hope you enjoy this

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife @skywalker1dream @vicurious28 @khaylin27 @0710khj @its-elias-world @vizzzashley @allisonwoods

2010, Interlagos

"Honey we have to stop meeting like this" Jenson grins as he opens his hotel room.

Y/N immediately wrapped her arms around the British driver. Media be damned but she was extremely worried about Jenson when she heard what happened. She couldn't stop messaging people to ask him if he was okay or what. Even Mark has been worried when she told him what happened.

"Are you okay? You aren't hurt or anything?" Y/N asked worriedly.

"I'm alive and well"Jenson said, closing the door "maybe a little bruised ego from not being able to compete for the championship"

"Oh championship be damned Jense, you almost got kidnapped"Y/N exclaimed

Jenson could only chuckle. He admits he was a bit spooked by what happened but it is what it is. However, he was extremely grateful that Y/N has been worried enough to check up on him and assures that he is okay.

"Just join me for a little drink and lets talk about our day"Jenson suggested "Wine, beer, whiskey?"

"Beer would be fine" Y/N answered.

For all the times that Jenson have gone drinking with Y/N, he knows that her preference was more on wine. He could never forget it because who else than Y/N orders a wine on a bar or a nightclub.

"Tough day?" Jenson wondered

"Not as bad as being kidnapped" Y/N drinks up.

"Touché"

The two friends conversed for the night. Jenson opened up how it felt for him that he isn't able to extend his championship streak. He was not at all disappointed because he performed well and he just missed it out with this race. Y/N is a good listener and became a good support for Jenson.

"What about you? You are in for the big race on Abu Dhabi"Jenson diverted the attention to the female Webber "The big question is who are you supporting"

"I'm neutral"

Jenson looked at her as if she grew two heads. He shook his head as he took a sip of his beer.

"Oh c'mon your brother might win and you are still neutral about it?" Jenson questioned

"Well if you must know my bestfriend is also competing, Lewis is also competing and Fernando is also there" Y/N stated

Jenson raises his eyebrows in a teasing manner. He is not blind and he does not fall for the lies that Y/N is not choosing a side because she is friends with everyone competing. Y/N refuses to take a side because of the 'bestfriend.'

"You know its going to be historic, four drivers vying for a championship" Jenson informs "I think this is the first time that this happened"

"A lot of pressure for those wanting to win" Y/N agrees.

"You are feeling it all Y/N?" Jenson asked.

Y/N could just give out a sigh as a response. She knows that she won't be sleeping well with the whole thing happening. Its bound to happen that someone will not be fast enough and lose. Then there is also the possibility that someone will win the race and be crowned as champion.

With everything down the wire, no one could predict what will happen.

"You have to make a choice you know" Jenson reminded "What if Mark wins, what if Sebastian wins?"

"We can't have them both as world champions?" Y/N joked

"Maybe for different seasons"Jenson offered.

It was impossible for either of the driver to secure that. Given how the things are in Red Bull. They will favor whoever brings them the first championship and then place the other as their second driver.

"Y/N its just going to be much more difficult after this"Jenson straightforwardness sobered Y/N up a little "You have to stay strong and pick a side"

"I don't want to pick a side Jense, they both deserve a championship"Y/N stays firm "They are both incredible and fantastic drivers. If one of them wins, I'll be happy but I know my heart also aches for the one who misses out that championship"

This was the thing that Jenson admired about Y/N. She is supportive and loyal like that, its quite rare in the field. He gave her a comforting hug as they continue drinking their woes away.

2010, Yas Marina

It was early morning of the qualifying day when Y/N received the email. She was very much surprised upon receiving the email because she had to blink a couple of times to make sure that she is reading it correctly.

From: McLaren Racing

Subject: Job vacancy.

"Oh I am so gonna kill you for this Jense"Y/N muttered.

One of the discussions during their drunk night in Brazil was that the possible solution to Y/N's problem is moving teams. Jenson suggested that there might be some vacant jobs in McLaren before the winter season begins.

And now this conveniently timed email that Y/N has been highly recommended by several employees for the position of Press Officer makes one think that Jenson took that advice seriously.

"Are you decent?" couple of knocks interrupted her "Can I come in?"

"Come on in Mark"

Mark has two cups of coffee in hand. He was already dressed and ready for his paddock appearance. Y/N could just chuckle at the role reversal because usually she was the one who is already dressed while Mark is the one begging for five more minutes to prepare.

"One brown sugar shaken espresso with 3 pumps of toffee nuts"Mark recited proudly.

"You remembered?"

Y/N was in glee as she takes in the cup of coffee. It was a kind of morning that really needs a coffee to help her throughout the day.

"No one drinks coffee as sugary like that, only you" Mark snickers.

"I just like my coffee sweet"Y/N defends.

Mark ends up sitting at one of the chairs. Y/N could read how his expression is a mix of confidence but deep down there is some kind of worry that he is trying to hide. It must be the championship nerves getting the best of him.

"You nervous?"Y/N asked her older brother.

"Its my only chance for a championship. It feels different" Mark answered.

Y/N wanted to say that its not true and there will be plenty of more chances in the start of a new season. However,she knew that this is the closest shot that Mark has to the championship ever since he entered Formula 1.

"I spoke to Sebastian last night" Mark brought it up.

The younger Webber immediately looked up with wide eyes. She knew that the two haven't been in speaking terms except when they have to or forced to talk with each other.

"We talked about you" Mark expanded.

"Me? Why am I even brought up into the conversation?"she was confused.

"Same question but it was Sebastian that first approached me" Mark explained "He talked about how win or lose, we should not put you into a bad spot because you are both important to us"

There Sebastian goes again making her heart skip a beat. Its these little things that mainly causes her to feel deeper and deeper for the German driver. Y/N felt really touched that despite the intense rivalry, he still cares.

"And I know I thought about it all night how I'm really making things difficult for you. So thanks for sticking up with me and I'll try to be much more easier to handle" Mark concludes.

"Oh brother" was all Y/N could say before hugging him.

It felt nice for the both of them that they have each other in the sports. Its the same reason why Y/N cannot answer the offer of Jenson to move into McLaren. If she leaves then how could she be there for her brother?

"Seb really cares a lot about you"Mark informs.

"He is just being a good....bestfriend" Y/N rebutted but she seems unconvinced with her own answer.

Mark knew that Sebastian has a big sense of pride. But whenever, Y/N comes to the picture then he will immediately melt. Mark could only chuckle because Y/N has no clue of the chokehold he has over Sebastian.

"Oh I think you are thinking too little about yourself"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Y/N wondered

It was not Mark's business to play cupid. If Sebastian had the balls then he would have asked her without his help. He just gave a grin as he exited the room.

"Don't be late"Mark teased

"MARK WHAT DOES IT MEAN?"

Meanwhile, Sebastian is early to arrive at the paddock to avoid the media asking plenty of questions. He wanted to be stress-free today since he needs to put all his focus to this race because this is his chance to win the championship. He will be damned if he lets this slip by.

At the moment, he is sitting at the cafeteria which seems to be deserted by the crowd. He was enjoying his peaceful breakfast when a man in orange sat next to him.

"How are you feeling buddy?" Jenson asked too energetically for Sebastian's opinion.

"For a man no longer fighting for the championship, you seem more excited than me" Sebastian joked.

"Oh don't tell me you are nervous" Jenson teased "The Sebastian Vettel is nervous?"

Sebastian rarely gets nervous but this is one of those instances that he really feels the nerves getting the best of him. He finds it really out of his character. There is this heavy feeling in his chest that he may emerge victorious or a complete failure after this race.

"Don't tell anyone but you have my vote of confidence" Jenson whispered.

It was a bit of a boost to hear it from the 2009 World Champion, Sebastian gave him a quick hug which Jenson accepts. It was due to this closeness that Jenson noticed the silver necklace hanging on his neck.

A mischievous grin replaced Jenson's face as he knows there was only one person in this paddock that has that necklace.

"That's Y/N, isn't it?" Jenson snickers.

Just like that, the feeling of embarrassment spread in Sebastian's face. He was not embarrassed by the gift but rather he feels a little shy about anyone seeing his little lucky charm. He tucks it inside safely inside of his shirt.

"It is" Sebastian answered,playing it cool "How did you know?"

Knowing the dating history of Y/N and Jenson, he can feel a little green monster forming at his shoulders. Jenson must have been well-acquainted with Y/N that he paid close attention to notice details such as her necklace.

"Mate, when are you going to ask her out? It's been ages" Jenson asked.

"Excuse me?"

Sebastian was not expecting that. He immediately downed a water to hide his surprise.

"Don't tell me you still haven't made a move even after everything?"Jenson asked.

Jenson knew that Sebastian was someone very dear to Y/N. He had spent enough time with Y/N o figure out that its always the Webber family, Sebastian Vettel, Red Bull, then everyone else. That was how the list of priority of Y/N goes.

"She doesn't like me like that" Sebastian lies even though everything from that drunk confession still replays in Sebastian's head.

"You know what, if you win the championship then go and ask her out" Jenson challenged.

"Now you are putting even more pressure on me"

"C'mon now!" Jenson was exasperated "I'm not even accepting any cash prizes, just name your first child after me for being a good wingman"

"I'm gonna ignore you now Button" Sebastian's nonchalantly ended the conversation.

"Sebastian you can win the championship and the girl!" Jenson convincingly shouts.

Sebastian just gives him a shrug as he continues to eat. He smiles at the thought that maybe he will try Jenson's advice.

Victorious Vettel and a missing team mate.

Congratulations to the amazing drive of Sebastian Vettel which made him victorious from the four-way championship. He also boast two records with one being the youngest WDC champion and the other being Red Bull's first driver champion.

While celebrations are happening, it was evident that there was the absence of the Webber siblings. Mark Webber was seen congratulating Vettel the minute that they stepped out of the car. However, Mark wasn't seen after that and even in the parties. Also absent was Y/N Webber, dubbed as Sebastian's bestfriend. She was spotted in the Red Bull garage but she was absent as well during the celebrations.

Is there trouble brewing with the Webbers against the new world champion?

Seb: Hey, where are you? I have been looking for you everywhere Seb: Y/N are you there? sent by 8pm Seb: I'm going to the club with the team. I hope to see you there sent by 9:34 pm Y/N: Hi Seb! Congratulations with your WDC!! You know that I always believed that you will be a champion one day! I'm really really so happy and so proud of you. Y/N: I'm really sorry if I couldn't be there. I fainted around lap 45 but not to worry, its just my sugar levels. My phone went dead last night and I wasn't able to reply and congratulate right away. I'm really sorry. sent by 11:22 am Seb: Hey, I'm glad to hear you are okay. I just woke up from a massive hangover. I wish you have seen the party Seb: BTW, I have something to tell. Are you still at the hotel? sent by 2:06 pm Y/N: Oh, me and Mark took an early flight back to Melbourne. Parents were a bit worried. sent by 5:44 pm Seb: Okay see you. Y/N: What do you mean see you???? Seb: :)))))))))))))))))

It might be the high from winning the championship or maybe its the alcohol in his system but Sebastian was sure of his decisions.

Clothes are haphazardly thrown into the luggage while he conducts a quick sweep of the essentials he might need. He sent a quick text to everyone that might be needing him. As far as he knows, he has some time off before resuming with his media duties and such.

He is going to Australia.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel angst #sebastian vettel fluff

267 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 3 months ago

Text

Bones Full of Words, ch 5

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia (sometimes internalized and sometimes not), canon typical violence* Fatphobia, misogyny, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues. Summary: The raid on the club effects more than just the people inside, and it finally puts you and Javier in a room together for a real conversation to be had. Notes: Hi all! Sorry about the erratic posting schedule, but I'm doing my best. Thankfully I'm coming out of my busy season at work and moving into something that is chaotic in a different way 👍

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

Getting an oversized guard dog into the back of your tiny, broken-down car and halfway across the city was not on your checklist of things to do today. Fleeing your apartment was not either. Getting Chi-Chi to vaguely calm down enough to drive was a task in and of itself, but when you finally pull your car into one of the spare parking spaces adjacent to Javier's building, you breathe a sigh of relief. At best, you know where his spare key is. Though you doubt he'll be glad to see you in his apartment when he gets home from a night of work.

You just didn't know where else to go.

Javi sighs as he closes the door. He's had to convince himself not to go to the club the entire way back to his apartment. Almost turning around at one point, but he knows he would just be turned away. He doesn't want to care about your safety, you've made your feelings towards him very clear, but he can't just leave you to twist in the wind.

Up to his floor and to that now-familiar front door, you take a deep breath and tell Chi-Chi to sit before knocking twice on Javier’s door. Even if you assume he’s working — why wouldn’t he be? You’re not just going to barge into his place. Not after the awful things you said to him. Not when he very well might have saved your life tonight.

Turning and frowning at the door, Javi puts down the cigarette he had just been about to light and opens the door. His eyes going wide when he finds you on his doorstep with a very large dog by your side.

Chi-Chi starts to bark immediately, but you reach down (barely having to reach) to soothe her and frown apologetically when you look back up at Javier. “I didn’t know where else to go,” you admit softly, wondering why he’s here and if he’ll even let you in.

Javi opens the door wider and wonders if the acute sense of relief is just because of your soulmate status. He has thought more about fucking soulmates in the past week than he probably ever has in his entire life. "Want a drink?" He grunts, figuring it would be a neutral question and shouldn't piss you off too badly.

“Thank you.” Your own relief is just as mysterious, but you’re willing to set that aside for now just because you’re grateful to be safe. “I’ll um…I’ll put Chi-Chi in the guest room. She’s well behaved and has had a lot of excitement so hopefully she’ll just take a nap.”

"Let her sniff around." Javi doesn't mind dogs, he likes them. He doesn't approach the large furry creature, but he does offer a hand if she would like to sniff him. "The more comfortable she feels, the quicker she will calm down."

“She doesn’t like men,” you offer, trying to explain why you were going to set her up elsewhere. But aside from barking just once, Chi-Chi hasn’t done much besides look at Javier curiously. So you let her off her leash with a scratch behind the ears. “She uh…she’s my landlady’s dog. My landlady and my neighbor were both out tonight so it was just me and her and…and I didn’t want anything to happen to her.”

“She’s protective.” He hums, watching as the dog cautiously approaches him. Her nose is wet and warm as it bumps against his hand and he doesn’t move as she starts to sniff him.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” you coo softly to the massive dog, fascinated to see her like this with a man for the first time ever. “Javier’s good. We can trust him.”

He almost snorts at the comment, knowing the last thing you do is trust him. But maybe that’s not true, you left your apartment after all. After long minutes of sniffing his hand and his shoe, a brief bump against his crotch, the dog bumps her head under his hand in the universal demand for attention. “Good girl.”

“She’s sweet,” you assure him, and breathe a sigh of relief when Chi-Chi accepts the pets she is given and goes to flop down at the feet of the armchair you used to like to sit in while you were staying here. It must still smell like you. “We, um…we won’t overstay our welcome. I know you didn’t mean to invite me over when you called.”

“I doubt you can go home tonight.” Javier admits. “If you don’t want to stay here, I can get you a hotel.” Helena isn’t here to be a buffer anymore. “But there are clean sheets on the bed.”

“I’d feel safer here,” you admit with a half shrug of your shoulders. He has been busying himself with pouring drinks and you accept one gratefully. “Are you, um…are you okay?” You motion to your own cheek, indicated where he has a bruise blossoming from the fight earlier. “I mean…is that why you’re not at the raid?”

“Suspended.” Javi takes a sip of his own whiskey and reaches up to touch his cheek, wincing slightly. “Bastard.” He hisses, wishing he had blacked both of Alex’s eyes.

“Motherfucker,” you murmur with a shake of your head, and sit down in the chair that Chi-Chi is currently guarding. “I’m sorry.”

“Could be worse.” He shrugs slightly. “I could be a CIA prick.”

“He…did not look good.” That is for damn sure, though you’re still hesitant about whether not you’re entitled to even say anything about it.

“Good.” Javier grumbles a little under his breath, but he’s happy that little fucker is having a worse day than he is. He drains the rest of his whiskey and walks back to the bar cart.

“Can I ask…” You’ve barely touched the glass in your hand but you hang on to it tightly like some kind of security blanket, wondering if Javier is already regretting letting you in. “What the fight was about?”

He turns and looks at you for a moment, his brows pinched together and he’s about to say something sarcastic when he sees that confused and worried look on your face. The same one that you had worn when the ambassador had been there. One that said you couldn’t possibly think that the fight was about you. “What do you think it was about?”

“If I had to guess?” Since you’ve been chewing on it all afternoon and now with the raid tonight? It seems obvious to you. “Something to do with the CIA staking out the club you were — are — going to raid?”

He shakes his head and takes another swallow of whiskey to dull the ache and to settle the unease in his stomach that’s been rolling around since he ran into you in the embassy halls. “Not quite.” He grunts and sighs after that, his shoulders rolling slightly. “It was about you.”

“Me?” The audible surprise in your voice is enough for him to understand that that is the very last answer you were expecting.

He turns towards you, aware that you will just claim he’s using your soulmate connection to control you or he’s jealous, but he says it anyway. “He’s a fucking prick. You don’t need to be with that son of a bitch.”

Deeply confused about why he even cares, you just take a sip of your drink and look down at your toes. “I already dumped him.”

“Good.” Now he understands why the prick had felt the need to take stabs at your weight, he was emasculated when you dumped him.

“What about me?” You ask after a pause, since it doesn’t make any sense to you that either man would care that much. Enough to get into a fist fight over someone that neither of them, apparently, liked a little or at all.

"Doesn't matter." He's not going to hurt your feelings by telling you what the man you had been sleeping with was saying about you.

“If it was about me, don’t you think I deserve to know?” Maybe you shouldn’t push, but being told the reason doesn’t matter feels a lot like saying you don’t matter. And if they were fighting about you then that clearly isn’t true.

Javi rocks his jaw, hating that you are pushing this. "He was running his fucking mouth." He finally says after staring at you for a moment. "So I punched him in it." Hopefully you will leave it at that, but he has a feeling you won't.

“It was that bad?” You ask simply, bewildered that Alex could possibly have cared enough to say anything cruel.

He doesn't say anything, just stares down into his drink and hopes that you will let the question die if he doesn't answer. He honestly doesn't know why he cares what that fucker thinks about you. You made it clear that you would rather anyone else be your soulmate, and it's not his business what kind of man you decide to fuck. Still, he had been like a bull with a red flag waved in front of his face. Reacting furiously and only now examining the whys of the moment that had gotten him suspended.

Stoic silence has never exactly been a response you have taken lightly or well, and the attitude that you came here with —apology and peacemaking — so easily gets stomped under the heel of your shoe when provoked even the slightest. “If it’s that bad then don’t I deserve to know?”

"Christ, you won't let it go, will you?" Javi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "He fucking called you an assignment because no one picks a fat chick, but maybe he would visit again because 'even whales suck cock'." He doesn't snap it out as hatefully as Alex might have, but he can't look at you when he says it, immediately draining the rest of his whiskey to have something to do.

It’s certainly not the worst insult you’ve ever had slung your way in your life, but it’s not kind by any means. But it is the sort of comment that will probably have you second-guessing even going to Freckles or Vanessa for at least the next several months. The kind of comment that will have your eyes downcast at floor and pavement without the confidence that you have spent your entire adult life working to cultivate. The kind of comment that makes you feel as useless and unwanted as you always did as a kid. “Got it,” you murmur, head bobbing in a repetitive nod. “Got it. I, um…I’ll get out of your hair…” you decide, setting down your glass and altogether ready to flee his apartment despite having nowhere to go, just so he won’t see how genuinely hurt you are by what Alex said. Or worse, how much you appreciate the fact that Javier stepped in to defend you.

"Don't go." Javi won't make you stay, but he doesn't want you to leave when you're upset. He can hear the hurt in your voice. His eyes sliding over to where you are halfway out of your seat. "You don't have to." He has a feeling that being alone would be the worst thing for you.

“You can’t possibly want me around when I’m like this.” The tears have welled up in your eyes and are threatening to spill over, and Chi-Chi has sensed the change in your mood, sitting up in front of you and whining softly in concern. “Or at all, for all the grief I’ve given you.”

"Don't go." He murmurs again softly.

“I’m sorry.” That’s when the first tears fall. With two small words that mean so many different things.

"Don't be sorry." He shakes his head, frowning and wishing that he had another drink but he doesn't move. "It's not your fault he's a fucking prick."

“I’m sorry for so much more than that.” You wipe at your cheeks, calling yourself back to order as quickly as you can and also scratching between sweet Chi-Chi’s ears to soothe her so she doesn’t get too worked up. “I’ve given you nothing but grief and you didn’t deserve it.”

He frowns slightly, wondering what is with your change in attitude. "No, I didn't." He won't mince words and make you feel better. You were wrong about him.

“Helena set the record straight.” He deserved to know the discussion that was had about him just like you did, even if the one about you was far worse. “About how you protected her, and she was the one who insisted on trying to get information. That—that you didn’t send her in for it. I misunderstood the whole situation and I’m sorry for thinking the worst of you.”

Javi lets your explanation settle over him for a moment. Absorbing it. Letting it sit for a moment before he nods. "It was a shit situation." He admits. "At least she survived. Can one day move past it. Unlike the other girls that went with them that we fished out of the river last week."

“They’re all psychopaths. The sicarios.” The best you can do is shake your head in utter disgust. “But she’s going to be okay. It will be good for her to get to move. To get away from the memories, at least physically.”

"They are." That he will completely agree with. His jaw tightens slightly, knowing that right now he is on the outs of the action, unable to be there. Murphy probably won't even call him tonight. He looks at his empty glass and knows that before he gets too drunk, he should probably eat. "You hungry?" He asks, looking over at you curiously. He had never been around while you and Helena ate, often working long hours that week that you stayed here, but he had appreciated the leftovers in the fridge.

“Sure.” The olive branch he’s offering isn’t insignificant, and you’re not going to ignore it. Especially when you actually are hungry. In all the commotion of the day you’d completely forgotten to eat at all.

"Anything in particular you want?" He reaches over and nudges your drink towards you, urging you to drink it. "I can go pick something up or we can get it delivered."

“How do you feel about Lebanese?” It hadn’t at all been what you expected to see when you arrived in Bogotá, but there had been a wide variety of international restaurants in the area owned and operated by immigrants from other countries. Not the least of which was the amazing Lebanese restaurant two blocks from Javier’s apartment.

“I normally get the lamb kafta.” He tells you. “Haven’t tried much else on the menu to be honest.” He’s a simple guy, if he likes something, that will be what he orders every time. Someone had brought some in to the office one day and he had asked where it had come from.

“Have you never tried their falafel?” You ask in mock shock. The fact that you’re pushing forward, trying to be relatively normal with each other, it matters more than you want to admit.

“I don’t have clue what that is?” Javi admits with a snort, shrugging slightly. “Is it good?”

“It’s amazing, I promise.” In fact you’re prepared to swear to it, just hoping that what you consider amazing also fits his taste buds.

“Then I’ll let you order.” He offers, figuring it makes more sense because he doesn’t know what you like. In fact, he knows very little about you. “Sound good?”

“I’ll put it under your name.” And you’ll get an order of his lamb kafta, just in case he doesn’t end up liking the falafel. You’re balancing on a very thin and fragile tightrope right now so you don’t want to push too hard. Not anymore than you already have, anyway.

“That’s fine by me.” He stands with a groan and fishes his wallet out of the back of his suit trousers and pulls out some money. “I’m going to take a shower.” He tells you. “Use this for the food.”

“I’ll have it back by the time you’re dressed.” And you’ll use your own money, but there’s no use turning it into an argument. Arguing seems to be what you and Javier do best and most easily, but you’re trying to avoid it for at least a little while.

“Don’t leave.” He stops and turns around with a frown on his face. “Have it delivered.”

“Okay.” The look on his face is so set that you only nod. “I promise.”

He nods and looks like he’s going to say something before he just turns around and walks to his bedroom. Eager to get out of the suit and clean up a little.

It would be easy and very like you to just disregard his request and go pick up the food on foot. It wouldn’t take very long and it certainly wouldn’t be difficult. But something about breaking this first promise you made to him in good standing just doesn’t feel right. It feels worse than just sort of off. So you head back into the kitchen and pick up his phone, dialing the number for the Lebanese place listed on the front of the menu at the top of his take out drawer.

Javi feels bad about asking you to stay in the apartment, but he gets the nagging feeling that if he lets you out of that door, he won’t see you again. Plus he’s on edge, knowing that the sicarios will be trigger happy after they learn a kill team has been sent out.

You’re closing the door behind the delivery guy when Javier comes out of his room. “Good timing,” you tell him, holding up the bag. Your shoes are off and sitting by the door, so hopefully he doesn’t question that you kept your promise.

You are still in the professional wear from the Embassy, making him feel guilty about changing his own clothes. He doesn’t have anything for you to change into and he doesn’t want to embarrass you by bringing that up. “Good.” He hums. “I’ve realized I haven’t eaten anything since a slice of toast this morning.”

“I’ve had coffee and cigarettes, does that count?” Forks from the drawer and refills for each of your glasses, and before you know it you’re both sitting down at his table with plastic takeout containers full of fragrant dinner.

“Coming from a place of complete hypocrisy—” he points at you with a fork. “That’s not good for you.”

“Bite me,” you smirk, and shove the container of falafel, rice pilaf, labneh, and other tasty goodies toward him. “We both have terrible habits.”

He glances down at the container and pokes at it with interest. “Didn’t say we didn’t.” He points out. “But you took care of Helena, maybe you should take care of yourself.”

“As long as I’m in enough of one piece to get my work done, I’m fine.” You shrug, poking at the container of kafta, turnip pickles, and baba ghanoush in front of you. “Besides, I think we’ve established tonight that I could stand to lose a few pounds.”

“Don’t do that.” Javi huffs, picking up one of the round little balls and inspecting it. “There’s not a goddamn thing wrong with you and you know it.”

“I definitely do not know that, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.” The first bite of lamb is unctuous and warm with spices, but you lean on the table and frown. “I’d be the biggest liar in the world if I said I hadn’t heard it before.”

“Because people are fucking assholes.” He snorts again and shakes his head. “Are you happy with who you are?”

“Fuck no.” You snort at the absolute ridiculousness of that question and lean back in your seat. “Why? Are you?”

“I don’t know much about you, but I don’t have any problem with anything I’ve seen so far.” Javi shrugs slightly, a little surprised by the vehemence in your response when you see so self-assured. “You’ve got a nice ass.” He adds, as if that helps prove his case.

For a minute you just stare at him, bewildered, before a disbelieving laugh punches its way out of your throat. “I—what?”

He looks down at his plate again, stung by the laugh when he had thought he was being nice. “Okay.” He huffs, shoving a bite of food into his mouth. “Forget I said anything.”

"No, no, I mean—" You pinch your eyes shut and remind yourself not to snap back. To just be a fucking normal person for once in your life instead of always being on the defensive. "I'm surprised that you...I mean I thought you hated me. That's what I mean."

“You hated me.” Javi corrects. “I didn’t know you.” He remembers that one meeting in the street in front of the brothel and snorts. “Except we sleep with the same women.”

"I hated my assumptions." You're a big enough person to admit that, though it feels appropriately humbling. "Thankfully, they were mostly wrong."

“Mostly?” That amuses him in an ironic kind of way and he wonders what it is that you think you have gotten right.

“Mostly.” Though this does make you smirk slightly. The amusement is so deep-seated you can’t help it. “I was not wrong about every woman you speak to falling at your feet.”

“Shiiiiiiit.” Javi snorts and shakes his head with a sardonic smile on his face. “That’s damned sure not the truth.”

“Name one,” you counter, knowing he’ll struggle. “And the ambassador doesn’t count.”

He lifts a brow. “You.” He says bluntly. “Damn sure woulda remembered you falling at my feet.” He takes another bit of the rice and reaches for a lamb kafta.

“I did.” You fidget slightly in your chair with the uncomfortable realization that he didn’t notice you at first. Not that he should have. But knowing that he is your soulmate makes it sting now. “The first time I saw you…at the embassy. I was with one of the secretaries and she…she told me about you.”

“You wore a pink shirt,” Javi hums. “Three inch heels that made your ass bubble up under a pencil skirt.” He had thought about it, thought hard on it and remembered seeing you around the embassy in passing. Although you always seemed to skitter away from him rather than come towards him.

“How…?”

“Because you were wrong about me not seeing you.” Javi has a wandering eye, he won’t deny that. If there’s a woman around, he’s going to appreciate her beauty. “You just seemed to rush away any time you saw me.” You seem shocked that he is telling you this and he wonders if it’s because you think that you shouldn’t receive a lot of attention because you aren’t thin.

“I guess I’m just…used to not being noticed.” It’s a nasty feeling to admit it, but being more or less invisible has always given you an edge as a journalist. Let you observe and be absorbed by what is happening around you. Apparently that isn’t the case when it comes to Javier.

“I noticed.” He takes another bite of his food and notices that you haven’t eaten much so he motions to your plate. “Eat.” He orders softly. “Noticed you outside the brothel too. Wondered if you were a client or if you were going to become a working girl there.”

“My editor wouldn’t sign off on me going undercover,” you admit, picking up your fork again. “I almost did it anyway.”

Javi shakes his head. “You don’t want to do that.” He frowns and looks down at his food, thinking about Helena. “For good damn reason.”

“It took me a while to get my footing down here, that’s all.” He doesn’t seem to be a big fan of the falafel, so you switch plates with him and try to find your appetite again.

“Thanks.” He pokes at your plate and frowns. “You like that, right?” He asks, wanting to make sure you aren’t just switching to make him happy.

“I got both of our favorites…” It feels silly to admit, but here you are. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

“Did you try it?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, just reaches down and picks up one of the skewers to put on your plate.

The striking difference in how he’s treating you now versus just a week ago is enough that you simply nod, thank him, and try to imagine what it would be like between you now if the unfounded anger — yours was unfounded, his was reactionary — had never existed. If you had met by accident. Spoken that day at the embassy, or any of the others since. If Alex had never been a part of your life. If you hadn’t fled your honest attraction because Colleen had advised you to stay away from the skirt-chasing agent.

The silence settles between the two of you. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s anticipatory. As if waiting for one of you to break and ask a question, any question. He takes another bite, happy when you start to eat again. Keeping an eye on you as he starts to devour his own plate. He’s got a lot of experience waiting for a suspect to talk, understanding the value of silence and how it affects some people.

To say that you have questions would be somewhat of an understatement, but what’s overshadowing it is that you don’t even know where to begin. When your whole consciousness is wrapped up in trying to understand, how do you choose where to start? Some part of you seems to build up and build up, until what comes out of your mouth is finally: “So why is the elephant on your thigh?”

The question of you really being his soulmate is put to bed. He had thought that it might have been some kind of joke. The girls yanking both of your chains, but he doubts they told you about what kind of tattoo he had. They might have fucked with him, but they wouldn't share that. "Who sees my thigh?" He asks, chuckling quietly. "I can't have visible tattoos, it's too dangerous."

“Sure, but…” It came out more bluntly than you meant it to, you know that. It’s just so hard to try to imagine how you and Javier are meant to knit together so perfectly that the universe made you soulmates. “That was blunt. I’m sorry. It just surprised me when it appeared. It’s the last place I ever would have thought to put a tattoo.”

"It's a spot I...." He struggles with how to explain it. He sighs softly. "It's the last place my mother touched me." He admits after a moment. "She was surprisingly alert, reaching over and grabbing my thigh." He looks down at his food and remembers how his frail and perpetually exhausted mother had suddenly had a burst of strength. "It's— that spot is where her thumb was. Elephants were her favorite animal. It made sense when I was drunk."

“It makes perfect sense,” you assure him, voice dropping in shame over having asked so bluntly. You really do just spit things out sometimes. “I’m sorry about your mother. It sounds like you were close.”

He wonders why you sound upset, but he nods. “Thanks. She was amazing.” He glances up at you again. “What about yours?” He asks. “Any special meaning?”

Because you had just taken a bite you have to wait long enough to chew, but eventually you motion to your right foot, where your one small tattoo sits on the outside of your ankle. "The anchor? Yeah, it's...it's on our state flag." He raises one eyebrow slightly, so you explain. "Rhode Island. We have an anchor on the flag and the state motto – hope – underneath. I got it so that no matter how far I traveled, I would always have a piece of home with me."

You're nostalgic and sentimental. He can see the wistfulness in your eyes as talk about home because that's apparently what it is to you. "Makes sense." He chuckles. "I thought maybe you had been in the Navy or something."

"One of my brothers joined up, but that's the closest I'll ever get." His laugh, though small, is infectious, and you end up joining him in it. The warm sound shared between you is almost a hug. "I love boats, but not rules."

"Yeah." He grunts, reminded of his own disciplinary action because of breaking some rules. He sometimes gets annoyed at all the red tape and he's not above doing dirty deeds to make sure the bad guy doesn't win. "I get that."

"Is there..." You shift in your seat, feeling acutely aware of yourself. “Anything you want to know about me?”

Javi is fantastic at flirting. Amazing at charming women and getting in their pants. This is much more important than those simple tasks. "Why journalism?" He asks, looking into your eyes and wondering why a reporter from Rhode Island was here in Colombia, if not to somehow run into him.

"People deserve to have their stories told." It's why you specifically tell human interest stories. Why, as a reporter, you have focused on sharing the words of people who otherwise might not be heard. "Helping people understand each other is something that newsprint can still do really effectively."

“Your stories are really compassionate.” He agrees, looking back down at his plate and realizing he’s almost done.

Surprise overtakes your face again. "You've...read my stuff?"

He looks back up at you, frowning slightly at the surprise. “Why wouldn’t I?” He asks. “You’re my soulmate.” It seems simple to him, he considered it research and at the time, he wanted to know why the fuck you seem like you thought you had some kind of moral upper hand.

"I guess," you swallow, embarrassed all over again. "I guess I've never really had high expectations for whatever relationship I might have with my soulmate. Nothing to do with you specifically. I just didn't hold out very high hopes."

That’s something Javi could relate to. He chuckles and shakes his head. “So we both weren’t looking forward to meet the ‘perfect match’ the universe chose for us, huh?”

"It doesn't sound like it." Another tick in the column of things that the girls had said you have in common. The irony certainly isn't lost on you. "But here we are."

“Soulmates were kind of ruined for me.” Javi figures you should at least know why he had been so unenthusiastic.

“How so?” Not all soulmate pairs are perfect. You know that. You’ve seen plenty of it in your own life. But it sounds like he has a very specific example of why he wasn’t looking forward to meeting his.

“I was engaged.” Javi figures you deserved to know. “Hell, I stood her up, didn’t go to the church.” He huffs slightly. “You ever meet someone and you’re told that they are perfect for you – they are what you are supposed to want – but there’s just something you can’t put your finger on?”

“Yeah,” you huff slightly, acknowledging your own memory even as you nod. “She lied to you about being your soulmate?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Told me that she was pregnant too, doubling down on the pressure for me to tie the knot.” He had felt sick and trapped, hating how he was being dragged along to this elaborate wedding that was supposed to be the talk of the town. It was, but not for the reasons Lorraine’s family had hoped for.

“Shit.” That takes some serious balls to go into, with lies that big, and you’re instantly furious with this woman for being so selfish.

“I got drunk and got the tattoo the night before the wedding.” He explains. “I was already upset my mother couldn’t be there, so the tattoo was a way to keep her with me.” He picks up his glass and takes a sip. “That morning— shit it was probably four-thirty? I was hungover and needed to talk to her. Figured I could get around that old wives’ tale about it being bad luck to see the bride of the sun wasn’t up yet.” He laughs at himself. “She was wearing’ these little red shorts. Tiny things that she honestly would have been better just not wearing anything to bed. But she didn’t have a tattoo.”

“Hell of a way to find out.” Instinctively, you reach across the table. Fingertips find fingertips and even though you only touch him for a second you try to offer some small comfort. “I’m so sorry. She sounds horribly selfish.”

Javi looks down at his hand and yours still just within reach. “I didn’t even confront her.” He admits. “Couldn’t think. Just left and went through the motions of getting ready to get married to a woman who had lied to me, who had manipulated me.” He shakes his head. “When we were driving to the church….I just drove by and kept going.”

“I can’t lie,” you swallow a laugh, not wanting to seem insensitive. “I would have made a scene. That bitch’s dirty deeds would have been smeared all over town.”

“It came out. But she was more humiliated, standing there waiting for me to show up when everyone was at the church.” He shrugs. “But if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be in the DEA.”

“You would have stayed home instead of joining?” It’s only in this moment that you realize you don’t even know where he’s from.

“I was a Webb County Sheriff’s deputy.” He tells you. “I took the job after college so I could take care of my mama. Lorraine wanted me to quit and go work for her dad, and I didn’t want to do that, but she probably would have gotten her way if we got married.”

“Webb County…” Running through the Rolodex of relatively trivial information in your head, it takes you a few seconds before you place the department but then your head pops up like you’ve won a prize. “You’re from Texas.”

“Laredo.” He confirms and he’s curious how you know that. “Although I don’t think that Texas has the only Webb county.”

“I’m sure they don’t.” You can agree to that right away. “But if I combine the fact that you specifically were a sheriff’s deputy it narrows down the number of states you could be from, and then cross-referenced with what’s left of your accent and the fact that there more than ten DEA field offices in Texas, including one in Webb County? It…it narrows it down.” Revealing how your mind skips around to make connections and your weirdly encyclopedic knowledge of certain aspects of government organization makes you fluster at the table and look away, assuming that he’ll find it uncomfortable or off putting like so many others do. It’s useful for your work to be able to do this sort of thing, but people tend to find it odd.

He tilts his head and studies you for a moment, impressed by the way that you filtered through the pieces of information to come to your – correct – answer. “Huh.” He muses. “Maybe I should come to you with information rather than the fucking CIA.”

“Journalism is also a way to utilize all the weird factoids in my head,” you admit, quietly pleased that he doesn’t immediately think you’re some freak of nature for the way your mind makes connections.

“It’s fighting through the bullshit useless information to put the pieces together that you need.” He nods. “You’re analytical, but compassionate. I can see that in your writing. You don’t twist the facts to your own personal bias.”

“My opinion has no place in the writing. If I wanted to do that I’d be writing OpEds or I could have stayed in the gossip columns where they wanted to keep me.” With both of your dinners finished, you nudge the empty container away and take your whiskey glass back in hand. Not necessarily to drink it, but for the comfort of holding it. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk like this weeks ago.”

“You didn’t like me.” He shrugs. “I don’t know if I would have liked me either, under the circumstances.” He snorts. “Hell, I barely like myself now.”

“I understand that feeling very well.” Your shrug matches his. “Maybe we’re every bit as alike as the girls said after all.”

“Look.” Javi leans back and searches his jeans pockets for his pack of cigarettes. “I’m not going to tell you we need to be together or whatever.” He pulls out the half-crushed pack and takes one, offering the pack to you. “You didn’t come down here to find love and I sure as hell didn’t.”

"But?" You prompt, hearing the word in his tone and accepting a cigarette gratefully. You always crave a smoke after a meal and it's nice to not have to explain that to the person you're eating with.

“But….” He takes a long drag off the cigarette and blows it out towards the ceiling. “It’s dangerous here for anyone going after Pablo.” He warns, glancing back at you. “There’s a bounty on my head.”

"It would be easy enough for anyone to think I'm going after him, too. My articles are about how Escobar is destroying the country and the people that he alleges he's fighting for." Sitting back in your seat, you take a matching drag of your own cigarette and exhale the smoke slowly afterward. "I'm not going to back off, if that's what you're implying."

“Didn’t think you would.” He admits. If the girls think you two are alike, then you would have a stubborn streak as wide as the Rio Grande.

"Alright." Trying not to sound as frustrated as you temporarily feel, you bring your head down and look forward at him again. "So I'm not going anywhere, and we've established that neither of us came here looking for some world-changing love story. Does that leave us as acquaintances? Friends? People who occasionally pass each other in the halls of the embassy and happen to share marks?"

“I don’t have those answers.” He admits, flicking the ashes into the empty take out container. “What’s your gut feeling?”

Without meaning to, you half-laugh and take another drag from your cigarette. "That we're both too stubborn," you admit on the exhale. "So we shouldn't decide anything, and just let life fall into place however it's going to."

He smirks slightly and tilts his head in acknowledgement. It’s a relief that you are on the same page he is. It makes the nagging guilt he’s had for wanting to see Vanessa and Freckles, subsequently why he’s stayed away, disappear. “So we sit on it.”

"Sit on it." There is a twist in your gut that is both guilt and relief. Not making it out to be more than just a fact of your lives is a relief, but the guilt that you maybe should hangs heavily on your shoulders. "Not bury it, and not shout about it. Just let it exist."

He lifts the rest of his drink in a salute before he tips it back. Swallowing it in one go and wondering why it doesn’t feel as good as it should.

******

Spending the night in the same guest room that you spent a week in while you were caring for Helena doesn't feel as odd as it could, but the intensity of knowing that your soulmate is sleeping right down the hall has you lying awake staring at the ceiling for more hours in the night than you would like to admit. It isn't until Chi-Chi leaves the doorway to climb into bed beside you that you find any sleep at all, but at least you can clock a few hours before sunrise starts to wake the block.

Javi rarely sleeps past five in the morning. Too acclimated to years on the ranch, needing to get up before school to feed livestock, clean out stalls or whatever his pop might need help with. Now it’s his body craving that cigarette he smokes as he takes that first, glorious piss of the day and then shuffles into the shower. Once he’s out, he realizes that he doesn’t have anything to do today, and it makes him ill, knowing he should already be raring to go to the scene – if he had even come home the night before. Now, he decides that maybe you’d might like some breakfast and he slips out of the apartment to run down to the market for some fresh fruits and see if Señora Rodriguez is selling those little pastries that he sometimes grabs.

Showering seems superfluous since you only have the same clothes to put on again afterward, but you go into the second bathroom you're accustomed to using to wash your face and wish you had your toothbrush. It's futile, but Javier was kind to let you stay last night when he didn't strictly have to. You'll go home and get out of his hair today if you can. The comfort lying low in your belly is knowing that the next time you run into him in the halls of the embassy, neither of you will flee or fight. For now all you can do is wander out to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee and cigarettes.

There are files spread on the kitchen table, a half-drunk cup of coffee and cigarette burning in the ashtray. He had waited to tear into the bag of pastries and fruit until you woke up and he’s proud of himself for that. He had even left a second coffee cup out for you to pour yourself a cup. “Morning.” He murmurs, still reading a CentraSpy report from two days ago.

"Morning." During the week of staying here you had paid attention only to Helena, and mostly hadn't even been speaking to Javier. So this sight is something of a surprise as you move to the coffee maker to pour yourself a cup. "You're an early riser."

“Raised on a ranch.” He glances up at you, watching your ass for a moment and trying to ignore the tug of lust in his belly before looking back down at the page. You didn’t want to hop into bed with him and he shouldn’t complicate things. “Mama would make you miss breakfast before you missed the bus for school.” He chuckles. “And your chores had better be done or you would get an earful when you got home.”

Small town. Texas. Sheriff's deputy. Ranch kid. The puzzle pieces of Javier Peña drop into place one by one. "Do you ever miss it?" You ask, bringing your coffee over to the table after you've fixed it. You don't mind sitting with your mug in your lap so he can keep his papers spread out everywhere. It's his space, after all.

He snorts. “If you had asked me that two years ago, I would have told you ‘fuck no’ so fast it would have knocked you over.” He reaches for his cup and sits back. “Now? It’s not as boring as I remember. Or maybe I’m just tired of the excitement of getting shot at here.”

"That's...fair, honestly." One half-glance at the papers around him tells you they're all about work, and you would be lying if you expressed any surprise at all. You're the same way. Always working, always composing in your head and stamping headlines on your life as you go about your day. "I bet even being a deputy would be a hell of a lot quieter than what you're doing now."

“Telling Mr. Johnson he can’t ride his fucking lawnmower to the liquor store. Cock blocking on the little lot where couples like to go to fuck.” He smirks. “Telling Mrs. Taylor that her husband was not abducted by aliens, he’s just a fucking prick. It was fucking cake.”

"Sounds like a retirement job." Not that you've really ever known anyone who retired. But it sounds like something that people say when they aren't raised scraping by every meal of every day. You're lucky as hell to be where you are now, and you know it.

“Yeah.” It was too boring for him at the time. That desire to do good and get the fuck out of town and away from the mess he caused with Lorraine, the DEA had come knocking and he couldn’t pack his bags fast enough.

"Maybe one day," you offer, going back to sipping your coffee.

"Maybe." He doubts it but he doesn't say that this job is dangerous enough that he will count his lucky stars if he gets out of Colombia alive.

"My Mom always says that if you don't think about what comes next, you'll give up on what's here right now." But he didn't ask for your family advice and you're not going to push it on him, so you offer him a small smile and reach for your first cigarette of the day. "Are you a breakfast person?"

"Been waiting on you." He nods towards the kitchen counter. "Picked those up this morning."

“You didn’t have to wait.” It’s sweet that he did, in a way that makes your chest tighten and think things you have to banish from your mind immediately, so instead you pop up from your chair and grab the bag to bring over to the table.

"Be rude to eat without you." He points out, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Is that that Southern hospitality I’ve heard so much about?” You set the bag down in the place he clears for it on the table and go back for two plates. Your cigarette is smoldering in the ashtray but you care less about that than whatever this morning patter is that the two of you have going. “We don’t have much of that where I’m from.”

"So why do you like it so much?" He asks, curious about your own history. "Where you're from."

“New Englanders are straightforward.” The bag has two arepas con huevos and two roscón — presumably one for each of you — and some assorted small cookies that are spiced and baked hard so they’re especially dunked in coffee. It’s a sweet gesture in more than one way, and you distribute the pastries evenly between you. “Everybody says what they mean, and sometimes they say shit things but then the same cranky ass old guys will turn around and give you the shirt off their back or the food off their table to help you.”

“You haven’t met many Texans, have you?” Javi snorts. “They are blunt, proud as fuck from being from Texas, but they also work together.” He shrugs. “Old man Sanchez had a heart attack in his field, crop of hay was going to go to ruin, so everyone met at his place and put up all the hay for winter for his herds while he was in the hospital.”

“Sounds like two groups cut from the same cloth.” Which is wholly a good thing in your book, and goes a big step to explain how you’re so similar coming from very different places. “You guys are the ranchers and we’re the fishermen.”

"Surf and turf." He chuckles slightly at his admittedly bad joke and shrugs. "We should open a restaurant."

“My father was a chef.” The morsel of information is offered up just like the food between you. “So it’s not a terrible idea.”

"Was?" He catches the phrasing and he wants to know more.

“He had a heart attack a couple a years ago.” Like you’re slipping into the memory, you stare at the pastry in your hand rather than at Javier. “Out on the fishing boat with my oldest brother. It was barely dawn and they had a haul to get in, so he ignored it. The second one he had, before dinner service that night, that’s what killed him.”

"I'm sorry." He really is. He knows how it squeezes your heart and doesn't let you breathe when you are swimming in grief so deep if feels like you are drowning. He sometimes thinks that it might have been because of his grief that he had ended up so lost in his relationship with Lorraine. He had been anchorless without his mother and she had swooped in and comforted him.

"Thank you." It means more coming from him because he knows exactly how much it hurts to lose a parent, giving you an odd and unwanted comradery in that way. "It's...pronounced. The things we have in common."

"Losing someone you love is shitty." He agrees.

"It does." You can agree to that wholeheartedly. So far these shared meals with Javier have been eye-opening, but not necessarily happy. The conversations tend to be more serious, which just might be the type of people you are. "I try not to let it overtake the other things, but it's not easy."

"Is that why you came to Colombia?" He asks, wondering if like him, you are running away. His own journey here had been a little longer, having to go through the academy and then his first post, but you are both here for a reason. "To escape?"

"Not consciously." Although now that he mentions it, there is a distinct possibility that that was an undercurrent in your decision making. "I fought for this assignment. My editor wanted somebody on the ground covering Escobar and I argued that every paper is reporting just on Escobar, but nobody is talking about the people in Colombia and how they're being affected by everything going on down here. How Escobar is ruining lives."

"It's a good angle" Javi shifts in his seat. "Some sing his praises, but they've never been touched by his violence."

"That was pretty much my point." And frankly, it's a comfort to know that it's coming across in your articles. "He might be doing good for some people on the surface here. Handing out money, claiming he's working for the people when he tries to run for office. But the fact is that he's hurting more than he's helping. And the hurt is spreading worldwide."

Javi snorts. "They don't fucking care though." He is bitter about that. "It's a fucking party favor to them. Something to experiment with and cut on a mirror in the big house that they are partying in. They don't see the fucking twelve-year-old overdosing on the street or the workers that have outlived their usefulness, rotting in the goddamn jungle."

"I know." You nod solemnly. "That's why I'm writing about it."

He watches you, his respect for you growing even more. After a moment, he nods. "Then it's a good thing you're here."

******

He wouldn't let you go back to your building alone. Something about wanting to make sure it was safe, but you couldn't really hear him over the blood pounding in your ears when he held open the door for you like some kind of fucking gentleman. Southern. You remind yourself, fully ready to reprimand your own stupidity into submission. It means nothing. It's just good manners.

But when he pulled up outside the club a half an hour later, you were suddenly very glad that he had insisted on coming with you. Chi-Chi growled low in the backseat, seeing so many men around the building, but you reached back and shushed her with some gentle pets that once again thanked her for somehow not spending all night making the same noise at Javier. The policemen outside were all busy and some of the club windows had been shot out, but all of it was taped off to prevent people from coming inside.

"Shit..." you murmur, sitting back in the passenger's seat as you slowly process the fact that you can't go home yet.

Javier frowns as he throws his Jeep into park. There's Steve, camera in his hands as he takes photos of a body laying outside the club. "Shit." He hisses, knowing there is no way he can poke around without being seen.

"Go around the block and park on the next street down," you tell him, annoyed that this day has taken an inconvenient turn. "I'll sneak in through the side door and grab some of my stuff. Enough to last me a few days at a hotel, at least." It was enough that you showed up at his place last night unannounced after having been there another week previous to that. You're not going to invade his space anymore.

He furrows his brow and shakes his head. "You don't have to stay in a hotel." He protests, not happy about you being in some hotel. Even if he's not got any right to tell you what to do. "Unless you'd rather have some space besides my guest room?"

"I don't mind your place." If you were being totally honest with him, not feeling isolated or alone is a lot better for you. Even with Inez in the next apartment over, living on your own had been lonely. "I just don't want to put you out."

"Because I spend so much time in my spare bedroom." He rolls his eyes at you sarcastically and frowns again. "Use it." He urges you. "You don't have to waste your money on a hotel." He shrugs, knowing that he sounds a little overprotective. "After all, it's because of my team that your apartment is now a crime scene."

"Why don't you and Chi-Chi stay in the car and I'll pack up some things quickly." If he's offering, you won't turn down a free place to stay. You'll do your part and keep the place clean so he barely recognizes you're even there except for putting a little food in his fridge now and then. "I guarantee my landlady is still with her son. I can drop our four-legged friend off to her later today."

"No." He shakes his head, knowing that someone could stop you from entering. Plus he can get a quick look to see if anyone important was taken out. "I'll come with you."

You raise one discerning eyebrow at him and motion to the backseat. "That means all three of us have to go in. You think you can sneak Scooby Doo's sister over here past all those cops?"

"Not going to sneak her in anywhere." Javi smirks and looks back at the dog. "She's going to go to work with me. Aren't ya, girl?"

For perhaps the first time in her life, Chi-Chi awoos softly for a man instead of for any of her usually preferred female companions.

"Well hell," you snort, shaking your head at both of them. "I guess that's a yes."

It takes a minute to get her out of the car and her leash unwound from her body. Then there are the two minutes that she has to sniff around the side door where she normally comes outside to pee and takes a squat while Javier smokes a cigarette.

It's ridiculous to watch, as the large and normally fearsome guard dog trots happily at Javier's side, but one intrusive thought breaks through the others and you snort under your breath in amusement as Chi-Chi indicates she's ready to go again. "I was right," you point out, smirking at Javier when you pull out your key to the building's back door. "All women really do roll over for you."

He rolls his eyes and huffs at you. Pursing his lips and murmuring a curse. "Shut up." He manages, although it's not exactly vehement. "Do you want me to come up with you?" He doubts anyone has ventured upstairs, but he doesn't want you to be uncomfortable.

"Might as well," you nod toward the stairs, letting the warmth of friendly teasing instead of annoyed barbs warm through you. "My living room has that good view of the front of the building and approaching street that you knew Alex was using."

"We were watching to club." Javier admits. "Saw the fucker there. The bartender giving him your note."

"I kind of figured." Climbing the stairs quickly, you reach your floor as quietly as you can and turn back to make sure you don't lose Javier on the stairs. "Otherwise how could you have actually gotten the note? It's not like the CIA and DEA cooperate. Even I know that."

He smirks, not at all embarrassed about stealing that fucker's note. "For a spook, he's shit at keeping track of things." He huffs.

"He was probably distracted." At your door, you scratch Chi-Chi's head and fit your key in the lock to shove it open. "I've been thinking about it ever since you pointed it out, and I think he went in with the intention of actually hitting on Inez."

"And he found you instead?" He asks, wondering what you saw in that schmuck. Granted he was tall, blonde, classically handsome. Everything he was not. Maybe your preference was completely different than the soulmate the universe gave you.

Pushing into your apartment, you shrug sheepishly and drop your purse on the table by the door to let him in behind you. "I was lonely," you admit, not feeling particularly proud about it.

"That happens." He knows that firsthand. He looks around the apartment curiously, eager to get an inside view of your life.

"I'll grab some clothes and stuff. Chi-Chi's allowed on my furniture, so she'll probably go sit on the couch if you let her off leash." He'll poke and prod. That's fine with you. It's what you would do if you were him – yet another similarity between you to note.

"Take your time." He moves over to the window and looks out, a little irritated that it was indeed a good fucking view. Pissed that he hadn't thought of that before Alex had.

You disappear into your room, glad that you had just done a big load of laundry after returning from Javier's place the first time and that you had neatly put everything away. It made it a hell of a lot easier to simply remove stacks of clothes from your dresser and pile them up in the one small suitcase you had arrived to Colombia with. After having been here for a little while you had accumulated a few more things, but most of them can just stay put. Your toiletries go into a bag to be packed away, and your work has its own tote bag. At least your typewriter was already packed up in its case. That saves you some time.

Your space is neat, not too many personal things, although he picks up a framed photo of what must be your family. “Nice looking family.” He murmurs to himself, the photo obviously taken before your father passed.

"My parents' thirtieth wedding anniversary," you tell him, knowing what photo he's looking at. "My Mom, my two older brothers, then me and my Dad. We're all dressed up because my aunt and uncle insisted on throwing them an anniversary party."

“It’s nice.” You look happy, beaming from the photo. “Soulmates?”

"Yeah." When you come out of your room, you're toting a full suitcase and heading for your work things on the coffee table. "They met at the beach. My Mom was out with her girlfriends one day when she was twenty and they started catcalling this group of guys down the other side of the sand." The memory of the story makes you crack a smile. "Reverse of the usual situation, but my mother isn't a shy woman. We used to go back to that beach every single summer. Usually three or four times a summer if we could manage it between everybody's work and sports and camp and everything else."

He laughs at the mental image and smirks. “Most men actually like it when a woman hits on them.” He agrees. “It’s nice to be chased every now and again.”

"Yeah..." It makes your cheeks burn to remember the times in your life you've attempted it – and how the one time it didn't go terribly wrong it was a CIA douchebag who didn't even reciprocate your interest in any real way. "I guess I just...never understood a lot of it. But my Mom is drop dead gorgeous even after three kids, so more power to her, I guess."

Javi studies the picture again. “Yeah, you look just like her.” He murmurs offhand.

“Except…not.” You wave one hand at yourself and shake your head, going back to stuffing your work things into their tote bag.

He frowns down at the picture sighs, not liking that you just wave off his compliment. But you aren’t really his problem to tackle. “I’m going to go downstairs.” He calls out.

“I’ll be down in a few.” Seeing that it’s flashing, you push the button on your answering machine to listen to your message while you get the last of your things squared away.

Javi reclips the leash and hurries down the stairs as Chi-Chi half drags him down. Chuckling to himself when the large dog growls softly at the crunch of glass under boots. "It's okay, girl." he soothes when he is standing by her in the small hallway that connects the apartments to the club.

“Hi mija.” The message is from your landlady, who sounds tired and shaken. “I am sorry for the short notice, but if you are listening to this you will know that the police have control of our building. We cannot return until they release it, and since you were kind enough to take Chi-Chi – thank you for your call otherwise I would have worried – mijita I am too old to be running that place anymore. I’m selling it, honey, I’m sorry. If you need help finding a new place to live, let me know. I will give you a wonderful reference. Call me at my son’s when you get this.”

“Fuck.” You groan out loud, looking around you and realizing that you need to pack up more than just a few days’ worth of things. It’s going to take you a hell of a lot more than a few minutes to get this all squared away, but there’s nothing you can do about that.

Almost a full half hour later you’re dragging things downstairs, including a plastic container of Chi-Chi’s food and treats, and a bag of her toys along with all your own stuff. “Bad news,” you tell Javier, when he looks at you with confusion.

"Are you moving in?" Javi half jokes, half wonders what the hell you had in the bags. It looks like a hell of a lot more than what you had brought when you were taking care of Helena.

“My landlady got spooked by the cops and all the agents crawling everywhere and she’s selling the building. I’m gonna have to find a new place.” It makes you wonder where the hell Inez is going to go since this place was her home and her work, but you’ll call her later to check in. After you call Señora Perrín about getting back this month’s rent since you haven’t even been in the place for more than a few days this month. “I’ll call her tonight about returning Chi-Chi to her and I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can. I’m sure the last thing you want is roommates.”

It's a surprise, Javi sighing and looking around the area. "Shit." He hisses. "I'm sorry." He is. Feeling like this is also his fault. Maybe if he had been involved with the SearchBloc raid, there might have been less bloodshed.

“It’s not your fault.” He’s the last person you blame. After all, he wasn’t here last night. His partner might get a piece of your mind, though. “Guess I just became fodder for my own column.”

He snorts. "Another victim." He agrees. "This time because of us instead of Escobar." He doesn't tell you that you can just live with him. That would be too much. For both of you.

“We should get out of here.” It feels intrusive to be here now, but it feels intrusive to know you’re now going back to his apartment with no idea of when you’ll be able to leave. The whole thing is uncomfortable and grating and you don’t like not knowing what the next step is.

"Is that all you have?" He moves to take some of the bags from you, happy that he has a vehicle that can hold more than the little box car you drive. That thing is a rolling hazard.

“In this country?” You nod, reluctantly letting him take some things from your arms. “It was a furnished apartment, that’s why I took the place. This is all my shit, plus some things for Bogotá’s best guard doggy.”

"Okay." He nods and moves to the door, pushing outside to hold the door opened for you. "Then let’s get you back to the apartment so you can get settled."

“Javier, I—” He doesn’t question it. Doesn’t hem or haw. Doesn’t even hesitate. And suddenly your father’s favorite words of wisdom float to the top of your mind, about how your soulmate comes into your life when you need them most. You have no idea how true that is, Dad.

“Thank you,” you say finally, offering him a grateful smile.

Javi nods, always having a hard time accepting thanks and whistles for Chi-Chi to stop sniffing the side of the building when you walk out. "We'll stop at the market on the way home." He offers. "I know you'd rather have some food in the fridge."

“That will work.” Loading up the car together, you get Chi-Chi settled and give her a treat for being so good. Somewhere in the back of your mind you fear there is a strong possibility of her spending at least one more night with you so you would prefer her to be happy. Once everything is inside and you’re buckling your seatbelts, you turn to look at Javier again. “Give it some thought and let me know what you think a fair number for rent would be. Since I’m basically subletting your guest room now, until I find a new place.”

Javi grunts, knowing that he won't take money for you using his room. He's not that kind of person and he already pays well below market value for his apartment. Instead, he starts the Jeep and throws it into gear. He had managed to get an overall view of the scene, so he's happy. "You know what we need to get?"

“At the market? Yeah.” There are a good handful of meals you can make easily and well, and those ingredients aren’t hard to come by. But as the child of a career cook, you know your way around a kitchen. At least you can cook some decent meals for Javier as a thank you.

"Sorry I don't keep much there." He huffs. "Honestly, I'm not home much."

“Don’t worry about it. Youngest kid of a chef, remember?” That grateful smile still tugs at your lips. “I do about half my work at home and I’m a fair cook.”

He nods, not as upset about you staying as he ever imagined he would be. He had resisted living with Lorraine before the wedding and he's never actually had a roommate unless his parents counted, which they didn't. If he wanted to go see Freckles or Vanessa, he would just go to them, but maybe he would find another girl.

One that you hadn't also slept with.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo @missladym1981 @alexiamargot06

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña x plus size reader #plus size reader #Narcos #Narcos fanfic #soulmate au

106 notes · View notes

madnessr · 1 year ago

Text

Last Night Part Two

Poly Lost Boys + Michael x Reader

Synopsis: You still ponder what really killed you, the day you died or the day you lost your humanity. When the dawn becomes something you'll never see again, will you ever be able to accept your new nature?

Summary: Micheals Ex-Girlfriend received a concerning phone call from Lucy begging her to come and check up on a now distant and unrecognizable Micheal. But what was meant to be a simple reunion and check-in, instead leads to four very rambunctious bikers and an old lover, to be extremely opposed to letting you leave again.

Warning: Animal mutilation, blood, blood drinking, minor injuries, hurt/comfort, some angst, grinding, murder, corrupted representation of Christianity

Part One

Word Count: 10k

There will be no explicit or detailed smut because I wanted to keep this fic gender neutral! I'm sorry to anyone who expected some spicer scenes with our boys!

Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me and motivate me to keep writing! Please keep leaving them since I love to read them! This will be the final chapter in the"Last Night" series since I'm dying to write about something new. Let me know what you thought of this!

If you needed to explain how you were feeling, the best way to describe it would be in a state of constant panic. Your mind was throbbing, eyes catching onto everything, yet nothing simultaneously. You had become all too aware of the rising sun, the bright light blinding you. Planting a powerful migraine against your head. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't feel but felt everything at the same time. Heard nothing but could make sense of the squirrels hopping from branch to branch. You cried, utterly unaware of where you were. In that moment of panic, when that monster finally let you go. You didn't look back; you didn't stop until you felt like you had put enough distance between you and Santa Carla.

You sat somewhere in the forest, crawled against a tree as if the wide bark would somehow hide you as you wheezed for air. The moist soil underneath you tainted your pants, leaving you looking exactly how you felt. Some of your blood had soaked up into the top of your shirt, while the rest grew dry and uncomfortable against your skin.

Your body ached. Your teeth burned, and so did your hands. Glancing down, you nearly threw yourself back into despair at the sight of your sharp, nail-like claws. What happened to you? And most importantly, what were you now?

You couldn't help but wail, your knees pressed tightly against your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself. As if you could protect yourself from whatever was happening, even though you knew how nonsensical that hope was. It still provided some comfort for you.

You had stayed in the position for hours, and although your sobbing was long replaced with tiredness, you tried staying awake. But something about the sun forced your eyes closed, and when you opened them once more, the sun was setting, and your throat burned. You groaned, sitting up from your lying position. You didn't know what to do; you couldn't return to Lucy's, especially if she had something to do with this. The thought made your stomach tie itself in knots, a sinking feeling nearly pressing you against the ground. How have you gotten yourself into this position?

How could anyone do this to you? Your fists balled at the thought, your sharp nails slicing into your palm. You slowly got up, stumbling around for a little. You could hear so much, could see more precisely than ever before. It gave you a massive headache; some part of you just wanted to curl up against the tree stump and wake up from this nightmare. But you couldn't, no matter how much that thought broke you. This was real; whatever was happening was real.

You stumbled aimlessly through the woods, trying to figure things out away from the rest of society. A part of you felt safe, knowing that he couldn't find you in the middle of nowhere. The sharp sound of a twig snapping pulled you out of your thoughts, predatory eyes instantly zeroing in on the location the sound originated from. The sound came from a bush, the leaves rustling as something clearly nudged and navigated through the shrubbery. You stood still, not trusting yourself. A peculiar itch, almost like a nervous tick, urged you towards the noise. Your hands craved for something, your teeth ached, and your throat felt dry. Your body screamed for something you didn't understand or refused to recognize.

Your breath caught in your throat as a small, brown bunny peeked out from the bushes. Its small button nose twitched as it sniffed and analyzed its surroundings. It's cheeks made the whiskers flick, small paws tapping the ground several times before dedicating the mossy floor save enough to hop on. You froze, that nagging urge growing into a raging protest. Before you could even hesitate to question the simple thought, you pounced. The small, high-pitched screech of the bunny brought tears to your eyes as you gripped it. Getting the small fluffy body to your mouth and biting into it. The tiny creature uttered another small cry before going silent, its previously kicking paws and legs halting before slowly sinking and stilling completely. But you didn't care; you couldn't, not when that god-awful nectar was pouring down your throat. Calming the fire, quenching your pain, all through the price of another.

You were messy, and the grip of your jaw was so fierce that you could hear several crunching of bones under your grip. You gulped up whatever you could, blood dripping out the corners of your mouth, trailing down your neck, and staining your shirt collar. You sucked until nothing came out of the poor bunny anymore, letting go and looking down at the life you just stole. Realization dawns on you like boulders, dropping the poor lifeless body and beginning to weep. You killed something; you killed that bunny. You felt hysterical, hands twisting themselves in your hair as you hyperventilated. The word monster takes the form of a mantra, marching to the beat of your racing heartbeat.

The burning in your throat died down but was quickly replaced by the aching of your heart. Mourning what you had done it took you nearly an hour to calm down. You had tried wiping and scrubbing off the blood on your body, most likely smudging and making your appearance much worse, but at the moment, all you wanted was that crimson color off of you. It stained, and you weren't sure if you could ever indeed wash it off. It didn't stain your skin, but your soul would bear this mark for eternity.

You gently shifted the bunny, starting to dig a small hole beside the bushes it hopped out from. Your appearance couldn't get any worse now, blood and dirt-stained clothes. Grimy hands, the dark soil stuck underneath your fingernails. When considering the hole deep enough to prevent any predator from digging up the carcass, gently lower the bunny, covering it with dirt and patting the ground flat afterward. You sat before the makeshift grave, not knowing what to think or feel. There was too much, and as you sat rooted to the ground, you tried figuring out what to do next. A small thought came to you: if anyone could help you now, at least give you refuge, it would be the church. Wasn't that their whole shtick? Providing aid and guidance in moments of doubt, because if that was the case, you'd be a perfect candidate for practicing their moral codes.

But you had spent nearly the entire day wallowing and mourning your old life, who you were, and fearing what the setting sun made you. No, showing up the way you were now, covered in blood, was a sure way to send a raging mob after you holding pitchforks and blazing torches. You needed to find shelter, hide out the night, and adequately recuperate. But you had no money, and you'd rather die than return to Lucy's home.

Was that why she had actually brought you here? The thought made your skin colder than it was, but an even worse thought crossed your mind. Twisting your heart in a brutal, vice-like grip. Did Michael know?

Time seemed to tick past you at that moment, the singing breeze creating a symphony of rustling bushes and leaves. It all moved through you, past you, like you weren't really there. You didn't want to breathe, think, or even consider that thought a possibility. Micheal had always been a lousy liar. Currently, that was the only knowledge you had to ground yourself. You tried to control your breathing, but with your rampaging thoughts and the subtle taste of copper in your mouth, you just couldn't. It wasn't that easy, and looking ahead simply felt too overwhelming for you. So, you took things step-by-step, figuring the first thing you could do was get out of this damned forest.

So, you began walking straight ahead following the setting sun. The orange hue occasionally broke through the thick foliage of branches and leaves. Cascading delicate beams of light onto the mossy floor, the beauty of the sight calmed you. It felt separate from the rest of the world, like a slight pause for you to soak up before returning to the never-resting society you belonged—or instead, used to belong to.

You couldn't tell how long you walked or where you were, but you knew you had finally made it when you saw the flash of car lights. The sun had finally died for the day, lessening your headache considerably. You finally made it to a gravel-like road, not having any official pavement but clearly hardened from car tires throughout the years. You watched as the car drove on, hoping to follow it to a more populated area. You let the path guide you. You had to be careful; the course contained so many depressions and holes in the ground you didn't want to accidentally twist your ankle. With your current streak of bad luck, you wouldn't put something so ridiculous above you. The longer you walked, the more you couldn't help but wonder how anyone could travel down this path in a car without getting incredibly motion sick.

However, when you finally saw a house in the upcoming clearing, you weren't greeted by the gradual introduction of neighborhood streets but instead a large farm. Fields and crops litter the area to your left, while pens are to your right. No doubt about yielding livestock. The area practically reeked of cows in the most unpleasant way imaginable. But you found yourself relieved; a farm like this wouldn't have the toughest surveillance to beat, if any, and you felt safer knowing that. You snuck around, keeping yourself hidden as you watched the farmer exit his truck and enter his home.

You could see so much clearer if the sun had never really set. You glanced around before you found a wooden barn on the south side of the field, rushing your way over and trying to pry the rusted doors open. It didn't work, at least it wouldn't if you didn't want to rip the door off its hinges. You walked around, seeing a broken window. Small, sharp jagged pieces of glass still stuck out here and there, but you managed to lift yourself through it. Not without a complimentary scratch, a low hiss escaped you as you glanced at your cut arm. Your eyes watched as your blood cried from the cut, and a sick part of you was tempted to lick it clean.

The barn was clearly too old to still be in use; the only company you had was heaps of hay, creaking wood, and a roof that threatened to collapse onto you any minute. The barn had two stories, although the second story only covered one-half of the first floor, a long unstable ladder leading towards it. You had come so far, and the thought of being above viewpoint was somewhat comforting. So, you carefully climbed up the ladder. Letting out a sigh of relief when you made it, throwing yourself onto a lump of hay in the far corner. You felt hidden, away from anything or anyone.

"They ought' to be here!" Paul exclaimed, clearly exasperated and exhausted from this situation. They had been looking for you all night, neither of them being able to get an ounce of rest knowing you, their mate, had gone missing in Santa Carla of all places. They had traced your steps the next evening when you failed to show up, following your faint scent into a shady alleyway. To say Marko nearly hyperventilated at the smell and sight of your dried blood was an understatement. They were all beyond worried, sick to the bone. Their only consolation is that you were alive; they would've felt it had your bond died. No, you were still alive, and they couldn't rest until they found you.

"I smell it too; it's faint. They must've been here; their blood must've dried a while ago." Dwayne hadn't spoken a word since you went missing, only ever speaking up when he needed to. He had to remain calm; in a situation like this, David and the others needed a rock to ground themselves on, and despite the emotional anguish he felt, clawing at his heart to cry out for you senselessly, he remained stoic.

"Search the area. I don't care if you have to stick your nose in the filthy soil; find where the scent leads." David growled; he felt the worst out of everyone; he felt a horrible, cumbersome chain tying itself around his throat. Guilt. He was the coven leader; his job was to ensure his mates were safe. He was immortal, a god-damned creature of hell, but what was the point of being invincible if he couldn't even protect the people who mattered? He shouldn't have let you go that night; he shouldn't have listened to the others. It was in his instinct to take you with him, to keep you in his sight, safe.

None of them really conversed much since you disappeared, sure they were all mates, but your absence left them incomplete. If the conversation wasn't about finding you, they didn't have it.

Micheal was fairing the worst, an undeniable feeling of guilt similar to David's settling on his body. Sure, David was supposed to protect everyone. But ultimately, he was the reason you came to Santa Carla in the first place. Maybe if he had hidden it better, his adjustment to his new life, his mother would've never sent you here to hell city of all places.

Marko couldn't stay still; he had even tried some of Paul's more vigorous weeds to keep him calm. But he couldn't, rushing from place to place like a frightened cat. Some might mistake this as hyperness, but the boys knew the real reason. Pure, unfiltered anxiety. Like a bunny hopping from place to place, a weasel who can't stay still, Marko found you first. Sleeping in a curled, protective form, body covered in several pieces of hay. But the sight of dried blood over you, not hearing your heartbeat, his world crashed down onto him.

“Y/N?” His voice was croaked, raw from emotion. The simple word, breathless as it was, caught the attention of everyone.

Marko kneeled, letting his hand ghost your shoulder and arm before shaking you. Seeing your eyes open, as tired and irritated as they were, brought such relief to him that he could cry. However, Paul was a step ahead of him, being the first to join Marko in fussing over you.

David, Dwayne, and Micheal followed soon after. Dwayne wasted no time helping you sit up, carefully inspecting your body until letting his eyes land on the cut on your arms, studying it carefully before grabbing the cloth tied around his waist and making a makeshift bandage to prevent dirt from coming into your wounds.

"What happened to you?" Micheal finally piped up, grabbing your hands and inspecting the dried blood. He only let out his own breath when he realized it wasn't your blood. He pulled you into a tight hug, his hold tight and unrelinquishing as he nuzzled his head into the top of your hair.

"Stop hogging her!" Paul complained, shoving Micheal off. It wasn't anything too forceful, more like a nudge. When Micheal pulled away to fight with Paul, Marko swooped in and pulled you into his arms. Taking on a similar position to Micheals. "You made us worried." He murmured into your neck, giving you another squeeze to reassure yourself you were there. Safe in his arms again.

All the boys had been so ecstatic to see you; even David's shoulders dropped as he sighed of pure relief. But he was more analytical than the others; he recognized the lack of your heartbeat. The way blood seemed to cling onto you, he could sense it. Somehow, you had become a vampire. The thought made him cold, even more, frigid than he already was. No, his anger was blazing, but it did not radiate a scalding heat but the opposite. His fury was glacial.

"Wait outside for us." His authoritative voice commanded, sending silence across the shabby barn. They all send pleading looks toward you before slowly leaving. Dwayne grabbed David's shoulder, reminding him to be gentle with whatever the bleach blonde had planned. When the boys had finally left, you felt your ability to breathe return. You had been so overwhelmed, thousands of thoughts and questions running through you. Why weren't they afraid? You were a bloody mess! You could understand Micheal looking for you, but the others as well?

Your small moment of relief was quickly replaced with dread as you realized you were alone in a room with a man you couldn't bring yourself to lie to. It was silent, the sound of singing crickets seemingly decorating the night air. It would be relaxing if you didn't hate the oppression its silence came with. Slowly getting up, you winced at the reopening of your cut.

David slowly walked over, carefully reaching out and cupping your cheeks. He stayed like that momentarily, simply soaking in the sight of you before him. Eventually, his hand traveled lower before pushing down the collar of your shirt, revealing the two puncture wounds that changed your life forever. His eyes flashed yellow, a low, animalistic sound escaping him.

"Who?"

"What?" You snapped yourself out of your lost haze, finally meeting David's cold stare. It wasn't directed at you, but you, unfortunately, didn't know that.

"Who did this to you?"

The question seemingly transported you. Back into the body of a helpless individual, losing their lives in a dingy alleyway. The fear, the panic, it made you crumble. Your knees went weak as you wobbled back onto the floor. "I—" you struggled, trying to put on a brave face in front of such stern eyes. "I—I didn't know them."

That answer provided a scowl to erupt across David's features, a feeling of uselessness washing over him. How was he supposed to avenge you if you couldn't give him anything to work off of? He sighed, his mind wanting to push further, but a simple glance at your quivering form prevented him from doing so. "Come on, rosebud, let's get you somewhere safe." He eventually settled on that, watching you stumble before picking you up. If he hadn't pushed you enough tonight, he lifted off the ground to reach the bottom, and promptly, the outside of the barn sent your mind reeling.

You wanted to run, but the feeling of being in someone's arms. Someone you knew, someone who felt oddly safe to you had you staying. The boys glanced at you two, Dwayne coming over and taking you from David's arms. He saw your weak and drowsy state, his heart clenching at the sight. "She hasn't had enough blood." He started calmly, watching you soullessly rest your head against his chest. "We'll give her some in the cave, then she'll be able to recover someplace safe." Dwayne nodded at David's statement, readjusting you in his arms. The movement prompted you to open your eyes, the smell of his leather jacket oddly settling to you. "Get some rest Y/N; we'll take care of you now. You'll feel better soon," you nodded slowly. Closing your eyes and resigning yourself to whatever the future holds for you now. It couldn't get any worse anyways.

"Are they still sleeping?"

An exasperated sigh echoed throughout the cave, Dwayne rolling his eyes before rubbing his temples. "You asked five minutes ago; yes, they're still sleeping!"

A loud hush followed from David and Micheal, both scolding the two for talking so loudly. Everyone was on edge; you had slept for nearly two days now. And although odd sleeping patterns weren't rare for fledglings, you were a neglected fledgling, which provided them all with many concerns and worries. The birth of a new vampire was often labeled as a fledgling, as in the eyes of vampires, you, and your very unique nature, was akin to that of a baby. Similarly to neglecting babies upon birth, they weren't sure what consequences you'd suffer from upon waking.

"David, we need to wake them. They need to feed." Micheal chimed in, his need to coddle you almost overbearing. Although the boys had given him a fair share of tough love, they made sure his fledgling stage was a healthy one. He was more moody than ever, but changes like those were common for at least a year after turning. Although David acted the coldest, he had been the most persistent that Micheal was feeding enough and adequately. A complete mother-hen in denial.

David sighed, getting up from his wheelchair-like throne and making his way over to the bed you and Dwayne were snuggled in. The sight would've warmed his heart if the circumstances would've been different. He walked around before settling down on the edge of the bed closest to you. He gave Dwayne an approving nod, "Wake them; they've rested enough." He whispered, gently stroking your cold cheek before pulling away. His poor rosebud.

Dwayne gently shook your shoulder, shifting you off of him in order not to scare you when you woke up, watching you slowly stir awake, blinking the fatigue off of your cute expression.

For you, it has, somehow, gotten worse.

Waking up, you felt feverish; your body ached similarly to how it had done hours ago. When you had—had killed that bunny.

Your hand instinctively clutched at your throat, trying to somehow dull the ache. Your hearing was blurred, but you heard distant hushes and orders before fully coming too. Your eyes focused on the concerned figures of David and Dwayne, practically looking over you as Dwayne took your hand away from your throat, hushing your pain-fueled whines. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay." Dwayne's soft but stern voice seemed to stabilize you, but the familiar need left your body twisting and shifting. Every little muscle felt utterly uncomfortable, aching torturously.

David gently combed his fingers through your hair, trying his best to calm you down. Seeing his mate, his little vampire, in such distress ruined him. "It's okay, rosebud, we're here to help." He hummed, glancing at Dwayne as they silently communicated. They slowly helped you sit up, watching the way your hand unknowingly sharpened its nails. Your body prepares itself for a meal.

"What's happened?" You stammered, hating the way you were losing control. A deep sense of fear washed over you, draining into your being. "I—David, Dwayne—"You couldn't form a proper sentence, but the words you did manage to say put the two eldest vampires into a protective frenzy.

Dwayne hushed you, gently rubbing a soothing pattern against your back. David already shrugged off his jacket, shifting his shirt to properly expose his neck to you. He watched with narrowed eyes how your gaze halted against his suddenly exposed skin, watching the small bob of your throat as you swallowed at sight.

Dwayne gently cupped the back of your head, nudging you towards David. "You're hungry, baby; look at David. He's offering you a meal, sweetheart. You'll feel better once you feed; trust us; we'll take care of you."

Your unsure gaze flashed between them, that odd feeling once again tugging at you. Your body, more than ever, felt pulled to them; they gave you comfort. A need to be with them, and in a moment of weakness, you thought yourself giving in to them. Letting your body get pulled; once close enough, David snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to practically be sitting in his lap. You inhaled the sweet scent that seemingly surrounded David, making your tense shoulders loosen, your body easing into the comfort that David provided. The bleach blood rubbed your back, trying to soothe you further. "Come on, rosebud, let those instincts take over."

The two could tell you weren't going to take a bite on your own, your mind and body too perplexed to accept the reality of your situation. Dwayne reached over, letting one of his fingernails extend into a claw-like shape and making a small slash at David's neck, letting his crimson blood trickle from the wound.

As if the smell and sight triggered your buried instincts, you latched onto David's neck. Your fangs pierce the skin with a painful clumsiness typical for a fledgling. But the sound of your eager gulps had both of the vampires relaxing, Dwayne gently moving your hair to one side as David held you close. "That's it, good job." The blonde praised, keeping a firm but caring grip on the back of your head, not letting you go until you had a full feeding. The praise, the touch, and the comfort from both of them allow you to fully relax. Letting out small sighs of relief as you drank greedily, gulping down the sweet crimson from David. Letting his blood calm every screaming nerve inside you, replacing the dull ache with a welcomed high. "Good job, sweetheart; see how good it feels to feed?" Dwayne's voice cooed gently into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

It took a while before you unlatched from David, his blood messily spread and smeared across your mouth. The sight nearly made Dwayne coo at your adorable form, your eyes a little glassy from feeling so overwhelmed. David, on the other hand, felt overly satisfied, watching your relaxed state of a post-feed high, gently nudging you to lay back down.

"What a messy little fledgling you are." He teased softly, chuckling as he watched your eyes droop. Now that your needs have been met, you feel an unexplainable tiredness, the suddenness of your exhaustion setting your nerves off once more. Before you could push yourself up again, Dwayne guided you back down. Covering you in a blanket, "Sleep baby, it's normal to feel tired after such a big meal."

You nodded, at that moment, not overthinking. "We'll be here when you wake up; rest now, rosebud." You heard David's voice whisper, the two vampires watching you drift off into a peaceful slumber.

Once they were sure you were fully asleep, they slowly crawled out of the bed. Greeting the upset-looking vampires in the main hall, all angry about being benched by the oldest. "Why did you get to feed her?" Marko cursed, casting an irritated glare toward David, who sat back down with smugness. Flashing your sloppy bite mark off to the others with pride. "Because I'm the oldest and our coven leader Marko." He explained calmly, reveling in the jealousy of others.

Paul groaned, having laid himself back up on the couch. His head was hidden in one of the cushions. "They probably looked so cute.." Dwayne smiled, your hesitance and gradual acceptance being awfully adorable in his eyes. "They sure was." He mused, making both Marko and Paul groan.

Micheal sighed, a part of him just glad you ate. But he feared for what you'd be like after waking up from your nap, with a clear head this time. Would you hate him? Indeed you couldn't accept this life so quickly; among all of them, he was the only one who didn't see this feeding as acceptance. He knew you still had a lot of things to say, and none of the boys were ready to hear it.

When you woke up again, your body felt better, stronger, and more rejuvenated. You couldn't really remember what happened when you woke up the first time, only having a hazy memory of David and Dwayne being by your side. You sat up, looking around you and the bed you were In. The sheer curtains around the bed didn't let you see anything besides silhouettes around the cave, prompting you to get up and shift out of bed.

You glanced around, analyzing your surroundings. When did you get inside a cave? You could hear distant chatter, following the sound until you entered the central part of the cave. A decrepit fountain in the center of it all, your steps echoing across the stone floors.

"You're awake!" Paul perked up as he turned around at the sound of footsteps, grinning as he saw you. He waved you over, watching your confused stare before finally making your way around and sitting down on the couch beside him. The couch cushions were soft and overused, letting you practically sink into the pillow-like cushion.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his eyes carrying the familiar blown-out expression you were used to. "Right now? I'm surprisingly fine." Paul grinned at the answer, taking a quick drag of his joint before moving closer. "Now that's all I ever want to hear, baby."

"Piss off, you crack-head!" Micheal hissed, shoving Paul's face away from yours. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, standing up from the couch. "Micheal, we need to talk." You said sternly, ignoring the way Paul cackled behind you two.

The brunette nodded, walking back over to the bed the boys had set up for you. If David returned from his hunt early with Dwayne, the two overprotective vampires would roast him alive if they found out he had taken you out of their nest. He slid the curtains closed, trying to regain a semblance of privacy for you. "Okay," he murmured, crossing his legs as you two settled on the bed. "Hit me with it."

You sighed, initially wanting to leave wherever the hell you were. But you didn't seem to have the strength to settle back on the bed, sitting criss-cross and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "What the hell has been going on? I mean—what am I? What are you?" Questions kept escaping you like a bunch of word vomit, making Micheal hold up his hands to try and silence you.

"Slow down," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to hurt you with this information, but he knew it was a hard pill to swallow.

"Firstly, you're a vampire. We're not sure from who, but someone had turned you. The act is done by being bitten and then promptly consuming the other's blood."

As if the world didn't feel like it was falling down onto your shoulders, the cumbersome weight of your malicious reality certainly did wonders in keeping you in a constant state of disparity. You didn't want to believe Micheal, but you knew better than to sit in a puddle of denial. It wouldn't change a thing; you'd just drag out the pain longer. Before you could properly grieve your past life, the two devil twins came barging into your space. Jumping onto the mattress, making all of you bounce into the air before landing not so gracefully against the mattress.

"Jesus Christ, you two! Will you chill out? This ain't exactly easy for her to take in." Micheal argued, sitting back up with an irritated stare. But there was nothing much his words could do as the two blondes surrounded you.

"Cheer up, sugar! Being a vampire ain't all that bad; we can do some pretty cool things too!" Marko cheered, his energy quickly matched by Paul as they tried to cheer you up. They couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, no one in the cave could, but everyone was so preoccupied with your situation that even the century-old immortals didn't know what to do.

But you still couldn't get over the fact that you now had to kill people; what had happened to you filled you with such rage that you didn't know what to do with yourself. You had been wronged, and every fiber of your miserable being wanted to rip whoever did this to you apart by the seams. "Mhm, sounds great, Marko." You murmured into the crook of your arm, not really paying attention as you sat curled up on the bed.

Both Marko and Paul glanced at each other at your dull response, Paul's expression contorting to one of worry. He wasn't the best at comforting you, especially since he had wanted his turning, and although the thought of someone else harming you made his blood boil; in secret, a deeply-hidden part of him was glad. Now you were like them and could live together for the rest of your immortal lives. The two glanced at each other before nodding, bouncing off the cave and hiding behind the sheer curtains.

You hadn't even noticed them leaving, or at least you didn't acknowledge it. But the sound of subtle little squeaks had you lifting your head, letting out a small gasp of your own as you were bombarded by two blonde bats. One had fluffy blonde hair, while the other's fur appeared more curly, no doubt being reminiscent of the two blonde bikers. "Paul—Marko?" You called out, getting little chirps back in return. Paul flew around you a couple of times before landing on your head, making a mess of your hair. Marko didn't sit still, flying around you, giving you a slight nip here and there to keep you on edge as you laughed.

"I didn't know you could turn into bats!" You laughed, for a moment finding paece in the distraction the two provided. The sound of your small laughter provided the cave with an unseeable light, but all of them could feel it. Paul and Marko flopped back into their human form, grabbing your arm and hoisting you off of the bed. "Come on, darlin', you can do it too!" Paul cheered, Marko, nodding eagerly as the two distracted you.

Dwayne put the bag of clothes he had gotten for you in his hand down, letting his feet drop to the floor with David's. He let out a sigh, getting up and walking over to the two terror twins. "So she can fall onto the cave floor?" He asked, his disapproval clear in his authoritative tone.

"Lighten up, Dwayne! So you fall a little; what's so wrong with that? It's all part of the fun." Marko argued, mentally challenging Dwayne. Everyone knew their intention was to distract you, and although Dwayne couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, he wouldn't put you in danger, either. He prefers you brooding then having to you see your body black and blue from screaming bruises.

"You call falling on your ass fun?" Micheal chummed in, letting his body rest against the headboard of the bed, dramatically rubbing his butt to lighten the mood.

"Not everyone is as bad as you are when it comes to flying, Mikey," Paul argued, rolling his eyes.

"She shouldn't transform until she's had a proper meal." The authoritative voice of David chimes in, effectively ruining your mood. You wanted to stand up and argue with the blonde, to stomp your foot into the ground and demand he stops commanding you. But you were out of your element here; even if you wanted to be stubborn, you're just hurting yourself. "I am not killing anyone, David."

You watched his cold eyes narrow at you, wanting to watch you waiver, but seeing the resilient look on your face made him sigh. He pulled out a cigarette in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. His little mate was denying themselves proper health, and although he might act uncaring, it was worrying him sick. The boys had agreed to give you some time to adjust, but as the coven leader, it was his job to assure the health and safety of all his members. Especially you.

"Don't worry about it; you can still drink from us whenever you feel hungry." Micheal hummed, his tone gentle and reassuring as he rested his hand on your shoulder. Gently rubbing the tense muscle as you settled back into your seat. You nodded, cringing subtly at the idea before deciding to drop it.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Paul's sultry voice echoed in your ear, making your hands twitch with an unfamiliar itch. Excitement spreads through you, filling you with a sense of adrenaline. You slowly realized what position you were actually in, Paul lying underneath you, your hips straddling his as he rested his hand on your thigh. In your roughness, his jacket seemed to half slide down his shoulders, now resting against the crevice of his elbows. His mesh-like top left little to the imagination, his pale chest on display for your hungry eyes. He looked delicious.

As if Paul could tell he was losing your attention, he rutted his hips against your aching nerves. Letting out a shaky sigh, his signature crooked grin spreading across his features as he watched you suck in a breath. "Eyes on me baby, just feel with me, yeah?" Despite neither of you needing air, he sounded practically breathless; but you also felt breathless. Your post-drinking haze left your body so sensitive, every little spark of friction igniting a new addiction deep within you. You two felt like pure sin.

You have been in the cave for about two weeks now. Letting yourself feed regularly off of the vampires you were staying with, none of you liked to address the elephant in the room that was your turning. The mate bond between you all had strengthened, leading you all to be closer than before throughout this time. Even David acted softer around you. But something you weren't prepared for was the many feelings associated with feeding, more specifically the lust.

In all your rampant thoughts, you failed to see Marko pull the sheer curtain back, his eyes lighting mischievously at the display. He tugged off his boots, slowly sneaking over to you; your back still turned to him. He watched silently before slowly pushing himself against you. His chest against your back, the smell of the forest and fresh blood sticking to his skin. You moaned at the smell, letting the back of your head rest against his shoulder. As if sensing your uncertainty about actually indulging yourself, Marko slowly let his delicate hands trail towards your hips. Slowly, he guided yours to grind against Paul's aching bulge.

You let out a shaky breath, one that came out shaky and chopped as you let your body tingle at the feeling. Although it felt good at that very moment, it only fueled your need. Your hand gripped Markos, a weak attempt at stopping him from tempting you.

"Ah ah, let me darlin'." He mused, his tone so coy you could practically hear his smugness. He continued rocking your hips, one of the hands holding your hips gradually moving upwards sensually before ending at your chin. Cupping the skin in a firm grip, he slowly removed your head hiding in the crook of his neck and titled it towards the debauched sight of a panting Paul. His bottom lip was caught in between his lips, and one of his eyes squeezed shut as his chest heaved up and down in a complete state of breathlessness.

"Look at him, all messy for you." He pointed out, moving your hips to push particularly roughly against Paul, making both of you moan at the friction. Unlike Dwayne and Michael, Marko and Paul didn't want to comfort you in the sense that this situation was terrible, but instead accept what you now were. How good it could feel, what it was like to have the freedom to explore every ounce of your most concealed secrets.

"Lesson one of being a vampire," Marko mused, removing his hold on you. The two changed positions with you. Paul now leaning his back against the headboard, legs spread with you in between them, your back pressed against his chest. His hand trailed around your waist, teasing your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingers now torment your searing skin, which in reality was just as freezing as the two blondes was. Marko nudged your legs open, laying on his front so his head rested conveniently between your thighs. He guided them open, caressing your skin soothingly.

"Feeding is often accompanied by an insatiable–" Marko purred, kissing up the length of your thigh. "And nearly irresistible," He continued but was cut off by Paul, who had begun massaging your sides; "hunger," Paul finished.

"So why don't you lean back and let us care for ya'?" Paul mused, practically whispering the phrase into your ear. In a similar fashion, you would've imagined the snake talking Eve into biting into the apple, Paul and Marko were the current embodiment of Lucifer for you, and this time you weren't in the mood to repent. No, you'd welcome the flames of hell eagerly, the masochist inside you hoping to feel the sting of its flames. With a nod of your head, a messy high clouding you with need, you officially sold your soul to the two devils holding you.

Marko grinned, his lips trailing kisses up your thigh, inching closer to where you needed him to be. They were teasing you, your needy eyes watching Marko kiss over your most needy spot, his teeth nipping the top of your pants, one of his fangs sticking out from the fabric. He looked up, his darkened gaze connected with yours as he patiently pulled your undergarments down.

As if in a desperate attempt not to lose your attention, Paul nipped at your neck. The sudden action sends a small jolt of electricity through you, pulling a soft mewl from you. Marko cooed at the noise while Paul chuckled, both clearly amused by your current state. They knew how hormonal fledglings could be, like animals in heat; Micheal was no different.

They had helped him out too, and they were most eager to provide their services now as well.

No matter how hard they tried, how often they showed you the normality in their ways. You couldn't wrap your head around it, that nagging resistance keeping you awake. You couldn't enter this life without committing yourself to a final attempt at regaining your old one. So, when the others went out to eat after feeding you. You left, setting out for your last, and final attempt at regaining your old humanity.

The leaves rustled with a strange ferocity as you pushed your way through the untraveled path. You didn't want to accept what you were; there needed to be an alternative. You didn't want to admit it, so when the daunting forest around your figure cleared, you saw the back of the church. You wanted to believe in that hope, that perhaps all these values preached and thrown down your throat had a purpose.

The forest was at the back of the church, revealing a small garden enclosed by a white picket fence. You hopped it, letting your bloody hands stain the purity of its color permanently. You rushed towards the back door, balling your first and desperately pounding in the creaky wooden door. You quickly shifted your focus, trying to open the door and jiggling the handle. "Please! Someone—anyone, please!"

Not hearing an answer, you stumbled back. Your tears make you choke on your own sorrow, rushing around toward the front of the building. "Please, Father! Anyone, please!" You begged, continuing to slam your hand against the door. It wasn't until it opened that you stood stunned, chest heaving, hands stained, and body soaked. You wailed in front of this man's sanctuary. Begging entry.

The man appeared elderly, with white and gray hair dominating the little hair he still had left on his head. His black cassock made his position as a priest clear, but you didn't dare move. You felt the need to be invited in.

"Goodness! Child, come, come inside." He ushered you into the old building; there were candles lighting the area, casting everything in a warm glow. You stepped inside, unable to stop your shaking, until the man covered you in a blanket. He was probably trying to provide your frigid body with warmth. "What happened to you?"

"Father, please, you need to help me. I need help—please, I need aid." You stammered, letting him guide you into a back room away from the main hall. He listened to you, his brows and face contorted in worry. "Calm down; you are safe now."

The room seemed less decorated but more elaborate than you would've thought it would be in the church, but you didn't say much as you sat down in the empty chair across the old desk. This must've been some sort of office. The priest stared for a moment, his gaze lingering on your stained hands before shuffling around the desk. His shoes thumped across the red carpet covering half of the dark oak floors. He sat down, letting his hands intertwine, and he rested them folded on the edge of the desk. "So, my child, what brings you here? What has brought you to my doors in such distress?"

You needed a moment to collect yourself for that question. What hadn't happened to you in the last week? Every horror imaginable seemed to be flowing through your life at the moment. A part of you wanted to lie, but you knew that hiding the true nature of your case would prevent you from getting any practical help. This was necessary. Clearing your throat, you slowly gather your perseverance to continue.

"Father, you must believe what I have to say. I am new to Santa Carla, but in my stay, I've encountered death and despair more than in any other place." You started, your voice shook and a clear representation of what you were feeling, utterly distraught. The man nodded, seemingly focused on you as he urged you to continue. "But what I originally thought were simple gangsters, feuds, and typical street violence became much darker. Vampires, Father, Vampires reside in this town, and I've found myself to be one of them."

You were desperate; frantic eyes watched the man inhale and lean back in his chair. He thought deeply, or at least the look of concentration was deeply etched into the creases of his face. He sighed, uncrossing his hand and gently reaching out to rest a comforting hand on top of yours.

"My child, I've read the bible well. The true structure of this world and how it came to be, the only time vampires were ever named—or mentioned. Alukah only ever being mentioned in Sefer Chasidim, where the creature is understood to be a living human being but can shape-change into a wolf. Alukah can also roughly be translated to "blood-lusting monster" or, in your case, a vampire."

He had a calm tone, deep and raspy, but it seemed to have an oddly chiding tone. He moved away, leaning fully back now against his chair as he chuckled. "But my dear, I assure you that these are old tales; such demons do not exist among us anymore."

His words were like a splash of cold water to the face, a deep, unsettling reality overcoming you. You sounded crazy; of course, no one would believe you. "But Father!" He held his hand up to silence you, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. "You can lie to me, but you cannot fool the Lord."

Anger seemed to replace your sorrow, standing up abruptly, the stool you were previously resting in falling to the floor with a loud clunk. "I am not lying!" You screeched, your face unknowingly morphing into one similar to the boys. Angled features, sharp bones, and burning yellow eyes. The man stumbled back, stammering as he took in the demonic sight that was you. His hand unknowingly grabbed onto his cross, moving out of his chair.

"I need your help Father; I have not consumed human blood yet! There needs to be a way to fix this!" Once again, you were pleading. A part of you was growing sick of it; how could a man detest your current nature but refuse to help you revert back to your "purer" self at the same time? It was hypocritical.

The hand holding the pectoral cross shook with a small tremor, breath equally as rough when it escaped his shaken form. His free hand covered his mouth, either trying to hide his labored breathing or trying to regain composure. You weren't quite sure. The silence in the room now was unsettling, threatening even—leaving you on edge. Finally, the old man's hoarse voice cut through the air as he removed the pale hand from his mouth. He waved it toward him as he walked over before passing you and opening the door. Standing beside the frame as he beckoned you to follow.

"Come come, my child. We must act quickly; you have the devil inside you. With every moment we waste, it'll grow stronger." You nodded, cringing at his choice of words before slowly following him. You would've argued at the choice of words but didn't seem to have the energy to do so. You followed as he led you through the church, leading you towards the back door you had previously banged on. He opened it, leading you towards the backyard. To the left, there was a small gravely path that shortly led to a wooden shed. Wood rot was apparent when you looked at the dying boards that made up the shed's walls.

He unlocked the shed with his key; the loud cling of chains dropping was quickly followed by the squeak of old hinges being forced to move again as he opened the door. It was an average shed if it didn't have a hidden doorway behind a shabby bookshelf. The old man pushed the shelf to the left, revealing a mossy, dirty stairway further down in what you assume to be a basement.

As if the priest could see your confusion, he began to say, "This church used to perform a multitude of exorcisms. We used to do it in the old church, but people began associating it too much with demons, so we renovated the old shack basement to do the job. That was a while ago," He mumbled, walking down the steps and revealing an equally run-down setup. There was a bed, shabby with a mattress stained with yellow and brown. The bed frame seemed to be made of rusted metal, not undoubtedly a cheap purchase at the time. Restrains we're hanging from each end of the bed.

Every fiber of your being was begging you not to lay on that mattress, but your own desperation convinced you. It convinced you to lie down and let that man tie you up; it made you trust him to cure you.

"So what will you do?"

"What I need too."

His gruff voice echoed through the room; he had tied something loosely around your eyes. Explaining that it was all part of the process. You heard him open on an old shelf, the sound of clinking wood making you uneasy. Your instincts screamed at you, but you weren't sure for what. You didn't understand yourself anymore, and the frustration coursing through you nearly brought you to tears. You just wanted all of this to be over, to understand yourself once again.

"And what would that be?" You edged further, feeling like something was wrong.

"What I was born to do."

His voice grew darker, lowering an octave or two, making you shift. The blindfold slid at your defiance, sliding off of one of your eyes. Snapping them open, you took in a sight you'd surely never forget. There, a man swore to do no harm and held a wooden spike in his shaky hand. The other clutching his cross to his heart while whispering mantras. He didn't even hesitate as he saw your yellow eyes open before he slashed forward, putting his full force into the throw of the stake.

Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was simply foolish for the man to believe leather binds would chain you. But in a moment of adrenaline, you pushed your body away from the mattress, your wrists and ankles suffering a burn from the sudden action as you snapped yourself away from your murder. Watching the way his sheer force stabbed the stake through the mattress, your eyes lingering on sight.

That blow was meant to kill you.

"You fucking bastard!" You growled, a distorted tone to your voice as you took a step towards him. But with your lack of control, your hand was around the man's throat with his old back smashed against one of the walls.

"I trusted you! What kind of priest are you? You are meant to aid, protect, and serve. I am still one of God's creations! You taint your very purpose in this life with your actions!" The hand around his neck tightened, your claws unwilling to draw blood. Your eyes zeroed in on the sinful liquid, the smell so much more intense than of any of the boys.

The boys.

David was right; they were right. There was no turning back for you.

"You will never—be one of God's—creations."

Those were his last words before you ripped his throat out with your teeth. Dismembering the man's jugular, drinking away the last of your crumbling humanity. There was an irony in it that the remains of your dying humanity weren't taken from the vampires you now lived with but by a human themselves.

The man fell to the floor, eyes a haunting color. They were cloudy; you couldn't describe the sight of his pale skin mimicking the shade of yours.

You wailed, grieving everything you were as you sat hunched on the floor. Covered in the blood of the man who tried, and in some way—killed you.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, frozen, until the boys came. A hand gently shaking your shoulder, making you jump, meeting the eyes of a saddened Paul. "Oh, darlin'.." He whispered, watching you stammer, desperate to explain. But he simply picked you up, bridal-style, and led you out where the rest of the boys stood.

Marko walked over, letting Paul set you on the ground before the curly-haired vampire pulled you into a tight hug. A hug which all of the boys joined, their hearts breaking at the sound of your sobs. "It's okay, it'll be okay," Marko whispered, holding you close.

"Come on, let's take you home." David sighed after a moment. His voice drowned out in the hauntingly silent night.

That evening was the second and final marking of your death. The first takes place in an alleyway by a vampire, and the job is finished by a human. You struggled after that night; you barely ate or talked. You felt awful, your thoughts not abandoning you or your guilt. You were a murderer.

That all had taken place a few days ago, your body now sat on the roof along the boardwalk. It was a motel, two stories high, so you found a semblance of privacy on top of the concrete roof. You sat on the thick stone wall of a fence, letting your legs dangle over the edge.

"I'll never forget the day I made my first victim." Micheals voice cut through the distant booming of chatter and joy taking place below you by the adolescent and naive party-goers on the boardwalk.

"It was April 6th, at about 12:06. I lost my life forever." He went on, walking closer towards you. Stopping beside you and leaning on the fence with his forearms. His gaze lingered on the glowing boardwalk, casting everything surrounding it in a golden orange.

"So we're all murderers.." You murmured, eyes not meeting him, but you knew he was now looking at you. Your tone was cold and distant.

"He was a child molester." Micheal spat, standing up and gently moving you so you looked at him. "We don't have to be monsters, Y/N; we don't have to kill the good. I chose to take the evil from this world, and you can too."

You nodded weakly, not in the mood to argue. You let a frail smile tug on your lips, nodding to his words as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulder and squeeze you close before slowly leaving. Giving you space. Once again, you were surrounded by silence. Nothing but the blurred screams from ride-goers, drunks laughing and prancing around on the ground beneath you.

"He's wrong." That crystal clear voice, his tone stern and unwavering even if David tried to sound gentle. But his words felt icy like a cold bucket of water was poured over you. Sinking into the skin, leaving goosebumps to ravage your already frigid body. When Micheals words provided comfort, as if holding your wounded heart in his hands, David seemed to drop it instead.

"What?"

He walked over, the sound of his boots tapping against the concrete. You didn't necessarily look at him, but you noticed he settled beside you. His body bent forward, forearms resting against the wall-like railing on the rooftop. You both stood there in silence, watching the stars glitter across the ocean's surface. The silent, cruel breeze drifts through your hair and body. Seagulls cried, and boardwalk goers partied, but you felt so far away from it all. It made you question the finality of your death and where it had really occurred. Did you die in that alleyway or when you let go of your remaining humanity? You were sure a part of you must die in order to take a life; death is inevitable for either party. There is no such thing as only one dying; the other might live but never completely. Your humanity had died along with that priest.

"You are a monster." David's voice was stern, clear, and factual. Your gaze turned to him finally, seeing the way he stared so longingly out at the sea before turning to you.

"What the fuck David?" You snapped, feeling like this was not the time for him to throw his own values onto you. You had killed someone, taken a life, and instead of trying to bring you any consultation, he insulted you?

"Don't you think I feel shitty enough? Fuck this, I know, okay? I know you don't need to stand here and rub it in my face!" Why had you expected anything else from the blonde, you couldn't lie to David, and he had neither lied to you. He was, on many occasions, the truth.

"You are a monster, Y/N. You will never die; you will never age." He hummed, ignoring your outburst as he took out a cigarette and lit it. He held it up to his lips, taking a long drag, dropping his hand against the railing before blowing out the smoke. "But you must feed." There was a finality in his town that made you suffer as if you were the only one who noticed the morbid aberration of your circumstances. But how were you supposed to explain your regret about eating a sheep to a hungry pack of wolves?

"What if I don't want to?" You asked, voice hoarse from the raw emotions you felt. You wanted to smack him, berate him to find another time to torment you.

"You'll kill someone you actually like." He whispered an answer that took you off guard. Eyes trailing back to him, you noticed that haze. A similar one to what Michael used to wear whenever he encountered an old memory. Yes, David seemed to be dancing in his past.

"But make no mistake, Y/N. You are a monster. A filthy abomination that feeds off the weak, the defenseless." He focused his cold gaze on you, "You will fall apart the day you realize just how much you enjoy it. The screams, the suffering, the pain. It will be the only consistent factor in your life. And when you look around and see the constant deterioration of mankind. You will turn and see us." He took another drag of his cigarette before dropping it, suffocating its flame with his boot. "We are monsters too, Y/N."

"I will never let you forget it. I will tell you every day before you rest and when you awake." There was an odd gentleness to his tone, one that made you look up at him once more. Although you could hardly bear to keep eye contact with the man.

"Why?" You had a thousand questions running wild throughout your head, an intimidating rampage and riot pushing through, begging millions of questions to be answered. They stuck in your throat like a lump, a noose around your vocals, keeping you silent. Finally, you managed to settle on that one word. Why?

"Do you think a lion thinks of itself as a monster when it eats a gazelle?"

"We aren't animals, David–"

"But aren't we? We're all just mammals trying to get by. A lion doesn't feel guilty for killing because that's what a lion simply does. They need to in order to survive." His eyes seemed to burn into you, a desperate sense of vulnerability taking hold of his features. It seemed David wanted to spare you from your own feelings, to clear the path you were going on, no doubt one he had walked before.

"But what if we asked the gazelle what they thought of the lion. When a meal would mean losing a brother or sister, mother or father, the gazelle would see the lion as a monster too."

A heavy wind blew through your hair, reminding you of the night air. Whispering about the daytime and how you would never be able to see it again. Feel its warmth kiss your skin, see its joyful birth across the horizon. The wind mocked you, and the night sky never felt so empty before.

"So?" You asked, wanting a conclusion to this lesson. A small chuckle parted from David, the blonde finding your impatience amusing.

"The term monster is subjectable. It depends on who you ask, rosebud. To them," He gestured to the late-night party-goers. "You will always and forever be a monster." But before you could frown, even dare settle on that phrase for too long. He turned to you, taking your hand and squeezing it. As if you'd let go, leaving him alone. "But to us, you are everything."

"I'll call you a monster until the word doesn't sting anymore."

He whispered, cupping your cheek. You noted the lack of his gloves, for the first time touching his bare skin. He leaned closer, kissing the top of your forehead lovingly. It was an embrace in some way, a sweet and gentle promise. That no matter what you become, he'd love you.

"We'll be down at the boardwalk if you want to join us; you can't stay sulking forever, rosebud.." He whispered, leaving you alone to think once more.

When you did make your way down the sandy docks, feeling grain against your shoe as you walked with a sunken head. You wondered how your life had changed so drastically since you came to Santa Carla, whether everything was for better or worse.

"Hey, Darlin!"

The booming voice of a happy Paul called to you, making you look up. Before you stood your gang of boys leaning against the wooden railing of the boardwalk pier. Their bikes were parked beside them, all smiling as they looked at you. There was fondness in their eyes you could describe, but as you walked over and were encircled by your boys. All equally ecstatic to see you—you felt less alone. Welcomed even. You still had a long way to go, but for once in a long while, did you feel alright. Perhaps, becoming a vampire wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

745 notes · View notes

nanamis-bigtie · 2 months ago

Text

Round 10: Grand Finale

This is, finally, the end of our vacation fling. Through the series of votings you've chosen Kento Nanami as the suitor who leads you to his bedroom. I'm horribly late, I know, and I thank every single one of you who waited patiently for your participation prize. It's been a rough and busy time and I'm glad I made it through it safely & that I'm able to present you the final piece before summer ends. ❤ If you're curious how the event went, here's the masterpost explaining the lore, rules & each individual voting. ...and speaking of votings, there's one last right at the end 👀 please, check it out, even if you're not interested in the fic itself, thank you ❤

↬ nanami kento & gender neutral reader ↬ cw: y/n is 100% gender neutral, including body descriptions, pwp, penetrative sex, oral sex (reader receiving), premature ejaculation, subby nanami, touch starved nanami, power bottom reader, amazon position, nanami has body hair, reader has pubes, not fully beta read ↬ word count: 4k

Kento’s hotel is really close-by.

You haven’t even been short of breath by the time you made it here, and you can’t say you weren’t in a hurry. The desperation in him hasn’t ceased for a moment, he clenched hand around yours hard and forced a rather fast pace; not running but still putting quite a strain on your legs.

You like this restlessness on him, suiting more a teenager in front of his first night than an orderly man in his thirties. The contrast is amusing, is erotic, is kindling your imagination and adding fuel to your own fire.

How far will this crack in his painstakingly built wall open?

Kento lets you in first, turns the air conditioning and radio on. Through all the way here you were sure he was going to pounce on you, like he did back in the bakery, but he’s giving you space instead…at least so far. You grab this opportunity to throw your shoes off and take a quick look around.

It’s a typical hotel room from the upper mid-range, in a tad better standard than your own, and way more spacious, clearly intended to host a couple or a family with a single child. What surprises you is the pervasive disarray; not debris but rather chaos, the kind a person who’s constantly in hurry leaves behind. From someone as collected as him you expected pedantry, not this pleasant for eye casual and cozy print of existing, something you see in the privacy of one’s own place, not hotel rooms.

Especially the pile of books on the bed stand catches your eye. You step into the room bolder, wanting to take a better look at their backs, when Kento’s hand suddenly finds your middle and spins you around, then pulls you close into him. The bag with sandwiches he took to go falls on the floor with a soft thud and he kisses you like starved, clumsy, nipping your lips and crashing against your teeth as he’s looking for an opportunity to go deeper and steal your already shallowing breath.

In a haze of surprise, you let him slide in and take the upper hand. For years lost in experience and technique he catches up with enthusiasm and desperation, which quickly rub off on you. You paw at his broad back and shoulders, sneak curious fingers under the collar of his shirt and smirk at the soft mewl he makes into your mouth as you find a particularly soft spot at the crook of his neck.

He gasps for air, whispering your name at the same time, his cheeks dusted bright pink. You take his glasses off and finally take a good look into his eyes; they gaze at you with adoration and desire, dark and pleading, wordlessly begging for more of your touch and attention.

“Kiss me again,” you demand and cup his cheeks right after putting his glasses away.

This time, Kento is more wary. There’s still hunger in his trembling lips, but he’s careful of what he’s doing. He cradles your face between his hands, so warm and soft, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones, and he takes a good look at your features before he dares to brush his kisses at your forehead, nose, and lips finally. You open them eagerly but he’s only teasing at the entrance with the tip of his tongue, asking despite already having the answer. His hands trace your neck, shoulders, sides, one finds place at the small of your back, the other returns to support the back of your head and pulls you close. Not close enough for what your body craves, but close just right to fill the crevices of your body with his.

You fumble and rock like that, sharing kisses once soft and innocent, once fiery when Kento regains some confidence and reaches to his dusty experience. Whenever it happens though, he quickly shies away, as if worried he could have crossed a line set for the current stage of events. It bothers you somewhere at the back of your head; there possibly couldn’t be a clearer consent and intention, what keeps pushing him off the tracks he himself opened for you?

The last puzzle clicks once you find an upper hand and manage to push and pin him against the counter. As he leans back and spreads legs for balance—and as you sneak in between them, shamelessly pressed to his crotch and torso—Kento lets out a quite loud, needy groan, and his hips sneak a dry thrust against you. The bulge in his pants leaves you no further questions; it’s not you nor the situation, it’s his own body that keeps him in check, possibly a fear of disappointing you, too.

You don’t expect a perfect performance, you know he had a long break in intimacy but even if he hadn’t, you still wouldn’t aim for it at all costs. And you want to tell him about it, to reassure him that you’re already having great time with him and sex is only a little cherry on top of this cake, that you’re willing to try again and again and as many times as it’s needed, because even if at first this was supposed to be a one night only affair, you’re more than willing to let it last even past your vacation time.

You want but under his heavy and pleading gaze you can’t bring yourself to word anything. You just want his lips against yours again and have him mewling softly into your mouth, have him rub his erection against your palm, have his eyes rolling back in pleasure and his cheeks burning scarlet red…

When you advance on him again, Kento almost melts and if not for the counter supporting him from behind, he surely would fall to his knees. If only you wanted, you could prompt him into sitting on it and wrapping his legs around you, but you focus instead on dragging the sweetest of noises out of him. He has a whole gamut for you: from guttural and erotic grunts to truly pathetic whimpers you had no idea someone with a voice as deep as his can make. You relish in them, sipping them straight from his tongue, the vibrations brushing your fingertips as you caress his neck.

He’s sensitive at his Adam’s apple, you notice, teasing the bobbing mound with your thumb and feeling him crumble. He’s shaking, his eyes shut so desperately that his eyelids are twitching. You miss the depth and softness of his gaze already but something about this desperate attempt of keeping the last crumb of control is so erotic that it has you even more excited.

You need him, you need him so badly, even if you know he wouldn’t last for long if you let your fire take an upper hand over the two of you.

Kento nearly sobs when you hump him with the whole weight your body offers, then mewls in protest when you move away, giving him space to move. No word needs to be said, one look into your eyes and he understands, soon swaying on his feet towards the bed. It must hurt to walk around with a raging erection squeezed tight in pants, but he doesn’t relieve himself, patiently waiting at the edge instead, hands clenched on the mattress as he spreads legs for you to take your place between them again.

Having him look up at you awakens a new kind of flame in you. You’re letting it consume you slowly, touching him almost innocently at first, your fingers lost in his hair. For his age and all the complaining you heard from him about losing more and more of it, it’s very soft and thick—a sheer pleasure for your sense of touch. You’re tempted to give it a hearty pull but as soon as you grab a fistful of it, his eyelids grow heavy and a needy, guttural groan escapes his lips. They’re dark-red, like cherries, and puffy after all this kissing; you brush the bottom one with a thumb, pull it forwards a little and hum with approval when his tongue sneaks out to tease at its pad.

“Will you pleasure me with your mouth?” It’s a question but it sounds more like an order and Kento follows, pawing at your bottoms even before the last word falls. He yanks them down to your knees, holds your hips for balance as you proceed and push them past your ankles, soon standing naked waist-down right in front of him.

Despite you having your aroused sex shamelessly exposed for him, he keeps his eyes fixed on yours, gazing up at you with a mix of warmth, trust and desire—a sight so erotic you almost mewl yourself and your knees get wobbly. You regain the right posture with the help of his hands still kept around your hips with a surprising power to it. You have no doubt—if only he wanted, he could switch the roles and have you helplessly pinned under him in no time.

It’s not a hold of a person who’s submissive by nature; he is submissive because he trusts you with his vulnerability and lack of experience. He offers it to you on a silver plate, all while looking up at you as if you were a holy painting and a personification of his deepest desires all at once.

For his worship, he deserves to be spoiled today.

You spread your legs more and nudge him closer. His shaky breath tickles the inner side of your thigh as he starts rubbing his cheek against it. He worships every inch of your skin on his way to your sex, his hands clenched on your hips sweaty and trembling—yet, not losing a single ounce of power. You’re held as if you were bound to run away as soon as he gives you some space; he’s chased you for so long, he can’t allow you to abandon him in his loneliness before he’s sated with your taste and warmth.

Eyes closed shut again, Kento nuzzles into your pubic hair and takes a deep breath, then rubs his whole face against it, soaking in your most intimate scent. Soon, he gives you the first, a bit shy, lick, barely brushing the tip of his tongue against your sex. You don’t need to encourage him for long, though; as soon as you put some pressure at the back of his head, he goes for it with everything he has.

There’s palpable clumsiness and lack of proper technique—but his lips feel divine, nevertheless. Kento tastes you like starved, sipping your arousal as he whimpers and mumbles what you can understand only in parts but have no doubt it’s praise of you and your body. He can’t quite cease his noises; even with his mouth all busy and nearly suffocating himself with his enthusiasm and hunger, he keeps mewling and grunting, soft vibrations of his voice tickling your sensitive skin.

From time to time, he graces you with a longing gaze, his eyes seeming so big when darted up at you from between your thighs. Cheeks, lips and chin stained with his saliva and your arousal, Kento looks up at you with sheer love and appreciation for gracing him with your taste. Every time your eyes meet, you can last only so long under the weight of his gaze. The temptation is just too strong, you must grab a tight hold of his hair and pull him close, until his eyes are rolling in the back of his head and his noises of pleasure mix with obscene slurping as he tastes you with even bigger enthusiasm.

No wonder you can’t last long yourself. Your knees shake and threaten to give in at any moment, so you lean forwards, trapping his head and filling his mouth to the brim. His nails sinking in your hips is what finally sends you over the edge and you come on his tongue.

Kento holds you through it, despite almost suffocating under the weight of your ecstatic body and doesn’t let go until you regain control of your legs and finally stand straight and still. His face is flushed and messy when you let him pull away, a string of saliva still connects his lips with your sex. He’s fighting for even breath, on the verge of hiccups, his eyes out of focus and glossy—and one look down you realize it’s not lack of air at fault here.

Big stain at the front of his pants speaks for itself.

Gently, you guide him to lie back on the bed, then wipe his face clean. He watches you with eyes half-lidded, his blush growing the brighter the longer you’re doting on him. But his early orgasm has left him too spent to protest, he only whimpers, oh so sensitive, when you pull down his pants and underwear. His cock hasn’t grown soft yet and even with a quick, curious look (you try to not stare too much for now, to spare him embarrassment) you know he’ll be ready to spring back to action soon.

Kento wipes his face with both hands, mumbles an apology behind them and confirms your judgment, promising it’s not over, he just needs a moment to regain composure. You’re savoring the break as well, taking your time to soak his stained clothes in cold water, to grab lube and condoms from your backpack, and to bring drinks for the both of you.

When you sate your thirst and climb the bed by his side, he immediately presses his face into the back of your neck and steals a few hasty kisses, sipping your moisture straight from your skin. He’s trying to make amends for his early and unexpected finish, his hands exploring your body and peeling you out of remaining clothes. He’s trying but he’s not resisting when you smoothly take control again. He even smiles a little when you push him down and kneel between his legs.

With the first, chaotic wave of lust gone, you take your time now to appreciate his body properly. You don’t undress him whole, quite liking the messy state he’s in when left in a half-unbuttoned shirt and socks, kept in their place with garters wrapped around his calves.

You trace the straps and relish with the sight of his muscles twitching under delicate touch. Deliberately, you stare up at his body, starting from thick, hairy thighs resting right by your sides, then giving appropriate attention to his cock slowly growing back to his prime against a thick cushion of golden pubes. They gather into a line leading to his belly, deliciously twitching when you slide your hand under his shirt, exploring how much of body hair is still hiding from your sight. Quite a lot of it spills out of the unbuttoned area, his chest is adorned with fuzz you’re dying to bury your face into.

You’ve noticed it on the photo in swimming shorts but not until now, when you’re able to look closely, to investigate and touch as much as you like, you’ve learnt how much hair he actually has. It’s fair and with the exception of his private area not that thick, so pleasant under your fingertips. With the addition of freckles blooming anywhere the sun has reached him it’s as sexy as adorable and feral in contrast to his dry and neat everyday appearance.

His cock twitches for attention when you lean forwards to kiss him and press tight against him. Kento groans into your mouth, wordlessly apologizing for his overly needy state, but you really can’t blame him, not with your own excitement already boiling. Careful to not stimulate him too much, you squirt some lube on your hand and wrap your fingers around his hot length. It immediately pulses hard against your palm, finally growing into full mast.

Hands clenching on the sheets and eyes almost rolling in the back of his head, Kento thrusts into your touch. Slick tightness of your hold is tempting, so close in feeling to a real hole it must be driving him insane with need. It’s equally as tempting to ruin him just like that, milk him for everything he’s got as he’s writing under you and crying in overstimulation, but your body is craving some other kind of pleasure and you know you won’t get this satisfaction if you push his buttons too early again.

So, you’re stroking him only as much as you need to keep him hard and ready, wet with his precum and offered lube. It’s so little yet, he’s already spasming and drooling, so touch starved he’s melting under your hands. It takes an insane amount of self-control for him to not cum all over you and himself, you can see it in fists grabbing sheets, muscles twitching, face twisted in a mix between pleasure and exertion.

Even when you let go of him, to prepare yourself, he’s panting and twitching, ready to finish at any moment. Just the sight of your fingers slipping into your hole as you’re hovering over him, just the sound of your heavy breathing and little whimpers, is almost too much. Kento winces and closes his eyes shut, little does it help when he can still hear you and feel the warmth of your body right next to him.

You worry it might be what sends him flying again, but you’re ready to risk it, “Hold your legs up and open for me.”

He opens eyes, surprised, no question pushing past parted lips, though, as he follows, awkwardly hooking hands under his knees and positioning himself as you wanted him. His cock and hole are twitching in inattention, his heavy balls are just begging to be sucked, and it takes everything from you to not cave in and take them into your mouth, watering just at the sight. He would not last if you did so, so you’re taking a mental note to have a taste the next time, maybe later today, maybe tomorrow.

As gently as you can, you roll a condom on him and coat him with another generous layer of lube. He’s shaking so much through the whole process that you need to correct his stance, until you’re satisfied with the way his legs are opened and balanced for you.

“Tell me if it hurts,” you warn as you squat between them, your groin over his cock.

Kento nods and immediately closes his eyes back, the sight of you guiding him to your entrance too much to handle. The way he moans when he’s finally sliding into your warmth almost sends you; it’s deep, guttural and so erotic it has your core trembling and boiling. You’re dying to ride him fast and hard, but you don’t want it to end too fast, not before his girth fills you to the brim and you get to hear more of his sweet moans.

It’s awkward at first, as the both of you try to find the right balance, and you’re worried the pressure and unusual angle may be too much for his pelvis and cock to handle. But he’s exceeding your expectations, not only with his flexibility but endurance as well, as he overpowers the crisis of overstimulation and finally stills enough for you to use him to your body’s desire.

The hum of ac reminds you of the sea and the day you met face to face for the first time, on the beach, waves licking your bare feet. You rock yourself over him in their rhythm you still remember. In the bravest dreams about him you wouldn’t predict you would have him bent like this for you, so submissive and trusting and needy, his length pulsing deep in you. You couldn’t possibly imagine how beautiful his blissed-out face looks, how desperate the grip of his hands is once he gives up on trying to have his legs held nicely and paws at your ass instead. You couldn’t fathom how desperate you would turn just at the sound of his guttural moans and choked-out dirty praise.

It dives right into your core, igniting your fire almost over the level you could handle before going insane.

You press his legs for him, leaning your weight forward to ride him smoother and relieve tension in your knees and ankles. There’s finally the right angle and the right pace—and you grab the reins before they can slip out of your reach. The position is difficult and you’re both overly excited, it possibly can’t last long despite your earnest intentions. It doesn’t discourage you, though, and you ride him for everything your body is capable of, each move of your pelvis meeting his desperate attempts to somehow, even if impossible, thrust into you. You love how he tries, how much he wants to drown himself in your hole despite being already so deep it has you a little dizzy.

You love the squelch of your connected bodies, and sweat messing his oh so meticulously combed hair, and his thick thighs twitching in exertion. You love how he’s still insatiable and greedy, how his nails sink in your ass and scratch and mark you, how he tries to make you his while it’s you who has an upper hand at this moment.

You love how his moans, so deep and manly at first, melt into whimpers, even softer and more pathetic than what you had of him when he was making out with your sex.

He mewls, almost cries, then curses and praises how well you take him, then tense and through clenched teeth begs you to slow down, because he really can’t last when you’re being so good for him, when your hole is so warm and when you squeeze him so tight and—

You let him, you had your dose of pleasure earlier and nothing is more delicious for you than the sight and sound of his orgasm. Kento opens his eyes a little right as it hits him, he watches you as he’s twitching and spasming, and filling you, you have no doubt in it, with a thick and rich load.

You almost regret you haven’t decided on letting him go raw.

With a few more sways for good measure, when he starts slumping into blissed-out relaxation, you finally let go of him and slip off his cock. Your own legs exhausted, you gladly take place right by his side, hot and sweaty, and twitching a little yourself.

Kento pulls you close, guides you to rest head against his chest, expensive shirt be damned. Sharp scent of his musk finally takes over his cologne but it’s not unpleasant. Quite the contrary, you rub your face into it, with a very content sound, not that much different from his whimpers a while ago.

“Do you want my mouth again?” He asks after a moment of silence, when the heat between the two of you finally ceases and the power of ac becomes a little uncomfortable for your moist bodies.

“Aren’t you tired?” You draw aimless circles through the hair on his pecs. They twitch, apparently ticklish, then heave as he laughs, laughs openly, the loudest and earnest you heard of him through all this time.

Frankly, you had no idea he’s capable of laughing like this.

“Not tired enough,” he states and rolls over, confirming he indeed could break out of your dominance at any given moment, if only he wanted to. “It doesn’t feel right to leave you hanging after you’ve made me come twice.”

“You deserved this.” It’s only the truth, he, like no one else, deserved to be pleasured and worshiped. For all the years lost, for his kindness, and warmth in his eyes, and patience in his hands, and the desperate hunger in his lips.

So far nestled comfortably on your chest and gazing at you like a spoiled puppy, Kento averts his eyes and hides his face against you with a silent groan, growing tad louder as you run fingers through his hair and followed by voice no different than a sleepy whisper, “Thank you.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #bas writes #jjk #resort romance

74 notes · View notes

gotham-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd chapter here. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

--------

Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

#this was all written in one go #so that's fun #more angst than anything honestly #not really any yan but it is supposed to be for yan stuff #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #neglected reader #sibling reader #reader tries too hard and does their best but finds out it isn't enough #some things just aren't meant to be #but that doesn't mean they get to run around scott free either #not series

4K notes · View notes